Here is a link to a podcast I did recently with the lovely Mr. Ken Ward on his fabulous ‘What I Don’t Talk About @ Barbecues’ where we got into the nitty gritty of the lyric impulse, the new normal post-Covid and what I’m really sure about…so really, happy to talk about most of this at any BBQ I get invited to in the next while!
Lucy Alexander’s new collection is suffused with subtle observations of nature, childhood, and memory. In imagery loaded with both immediacy and resonance, each ‘stroke’of these luminous poems invokes the sense that great and shifting worlds are coiled within even the smallest of things.
Lucy Alexander conjures up a world that shivers between the deeply familiar, deeply known, and the utterly recondite; between the earth-bound registers of vegetables and household pets, to the elemental registers of water, air, earth and fire, in phrasing that is often grammatically strange, imagistically unexpected. The formal structures of the poems exploit the glorious tension of language: the mystery and witchiness of section 1 trapped within the four walls of the prose poem; the childpoems filled with line or stanza breaks that mirror the half-uttered memories. This is a deeply empathic collection that finds surprise and delight in the most quotidian of places; that respects the pulse and breath of everyday life. – Jen Webb
At the time of writing, Nature is shaking us all by the shoulders, demanding that we reconsider our relationships with the world we briefly inhabit. In Strokes of Light, Lucy Alexander viscerally acknowledges “the slippery world” through which we pass, and the artificiality of distinctions between human and Nature, self and other, “in here” and “out there.” Always look through the crack between the door and its jamb before you open it, cautions an early poem, but this collection emphatically stresses that there is little point in so tentative an action, for already Nature – with all its birds, bushes, beasts and babies – has taken up residence in even our most private domestic spaces. Striking in their unsentimental animism, these are poems for our time; poems that call out your name; poems that hail the wind, but do not follow its instructions. — Oz Hardwick
You are warmly invited to the poetry zoom, over here at the Facebook link below.
The event starts at 6.30pm EST, May 25th 2020 and will take place via zoom.
The poems are preoccupied with splitting the ordinary open to reveal what’s extraordinary under the surface. I say ‘the poems’ because they seem to take me there, wherever there is. Under the ordinary experience of having your own children in the world is the absolute gobsmackery that they exist at all. Under the ordinary workings of the natural world is the shocking realisation that there is not always language to describe its intricate workings. Under the ordinary plying of words into sequence is the remarkable position they leave one another in.
Lucy Alexander, Afterword, Strokes of Light, April 2020.
Due to restrictions the wine and cheese launch has been moved into virtual space and will be done via Zoom. Launch details here/https://www.facebook.com/events/244473206655652/
To order please visit the publisher’s website http://recentworkpress.com
‘At the time of writing, Nature is shaking us all by the shoulders, demanding that we reconsider our relationships with the world we briefly inhabit. In Strokes of Light, Lucy Alexander viscerally acknowledges “the slippery world” through which pass, and the artificiality of distinctions between human and Nature, self and other, “in here” and “out there.” ‘ Oz Hardwick, May 2020
hours minutes seconds
Launch of Strokes of Light
Good evening folks – this is my final 7 books that changed my life in 7 days. And boy, it’s not enough space, dear nominator, the inimitable Jen Webb. I have not covered the poetry, the non fiction, the short story collections, nor the women who inspired me, really anything I read post 2010….And I want to do one for picture books that if you haven’t read you haven’t lived (Shrek – I mean the original by William Steig, anyone?) or the books of cartoons, or my love of obscure science fiction….
But, with all this in mind, dear readers, I have to tell you that The Body Artist by Don DeLillo is my final book.
I have agonised. But this one is a stand out – partly because of what he does with plot involutions (I LOVE plot involutions, this is part of why I’ve never published any of my novels) and tone. Every sentence rings with the vigour of something toiled over. The whole book is a poem.
I was working in book selling in Adelaide when I picked it up. I took it (still in hardback) to an optometrist appointment. I saw reception, sat down and stayed there for 2 hours riveted, hardly daring to breathe the spell on me was so strong. They forgot about checking my eyes, or maybe I just didn’t hear them call me in…
Those opening paragraphs, the birds on the lawn, the banal conversation that haunts and haunts the rest of the story. If you haven’t, you must read this one.
