THE HANDSTAND | SEPTEMBER 2007 |
Review: The Boy in the Ring by Dave Lordan Salmon Poetry E12.00 The
Boy In The Ring A stunning book, this is the bone of
the line from a poet that does not use death to alert the
reader, as is the well used trick of so many poets, but a
man who uses life in all its turbulent thrust and
instinct for survival. Here is a poet who can write
about suicide and bring us to the treacherous and
truthful background of a young persons perspective. This poetry has the bold strength of
Holub and other dissident European poets and
that is because there is also oppression here in Ireland
an oppression that goes unrecognised because we
live in this great Western society where so many lies
support nearly every functional institution from Church
to Government, so that young people are thrust down and
in on themselves in these acclaimed Times of the
Individual. This book not alone being a history
in itself of a young man maturing with a care and love
for life, it is also a history akin to recent Irish
literature that has given us The Butcher Boy,
Angelas Ashes, and the many texts of Roddy
Doyle. Dave Lordans key poem the Boy in the
Ring is followed by report and visions from the actual
world we live in, the emphasis there that we
live in. This is not the psychological history of a
solitary young mans trauma, this is the life we can
recognise and have had to respond to never mind
the CelticTiger or other dispensations claimed for
the European Union. As members of the latter we are not
even allowed to hand milk a cow! Here is reality and ringing out like
a bell is not only the teaspoon in the cup but
Lordans understanding for his friends and relatives
I remember the afternoon you were
told youd failed the August
exams. Now Mom and Dad would be taking scissors to the pocket strings and the wide panorama of your
life had suddenly zoomed to a puppet show in a shoe box. Lordan has what I would call grace.
It surfaced at the first reading when I heard
him on an anti-war march, he had everyones
complete attention as he described war as if to a
frightened child he was determined to protect. It
surfaces again as a mother slaps her tomboy child but
cannot prevent her from going among the trainee soldiers
and cadging a ride in a helicopter with her long white legs and her spindly fingers her hair cut short and the way she could take all
the knocks and the falls like one of us the soldiers said You can pick up these acts of grace
in alarming pungent and fierce poems throughout, his
observations: anger and innocence coming off the page
with a full on blow that remind one of Bartusek like
silkworms/ we meet our poets/ for years cocooned/ in
misfortune The trauma of school violence, drink
and mayhem that for so many destroys any impulse to hope
that dates and times occasionally light up in history
Lordans voice demonstrates terror but knows
the haste of folly, the theatre of sublimation Fearless Im fucking fearless Try me now why dont ya An I promise ya faithfully Ya wont last too long
I
got a mad tashpie to run out on the road An I screamin in the
headlights how Im fearless fucking fearless And that grace? Yes in lines
throughout this book such as Granite teeming with lipstick
kisses A shoal of petals in a mountain
lake The boy is studying the mirror How everything passes by it How it doesnt get involved How it forgets what it sees Her tap leaked the same brass
tear over and over And of the poem death at
14 : And what we were left
with
..Fierce light shining through the cracks in
the world Dave writes ofthe humourous
adventure of taking a sea dip, working as a gardener,
driving home from Derry and he writes of critical
moments in the mind, the young immigrant; the family meal
in todays ruined world, Iraq; silence, what the
fuck is silence? And all thislife overarched by the
stars in the universe that he might pull down and rename,
and Dave Lordan does not forget that he too might seem in
the future a bitter salt in the brine slowly devouring
this coast line. But just before he signs off he
performs the most vivid stream of his poets wrath and
celebration of life over the death-bearing myths of the
Greek. Of Attis and Cybele , of the mother
of nature Cybele and her son Attis who sought her. Lordan
is a young man who vows the creation of another theme, a
reality, wherein one does not forgive, a reality that may
appal, wherein we will nevertheless change this system, a
change not of repetition but of difference, a theme
estranged from the grotesque results of survival and war
that have been passed down as a "curse" from
nature, from Herodotus and Plato and spread all over the
world as in the present early years of a new millennium
by systems of government that reek of blood and bribery,
financial corruption mistakenly named national
interest and corrupt military authority, also in
the national interest. Yes, these facts rule
us and truly deserve the curse Dave Lordan places on
them. |