Stuart A. Paterson, Border Lines (Indigo Pamphlets)Stuart Paterson has adopted a radical approach to the 'difficult second album' syndrome. He's left a gap of 18 years between his first collection and the second and, to all those artists who ever made a disappointing second album, it works.
Stuart's been away, you see, down in that there England much of the time but, now back in his native Ayrshire, has provided the long, long awaited follow up to his excellent debut, Saving Graces. I had looked forward to the next book for so long that eventually even I had all but forgotten that there might be more to come.
Not much has changed. These are very recognizably poems by the same poet, so much so that one is actually a new, slightly altered version of a poem that appeared in the first book. So, these are not all recent poems produced in a new, homecoming burst of creative energy. There are one or two others I recognize from the 1990's and so I have to express a slight regret that the tremendous John's Christmas, 1992 that I still have here in typescript is not among them. Perhaps it was considered too dark to be put alongside these poems or maybe it missed the cut. Stuart wouldn't be the first poet to have left out a piece that I particularly admired.
It is entirely a good thing that these poems haven't moved on much from the earlier book. That first set had all the accomplishment, understated panache, sanity and good humour that make this sort of poetry very much the way that some of us would like to see British poetry go. There is no need for overly-ambitious syntax, linguistsic pyrotechnics or arch cleverness, Mr. Paterson is well capable of doing all that is necessary within the compass of an honest, clear poetry that is casually formal but neither over-dressed or under-cooked.
The 24 poems are easily read at a sitting and that is probably the best way to do it at first. It might seem a slight book, and thus a 'pamphlet', compared to many one sees but, as one who generally produces a booklet of 14 poems or so no more than every four years, it isn't for me to say it is thin and I'd rather have 24 good poems than 24 good poems spread among 60. Ideally, there should be no need of a Selected Poems, the selection should have been done before the poems saw print. So, although the book reads well taken as a whole, and is something I rarely do with longer books, one returns to specific favourites or highlights on further reading. The first of those, for me, is Barnhourie, in which,
every darkness keeps a little light,
which shows Stuart's natural optimism, or positive demeanour, in these poems because many poets, whether now or in the past, are often keen to find the darkness in any light.
Skylines is a good idea beautifully expressed, tangentially suggesting the creative process and how he might leave the poem for others to write. Spate treats time, space and size in a disarmingly accessible way that Einstein, Stephen Hawking and Quantum Physics have never been able to. Passing Through ends memorably with,
past & futures caught
between that final, tiny sunburst
& the long beyond of doubt.
But just in case this looks like an inside job and anybody thinks Stuart is my mate, that's not quite so. We once had a mutual acquaintance and only ever exchanged a few letters all those years ago. It would be quite possible for us to have taken part in the same pub quiz and neither of us would have realized. Although how many he has been to in Portsmouth, or how many I've done in Kilmarnock, is a moot point.
But, just to prove it, I'll express a reservation about ships 'hoving' into view, which looks like an unreconstructed cliche to me but might well look like completely appropriate use of the verb to anybody else. I might also express some envy at the way that Irish poets, and Scots like Stuart, can use place names that are poetry in themselves. Never mind Michael Longley's Carrigskeewaun or some of Stuart's place names here, if you live in the minor conurbation of Gosport, Fareham, Portsmouth and Havant then you don't have such ready-made, evocative words to play with. And, furthermore, we don't want a referendum of our own because we're glad to have you but, by all means, each to their own.
But there are a lot of books of new poetry that really don't get me interested enough to even read. I knew I wanted to read this one and I was not disappointed. The obvious thing to say is that I hope it's not 18 years until the next one and so I won't say that, but I'll enjoy returning to this.