Sunday, 7 January 2024

Sunday Review: “Another Art of Poetry and Doorstones” by Michael Edwards

Occasionally, on a Sunday, we'll post a poetry review on the blog. 
First up is “Another Art of Poetry and Doorstones” by Michael Edwards.


Publisher: Carcanet
ISBN: 9781800173170

The new Carcanet collection from Michael Edwards is really two books in one: Another Art of Poetry, an exploration of what poetry is, can be, and where it might come from; and Doorstones, only given one line of recognition in the book’s official blurb, and seemingly tacked on as an afterthought.

The poems of AAoP are in 194 sections, divided into ten broad themes, designed to be read individually, as “ten discrete poems” or as one long sequence. If one is looking for insights into the nature of poetry, and what it means to write it, dipping into the poems can be very rewarding, Edwards offering up such ruminations as “Without a vocation, | you can say what you like”, or “poetry serves | meekly to listen, and wonder why”. For any reader who is also writer, they will be moved to consider their own relation to the art.

We see poetry “like following | a street and the whole city unfolds around one”, or as “a pause | big | with Memory”. AAoP serves as a love note to the art itself, mixed in with pastoral scenes and evocations of God and spirituality, evocative of Betjeman, illustrating the breath and presence of poetry within our existence. When it comes to practitioners of the art however, Edwards has a distracting habit of using the default gender of ‘man’ when he should really mean ‘people’ or humanity’. Repeated we are told poetry is the realm of men only: “The writer along | with his words” (12); “The poet, by his breath and words” (59); “A poet; an indivi- | dual man” (94), and much more. The reader can only be left with the impression of an outdated terminology and viewpoint, enforced when Edwards using the offensive term “dumb” for mute (158), repeated in Doorstones.

Indeed, we see very little of women in Edwards’s world: the influences he lists throughout speak of Spencer, Hardy, Eliot, Milton, Wordsworth, all the usual suspects. Women only appear as an object of lust in Rita Hayworth, or a figure of tragedy in Juliet Capulet. Edwards fancies that “the Muse is a She”, one that is disruptive and “easy”; it seems that in this exploration of poetry, women only inspire poetry, they do not write it.

Edwards have clearly dwelt on what it means to be moved to write poetry, and why we resort to poetry in order to find expression. He has asides, reflections, thoughts so brief their also seem throw-away, but stand firmly on their own, and it is here that the chosen structure of individual poems within themed segments finds reward. Such insights are however tarnished with a tendency for cheap wordplay: from “at their pose, their poise”; “issues issuing”, “rapt, or raped”, descending to “You-topia” and “similes | smile”.

So, what of Doorstones, the second part of the book? In another lengthy narrative comprised of individual parts, we find Edwards turning his attention to matters of faith. Taking the Biblical story of Saul and David as a jumping off point, the writing is a confusing hodgepodge of personal introspection and the nature of belief, classical music, the fall of Adam and Eve, and the occasional revisit back to King David and the now converted Paul. If the title Doorstones is meant to suggest a threshold, it is uncertain what Edwards to seeking to open onto us. The writing is clearest when it directly addresses a Creator:

            The massive love of God, his infinite
            Farness and nearness, drawing breathe, draws us
            Upwards like broken notes

Edwards excels at portraying the wonder of God, the near-impossibility that requires faith, noting that “Jesus glides in, despite the thickest walls”. He also finds in the duality of Paul/Saul scope to explore his own moments of weakness and fallibility. Yet it lacks the conciseness and cosiness of, say, a C.S. Lewis, who might move you closer to God with their writing. Instead, here, we are left having to wade through Edward’s meandering whimsy to find our own way. Mercifully, the wordplay is lesser and stronger (“Rolling in lolly, lolling in a Rolls” or a gift of “frank instincts”). There is also an offensive and absurd attack on autism, in Edwards wanting to be closer to God and concluding that

            craving for more intimacy falls
            Somewhere between the egotistical
            And the autistic.

This smacks of gross ableism to so casually equate autism with weakness. Along with the misuse of the term 'dumb', and his disregard of women, Edwards reveals himself to be a man sorely behind the times. Overall, although the strength of one's faith is clear, Doorstones fails to stir us in the way that such comparable evocations within AAoP might.