t. 89, Brian Turner, Night Fishing

 

Night Fishing by Brian Turner.
Wellington: VUP (2016).
RRP: $25.
Pb, 96pp.
ISBN: 9781776560943.

Reviewed by Patricia Prime.

 Brian Turner’s first book of poems, Ladders of Rain (1978), won the Commonwealth Poetry Prize and was followed by a number of poetry collections and award-winning writing in a wide range of genres.

In his latest collection, Night Fishing, the contents are divided into three sections. The book sets itself up as spokenness, immediacy, physical enactment through language, as against the cerebral sterility of academic poets. For Turner is one of a species, the unabashed rhapsodist in the face of nature, but with a delightful touch of humility, as we see in “Between San Francisco and Auckland”:

 

Stars with insubstantial clouds

drifting by, like a life

hinting at more than

you’re ever going to see.

 

In “After Surgery”, the frightening event of being dangerously ill is delicately interwoven with Turner’s humour as visitors arrive “bringing fruit and barley sugars”, while the patient has tubes in his “neck, arms and stomach”. Reflecting upon the patient’s near-demise, he muses:

 

Of course everyone’s hoping you’ll pull through,

live to fight another day, though no one quite know

what to say. Some confess

they’ve been wondering if this time

you’re really fucked, and so do you.

 

The lengthy poem, “So There”, focuses on famous poets and the cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead ‘who tried monogamy / and decided it wasn’t / to her liking …’, while in “Dog”, a dog’s life of loneliness is remembered and equated with other ‘lonelies’ –

 

Every valley, every tow, every city

has their lonelies, individuals

aplenty, wondering where plenty

 

comes from, doing their best to cope.

 

The poem “Mountains We Climb” tells the story of a friend:

 

I knew him as well as I’ve known anyone.

We were friends for so long

we couldn’t recall the first time we met,

and nor had we any idea where

we were hoping to end up.

 

and how one has to find one’s own way of hanging on while trying to reach the top, ‘being relieved and grateful, almost / overwhelmed by the view.’

The long sequence, “Inside Outside”, contains six pages of verses of varying lengths. It begins: ‘The sky’s a blue guitar / with mare’s tail strings’ and focuses on the intermingling of friendships and eloquently gives recognition to youth, middle age and old age, and their impact on life. Poignantly it reflects on experience, history and identity and wonders whether anyone notices.

“Poets and Poetry” combines the recollection of what it means to write poetry and highlights the gift of finding a poem when you least expect it:

 

You don’t find poetry

it finds you, and

not always

at opportune times.

 

Let that understanding

be understood.

 

“Bees” is a celebration of nature, infused with a wonderful sense of Heaneyesque seeing things, as in this description of the bees:

 

Multitudes of dithery bumbles,

black with flecks and stripes of yellow

and orange and red and white

industriously buzz and nuzzle

 

In “Beyond Dead Horse Pinch and Red Cutting”, Turner explores themes of location, taking the reader on a breath-taking journey through the landscape of the Kakanuis, while pondering on the ‘Overseas Investment / Commissioner’s treasonable / omissions.’ This is not only a geographical journey but a spiritual one, as the poet concludes: ‘and was hoping to keep in touch, / and be touched.’

“In Flight to San Francisco” is a lengthy poem in 12 rhyming sections. It begins:

 

A man’s ambition, if he’s a fool

is to live by the golden rule:

tell the truth and he will find

the truthful untruths buried in the mind.

 

The final poem “Just Possibly” sums up the delights of just being at home:

 

If home is where and with whom you long to be

you’re still looking for it. In the meantime

you’re in a room where the fire’s crackling

and you’re listening to a CD of a cellist, pianist

and violinist whose urgency’s insistent, persistent

and melodic.

 

Night Fishing is entirely remarkable for its dignity, its beauty, its many strengths of word and witness. Turner’s lines and images are polished until they gleam. Here is poetry’s task and gift to us – a beautiful balance between mystery and disclosure, bravery and tact, the kind of tact which nonetheless keeps his zeal in place. What underpins the whole collection is Turner’s dignified restraint; the lines are balanced and controlled, the vision never in question.

 


Patricia Prime

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Patricia Prime, besides being a regular contributor to takahē, is co-editor of Kokako and assistant editor of Haibun Today. Patricia’s primary interest is Japanese short form poetry: haiku, tanka, haibun and tanka prose and she has published a book of collaborative tanka sequences called Shizuka (2015).

First published takahe 89
August 2017