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Poetry Shelf review: a – wake – ( e ) nd by Audrey Brown-Pereira

a – wake – ( e ) nd, Audrey Brown-Pereira, Sau’foi Press, 2023

Audrey Brown-Pereira’s third poetry collection, a – wake – (e) nd, is a moving evocation of being, remembering and retrieving, of acknowledging and connecting. You move between fire and fever, ocean and silence, wind and light. There is breath and there is breathe and there is breathing.

Audrey is writing the girl, the woman, she is writing a constellation of selves, she is writing she and I and me and you and we. She is rendering the voice of the woman audible, the woman visible. She is recognising self within self, writing to remember, writing to ‘forget me (k)not’ as one poem is entitled. It is for daughters. It is for her. It is speaking in poetic form to and with and by and for whanua and family, for poetry lovers.

It is political and it personal. It is raising the red flag on climate change and the effect our choices have had and are having on the Pacific Ocean and its inhabitants.

Audrey resists a seamless word flow for both eye and ear. Open the collection and you will fall upon the spaces along the lines, the gaps, the clearings, the intake of breath. These might be registered as silent beats or as rich gatherings. The space becomes bridge between this word and that word, this feeling and that feeling, this recollection and that idea. It is musical – think syncopation, harmony, melody. It is daydream and it is sidetrack. I am (a)float on these islands of words.

And there we go – carried to the i (s) land. The fractured word re-forms to sing of self and belonging and again, yes, of being. The reverberations are there too in the title poem, ‘a- wake – (e) nd’. Both revitalised and reclaimed words are windows, doorways, exquisite pathways into the collection – this writing and this reading is an awakening. A reforming of self. There is pain and there is a slow vital spacing out of self. Think heart and think body. Think loved and loving and loved ones. The writing is awake to or with or for or by: she and I and me and you.

Find a copy of the book – nestle into the clearings – tune in your ear and your eye. Listen to Audrey read from the collection here. Follow the wind and the light, the ocean and the land, as you are embraced by the rhythm and melody and remembering. This is a glorious book of her, of making woman girl she present. It is voyage and epiphany and talisman. It is to hold close and breathe in. I love it. So very much.

Audrey Teuki Tetupuariki Tuioti Brown-Pereira (1975) is an innovative poet who plays with text on the page and words in the air/ear. Poetry collections include Threads of Tivaevae: Kaleidoskope of Kolours (2002) with Veronica Vaevae, published by Steele Roberts and Passages in Between I(s)lands (2014) with Ala Press. Born in the Cook Islands and raised in New Zealand, Audrey lives in Samoa with her family. She is a graduate of Auckland University and the National University of Samoa.

Saufo’i Press page

Poetry Shelf favourite poems: James Norcliffe’s ‘Ichthyosaurus’

 

Ichthyosaurus

1

It nudges its long snout
through the dappled curtains of time.

In a green light its teeth shine;
they are sharpened emeralds 

wanting, waiting and momentarily  
there is no longer snatch gob and grab –

there is only the soft rise and fall,  
the even breath of a sleeping ocean.

2

There was a perfect arch 
from hill to shining hill,
the dark water between.

There was the smell of morning
coffee, a warm cup and toast
to ward off the autumn chill.

There is not one centimetre 
of human history in the
kilometres of its eyes.

It would have sensed
your uneven breath as 
you waited, warm and naked,

and as your rainbow body
arched with love, it would
have burst through the surface

of the ocean, its jaws stretched
beyond lex talionis, beyond reason,
streaming with saltwater, with lust.

James Norcliffe
from Shadow Play, Proverse Press, 2011

Note

Over a dozen years ago, Vaughan Rapatahana prodded me to enter a manuscript for the Proverse Prize. Vaughan had entered the competition the previous year and had been a finalist and subsequently published by Proverse Press. His title was Home, Away, Elsewhere and Vaughan, an old friend and colleague from Brunei days, asked me to provide an introduction, which I was very happy to do. Proverse is a Hong Kong publisher run by expatriate New Zealander Gillian Bickley and her husband Verner Bickley. Apart from Vaughan they published the late Laura Solomon, another prize winner.

Accordingly, I submitted my ms Shadow Play which was a finalist and subsequently published by the press in 2011. I am very fond of this book, which, I feel, contains some of my best work. Perhaps, in retrospect, publishing a collection in Hong Kong wasn’t the best strategic move as the book had only minimal distribution in New Zealand and very few if any reviews here. 

