Four French Horns, poems by Jenny Powell-Chalmers. HeadworX Publishers, 97/43 Mulgrave Street, Wellington, NZ.
Jenny Powell-Chalmers' earlier three books of poems were 'Sweet Banana Wax Peppers', 'Hats' and 'Double Jointed' (which was a an exercise of 'shared' poems that by and large, worked quite successfully. On her own again, with 'Four French Horns', Jenny Powell-Chalmers shows her unique brand of poetic enthusiasm with some nicely observed moments, capturing the most exciting moments of the life of Wyeth, 'Circus' and 'The Wooden Sun from Wyeth's Old Hand'. Powell-Chalmers has the uncanny knack making you really care about someone you are given no, or just scanty details of. An, in 'Degrees', after a process of official definition “the boy / runs home, so much lighter now” 'Split Pins' telling us of “her unsuitability to get married because she can't sew” is a good romp, and once more, sourcing that one is very much hit or miss, but that isn't important, anyway. Childhood reminiscences - 'Fly Away Peter', where the “hall is full of doors. They're brown / and shut and they go right / up to the sky”, and other memories of growing up - how to perform, in Miss Kjelgaard' are real and I find all of it valid. In all, an absorbing book. The meaning of the title escapes me somewhat, but no matter. A good new book of poems to delve into and I recommend it.
Palaver Lava Queen. Poems by Sue Fitchett, Auckland University Press. $24.99.
In this first book of poems by Sue Fitchett, who is a psychologist living on Waiheke Island, the subject matter is mainly Auckland and its relationship, geologically to the surrounding area and to the societies living in the South Pacific. Nothing is left untouched here, and the bibliography is comprehensive and detailed. How can poetics live in this environment? Well, it does, depending who you are, someone will take this book seriously, some will simply enjoy it. I think I have done both, as the style is both conducive to understanding, and ery lucid. I liked 'the ferrymasters' from 'the city of sea and ferries', as it tells us the the reliance of gut instinct is just as valuable as relying on gadgets when striving for 'the goal'. (Emu Point). Fitchett also chronicles the slow but inexorable shift of geological structures, immovable by man, whatever his designs for it - “a breccia & sandstone fishy skeleton / only the / Sea and air saw time flesh out ". Fitchett's thoughts about the Auckland skytower recalls 28,000 tons of concrete poured into it, built on the site of old warrior forts and colonial ramparts reveal the utter phallic nature of the construction - compared to the tower of Babel, another of man's temporary erections. This book is fun; the product of a very agile mind, where 'fancy free' means telling meaning if you look for it. And it is there. This is a very good example of a mature wordsmith in full flight - for pure enjoyment - buy this book now.
Occasional Poems. Owen Marshall. 50 poems. Hazard Press, www.hazardpress.co.nz
Owen Marshall is known to us all as a short story writer and educator of great repute. Deservedly so, might I add, but what is he like at the shorter glimpses of life, though? You have to be an expert on matters of structure to be a successful short story writer but sometimes an over-structuring invades attempts at writing shorter works, such as poems. 'Love' is an example where the sheer control Marshall has over his material, and his vision, make this poem so successful. Even if it has been done before Marshall makes it beautifully new. Only of four lines, here are the last two: “Who cuts the rose to seek possession of it / knows all the while they have begun its death” Marshall gives us more than value for money in the rest of this short book. 'Old Dunedin' is bang on for accuracy and the word selection is impressive, too. Internal rhyming, assonance and dissonance, 'Advertising Life' is a bit thin but nevertheless entertaining. Nor looking forward to life but looking back on it - searching for faults to inspire us)? The poem for Bill Sewell 'The Diogenes Club' is pretty private but comes out as pretty pungent. Some poems are constructs that appear to go nowhere in particular such as 'On Eating Condensed Milk' The expert wordsmith in full flight but then we are all entitled to some that don't appear to make it. By and large nearly all of these make it. See here an experienced writer trying hard for erudite expression even if there are some 'try hards' at R A K Mason's insights such as 'At Pergamum' and the marching song “For Hugh'. You would be kicking yourself if you didn't buy this book and read some of its joys.
Nefarious. Poems by Vivienne Plumb. HeadworX, 97/43 Mulgrave Crescent, Wellington.
This small book is Vivienne Plumb's third book of poems. She is also a writer of prose and drama. Plumb is a well published New Zealand writer with impeccable qualifications for readability. She seems unsure where to sit, near crocuses or some other plant where there may be a decomposing bird. (in 'Some Unusual Subfossil Remains'). But this is only one aspect to her musings. The sheer minuteness of these poems always suggests more, but we seldom get to anything grander. Plumb has so many options to go hither and thither; in 'The Alternative Plan' we see an examination of the 'Z' plan - begin again. We all do this I guess. To change ourselves we need to do more than dye our hair or write a poem. Rimbaud was an expert in prose poetry but Plumb, following the Master, doesn't do as well. So what is left as new? Some interesting original work and it's fun looking for it. Have a look for yourself.
The Red Tram. Poems by C.K. Stead. Auckland University Press, Auckland, NZ. $24.95.
C. K. Stead is legendary, and he doesn't let us down here, at all. A wonderful judge of human nature, nothing seems to escape his beady eye. The aim is to beat the “beady-eyes beak and claw” to the plum tree, in '7, Towards Christmas' with the realisation that, as always, “Either I gather early / or they do”. Resolved in '8. Year's End Quarrel', “Blackbird knows / it owns the plum tree / and that I am the thief”. I also liked 'Leg, an acknowledgement' - a non-morbid discussion about body parts, chiding them to “think creatively / about our future”. There are many delightful pieces like that in this book. Stead is a prolific but non-tired genius with words but more importantly, thoughts and observations. Political issues and the environment have been important to Karl Stead. He doesn't pull any punches when describing ex-Auckland Mayor, John Banks, “The part of us / that's human / dislikes him” and celebrates his distaste for beaurocracy on his piece on Manakau Mayor, Sir Barry Curtis, “ . . . wait while the tape rewinds. / Do not kick or shake” (both in 'City Fathers'). Great Composers go into a black hole when they die, according to Stead. Even if humming in the key of E flat, “Come in Beethoven / Are you receiving me?” In style, Stead owes nothing to anybody else and can make any particular kind of abrasiveness sound quite delightful. Also, his scholarship is awesome, but you would expect that. If you buy no other book of poetry this year, you must buy this one.
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