In her second full collection, titled Red Devon (Seren, 2013),Hilary Menos
builds on the achievements of Wheelbarrow
Farm, her 2010 pamphlet fromTemplar poetry, adding further texture and
counterpoints to what was already a highly individual and thought-provoking
poetic view of modern agricultural life.
Red Devon
is far from being some evangelical vegetarian crusade. Instead, it brings us
face to face with what we are and what we’ve always been. Let’s take this
example from “Stock Take”:
“…And I feel I’m not being euphemistic enough
when I explain the absence of four or five lambs
by saying we ate them…”
Of course, she’s being the opposite of euphemistic
throughout this collection. In fact, Menos peels away the layers of euphemism
like the plastic wrapping on a supermarket pack of chops.
Red Devon
continually challenges us. We’re never told what to think. Instead, the reader
is allowed to roam and explore possible reactions. For instance, “Long Pig”, about
cannibals, seems a long way removed from the West Country poems at first sight.
However, the contrary is true, as the following extract shows:
“We eat the flesh only in wartime, when enraged,
and in a few legal instances. Theft. Treason.”
The reader is implicitly being invited to
compare attitudes towards eating humans with attitudes towards eating animals.
This theme of comparisons between humans and
animals is crucial to the book. It runs through all the poems, sometimes
underneath them, sometimes as a clear driving force. One such piece is
“Shambles”, in which the slaughter of animals is compared to the execution of
people:
“This is the goat that, incompletely stunned,
Offered his throat to the knife
And said, like Walter Raleigh mentally thumbing
the axe,
“So the heart be right, it is no matter which
way the heart lieth.””
Any review of Red Devon wouldn’t be complete without mentioning “The Ballad of
Grunt Garvey and Jo Tucker, the sequence of poems that lies at the book’s core.
Like so much of Menos’ work, it highlights contradictions with a deft touch,
never hectoring, always encouraging reflection. For example, its title is
traditional, yet much of the versification subverts any pigeonholed
expectations. What’s more, any romantic connotations are quickly dispelled.
In other words, tradition is juxtaposed to
modernity, thus enabling contrasts to arise. The final (and title) poem of the
sequence manages just such a feat,
beginning with…
“Oh for a story as simple as boy meets girl…”
This fairytale content is combined with a
sing-song rhythm, setting us up for a shift in the second stanza to…
“At eight Jo parks, unfolds and folds the map,
listens to the metal tick as the big truck
cools…”
The inanimate, modern sound of the metal is
layered by the size of the vehicle. Modernity is clashing with tradition and
the consequences are tragic.
Red Devon
is an example of how a pamphlet, already excellent in its own right, can
provide a springboard towards the larger canvas of a full collection that’s even
better. Hilary Menos writes poetry that is specific in place. However, the key
to her achievement lies in her ability to coax interpretation instead of
forcing it. As a consequence, I’ll carry Red
Devon in my mind for a long time.