In July, I read a review of Legwork by Michael Vince, his tenth collection, in The High Window Reviews. I travel and often write about my experiences and was curious; I ordered the book.
The reviewer, Edmund Prestwich, notes how the poet “interweaves gravity with quirky humour,” how the poems often include a “shimmer of implicit reflections,” and sometimes the poems take on a “more cerebral, conceptual form.”
Although the poems are set in specific places with specific details, the actual location is not named, and the poet manages, with apparent ease, to jump the gap from personal to universal. I often find the poems take me on a surprising journey, as my favourite poem does:
Spa Town
We walk to the spa town, just a small village,
hard going in the heat, though nobody seeking
for its healing waters goes there on foot,
uphill and down, it’s just too much for them,
like the sudden appearance of a tethered bull
or a flurry of chickens, where rocks and pines
hide the sea view. On the spa town streets
elderly folk no longer linger over lunch,
or smoke and sip at coffee, but well wrapped
in layers of showy abstinence and in cosy
dressing-gowns seek health-restoring waters.
Here we watch one, an old man in pyjamas,
stroll out unsteadily down a concrete pier
towards the ocean, followed by a ginger cat,
tail up, pacing to keep company. The man
turns back several times and mutters,
exchanging nods with this attentive creature
who hasn’t come here for its health. They look
like a couple out for a walk, taking the air
on holiday. When they reach the end of the pier
perched above the waves, the cat sits
and grooms. The old man lights a cigarette,
and convinces himself that nobody can see,
while the ginger cat waits, much like a nurse,
or a child out with grandpa, who comes each year
for coffee-less, wine-less days. The old man
gazes out, where the healing waters mingle
with the bitter salt. He takes laboured breaths,
then turns. He says the word, the cat agrees,
and they both begin their slow return to the shore.
A poem with a very different feel from “Spa Town” is “Borderland,” which begins: “She told me the day they crossed over, / almost as if it was a holiday….” It’s a homecoming poem in which memory, dissociation, and the absurd collide. In part 2, Vince writes: “People from across the border / come here to walk around the suburb, / the designs are quite famous, / people whose grandparents lived here / when it was another country. …Home, that’s a flexible idea, isn’t it? / Have some more wine.”
Vince writes on his website: “I’ve always been interested in the historical and psychological pressure points of living in a particular place…. As I have lived and worked for much of my life in other countries, and being part of a bi-cultural family, my writing explores places and people, feelings and experiences, with that perspective. I believe that we constantly explore and recreate such identities, which shift through time and place and language….”
If you follow my reviews, you know that I read many Canadian writers. Yet, I think it’s important to read widely and internationally. There are different tones, different ways to find the core of a subject, shifts of perspective. What are you reading?
Kathryn MacDonald 