Triptych, Manolis (poetry)

Triptych is a new collection of poems by the Greek poet Manolis. Some of the poems refer to states of being, such as “Blushing”, “Thirsty” and “Readiness”. Most fascinating to me is how he captures a sense of motion just before it begins to take place, almost an anticipation of a gesture. You can sense the imminent action in “Suit:”


“Strutting a dark brown suit and
a creamy pale tie, nicely knotted
with a soft beige butterfly
unfurling her wings, laughter
into arms of intense sunlight where
he stands at the bus stop waiting
with those of us without suits
but geared up to arrive at work
he grips the briefcase with valuable documents
his glare cutting through the spines of those
crossing looks with him, you
could say he knows how to keep
his cool in the prison yard

since he was sprung only a month ago”

The words tell a simple story and yet underlying it all is a tension formed by the words intense, glare, cutting, grips and crossing. It’s subtle and unexpected, and you are left to imagine what violence may occur.  You feel this sense of expectation in many of the poems, and it keeps them from feeling dry or overwrought.

The words of Kahlil Gibran also surface in places, where Manolis uses them as a framework for sections of the book.  Many of the poems trace phases of relationships, especially love that is shattered by death. Manolis alludes to death frequently, as a constant uninvited guest that manages to linger. In “Teardrop”, the impression is of a grieving woman glancing at flowers, and ends with:

“…a single teardrop laughs
as you’re suppose to do
the rest of your life
Look, doesn’t it
resemble my smile?
I am in this teardrop…”

In “Affirmation”, he talks about disappointment:
“…everything you thought
you wanted so badly
all you assume you are pursuing so decisively
ends up as a dull apparition or yellow phantasm
like the sunken feeling mornings after heavy drinking
maturity nails you like a brick between the eyes…”

Throughout the references to violence and death, however, he adds scenes of light and playfulness. In “Soiled”, an injured man watches near a pond: “…two birds, arguing about taxes, one sparrow kvetching, one sparrow sobbing, for the right foot, for the left foot, for beauty of understanding…”

The collection as a whole reflects a sense of truth, represented in the balance of everyday insignificances and occasional milestones, all mixed up in the changing weather and seasons and phases of our lives.  In this truth, sometimes little things matter more than we'd expect, and greater things pass us silently.

Special thanks to Manolis of Libros Libertad of Victoria BC for this Review Copy. 

Royalties from the sale of this book will be donated to the Nile Creek Enhancement Society.

What the Water Gave Me, Pascale Petit...poetry

Poems after Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo is well known as a surrealistic “folk artist,” and her Mexican heritage is evident in her works. She’s also known for her stormy marriage to fellow artist Diego Rivero. However, very little is known about her personal life beyond those details and a rather infamous unibrow. When I received the poetry collection What the Water Gave Me by Pascale Petit, I was fascinated by what the poet achieved:  a biography of Kahlo through verse. The combination of historical details and poetry in this collection is unique, and when I was able to look up some of the Kahlo's work online, it was especially fascinating. 

Each poem is related to a piece of Kahlo’s art, some having the same title. The poet imagines what Kahlo was thinking as she painted, and put those imagined thoughts into verse. Petit didn’t simply guess, however, she did meticulous research and even spoke to some of Kahlo’s acquaintances. As an artist herself, she was able to note visual clues in the paintings that would illuminate Kahlo’s mental state and attitudes.

An important element is the accident Kahlo was in as a teenager:  her spinal column, pelvis, collarbone, and several ribs were broken. An iron handrail also crashed through her abdomen and uterus. From this accident, and from her prior illness with polio, a lifetime of pain was a certainty. Many times she was bedfast for months at a time, and her frequent miscarriages were devastating. Her pain translated into her art, few of which appear happy or jubilant. In Kettenman’s 1955 biography of Kahlo, she is quoted as saying “"I paint myself because I am so often alone and because I am the subject I know best." More than half her paintings were self-portraits.

One of Kahlo’s most well-known works is “The Suicide of Dorothy Hale”, which she was commissioned to paint by a friend of Hale's. Hale had jumped from a skyscraper, and Kahlo rendered the descent as if the clouds were slowing her fall, so her scene in death is almost like slumber. Petit went one step further in the poem, concluding it with Kahlo’s imagined thoughts:

“And I’m desolate as you were
That violet morning
When the window spoke its glass vowels
That drew you to the balcony.”

Petit’s interpretation of her biographical knowledge combined with the artistic clues make a powerful statement. The title of the book refers to a piece Kahlo completed, and it represents a woman in a bathtub with elements of her life symbolically played out in the water. The verses combine Kahlo’s art with the reality of this image (Kahlo took frequent baths to soothe her back pain as Petit notes) to imagine the emotional and physical pain Kahlo felt being a spectator for much of her life.