I’ve chosen the poem ‘Ichthyosaurus’, originally published in Landfall. According to Richard Peabody of Gargoyle Magazine, who was one of a number who provided an encomium for the book, “(this) great poem exposes the slinky sinister undertow at work”. I imagine that is so. Many of the poems are layered and built on anxiety. We live near the sea, the sea where aeons ago the ichthyosaurus ruled. The imagined creature is pretty scary and not a bad – if over the top – simulacrum of our modern anxieties.

James Norcliffe is an award-winning writer of poetry and fiction and an editor. His eleventh collection of poetry Letter to ‘Oumuamua was published this year by Otago University Press. he has written many novels for young people and his novel for adults The Frog Prince was published last year by Penguin Random House. In 2022 he was awarded the Prime Minister’s Award for Literary Achievement for Poetry and this year was awarded the Margaret Mahy Medal.

Favourite poems is a series where poets pick a favourite poem from their own backlist and write a note to go with it.

Poetry Shelf audio: Megan Kitching reads from At the Point of Seeing

Photo credit: Claire Lacey

Megan Kitching reads from At the Point of Seeing, Otago University Press, 2023.

‘Headland’

‘Crematorium’

‘Houseplants’

Megan Kitching holds a PhD in English Literature from Queen Mary University of London, looking at the influence of the natural sciences on eighteenth-century poetry. She has taught English and creative writing in the UK and at the University of Otago. Her poetry has been widely published in Aotearoa New Zealand and international journals. In 2021, she was the inaugural Caselberg Trust Elizabeth Brooke-Carr Emerging Writer Resident. Her debut poetry collection is At the Point of Seeing (Otago University Press, 2023).

Otago University Press page

Poetry Shelf Monday Poem: ‘Into the Light’ by Michael Harlow

Into the Light

   for Laura Garavaglia, Como

We walk into the light
inside the poem we have become,
inside the house of poetry.
Your words flying to each other
with astonishing ease,
a constellation in the world-sky,
the moon a perfect accomplice.

Michael Harlow

Michael Harlow has written 14 books of poetry, and was awarded the prestigious Prime Minister’s Award for Literary Achievement for Poetry in 2018. In 2014 he was awarded the Lauris Edmond Memorial Prize for distinguished Contribution to New Zealand Poetry. He was awarded the Katherine Mansfield Menton Fellowship to France in 1987. He lives and works in Central Otago as a writer, editor, and Jungian Therapist.

Poetry Shelf poems: Michele Leggott’s ‘the days for Frances’ 

the days for Frances 

January 2022 

oh Frances 
bright wings 
at the corner of the barrel vault 
against a blue Tuscan sky  

or that big purple octopus 
curving along the underside 
of the pontoon where you wait 
for the ferry that will bring you 
to Devonport 
a big purple octopus 
for the start of rehearsals 
wind and weather 
never looked better 

and then there were the summer lunches 
breezes on the deck 
cuisine straight from the garden 
crisp white wine 
cat monitoring dog 
then into the car 
or the swim at Onetangi 

island life 
its purple octopuses 
and banked tomato plants 
in cans 
clear white wine 
and zucchini fritters surrounded 
by golden flowers 

here 

bells pealing from a dark throat 
in the tītoki  

here 

sticky white flowers 
pelting the deck 

here

a fantail hopping about
in the yellow ginger 

I come down the steps 
counting to fifteen 
and we make a progress around the garden 
arm in arm 
feet cool in the damp grass 
of the oncoming evening 
here is Senhor Palm his thick trunk 
one of two shooting four metres 
into the sky chinks  
below him the heliconia 
almost in flower 
bright red bract about to unfold 
two more palms though one is ragged 
and may have to go 
pink banana flowers 
so beloved of birds
a leaf the length of my arm
torn into soft strips 
then the four beds of provender 
wilding coriander 
basil coming on in ordered rows  
beans out of control on their towers 
bull’s horn peppers curling from stalks 
that can barely hold them 
three tomatoes 
from Taranaki seed 
sweet green shishito peppers 
for pan-frying 
feathery thyme clinging to fingertips 
then the feijoas  
and the disreputable bird of paradise 
whose days are numbered 
but not the cannas 
waving their red flags 
in a bundle of green spears 
the tall ginger plant with ivory flowers 
yellow and orange on the inside 
the boxed fig tree branching out 
tiny fruits on its 
extremities 
and the soft new foliage of the tītoki 
where berries of red and black are forming 
and the tūī comes to dive  
for insects in the evening air  
we circle back across the grass 
to the steps and ascend 
listening
to water pattering below