Hello – I’m up to day 6 of 7 of the 7 books that changed my life…
Today I have been thinking that The Secret History by Donna Tartt has to make it onto my list. I haven’t felt the earth move for her other books, but The Secret History – I almost expected the characters to pop over and tell me what happened next.
I came to it late – read it about 2003 – after the hype (which I never believe BTW) had died down. I stayed up all night reading, so the final climactic scenes happened in the early hours of the morning when you are most vulnerable to suggestions and can be made to believe the worst. That’s how I feel Tartt treated her readers; she manipulated us as much as the characters did one another…. And of course Henry did what Henry did. What choice did he have?
I think I should probably re-visit this one, even though I am still shuddering from the last time. I think it’s actually a horror story in disguise…
In 2013, John Mullan wrote an essay for The Guardian titled “Ten Reasons Why We Love Donna Tartt’s The Secret History”, which includes “It starts with a murder,” “It is in love with Ancient Greece,” “It is full of quotations,” and “It is obsessed with beauty.” I have to agree with him.
Day 5 of seven books that changed my life – sent this way to you by the very dear Jen Webb.
Today is HARUKI MURAKAMI day! Mainly because I can’t choose a favourite book. Is it Sputnik Sweetheart that confirmed my dislike of the Ferris wheel? Or Kafka on the Shore who still haunts me today about a decade after I read it. Or Hard Boiled Wonderland? I cannot choose. I love his darkness but also the very wonderful talking cat dialogues, the landscapes the strangeness of the world through his eyes.
If you have time you should check his website http://www.harukimurakami.com
Each book is like a glittering storm of familiar dust dancing through the darkness, exquisite jewellery to adorn the mind.
I’m already up to day 4 of my seven days of books that changed my life.
And it’s a tough one tonight folks, but A.S Byatt stole my girl’s heart with Possession. I’d been living on a strange diet of Jane Austen, romantic poets with a modern poetry twist and also (for another course I was taking) lots of Asimov and science fiction. Somehow Possession married everything I loved about all of this and threw in a great mysterious central poetry drama. I’m not sure how I’d feel if I read it again now- but damn she’s clever.
I am struggling with this because there SO MANY BOOKS – but I have to choose 5 more…
I read Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being in my 20s. I don’t remember a thing about it – but I do remember being in a kind of altered state afterwards. As if the book had rewired my brain somehow. That the magic of the words in that particular order had arranged my synapses into new and extraordinary patterns.
Day 2 of the 7 days of books that changed my life.
I was mooning around the Campus of Wollongong University, on the Australian Coast, avoiding duck poo in the long winding brick paths, dreaming about becoming a ‘writer’ and reading all sorts of authors and dabbling in poetry. As you do. So, there I was in my second hand denim jacket that came with train tickets in the pocket, and I picked up this volume with no context.
The Monkey’s Mask by Dorothy Porter blew my socks off. Not only was it sexy and dark and all those things you want your writing to be, it was a POEM and it was also a NARRATIVE. But it wasn’t one of those epics. And it was so engaging. And it was written by an Australian Woman. I was in love…
I’ve been nominated by the esteemed Prof. Jen Webb to nominate 7 books over the next seven days that CHANGED MY LIFE (sorry, I didn’t actually mean to shout there…) which made be scribble lists and walk and circles and sigh. There were too many. There were not enough. They weren’t clever… Then, dammit I thought about books that actually changed my direction – books that consumed me as much as I consumed them.
So, I take you back to 1992. I was in year 10 and I had a free hour because I had outright refused to study any maths subjects for my High School Certificate. Everyone else is in class, the sun beams down and I pick up the book I’ve nicked from my dad.
I lost myself, I was swallowed whole, the book had me by the throat, how could this man write like this?
I realise The English Patient had only just hit the shelves. I read it before it was famous, before it was a film, before all that followed. It was unlike anything I’d ever read. It did things with language and plot that made me tingle with delight.