{"id":11197,"date":"2020-02-07T13:58:40","date_gmt":"2020-02-07T12:58:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197"},"modified":"2020-02-10T15:57:15","modified_gmt":"2020-02-10T14:57:15","slug":"the-next-wave-and-the-suicides-son-reviewed-by-ian-pople","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197","title":{"rendered":"The Next Wave<\/em><\/strong> and The Suicide’s Son<\/em><\/strong> | reviewed by Ian Pople"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Next Wave: An Anthology of 21st Century Canadian Poetry<\/em><\/strong> | edited by Jim Johnstone | Palimpsest Press: \u00a313.99
\nThe Suicide’s Son<\/em><\/strong> | James Arthur | Signal Editions: \u00a310.00<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

In the introduction to their 2010 anthology, Modern Canadian Poets<\/em> (Carcanet), the editors, Evan Jones and Todd Swift give a fairly exhaustive list of anthologies of Canadian Poetry, as if in riposte to their own editor, Michael Schmidt\u2019s, comment that Canadian poetry is a \u2018short street\u2019. Nearly ten years after Jones and Swift comes Jim Johnstone\u2019s compendious The Next Wave<\/em> with its nearly forty poets and some 150 poems; \u2018short street\u2019 indeed!! <\/p>\n

Given the very wide parameters for such an anthology, it is no surprise that some of the content feels more achieved than other. And it\u2019s no surprise either that some of the content does, actually, feel very<\/u> achieved. One such poet is Jordan Abel, already a winner of the Griffin Prize. Abel\u2019s work clearly originates in his First Nations identity, and the subject matter tackles the oppression of these peoples head-on. There is, however, a complete absence of clich\u00e9 about both Abel\u2019s content and his approach. Abel\u2019s writing has something of \u2018the western\u2019 about it; a laconic parody of a kind of Zane Grey sensibility. At the same time, his technique of combining visual poetry with a beautifully written lyricism makes these poems very involving. Other identities are also evoked in the poetry of Sadiqa de Meijer, with its blends of Englishes, and Sachiko Murakami whose poem \u2018Rebuild\u2019 finishes, \u2018Instead names are changed, a farm\u2019s, \/ and the official memory. Now a child is born in exile. \/\/ Now he becomes a father. Now redress. \/ Now he\u2019s a father, a body. Now ashes. \/\/ Now begin. \/\/ Now begin again.\u2019 Although this kind of writing may verge on simplification, its powerful incantatory nature responds to a sense of lives which feel themselves marginalised and deracinated. <\/p>\n

One response to the spread of identity over the land mass of Canada is, perhaps, to particularise in the domestic. Sonnet L\u2019Abb\u00e9 and Souvankham Thammavongsa both produce writing which evokes the \u2018home\u2019. And they do so with deft poems that achieve through juxtaposition and contrast. In CXXVIII, Sonnet L\u2019Abb\u00e9 invokes her father\u2019s ceramics\u2019 studio or, rather, the circumstances of its creation and those around him who worked the clay. Souvankham Thammavongsa, again writing from the experience of the diaspora, contrasts the here with the past. In \u2018Materials\u2019 she writes of how the only reading materials of her childhood were newspapers laid out on the floor to dry boots. Later, however, \u2018When I learned to read, \/ the winter boots \/\/ lay dripping \/ in the hallway; \/\/ the glass, broken \/ and uncovered \/ because I knew this \/ this \/\/ would be my way in\u2019. And although there are capitals to indicate where new sentences might begin, there are no full stops to indicate where the sentences might end. Thus the short couplets open out into an experience which is both rooted in the house but is never finite.<\/p>\n

The trans writer Autumn Getty blends the personal and the political in the lovely poem, \u2018Pender and Hamilton\u2019. Here, the Canadian landscape is a place where reflection on the self is enabled, \u2018I love the little roads, though;\/ cement or dirt, it doesn\u2019t matter. Signs, \/ private, don\u2019t come in. I would, unknown, \/ if only the poor things knew I lived openly \/ in dark and light alike.\u2019 The \u2018poor things\u2019 are both human and the flocks, \u2018sheep and swine both\u2019 that the narrator tends. And that \u2018swine\u2019 brings a valuable, historical dimension to that sense of the located, and freed, self. <\/p>\n