Michele Leggott

Michele Leggott’s eleventh poetry collection, Face to the Sky, was published recently (Auckland University Press). Her selected poems, Mezzaluna, was co-published in 2020 by Wesleyan and Auckland University Presses. Earlier titles include Vanishing Points (2017) and Heartland (2014), both from Auckland University Press. She is working on a study of archival poetics, provisionally titled ‘Groundwork: The Art and Writing of Emily Cumming Harris’. Michele Leggott co-founded the New Zealand Electronic Poetry Centre (nzepc) with fellow poet and librarian Brian Flaherty in 2001. She was the New Zealand Poet Laureate 2007–2009 and received the Prime Minister’s Award for Literary Achievement in Poetry in 2013. In 2017 she was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of New Zealand.

Poetry Shelf review: Robin Morrison’s The South Island of New Zealand – From the Road

The South Island of New Zealand – From the Road, Robin Morrison
Massey University Press, 2023

Road trips take many forms. You can load up the car, check the map (or not), and head off into adventure and discovery, epiphany and delight. Who knows what beauty and mishap will unfold? Road travel is joy. Or you can do the kind of road trip where you swap a novel or an artwork or a photograph for the lure of a physical itinerary. That too offers adventure and discovery, epiphany and delight. Robin Morrison’s The South Island – From the Road offers the reader multifarious travel, retracing physical roads and then setting you within and beyond the photograph frame.

The documentary photographs of Robin Morrison (1944 – 1993) represent New Zealand land and townscapes with varying degrees of human traces and everyday settings. Like the movies of Vincent Ward and Jane Campion, the poetry of Bill Manhire and Anna Jackson, the songs of Aldous Harding and Tiny Ruins, the novels of Catherine Chidgey and Elizabeth Knox, Robin’s photographs have stuck light and dark, the physical and the ethereal, to my heart from the first encounter. To stand before a Robin Morrison photograph is to absorb the transcendental – to be both of the work and beyond the work. It is traversing the ordinary and gatecrashing the extraordinary. You enter the unsayable: how can I convey the uncanny feeling that sits next to flashes of recognition?

In his preface, Robin claims the 1979 project as a ‘personal view of the South Island’: ‘I travelled 18,000 miles with my family into most corners of the South Island but concentrated more on areas that held my eye – in particular Central Otago. We stayed in the holiday houses of friends and enjoyed the sense of space and sense of being on the edge that we so rarely have in the closeness of a city.’

This project resonates on so many levels, especially as I have lived with an artist for over three decades. We travelled much of the South Island as a family, as he searched for beehive ‘paintings’ on the landscape. Our physical road trips, affording beauty views along with the fascinating pull of found objects on the land, have instilled an ongoing relationship with space, the natural world, an inhabited world, the magnetism of elsewhere.

Thus to take road trips courtesy of The South Island – From the Road is both a reawakening of old itineraries and an ignition of the new. It is a form of travelling though time and place where the white bulging cloud hanging over the grey streaked ocean is as important as a reflection in the Post Office window or a snow dusted mountain. It is what the artist/documenter chooses to frame, the light he attends, the colours that have fallen into view, the trust he builds in the people photographed. Herein lies an alchemy of looking where composition meets colour meets light meets hidden narratives. Weather makes a difference. The general absence of people makes a difference. The pervasive presence of people makes a difference. The beekeeping couple standing outside their wooden villa in Blackball. The women with cream handbags at the race track. Traces of human endeavour and architecture make a difference. Interiors make a difference. The tea trolley with lace doilies and a cut glass vase resonates like a poem, the elderly couple framed by knickknacks, the family mementos. Shadows on walls or hills beguile, track marks on paddock or mountain passes divert.

Does it make a difference that Robin harnessed natural light to take the photographs, that he worked without filters and generally used Kodachrome film stock? I am no expert but for me it does. I have no interest in expanding upon what is missing from these South Island photographs – critics have mentioned grit and grime, a Māori presence, the new industries such as vineyards and hydro power stations, or the hubbub of the cities, dwellings that don’t adhere to Art Deco chic or colour palettes. The stream of thought as you look is paramount. I move from the nostalgic to old hierarchies to hand-knitted jerseys and socks on the line, from the kettle on the wood-fired stove to women in aprons and men in gumboots. Beer and cigarettes. Goats and dogs. To what is missing and missed, to what is missing and not at all missed.

