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only be left with the impression of an outdated terminology and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.