There are contributors to this anthology who have made their mark on the wider world of literature already: Evan Jones, Jason Guriel, Nyla Matuk. And, clearly, a number of the other contributors seem poised to make their own mark. Of those, my own, entirely subjective choice would light on Mark Callahan\u2019s deft and lyrical descriptions, which, similar to Getty\u2019s mentioned above, turn inwards into reflection in a way which is both resonant and totally unsentimental. Layla Czaga has a deeply empathetic imagination which moves from Victoria Soto shielding her pupils from the Sandy Hook gunman to the way a lantern festival reveals something much deeper about the people involved in it. James Pollock revisits myth with a neat contemporary twist. And Catriona Wright has an interesting take on small town life with, again, a warm empathy. <\/p>\n

My sincere apologies to the others of the forty contributors; each of the poets in this fine book has interesting things to say, often conveyed with considerable skill. Any reader would find something here which chimed with their own imagination. <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

James Arthur is also one of the contributors to The Next Wave<\/em> who has started to make a mark on the wider scene of North American poetry. His first collection, Charms Against Lightning<\/em>, was published by Copper Canyon in the US, where Arthur teaches at Johns Hopkins. The title of this collection, The Suicide\u2019s Son<\/em>, and the title of his previous volume suggest some of the intensity underlying Arthur\u2019s poems. The current title also suggests the sense of legacy that runs through the collection, and which is pointed out in the back cover blurb. That sense of legacy for the self and the Other is important as Arthur often consciously blurs the boundaries between the persona poem and the personal poem. <\/p>\n

The book opens with two of the former, \u2018Effigy\u2019 in which an effigy describes its own immolation in a fire, and the second of these is \u2018Frankenstein\u2019s Monster\u2019. This poem is a particularly successful semi-satire; a \u2018semi-satire\u2019 because, although the poem is serious enough, not only does it relocate the Monster to a condo in New York, it also relocates him to the twenty-first century. The poem also sends up what might be seen as \u2018traditional\u2019 views of the fate of Frankenstein\u2019s monster; \u2018I\u2019m happy in this place \/ where I\u2019m one more person with panache \/ and an ugly face. \u2026 I\u2019m not Boris Karloff, lurching \/ around, a mute \u2013 I hate that guy; \/ I get laid. Here people suffer without believing \/\/ that every stranger should have to feel it.\u2019 It has to be said that not every poem in this book has that \u2018panache\u2019. But part of Arthur\u2019s intense sense of legacy is his considerable empathy with his subjects. Thus, the book is personal, in the sense that Arthur\u2019s subjects tend to be people and their characteristics.<\/p>\n

As noted, it is clear that there are poems in this collection where Arthur is writing autobiographically. There are poems to what can only be Arthur\u2019s own son. The tone here is one of undisguised, unashamed love and the poems are no worse for it. At the beginning of the poem, \u2018Hundred Acre Wood\u2019 Arthur muses on the stories of Winnie-the-Pooh; \u2018Some of these stories are too sweet for me. \/ Winnie-the Pooh is so innocent, his little songs leave me cold. \/\/ But I like this \u2013 your hand across my hand, your head against my shoulder \u2026 You never can tell with bees<\/em>, \/ says Pooh, who seems to believe that almost nothing can be told, \/but I am your morose, restless father, \/ and you are four years old.\u2019 The confessional element seems to expose Arthur\u2019s emotions even as he leads us to his critique of Winnie-the-Pooh. The success of these lines is in part the clarity in which the contrast of behaviour of father and son is played out. Arthur\u2019s interpolated comments on the \u2018action\u2019 are measured and interesting, as in the comment on Pooh\u2019s equivalent lack of belief, and that fine, quick contrast of the father\u2019s emotions with the child\u2019s age. Here, everything is said by saying nothing. The absence signified by the quiet fact of the child\u2019s age is like a mirror in which the father\u2019s emotions are reflected back on him. <\/p>\n

