John TranterBesprekingen

I read this collection from cover to cover and found one (1) single good poem, the one by Richard Dawe "What does he do with them all, the old acquisitive king... ". So, either the editor/selectors, or Australian poetry, is at fault.

They're all so ... trite, and lacking in lyricism.

So why not just the one star? Well, that's what I *should* have given this terrible collection.

I confess that with this book and me it was irritation at first sight. What does it mean to publish a 'best of 2007' book in September? A quick look up the back of the book reveals that a couple of its poems were first published in 2005 and the rest in 2006. Ok, that's my first nitpick out of the way. Then I looked at the list of 'Journals Where the Poems First Appeared' (the books is subtitled 'a selection of the best poems from Australia's literary journals'), and was a bit surprised to see that Quadrant didn't get a guernsey. But it turns out that there are poems from that venerable right-wing rag, and from the equally venerable left-wing, though less well funded, rag Overland, which also doesn't rate a mention in that list. And there's more substantial cause for irritation: more than 40 of the book's 120 pages are devoted to commentary: introductory material by and about the guest editor and the series editors, and then notes from the contributing poets about the poems, which reminded me inevitably of William Carlos Williams's remark: 'You should never explain a poem but it sometimes helps nevertheless.' Some of the poets' own commentaries here are witty, some illuminating, but most plain dull, presumably because they'd said what they wanted to say. My massing irritation didn't exactly put me in a mood to enjoy the forty poems, some of which, it turns out, are very good.

On the wall near my desk I have a laser-printed version of the Rights of the Reader poster, words by Daniel Pennac, illustrations by Quentin Blake. I'm afraid that I decided to exercise my third right, the right not to finish a book, with this one. I admire John Tranter and I'm glad this book won the Kenneth Slessor Award and everything, but when I read this from 'Two Views of Lake Placid' (1993):

abreast of that authority a scarce crop a leeway truth spouse grew to be a permanent frail guide the worker grapevine whirling with gossip, arms-control study out of control on Route Nil, a cycle of pillage then reimbursement bare henpeck, as pluck plunge over-eater in a racket vacation jaunt becoming wobbly -- he drinks too much now, I guess he can't drive accuratrely -- artless wind-up, quick flimsy trot -- how long? -- cancel

I realised I would derive more aesthetic pleasure from a chat with my mother in law who has advanced dementia, and I put the book aside. I did enjoy 'God on a Bicycle', 'Back Yard', 'Widower', 'Voodoo', 'Having Completed my Fortieth Year', the long narrative 'Breathless' and so on -- but I was ploughing on joylessly, waiting for the end, so I stopped, at about page 165 of 319.
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