Thursday

Martin Edmond, The Evolution of Mirrors (2008)



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The Evolution of Mirrors

By Martin Edmond
Publisher: Otoliths
Copyright: © 2008 Martin Edmond Standard Copyright License
Language: English
Country: Paperback book
Printed: 108 pages, 15.24 cm x 22.86 cm, perfect binding, black and white interior ink
Price: $14.75
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Martin Edmond: The Evolution of Mirrors (2008)


Description:
“To dance we need those three original muses: memory, voice, occasion ...” Martin Edmond begins his new book of prose meditations, The Evolution of Mirrors with an account of the evolution of the Muses, the daughters of Memory. As his own memory moves from Ohakune to Alexandria, Sydney to San Francisco, we are invited to look into a series of mirrors trained upon the past. “We remember in order to write but we write to forget,” he quotes himself. At times his lapidary prose echoes Borges, elsewhere he appears to be channelling Pessoa. Whatever he writes, though, he remains one of the true originals of our epoch, a stunningly inventive writer whose prose is as haunting as any poem, whose poetry is as circumstantial as Thucydides. As memory folds into memory, mirror into mirror, something starts to come into focus, some justification for our – perhaps quixotic – belief that “across all versions there is something incontrovertible, a substratum of truth.”


(July 30, 2008)

[Available at Lulu Website: http://www.lulu.com/content/3372034 (30/7/08)]

[203 wds]






Wednesday

New NZ Poets in Performance: Preface (2008)


Jack Ross, ed: New New Zealand Poets in Performance (2008)

Preface



Arthur Baysting, ed: The Young New Zealand Poets (1973)


Strangely enough, one of the most difficult things about editing this anthology has been finding a suitable title for it. When, almost five years ago now, Jan Kemp and I first began discussing the idea of publishing a set of CDs giving a historical overview of New Zealand poets performing their own work, the project seemed to fall naturally into two halves: Classics (roughly representing the traditional Kiwi poetic canon: Fleur Adcock, James K. Baxter, Allen Curnow, Hone Tuwhare and our other poetic elders.) and Contemporaries (the poets who came to the fore in the late sixties and seventies: Sam Hunt, Bill Manhire, Ian Wedde and Cilla McQueen prominent among them).

So many voices began to crowd in, though – so many poets and poems demanded to be listened to and heard – that it soon became apparent that two books (even with a double-set of CDs each) were not enough to contain them all. The only possible solution seemed to be a trilogy. Hence this book, the third in the series. But what to call it? What does come after “contemporary” in chronological sequence?

The Young New Zealand Poets was the title used by Arthur Baysting for his 1973 Heinemann anthology. But a brief consultation of the birthdates in our Table of Contents will reveal to you that all of the poets here are over thirty, and a few were born before the Cuban missile crisis. Nor do I think it would really be feasible to select effectively from poets less advanced in their careers. Our teen and twenty-something poets have their own post-millennial anthologies and virtual reality webcasts to come. So, somewhat reluctantly, we had to rule out Young.

Recent Poetry in New Zealand was the title chosen by Charles Doyle for his 1965 Collins anthology, memorialising an earlier generation of revolutionary young poets. But very few of the poets in any of our three anthologies haven’t published “recently.” Hone Tuwhare and Alistair Te Ariki Campbell are still putting out books; as are C. K. Stead and Kevin Ireland – not to mention virtually all of the writers in Contemporary NZ Poets in Performance. So Recent, too, seemed more than a little misleading.

The New Poets: Initiatives in New Zealand Poetry (Allen & Unwin, 1987) was Murray Edmond and Mary Paul’s attempt to map the turbulent seas of NZ poetry in the 1980s. Their title and subtitle were arranged quite ingeniously to avoid that awkward juxtaposition: New New Zealand Poetry. And yet, there’s something in that very awkwardness which seems appealing. So many colonial and postcolonial states and cities have that “new” lurking in their names: New Hampshire, New South Wales, New York, New Haven … Only two of the world’s 193 sovereign nations are forced to contend with such a dated (and dating) prefix, though: New Caledonia and New Zealand.

Is novelty the overwhelming characteristic of this third of our anthologies, then (anymore than it is of our country as a whole)? The blurb for Mark Pirie’s New Zealand Writing: The NeXt Wave (HeadworX, 1998) suggested that “hard-edged realism and fantasy, pulp and Science Fiction, postmodernism and multiculturalism mix with unruly urban rhythms and the shrill drive of popular youth culture and modern performance poetry” to represent the “emerging and innovative voices of the 1990s.” Anything and everything, in other words. Ten years on from Pirie’s bold claims, what are the distinguishing characteristics of Generation X, Generation Y, and all those other media-labelled trends?