To sit and gaze into the width and depth of Robin’s South Island photographs is to stockpile wonder. It is falling upon beauty in the everyday and the accruing stories. It is falling upon the everyday in beauty, and expanding on the way objects and human interventions fade from view, return to view, raise questions. I keep holding a page out to my family and starting up a conversation. We are road-tripping along an itinerary of anecdote, memory, visual images, affecting colours, mood enhancing light courtesy of Robin Morrison’s mesmerising photography. This elegant book is a treasure. No question. It is an extremely diverting road trip.

The South Island of New Zealand – From the Road was originally published by Alistair Taylor in 1981. After a long period out of print, the much loved book has been lovingly re-presented in a new edition by Massey University Press in association with Tāmaki Paenga Hira Auckland War Memorial Museum. The original Kodachrome slides have been digitised using up-to-date technology. There is also a comprehensive essay by Louise Callan, Robin’s friend and fellow journalist, with recollections by Robin White, Laurence Aberhart, Grahame Sydney, Owen Marshall, Ron Brownson, Dick Frizzell, Alistair Guthrie and Sara McIntyre.

Robin Morrison (1944–1993) was one of New Zealand‘s most significant documentary photographers.

Massey University Press page

Poetry Shelf favourite poem: Gregory O’Brien’s ‘At the Washaway’

At the Washaway

When you told me your hands
were fish—fuafua or pelepele, to be precise—I was

unmoved. And your neck and shoulders a school of
limu fua or trumpeter, I believed

neither you nor the yellows and pinks, the orange
afterglow. When you said

your heart was a fish
hiding behind a rock, I would have

none of it. Nor that your body was a pool
of hapi, hexagon groper, flutemouth

and cornetfish. I could not so much as
entertain the thought:  your elbows, forearms

and fingers as humu or hafulu
or fine-lined bristletooth. At least

not until Sally Lightfoot led me
      by the mottled hand
down the spiralling staircase of

this, her undersea forest
    her orchestra pit, my washaway.

Avatele, Niue

Gregory O’Brien

Note

‘At the Washaway’ was written on the island of Niue, where I spent a fortnight in November 2022 making etchings with my long-time collaborator and friend John Pule. With another friend, geographer and academic Robin Kearns, we visited the settlement of Avatele–one of very few sandy beaches on the island. Just above high-water mark, the overgrown remnants of a beach-cafe/bar, ‘The Washaway’, is still standing (but, sadly–post-covid–no long operating). The Washaway was once famous for its ‘honesty bar’. Customers were asked to list on a piece of paper any drinks procured from the self-help bar and then pay cash to someone-or-other before sauntering off into the darkness much later in the evening.

Mid-morning, on the reef at Avatele, I stood knee-deep in the crystal clear water and watched tropical fish dart past. I followed the precise manoeuvres of crabs and various kinds of shrimp. It was in the company of these aquatic species that this poem–a love poem to Moana Oceania–began. You might ask who is Sally Lightfoot, at the conclusion of the poem? As marine biologists will tell you, a Sally Lightfoot is a kind of urchin crab common on Pacific Islands. It was one of these exemplary sea-creatures that, Virgil-like, led me in the direction of this reverie, this poem.

Gregory O’Brien

Gregory O’Brien’s monograph on painter Don Binney is published in October this year. He is presently curating (with Jaqui Knowles) an exhibition based upon his book Always song in the water for the New Zealand Maritime Museum Hui Te Ananui a Tangaroa, where it will be on display from August 2023 until February 2024. A new, much enlarged edition of the book, Always song in the water–an ode to Moana Oceania, is being published by the Museum to accompany the exhibition.

Poetry Shelf audios: Diana Bridge reads from Deep Colour

Diana Bridge reads from Deep Colour
Otago University Press, 2023

‘Deep colour’, ‘In the New York Public Library’, ‘the candle’ and ‘Accommodations’

Deep Colour is the eighth collection by award-winning Wellington-based poet Diana Bridge. It follows Two or More Islands (Otago University Press, 2019). Bridge’s many accolades include the 2010 Lauris Edmond Memorial Award for Poetry, the 2014 Landfall Essay Competition prize and the 2015 Sarah Broom Poetry Prize. The chief judge, Irish poet Vona Groarke, described her work as ‘possibly amongst the best being written anywhere right now’. The same year, Bridge was the first New Zealander since Janet Frame to take up a residency at the Writers’ and Artists’ Colony at Yaddo in upstate New York. In the Supplementary Garden: New and selected poems (Cold Hub Press, 2016) was longlisted for the Mary and Peter Biggs Award for Poetry in the 2017 Ockham New Zealand Book Awards. Bridge has studied Chinese language, literature and art history and holds a PhD in Chinese poetry from the Australian National University.