Special thanks to Simon Hicks of Seren Books, Wales, UK.

http://www.serenbooks.com/  http://www.pascalepetit.co.uk/   http://www.pascalepetit.blogspot.com/

Winter Garden, a collection by Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda has some pretty big achievements:  Chile's ambassador to France, a Nobel Prize for Literature, and this particular title receiving Bloomsbury's Book of the Year.  His life could never be described as dull...he's certainly not your stereotypical poet, pale and anguished, hidden away and perfecting his verse.  Neruda was out and active in life.  A Chilean Senator, various worldwide diplomatic assignments, plus a commentator on the activities in Chilean politics....he was never still. 

This beautiful collection, translated by William O'Daly, was written shortly before his death.  In fact, several manuscripts were found on his desk after he died of cancer in 1973.  The translator notes in the introduction that Chile was always his beloved home, one that he thought of in any other location he found himself.  This fits with what Neruda says in "Many Thanks":  "Why do I live exiled from the shine of the oranges?"

He knew he was dying but never does he descend into self-pity or maudlin reveries.  He acknowledges the big life he led, and in his final days he wants to simply meditate, focus on the simpler things (like a bird that approaches him as he sits outside alone), and retrieve the fondest of his memories.

In "Modestly", he uses a play on the words 'see' and 'sea': 
Without doubt I praise the wild excellence,
the old-fashioned reverence, the natural see,
the economy of sublime truths that cling
to rock upon rock in succeeding generations,
like certain mollusks who conquered the sea.

He shows some humor in "For All to Know", when he acknowledges that he's sometimes asked why he didn't write about some significant events. His response:
"I didn't have enough time or ink for everyone....I didn't decipher it, I couldn't grasp each and every meaning:  I ask forgiveness from anyone not here."

The most poignant poem of all is "In Memory of Manuel and Benjamin", two close friends of his, who unimaginably die on the same day by accidents.  Neruda is genuinely perplexed at the loss:  both were friends but they couldn't have been more different and while words were his voice, he finds it difficult to compose anything to make sense of it:

I loved my two contrary friends
who, with their silence, left me speechless
without knowing what to think or say.
So much searching under the skin
and so much walking among souls and roots
hour by hour so much pecking at paper. 

Even if they didn't have the time to grow tired,
now quiet and finally solemn,
they enter, pressed together, the vast silence
that will slowly grind down their frames.

Tears were never invented for those men.

Given his impending death, late in life, it's easy to see how pained Neruda was.  This collection features many personal thoughts, among them his eager wish not to be praised or to receive accolades in his late days.  He wants to watch water through windows and see the sunrise.  He's gracious and brave.

This book is part of a series by Copper Canyon Press of Neruda's works, translated by O'Daly from the Spanish (which is still featured in the left facing pages).

My thanks to Janet Jones of Copper Canyon Press for the Review Copy.

A Salute to Spanish Poetry, John Howard Reid

100 Masterpieces from Spain & Latin America

This is a diverse collection of poets and their poetry, lovingly translated by John Howard Reid, from the original Spanish or Portuguese. Despite the varying geographical origins, many of the topics are united: the shades of gray in shadows, the play of light and darkness, and the mysterious reflections of water, fog, and mist. Loneliness is a common theme, as is a feeling of desolation. But rather than dissolving into a sea of melancholy, this collection features other poems that illuminate playful charm, delicate romance, and unyielding devotion.

One of my favorites is from Jose Juan Tablada:    

An Alternative Nocturne:

Golden New Yorker nights

Cold walls of Moorish limestone

A champagne foxtrot from Earl Fuller’s Rector Novelty Orchestra

Mute houses and barred windows

Glancing around

Over the silent roofs

The soul is petrified

White cats outlined against the moon

Like Lot’s wife

And yet

For all that,

It’s the same

In New York

And Bogota!

The Moon…!

The art of the collection lies in the translation from the varying languages and their particular dialects and styles. Some of the poets featured are Delmira Agustini from Uruguay, Carlos Oquendo de Amat from Peru, Gustavo Adolfo Becquer and Federico Garcia Lorca from Spain, Brazil’s Olavo Bilac, Argentina’s Leopoldo Lugones, and Julian del Casal from Cuba. Notably, Miguel de Cervantes, author of Don Quixote, is also included with his poem The Gypsy. Sixteenth century poets mingle with modern playwrights in a readable collection that never gets too heavy or depressing, or worse, too scholarly (and therefore inaccessible). The way the poems are linked in the order that they are featured must have some significance, because they seem to lead into each other, giving them a sense of a greater story in play, a novelization of similar thoughts. 

This is a comprehensive collection featuring more than 50 well known and lesser known poets.  I found it fascinating to explore the poetry of poets I would have never discovered on my own.

Special thanks to the translator, John Howard Reid, for sending me the collection for review.

It is available on Amazon.com.