First of all I’d single out the role of women writers and women’s poetry. It’s no accident that we’ve chosen to open the book with Anne Kennedy’s teasing nursery rhyme “I was a Feminist in the 1980s.” Kennedy addresses the concerns of a generation of women whose political certainties have been complicated by the sheer multifarious business of life, children, and relationships. Many of the other poets included here, Jenny Bornholdt, Anna Jackson, and Sonja Yelich among them, have been forced to contend with families and family-values in a way their “Man Alone” poetic predecessors were able – at least occasionally – to sidestep. The proportion of women poets to men here, too, begins finally to reverse the polarities of the male-dominated culture of the first half of the twentieth century. Is it at last time, in fact, for the guys to shut up and listen?

Beyond that huge shift in our literary body politic, I’m tempted to identify a new ease with the world of travel and ideas in poets such as Andrew Johnston and Kapka Kassabova, with sexuality and history in Emma Neale and Chris Price, with wide-ranging themes and intellectual austerity in Gregory O’Brien and Tracey Slaughter. These are poets determined to go their own way, wherever that may lead them. And yet, are their concerns so dissimilar from those of their predecessors of the twenties and thirties? Then, as now, Utopia and Dystopia were the two warring faces of the New Zealand psyche. The pastoral nostalgia of M. K. Joseph’s “Mercury Bay Eclogues” and A. R. D. Fairburn’s “The Cave” alternated with the sweeping perspectives of Curnow’s “Unhistoric Story” and Kendrick Smithyman’s “Near Ellon.”

Then there’s the strong multicultural and indigenous tradition pioneered by poets such as Hone Tuwhare and Albert Wendt, which has born fruit in the powerful, troubling work of Pasifika poets such as Tusiata Avia and John Pule. The effortless virtuosity and inclusiveness of Robert Sullivan’s Star Waka (2000), by contrast, might be seen to hold out hope of a new harmony within our complex, fractured society.

It’s still hard to say if Richard Reeve meant to be ironic or affirmative when he chose an epigraph from Nietzsche’s Also Sprach Zarathustra for his anti-landscape poem “Victory Beach”:
And life itself confided this secret to me: ‘Behold,’
it said, ‘I am that which must always overcome itself ...’

If we are, indeed, a nation perpetually at odds with itself: athleticism at war with aestheticism, suburban vacuity with heartland values, an ever more vexed and fought-over past with a compensatory insistence on amnesiac novelty, then New New Zealand Poets in Performance is perhaps the best title we could have chosen to celebrate this diversity, the rich jangle of clashing ideas, voices, genders which combine to make a living culture.

I hope, like me, you’ll find the trip a stimulating one. I’ve learnt a lot about our country and its characteristic voices and concerns over the past five years, while working on these three anthologies. Whether you read them at home, listen to them in the car, pore over them in the library, or simply sample the odd page between appointments, I’m sure you’ll find some kindred spirits here – not to mention opponents of the type who clarify your own thinking. So three cheers for:
… the people we used to be, for
rice and dope and chilli olives, three shadows
for your silhouette, with its cigarette, for the sound
of a swing at midnight
the sound of a swing when the swinger is crying

(Olivia Macassey, “Outhwaite Park”)

Not a comforting vision, necessarily, but one which has the virtue of being disconcertingly, even (at times) agonisingly real.




The hardest thing in these cases is always deciding who to leave out. It’s better, in fact, to turn the question on its head and ask which writers you can’t imagine not including. And yet, it’s important to note that there are a lot of complicating circumstances in a sound anthology which don’t obtain in a more conventional print-only collection: the availability of suitable recordings, for one. Not to mention the undoubted fact that not all poets are accomplished performers of their own work.

Our principal criteria for selecting poets and poems remain, therefore, the same as in the previous two volumes:

  • literary merit (inevitably a subjective category – but also the most important one)
  • a strong body of published work (including at least one solo collection of poems)
  • a commitment to performance and the living voice as an integral part of the work

Once again, we’ve tried to be true to the words of the poem as it was read, rather than as its author published it (at the time or subsequently). All such variations between printed text and recording have been included in an appendix of variant readings. In accordance with our practice in the Classics and Contemporaries, this collation is confined to published books, and has not been extended to separate periodical publications.

Biographical and bibliographical information on each poet can be found listed after their poems.

In some cases the poets have dated their own work. These dates have been printed in italics. Otherwise, the dates in square brackets after each poem record its first book publication. In cases where the poem has not yet been collected in a book, the date of its first appearance in a periodical or online has been given instead.

To facilitate the use of the collection, CD and track numbers have been listed beside the text of each poem. Further details can be found in the Bibliography and Track list at the end of the book.


