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We feature each week Nicholas Reid's reviews and comments on new and recent books.
We feature each week Nicholas Reid's reviews and comments on new and recent books.
“MANIFESTO AOTEAROA – 101
Political Poems” edited by Philip Temple and Emma Neale (Otago University
Press, $NZ 35)
As
usually understood, it is a declared position, a call to arms, a plan of
action, a public statement promoting a particular political party, ideology or
world view.
And
what is a political poem?
Once
upon a time, a political poem was expected to be a poem about ideologies or political
parties; or vigorous topical satire and the lampooning of specific politicians.
There
are some examples of these things in Manifesto
Aotearoa – 101 Political Poems, but they are not the norm of the
collection. The two editors tell us that they put out a call for political
poems, published or unpublished. They received over 500 poems submitted by over
200 poets, and whittled them down to the chosen 101. Only three poets are
represented by more than one poem, so here are the works of 98 poets. From this
scupulous mathematics, what I am saying is that this inevitably makes for a
collection with a great diversity of viewpoints and “political” perspectives –
not by any means a manifesto, except in the sense that it manifests the
democratic process.
There
are no poems of the call-to-arms variety, and few of the demotic type that would
once have dominated a collection of political verse. I rate the merry ironic
jingle of Kevin Ireland’s “A song for happy voters” as the most old-fashioned
poem in terms of style, and Jeffrey Paparoa Holman’s “Check Inspector 29” (a
protest at the lack of safety standards that allowed the Pike River Mine
disaster to happen) as the poem most like a traditional folk ballad. But the
majority of poets represented here write with the more ubiquitous current brand
of cool, and sometimes sardonic, irony. It goes without saying that, where
specific political issues are engaged with, the poets’ views are of the
liberal-left. Given what the poetic community is, you wouldn’t seriously
expect poems in favour of neo-liberalism or racism or environmental
irresponsibility, would you?
There
is a joint introduction by the two editors, but each writes a separate
introduction as well. Philip Temple’s introduction embraces enthusiastically
Shelley’s familiar line that “poets are
the unacknowledged legislators of the world”. According to Temple, political
poetry arouses us, makes us more aware of the world we live in, and changes our
attitudes. Emma Neale’s introduction is rather more nuanced. She notices that
politicians and poets are both “sweet-talkers”,
but that they use language in different ways, the poet by making us more
reflective. Her text is Auden’s equally familiar line that “poetry makes nothing happen”, but she
parses this to mean that poetry makes nothing impulsive and foolish happen,
unlike the utterances of politicians. Poetry, she says, makes us more empathetic
with our fellow human beings and so in that sense it does make much happen.
After
these preliminaries come the poems themselves, which have been arranged into
four very broad sections.
First
there is Politics itself. This section includes poems on, among other
things, the loss of state houses; the unlovely social habits of New Zealand politicians in general; the unaffordability of
real-estate; and student debt (the poem “Enlightenment” by Beverly Martens). David
Eggleton’s poem “The (Andrew) Little Things”, being a jeremiad against named
politicians, is the most “political” poem in the book in the old partisan sense
of that term. David Howard’s impressive “A Display Case in the Museum of Communism”
is a surreal version of its collapse. There are a surprising number of poems with
a desolate Eastern European ambience (Chris Else, Ian Wedde, Koenraad Kuiper,
Stephen Oliver); and Liang Yujing attacks the “great firewall of China” – the
Chinese regime’s system of internet censorship.
The
second section Rights deals, more or less, with specific groups in
society. So there are poems advocating for mine workers and factory toilers;
for people who have to work during holidays (Peter Olds); for women selling
cheap veges on the roadside (Series Barford); for equal pay for women (Benita
H. Kape); about trying to keep the kids warm when you’re poor (Nell Barnard); about
lesbians (Heather Avis McPherson); about rape (Ruth Hanover); about the Treaty
of Waitangi seen as an imperialst trick (Kani Te Manukura’s “tricks of a
treaty”); about Pakeha and Palagi horning in on Pasfika and Maori culture (Mere
Taito; Anahera Gildea); and quite a few bilingual poems drawing on Maori discontents.
