‘Long-awaited debut’ is a cheesy cliché in the poetry world, but it’s
actually true of Hard Drive (Carcanet, 2023), Paul Stephenson’s first
full collection, following three stellar pamphlets that had left readers
wondering how he might deal with a broader canvas. Throughout those pamphlets,
if anything had defined Stephenson as a poet, it was the feeling that his writing
was indefinable. Impossible to pin down, refusing to be pigeonholed, his principal
aim seemed to be a constantly evolving exploration of the genre’s
possibilities.
The above backdrop is key to an
understanding of Hard Drive, which revolves around a series of elegies
for a partner. It’s often stated that elegies are ideal for poets to stretch
themselves and push their boundaries, due to the inherent attempts to capture
something that lies beyond the capacity for expression of human language. As a
consequence, they lend themselves perfectly to Paul Stephenson’s approach to
poetry. In these poems, his inquisitive method revolves around a continuous and
continual reinvention of itself, desperately thrusting into the indescribable
agonies of loss.
One such example is ‘Putting It Out There’. Here’s the first stanza…
So here I am worrying myself to death
about commodifying your death,
arranging and sequencing your death,
curating the left and right pages of
your death,
deciding which parts of your death to
leave out…
From the start, this poem finds
Stephenson playing with language but with utterly serious intent, toying with
the absurdity of its idioms such as ‘worrying
myself to death’, which is
juxtaposed to death itself in the original meaning of the word.
And then it implicitly challenges
the blurred roles of subject, speaker and poet, inviting us to question this
collection’s supposedly confessional nature, suggesting a difference between
factual truth and poetic truth, casting doubt on the poet’s own motives, underlining
that these poems move far beyond anecdote, claiming them as art.
In other words, Hard Drive might
be a series of hugely affecting elegies, but it’s far more than that. The
collection rummages through the received wisdom of how the poet and the reader
are meant to interact, dislodging many preconceptions with great emotional
courage. I recommend you get hold of a copy - its echoes will linger in your
head and heart for years to come.
It’s been a while since I read Chris Edgoose’s admirable and enticing
review for The Friday Poem, here, of Geraldine Clarkson’s second full
collection, Med...
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