Having worked in the wine trade for
nearly twenty years, I’ve witnessed both the short-term and long-term
consequences of alcohol on people’s lives. Moreover, I’ve read and heard a
whole litany of opposing sayings and expressions as to whether or not we
reflect our true selves when consuming booze.
My own conclusion is that alcohol
doesn’t actually cause us to tell or find truths or lies. Instead, it warps our
visions and interpretations like a concave mirror. As such, it distorts
reality, which brings me to the subject of this review: Ramona Herdman’s Bottle (HappenStance Press, 2017).
A facile interpretation of Bottle would be to conclude that its
theme is the demon drink. In fact, this pamphlet uses alcohol as a point of
departure and reference, exploring the effects of that afore-mentioned concave
mirror on Herdman's life and on the lives of those around her.
One initial problem when approaching
a pamphlet with such thematic drive and unity is that the poet’s technique
risks being left in the background. In Herdman’s case, that would be a great
pity, as she has many strengths. For instance, there’s her terrific ear, as in
the following line from “In Vino”:
“…snigger and whimper and spite…”
The repetition of “er” is obvious,
but Herdman’s real skill emerges in the way she uses the “sp” of the third
noun, “spite”, to bring together the “s” of “snigger” and the ”p” of whimper”, followed
by the bite of the “t”.
This musical strength combines
terrifically with subject matter in one of the most representative poems from the
pamphlet, “Drinking Partner”, which is addressed to a father figure and ends as
follows:
“…You are the person I’d most like
to drink with.
I leave a glass of Bells out at
night – like kids,
I hope, still do for Father
Christmas. It makes
the morning smell of you.”
The break between the second and
third line of this quatrain provides us with a gorgeous undermining of the poem’s
narrator – “…like kids/I hope…”, while “do” in the third line plays off against
“you” in the fourth, encouraging us to stress that final word of the poem
against potential assumptions, thus magnifying its significance. Of course, the
last line is also foreshortened, as Herdman accelerates through to the core of
her poem.
These brief snippets from Bottle are intended to serve as a taster
of its rich layers, of the delicate craft and art that lie just beneath its
surface, of the contradictions that are inherent in our relationship with
alcohol. Like all top-notch poetry, it leads us back to a fresh reflection on
our own experiences.
