Giles
Turnbull’s pamphlet, Dressing Up
(Cinnamon Press, 2017), is set apart by the vivid texturing and layering of its
imagery and narrative drive.
Early on
in the poems, colour and tone often play a prominent role, as in the following
examples:
“Light seeps
in…”
“…icy
white…”
“…the
colour of sunburn…”
“…spinning
in dark and light…”
“…effervescent
green…”
“…the
colour of traffic lights…”
Combined
with this light visual touch, apparently simple, clear-cut narratives acquire
multiple potential meanings and ramifications in Turnbull’s poetry. Ambivalent
and ambiguous counterpoints provide the key to depth. Here are a couple of
terrific endings to illustrate this point:
“…the
future
beginning
with the windings of yesterday’s clocks.”
“…so much
coming from apparent failure.”
And now
on to a pivotal point when reading this pamphlet, one that takes me back to an
old chestnut: the intrinsic or extrinsic approach to a text. I’ve always viewed
such a separation as a waste of time, as an academic exercise, and this case is
no exception.
What do I
mean by the above? Well, this incredibly visual verse was written by a person
who has gone blind. Can we enjoy and value it without knowing that fact? Of
course. Is our appreciation enriching by the knowledge? Of course. Is it
warped? Of course not, so long as we ensure any absurd preconceptions are
banished.
While I really enjoyed Giles Turnbull’s
pamphlet, I also like reading his blog and his interviews (such as this one with Sabotage) almost as much. In Dressing
Up, many of his experiences as a poet who has lost his sight remain implicit
and in the background, while they come to the fore in those afore-mentioned
prose features.
Perhaps
Turnbull’s next challenge is to turn his terrific anecdotes into poetry. I’d
love to read a poem about his magic glasses…!
