When making notes for this review, I
was struck by how difficult it was to introduce the book in question,
Christopher James’ collection The Penguin Diaries (Templar Poetry 2017),
without it seeming a hard sell at first glance. And at that point I realised I
had come upon a pivotal reason why this excellent collection undeservedly
passed under the radar on publication, as I’ll now explain.
The premise is as follows: 65 sonnets,
one for each member of Scott’s ill-fated 1910 expedition to the Antarctic. The stumbling
block can be found in certain contemporary preconceptions, which might initially
indicate that the collection involves some connotations of failed empire
building, etc, thus limiting its range of interest and blocking routes to
readers. However, closer inspection soon demonstrates
that these are poems of universal humanity that reach out to everyone.
For instance, the poet makes a
conscious decision not to tell the story as such. He takes it as read that we
already know the outline of the plot, and uses this shared knowledge as a point
of departure to explore a specific set of relationships in extreme conditions,
alongside the consequent roles that are played out.
However, all of the above shouldn’t
imply that The Penguin Diaries simply offers up 65 individual portraits
or vignettes. Instead, James interweaves his characters. First of all, he
highlights the differing geographical and social origins of each member of the
group. Secondly, he allows them to appear in each other’s poems, building up a
wider picture of the social and human dynamics that developed in this isolated set
of individuals. One such example is Harry Pennell. He might have his own poem,
titled The Master, but his presence is significant elsewhere, thus layering his
character, as in the following extract from The Baptism, which is dedicated to
Raymond Priestley:
The current swept you under, claiming
you
for the quiet and the dark. But in
that
moment you felt a calmness, looking up
at
the turquoise floe, the thin crust
mottled
like clouds above a world in flood.
You were a dead man with a whale’s eye
view.
When Pennell plucked you out, a hand
under
your arm, you began a second life…
The above lines also possess one of
the collection’s most interesting qualities: its attitude towards the second
person singular.
Each and every eulogy is addressed to
the person in question. This person is, of course, long dead. Furthermore, they
seem to be told what their feelings are, what happened to them, how it
happened. Such a technique would appear patently absurd. Nevertheless, there’s
method in James’ technique. By using the second person singular throughout the
book, he not only brings his characters back to life, lending their stories a
greater immediacy and relevance, but he also establishes an implicit dialogue
with them.
In other words, Christopher James’
achievement in The Penguin Diaries lies in his ability to portray the
lives behind Scott’s expedition, reaching far beyond mere historical events to
reflect on many aspects of the human condition. Once we start reading these
poems, we’re immediately drawn in to their tremendous implied sensibility and a
heightened awareness of our own miniscule place in history. The challenge now is
to enable more readers to get hold of a copy…!
