 |
ARTLOOK #3 | August 2004
Reviewed by:
Glenda Guest
By Penelope Evans
Bemac Publications, 2004
Cross-hatched
I wanted to like this anthology of poetry, I really did; but, in spite of Evans' obvious poetic ability, things kept getting in the way. I should have been warned by the index: 'Musings Around Kings Cross and Sydney,' one section is headed; 'Poetic Ponderings' was another. Not a sign of originality, these. But I ignored the danger signals and started reading. A nice evocation of place, I thought as I read the first piece and turned to the second poem, expecting a different voice-a different sensibility-in a new poem. I was wrong. And wrong again and again as I searched for something in these pieces that gave the reader an indication of the poet behind the work. I looked for a breaking down of the vast distance between the writer and the words, but all I found were more descriptions of place after place with not a sign of the poet within them.
But, I found other things-things that should not have been there. Things like ostentatious reversals of syntax; as if the poet felt this is the way poetry happens, with strange convolutions of language and oddly spelled or difficult words popped in amongst rather melodramatic descriptions, as if this was the poetic thing to do-as if by occasionally mimicking snippets of style from the canonical poets gives a more poetic voice to the work here. Unfortunately, reversed sentences do not a poet make; they just the reader annoy. And, why change the perfectly acceptable word 'through' to 'thru''; or write 'the Arno sluggish lies' when there's absolutely no reason to do so-no rhyme to resonate with; no meter to pace with. It's not necessary, it's not good poetry, and it just doesn't work. It's not as if this is a stylistic thing, as the poetry in Cross Hatched is a strange mix of mundane and pretentious. Words like 'effluvium' and 'inchoate' (several times) litter the text, and overall there is a sense of distancing for the reader.
And still I read on, pulled forward with a need to find something good-and I did. Hidden right at the end, in the place usually reserved for older works of the writer, away from the mainstream of, presumably, new work in the book, were a couple of cleanly written personal pieces, quite delightful after the often overwritten poems that preceded them. If these are from Evans' early work, maybe she needs to consider what has happened to the clarity of voice and image since then. These end pieces-'Soliloquy', 'Puzzlepaws' and-for most of it although there is a line 'glade-elms strew' that made me wince-'Trees' give hope that Evans will reconsider her approach to her work. There is obviously a talent here, but one that needs to have a self-reflective understanding of what poetry is and a more personal voice for the type of poetry being written. Maybe then the reader will find in the work another understanding of the world; for isn't this what poetry is for.
Glenda Guest is the literature editor of artlook and a freelance writer and reviewer
