Thursday, August 27, 2009
Writing the bare bones
Collected Poems, by Michael Smith, Shearsman Books, 242pp, £12.95
MICHAEL SMITH has a well-deserved reputation as a prolific and engaging translator of poetry, with versions of Vallejo, Hernandez, Claudio Rodriguez, Lorca and many others to his name.
He is also well known for his work as a publisher with the influential New Writers’ Press and as an advocate of the Irish modernist tradition.
Prolific translators can often find their own work overshadowed by the work they negotiate across the linguistic borders, so it’s good to be reminded of what Smith has achieved in his own right. The poems gathered here cover all the work Smith wants to preserve from seven previous collections, but what’s striking is how much of a piece they are. The essential elements of both style and subject matter were set in place at an early stage and he has stuck pretty consistently to them.
The poetry is spare, avoiding any kind of formal or rhetorical flourish; it’s a bare-bones aesthetic and it suits the cool regard of these poems.
Observation is one of their key drivers, and very often they focus on the city of Dublin; characteristically he’s prowling the “Old rotten heart of the city” and “pondering time’s evil” where “In the shadow of the cathedral” “the dogs of want scavenge/amid excrement and the wormy legs of children”.
Anna Kamieńska The Lamp I write in order to comprehend not to express myself I don’t grasp anything I’m not ashamed to admit it sharin...
Back after a long absence with three versions of a poem from the Chinese, for our edification, followed by a moral quandary. The first...
John Riley’s early death — he was murdered by two muggers at the age of forty-one — combined with a history of publication by small presse...
The Meaning of Simplicity I hide behind simple things so you’ll find me; if you don’t find me, you’ll find the things, you’ll...