Nico Reznick

What a shellshock of a collection. There is a hair-trigger quality to these words, that they seethe with restraint clear and refined, but wait for the weight to decide if and how they should go off. Paramount is the reconfiguration of tried and tested subject matter, familiar as a result of being old as time and by extension what moves us ultimately and fundamentally. Here Reznick casts a steady eye over themes that will persist, and does all the commentator can: make them immediate and resonant. Most apparent is the fierce and unbridled calmness of the voice, one that elicits trust from the get-go. Reznick tackles a wealth of areas that delve directly to the marrow and unafraid addresses what possesses our heads when we want to face our truths. There is a precise nature to the placing and rhythmic quality of these poems that is startling, and a very rich intelligence is behind them. Needless to say I was impressed by this collection, by the depth in its directness and the bare ambition. I’ll give it a 4.5 as I’m stingy with 5s.… (meer)

Nico Reznick’s second collection of poetry is just as good as the first. The dissatisfied human spirit in the modern age of meaninglessness is captured brilliantly. The poet’s personal feelings and demons are explored in poems like the powerful ‘Kiss Like Opium’ and the relatable-in-essence ‘Letter Of Notice’ and her disillusionment of twenty first century politics in ‘The New Breed’ is expertly captured.

This easily digestible collection offers much pause for thought. Literally. It will make you stop, think, feel, digest and reread again. My favourites in Gulag 101 were: ‘Slow Death Among The Toner Cartridges’ which perfectly sums up the banality and mundanity of work, with lines like: “There are people who know whether you take sugar in your tea” and: “You get a card on your birthdays, scribbled with a score of sincere, benevolent, utterly generic messages.” And as a long standing and unashamed fan of that nutter David Icke, I particularly liked ‘Reptiles As A Metaphor’ which remembers how much everyone used to laugh at Icke and how much of his big-business-elite conspiracies are suddenly in-your-face-facts a couple of decades on.

Other winners were ‘Rejection’, which begins: “I don't want you, walk-in-closeted, white-picket wonderland, or all your 2.4 suburban promises of good catchment areas and gentrification”, and ‘Service Desk’, which starts: “In the car after work, some forsaken Wednesday evening, Christie twists in her driver's side bucket seat to tell me, 'The problem with this job is lately, it feels like I'm sucking dick when I'm not’”.

I can’t recommend Nico Reznick’s poetry enough. Support your indie poets and buy this book.… (meer)

I read this poetry book in one sitting last night. Then I read it again this morning. It’s that good.

Over Glassy Horizons contains wonderfully sentimental poems, some good old bureaucratic poking, modern day boredoms and injustices, wry humour, self-reflection, anarchism and politics.

I resonated so much with most every poem that it made me feel like I’d made a friend. It felt like if my own poetry book could marry another poetry book, it would want this one.

I loved ‘Your Application Has Not Been Successful At This Time’, ‘You and Cigarettes’ was beautifully told, and ‘Whimper’ - the author’s response to Ginsberg’s ‘Howl’ was right on the nose. ‘The Patron Saint of Charlatans and Shysters’ demanded to be read again once I found out who it was about, and it was even more seething and delightful second time round, ‘Generation Exit Wound’ sums up the post-Coupland modern world feeling really well, and travel odes like ‘Local Colo(u)r’ almost read like short stories.

I think my favourite was the Bukowski-esque ‘It's An Employer's Market, I Guess...’ which begins: “Jobs I’m not qualified for/Jobs I wouldn’t want in the first place/Jobs that wouldn’t even exist if the world was sane and civilised/Jobs selling jobs/Jobs telling lies/Jobs selling people things they don’t need and can’t afford/Jobs selling people their own future bankruptcy.” Damn, I felt like I could have written that poem myself.

Another favourite has to be ‘The System Works’, with starts: “I dreamed about you again last night. I dreamed I strangled you with your own red tape. Your bluing lips spewed technicalities. You bled protocol.” There’s a touch of Patrick Jones’s ‘Guerrilla Tapestry’ in there.

These are poems that you’ll want to recite and share. There’s a combined softness and anger in this collection that perfectly go hand in hand. Damn, I might read it a third time now…… (meer)