These good, unadorned moments are carefully plotted by Arthur in poems which often start with something seemingly innocent and then sway into much more dangerous territory. \u2018Model \u2013 Train Display at Christmas in a Shopping Mall Food Court\u2019, for example, begins, \u2018These kids watching so intently \/ on every side of the display \/ must love the feeling of being gigantic: \/ of having a giant\u2019s power \/ over this world of snow, where buttons \/ lift and lower \/ the railway crossing gate.\u2019 The poem begins with the possibly innocent \u2018kids\u2019, then Arthur marshalls his lines so we get lines which end with indications of power, i.e., \u2018being gigantic\u2019 and \u2018a giant\u2019s power\u2019, and also the punch of the short line with the alliteration of \u2018lift and lower\u2019. Arthur is very good at controlling the rhythm of the lines and the way information flows in and around them. The model railway not only has, in and of itself, a kind of innocence, \u2018the diner\u2019s always open \/ so you can always get a meal.\u2019 But the railway can fuel a very different kind of imagination; as the next lines reveal; \u2018Or go down to the drive-in \/ looking for a fight, or stay up \/ all night, so tormented by desire, you can hardly think.\u2019 <\/p>\n

And, yes, there is indeed a kind of perversity about that imagining, but Arthur\u2019s project, I would suggest, is to push the world of the poem and the world of the reader into a recognition of the kind of truth of which poetry is particularly capable. This is a truth which can be very uncomfortable but also sustaining, when blended with the other kinds of sanities this entirely admirable book explores. <\/p>\n

by Ian Pople<\/strong> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Next Wave: An Anthology of 21st Century Canadian Poetry | edited by Jim Johnstone | Palimpsest Press: \u00a313.99 The Suicide’s Son | James Arthur | Signal Editions: \u00a310.00 In the introduction to their 2010 anthology, Modern Canadian Poets (Carcanet), the editors, Evan Jones and Todd Swift give a fairly exhaustive list of anthologies of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":21,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[13,283],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Next Wave: An Anthology of 21st Century Canadian Poetry | edited by Jim Johnstone | Palimpsest Press: \u00a313.99 The Suicide’s Son | James Arthur | Signal Editions: \u00a310.00 In the introduction to their 2010 anthology, Modern Canadian Poets (Carcanet), the editors, Evan Jones and Todd Swift give a fairly exhaustive list of anthologies of […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2020-02-07T12:58:40+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2020-02-10T14:57:15+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/i.postimg.cc\/hvrVx83H\/9781926794709.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Ian Pople\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Ian Pople\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"8 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197\",\"name\":\"The Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2020-02-07T12:58:40+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-02-10T14:57:15+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/1e4c20066db3d71097155619e6d443a9\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"The Next Wave and The Suicide’s Son | reviewed by Ian Pople\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/1e4c20066db3d71097155619e6d443a9\",\"name\":\"Ian Pople\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Ian Pople\"},\"description\":\"Ian Pople's Spillway is published by Anstruther Press.\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?author=21\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"The Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"The Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review","og_description":"The Next Wave: An Anthology of 21st Century Canadian Poetry | edited by Jim Johnstone | Palimpsest Press: \u00a313.99 The Suicide’s Son | James Arthur | Signal Editions: \u00a310.00 In the introduction to their 2010 anthology, Modern Canadian Poets (Carcanet), the editors, Evan Jones and Todd Swift give a fairly exhaustive list of anthologies of […]","og_url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197","og_site_name":"The Manchester Review","article_published_time":"2020-02-07T12:58:40+00:00","article_modified_time":"2020-02-10T14:57:15+00:00","og_image":[{"url":"https:\/\/i.postimg.cc\/hvrVx83H\/9781926794709.jpg"}],"author":"Ian Pople","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Ian Pople","Est. reading time":"8 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197","url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197","name":"The Next Wave and The Suicide's Son | reviewed by Ian Pople - The Manchester Review","isPartOf":{"@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website"},"datePublished":"2020-02-07T12:58:40+00:00","dateModified":"2020-02-10T14:57:15+00:00","author":{"@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/1e4c20066db3d71097155619e6d443a9"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197"]}]},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11197#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"The Next Wave and The Suicide’s Son | reviewed by Ian Pople"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website","url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/","name":"The Manchester Review","description":"The Manchester Review","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":"required name=search_term_string"}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/1e4c20066db3d71097155619e6d443a9","name":"Ian Pople","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif","caption":"Ian Pople"},"description":"Ian Pople's Spillway is published by Anstruther Press.","url":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?author=21"}]}},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2PuXo-2UB","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11197"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/21"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11197"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11197\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11203,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11197\/revisions\/11203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11197"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11197"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11197"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}