Otago University Press page

Poetry Shelf Monday Poem: Dinah Hawken’s ‘Brief Dialogue’

Brief dialogue

The sea shone briefly behind the trees.

Why are you sad? she asked, putting down her pen.
The sea is so moderate today, he answered,
so suave, even with its gutsful of garbage;
and this room is a well-loved place
preparing for evacuation.

Dinah Hawken

Dinah Hawken lives in Paekakariki and is presently writing a series of short poems influenced by two poets she has admired for many years, Yannis Ritsos and Tomas Tranströmer. Her ninth collection of poetry, Sea-light, was published by Te Herenga Waka University Press in 2021.

Poetry Shelf review: Eileen Merriman’s Catch a Falling Star

Catch a Falling Star, Eileen Merriman, Penguin, 2023

There is something immensely satisfying when you pick the perfect book from your pile to match your mood and reading needs. I am a big fan of Eileen Merriman’s ability to craft stories and characters, whether medical or dystopian, that carry you out of your everyday rhythms with heart and flair. After a week or so of excessive sleep deprivation, it felt slightly ironic to settle in with a character who is also sleep deprived (way worse than me!). But this stellar YA novel kept me hooked until the final page.

Catch a Falling Star is Eileen’s prequel to the heart-wrenching, award-winning Catch Me When You Fall (2018). In the latter, Alexandria Byrd is a leukemia patient who meets and falls for Jamie Orange, as he does for her. In the prequel, we shift to the voice of Jamie, and trace his bumpy pathway to the clinic where he eventually meets Alex. Much water under the bridge before that point. And that turbulent water is Jamie’s story.

Jamie adores musicals. He is a big reader. His parents are separated. He loathes Maths. He gets the part of the donkey in Shrek. He fancies Frankie who is playing Princess Fiona but she is going out with his good friend. Jamie’s world is crumbling and his head is skew whiff. He is in the thick of teenage messiness where every path exposes tough choices, fractures wellbeing, compromises relationships, dissolves responsibility. The warning signs pierce as you read: the suicidal thoughts, the self doubt, the diminished motivation, severe sleep deprivation.

Why did this novel hit the nail for me so beautifully? It is character rich, the voice of Jamie so gripping, the dialogue on point, the pace of the narrative sweetly judged. On the one hand, you are caught up in heart-in-the-mouth vulnerability and decision making; it makes you care and it gives the narrative depth and complexity of heart. But it is also complex because it is rich in reference. George Orwell’s 1984 is present along with Haruki Murikami’s 1Q84. Jamie attempts to write a novel that mashes 1984 and zombies (he would much rather be novel writing than figuring maths problems). His English teacher draws on a wider scope of educational aims than national standards and offers inspiration. Musicals are listed and quoted from. Phantom of the Opera playing on the headphones offers vital relief. Such complexity anchors the narrative, along with the stretched and essential relationships, in a complex world, a world that draws upon both light and dark. The concern and support of those close to Jamie is another significant comfort-anchor as you read.

At the back of the book is a welcome list of places to seek help: telephone numbers, helplines, key organisations. It is a reminder that mental health issues and suicidal thoughts, mania or depression, affect an individual but they also have a ripple effect upon friends and family. There is also a list of famous and not so famous people who have suffered from manic depression (bipolar affective disorder). The presence of both lists, along with the cradle of relationships in the book, underlines the significance of not being alone, of not feeling bereft of support and lifeboats. I know this as a cancer patient.

Ah. Triple ah. Quadruple ah. Catch a Falling Star is a sad, contemporary, thought-provoking, must-read story that revives you no matter how little sleep you have had! The word I take with me is hope, the image I hold is two teenagers bonding over books and coffee. Utterly riveting! Utterly humane.

Eileen Merriman’s first young adult novel, Pieces of You, was published in 2017, and was a finalist in the NZ Book Awards for Children and Young Adults and a Storylines Notable Book. Since then, a stream of novels for adults and young adults have followed. In addition to being a regular finalist in the NZ Book Awards for Children and Young Adults, Merriman was a finalist in the 2021 Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Crime Novel and Moonlight Sonata was longlisted for the Jann Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction 2020. Editions of some of her young adult novels have been released in Germany, Turkey and the UK and three have been optioned for film or TV, including the Black Spiral Trilogy. She works as a consultant haematologist at North Shore Hospital.

Penguin page