(7/07)

New New Zealand Poets in Performance. Edited by Jack Ross. Poems Selected by Jack Ross & Jan Kemp. ISBN 978 1 86940 4093 (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2008): ix-xiv.

[1520 wds]


New New Zealand Poets in Performance (2008)






Tuesday

Landfall 214 – Open House : Editorial (2007)


Jack Ross, ed.: Landfall 214 (November 2007)

Editorial:
Rules of Engagement



Amy Brown: The Propaganda Poster Girl (2008)


I thought it might be as well if I opened by describing the criteria I applied in guest-editing “Open House,” the first non-themed Landfall for a while. I’ve put together quite a few issues of literary magazines in my time (twenty, by the last count), and have made a few observations along the way:
  • First, editors (by and large) love themed issues. It means you can impose a shape on the material that comes in to you, and give yourself the sense of constructing a single unified piece out of other people’s inspirations. It’s rather like anthology editing, in fact – the closest most of us can get to the editor-as-hero.
  • Second, writers (by and large) detest themed issues. It means that unless you were specifically invited to submit something to the issue, that you have to contort whatever you happen to be working on to fit – however loosely – that particular theme. Or else you write something else entirely, something designed for the occasion, which may or may not end up going in. If it doesn’t, you’re stuck with an eccentric piece which may never find a home elsewhere. It’s fun every once in a while, but tiresome when it becomes the exception rather than the rule.
  • Third, readers (by and large) are indifferent whether journals have themes or not. Mostly, I suspect (I’m generalising here even more wildly than usual), they read magazines to follow the fortunes of specific writers who interest them.

So whose interests should prevail? It’s a little like the American political machine, I think: that delicate balance between the Executive, the Legislative and the Judiciary. What’s needed to keep our literary magazines lively and relevant is a system of checks and balances between the three interest groups. After all, most of us straddle all three categories at different times, so it’s hard to conclude that either editors, writers or readers should be deprived of their own special brand of amusement.

“Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn,” as the good book puts it (Deut 25: iv). It’s a lot of work to put together an issue, so editors (the executive) do have to reserve themselves a few private satisfactions. When that turns out to be at the expense of writers (Shelley’s “unacknowledged legislators of the world”), though, we have a problem. Hence the need, in most cases, for some kind of ratio of themed to non-themes. In the end, of course, it’s you readers (the judiciary), who decide what qualifies as entertaining and instructive and what doesn’t.




I tried to read, accordingly, through the – very many – contributions for this issue with as much objectivity as I could muster. Anything, in theory, was grist to my mill. In the end, though, I do have my own views. I have invited certain authors to contribute pieces who might otherwise not have thought to do so. I’ve also tried consciously to introduce new faces, which has led me, in some cases, to put in only one or two pieces each for poets (in particular) who would really merit a more comprehensive selection.

Do the results sound piecemeal, fragmented? Up to you to judge, but I feel that there’s a spirit in much of the writing I’m encountering nowadays which does succeed in giving unity to this disparate-by-design assemblage of pieces.

Many of our younger writers wear emotional extremism as a kind of badge of honour. The best of them seem intensely aware of contemporary literary theory and linguistic philosophy – the heartbeat of postmodernism – but they’ve gone beyond it into a world of private concerns and fragilities.

Take Amy Brown (“Siamang”), for instance, who sees a captive monkey in a zoo as “tailor-made to comfort / someone as sorry as me.” It isn’t that she’s unaware that the monkey is suffering more than she is – it’s because of that he can serve as her ambiguous double.

Then there’s Thérèse Lloyd, whose Levin kids:
… drag race
their souped-up Ford Escorts
leaving thick black stripes
that come to abrupt endings.

Both Brown and Lloyd are recent graduates of Bill Manhire’s International Institute of Modern Letters Masters programme in Creative writing, but their work shows little of the ironic distance generally seen as characteristic of the Wellington school.

Actually I’d say that the strength of writing programmes such as the Manhire school can be seen in the fact that these two writers, fresh from its workshops, do not sound at all homogenised or smoothed out – rather, individualised in a way which fits larger trends in New Zealand writing.

It’s easy to mock the tendency of every editor to detect new trends and incipient literary movements. “Jack says that if you’re depressed, over-educated, self-absorbed, and anxious to go on about all three then you’re on the right path …” It’s not as simple as that.

My selections for this magazine may well have ended up privileging a personal impression of what is most pointed and relevant in contemporary writing. But some of the poems and stories included in this issue move me in quite a new way. I feel intensely curious to read what these new poets and fiction writers will produce next. If any of this excitement communicates itself to you, the whole venture has been richly worthwhile.


(8/07)

Landfall 214 – Open House. ISBN 978 1 877372 93 3. (2007): 5-6.
[Available at: The Imaginary Museum]

[895 wds]

Landfall 214 (2007)