In
Environment, the third section, come laments at the colonisation and
anglicisation of Maori animal names (Bridget Auchmuty); the homogenisation of
landscape by New Zealand farming practice (Gail Ingram); the quality of water
(Anthonie Tonnon); a post-earthquake Christchurch poem (Doc Drumheller); and
the global climate crisis which could lead to the melting of the poles (Harvey
Molloy)
When
it comes to Conflict, the final section, the focus is much broader than New
Zealand. Thus there is a reflection on the hoplessness of writing about Gaza
(Tusiata Avia); there are two very different takes on the Middle East
(Elizabeth Brooke-Carr and Peter Bland); there are many poems on refugees
(Louise Wallace, Mercedes Webb-Pullman, Sarah Paterson, Victor Billot, Majella
Cullinane); a few on war in general and disarmament (Catherine Amey, Emma
Neale); and one on gang violence (Michael Steven).
In
rushing superficially through the contents like this, I have of course name-checked
only some of the poets in this book and only some of the themes taken up. I
enjoyed the week I spent sauntering through Manifesto
Aotearoa and found only one or two cases (which I will not shame the poets
by naming) of soap-box rant. This is a good and wide sampling of current
concerned opinions, in poetic form, on matters of moment.
Inevitably,
though, an anthology tempts me to play favourites and name the selections I
found really striking.
Let
me begin with Helen Watson White’s apocalyptic poem “Water” (p.128), which I
quote here in full. Deceptively simple, it works so well because of its device
of ambiguity in a lack of conventional punctuation:
For want of a few
nails the proclamation
was not raised
on a dry post in
a desert where
sheep once safely
roamed nibbling
green food fattening
themselves for soup
and the dead left no
article of faith in the
future just excrement
and frozen soup they
died as it were leaving
no political will.
Should
I be surprised that Vincent O’Sullivan delves deeper into what ails New
Zealand than most poets do? His “To miss the point entirely” (p.24), begins “It isn’t good for a writer to live in a
country / where a cut-price banker with his next-door smile / is all we have to
throw stones at.” It concludes that in New Zealand we die “of being ourselves.” There is an
implicit warning here that it is too easy in a political poem to blame others
for the state we are in, rather than to examine our own failures or question
the culture to which we contribute.
Should
I be surprised that Richard Reeve (in his poem “Boom” (p.33 ) has the wit to
see how High Culture can be suborned to the wealthy? Liberal mouthings are not
necessarily accompanied by a hand-over of cash to those who really need it.
It
was really to my surprise, however, that Diane Brown cut deepest into the assumptions
of the liberal readership of this book. Her poem “Every Day My Name is Out
There” (p.117) basically says that there are many good causes that should be
supported, but that it’s too easy to turn support into mere perfunctory virtue-signalling.
A
poem that really shook me was Ivy Alvarez’s “Manufacture” (p.65) about the crushing
and wearing nature of working on the factory floor ; and close to it was the
raw anger of Nigel Brown’s “Abrasion”
(p.66), which opens “The crude process of
grinding down / invented by clever dicks / where you work longer hours for less
/ in the damp and fetid room / of inequality…” Them’s fighting words, thank
goodness.
The
most self-effacing poem in the book is Alison Denham’s “Occupy Dunedin”(p.113),
about the small-scale of a political event, and its probable lack of impact. Nicola
Thorstensen’s “Protection Order” (p.166), about violence both domestic and on
the street, creates a remarkable sense of dread, yet ends with another line
that will chasten those who overrate poetry’s reach: “This poem cannot save you.”
Another
good poem that manages a major shift of tone is Carolyn McCurdie’s “Ends”
(p.139) which is, quite credibly, at once horrified about major climate change,
and optimistic about the human qualities that can confront it.
Finally
the poem that I found myself reading and re-reading - Janis Freegard’s “Arohata”
(p.87). It is a tough and unvarnished poem about the real physical experience
of visiting a friend in prison. The first reading said this was simply
reportage. The re-readings said it was much more – a work of compassion held together
by its choice of detail.
Other
readers will of course come up with other favourites. I hope all will find this
as good a sampling of what upsets and moves poets in the public sphere as I
did.
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