It is rare,
when two books, chosen for review seemingly at random, have
so much in common. At
even first glance, this serendipity becomes apparent. Both books,
the handsomely bound collection of poetry Into the Fold
by Jacqueline Turner and an uncorrected proof of the latest
novel by Leon Rooke, The Fall of Gravity arrived sporting
the brightest, golden yellow colours of midday sun on a straight,
empty road into the unknown.
Fittingly
enough, both are explorations of that favourite North American
obsession - the ROAD TRIP. In both cases, their literary pedigree
is easily observed. Jacqueline Turner acknowledges her debts
early on - in her dedication, she thanks Rachel Blau DuPlessis,
Jean MacKay, Daphne Marlatt and Nicole Brossard -all poets of
note. Then there is the title, or rather titles, because Into
the Fold splits neatly into the title collection and "Beyond
Tongue".
It is R.B.
DuPlessis "Fold" that the poet acknowledges, followed by D.
Marlatt's "Touch to My Tongue". Is this a genuine key to
J. Turner's poetry or just a red herring? Let the reader decide
- both of those source books are worth picking up. Then comes
the quotation from Roland Barthes: "The worldly, the domestic,
the wild: is this not the very tripartition of social desire?"
Ha, there it is - SOCIAL DESIRE. The obsessive need for the
open road, for the wind in one's hair, for the blazing sun and
the dust of unpaved trails. "On the Road", "Easy Rider", and
now - "Into the Fold". That's not irony, not sarcasm either
- Turner belong in this company by the very power of her language.
"wet towel cold darkness draws us shadowy / we sing softly listen
lightly" - with words like these, the magic spell of poetry
is cast.
Before we
have a chance to say "drive on!", we are taken for a trip around
the poet's childhood, family, dead dog, dead friends and places,
places, places.... Ocean beaches, dusty trailer parks, school
yards, churchyards, courtyards. The poetry works here, on the
high-revved level of fast connections, fast stumbling words
and images that linger. "Beyond Tongue" is a less successful,
less captivating companion collection - dominated by images
of body, bodies, body parts and overrun by "fingers". Fingers,
flesh, marks - these words swiftly wear out their welcome and
become cumbersome, like reeds when swimming.
On the heels
of the first exhilarating read comes The Fall of Gravity
by Leon Rooke . A "straight up" road novel - or is it? A father,
his precocious daughter and a fully anthropomorphized Infiniti
car, chasing an escaped wife, mother and passenger across provinces
of the North and states of the Union.
Film Festival
movie buffs will remember the early 90's "Mississipi One" by
Sarah Moon. Others can easily refer to Skinny Legs and All
by Tom Robbins. Either way, The Fall of Gravity is a
fast car of a novel, screaming by us at top speed, not caring
to be admired or coveted, just feared. The language is in turns
beautifully poetic, annoyingly mannered and highly stylized
- grabbing the reader in spurts, and leaving him behind just
as unpredictably. The novel forges on, the gleaming chrome details
and the new car smell going with it.
Both road
books, by Rooke and Turner, ultimately offer the very essence,
the very temptation, the very nuisance of hitchhiking - no guarantee
of getting to the final destination on time - or at all.
Robert
Pierre Tomas's poetry appeared in an earier edition of The
Danforth Review.
