So
much is happening! What? Here are some further things I picked up at our most
recent small press fair [see my first set of notes here]:
Toronto ON: poet and Gap Riot Press co-editor/publisher Kate Siklosi, it would seem, has been on a roll
lately, with three chapbooks out so far this year, including one by
above/ground press, another by NO Press, and the latest, coup, by
Calgary’s The Blasted Tree. As the online catalogue copy reads, the book is “a
collection of visual poems made from the destruction of a vintage book, The Famous Men and Great Events of the 19th Century (1899). Using a variety of techniques and materials, Toronto-based
author Kate Siklosi dismantles and reconstructs the narratives propping up the ‘great
man’ theory and European patriarchal ascendancy, documenting each experiment in
historical revisionism with colour photographs.”
I’m
really enjoying the play evident throughout this short visual work, produced
through collage, cut-up and various other elements of destruction and
reconstruction, taking apart one narrative in favour of revision, repurposing
and reconsidering, forcing a consideration of the past through an entirely new
lens.
Given
her explorations-to-date with her blend of text and visuals, she is very much a
poet worth paying attention to (as is her Gap Riot Press-mate, Dani Spinosa, by
the by).
Ottawa ON: I was entirely charmed
by the reading Ottawa poet Ian Martin did as part of the pre-fair event, the
night before our wee fair, launching his fourth chapbook, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO KEEP THIS UP FOREVER (AngelHouse Press,
2018), a collection of short prose poem/monologues that read just as well in
print as they did at his reading:
ONE STAR
OUT OF NONE
i’ve always wanted someone to write a review of
my poetry that describes it as “astonishing”. now that i’ve written that down
and published it, no one can ever call my work “astonishing”, because it will
sound like a joke. whether publishing it was a mistake won’t be apparent for
some time. like when you don’t take out the garbage for weeks and everything
smells a little worse, but you never notice, because everything always smells
terrible, all the time, that’s just how it is.
Writing
on intimacy, sex, texting, friends and George Jetson, there’s an immediacy to
Martin’s short pieces, as well as a rush to his prose; one that manages a speed
without tripping, and a rush without obscuring meaning or purpose. While this
is the first chapbook of his I’ve had the chance to spend any time with, I’m
now curious to see what he might end up doing next.
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