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This is an excellent collection. Including four female poets (Anna Enquist, Eva Gerlach, Judith Herzberg and Esther Jansma) — and ten male poets (H. H. ter Balkt, Remco Campert, Hugo Claus, J. Eijkelboom, Rutger Kopland, Gerrit Kouwenaar, K. Michel, Leonard Nolens, Willem van Toorn and Hans R. Vlek) — it introduces a wide range of voices, while at the same time allowing the reader to develop a feel for some of the general trends of modern Dutch-language poetry. I say some, because Rob Schouten’s introduction makes it clear that one of the most important criteria for inclusion was whether a poem lent itself to translation or not. Thus, In a different light does not claim to be a balanced reflection of the contemporary Dutch-language scene, but rather consists of poems that can be adequately recreated in English.
Thanks to this approach, and twelve excellent translators, the collection does indeed read well. From Gerrit Kouwenaar’s 'A winter evening' ('Sat a good while watching the cankered stem / of the old elder burning // beyond telling this slow self-absorbed farewell / this birth of ash that goes without saying', trans. Lloyd Haft) to Judith Herzberg’s 'Between' ('...This painting doesn’t need / to be painted and can’t be anyway. / It suggests what clouds do from an airplane window / suggests the true difference between ah! and gone', trans. Shirley Kaufman), there is a lightness of touch and a willingness to let perceptions of the physical lead on to the metaphysical, so that a burning elder stem, or an observed scene, turns into a meditation on the fugitive nature of time. Not surprisingly, given the Dutch context, still lives figure as topics of many poems, or, as in the case of Rutger Kopland’s 'Thanks to the things', the poem itself is a still life set in motion by the poet:
The afternoon when things again become
the afternoon, light flecks like butterflies
begin to dance in white and waving curtains,
the fruit bowl again begins to smell of fruit,
the chairs of cane, the bouquet in the vase
of lilacs, the flower-pot of earth,
when, in the dead-still verandah, knitting needles,
begin to click, the newspaper to rustle again,
the gate squeaks, the gravel softly crunches.
(trans. James Brockway)
Compared to these poets, who are never in the grip of their passions, however emotional their subject matter, Anna Enquist’s approach is almost violently direct in '"I am poured out like water"':
River, flow backwards. Stone,
be fire again. Air around me,
be body that carries me and
comforts. Memory, come undone.
(trans. Lloyd Haft)
In their short introductions to the volume, Robert Minhinnick and Rob Schouten wonder at the absence of the overtly political from most of the poems. It may be, though, that, rather than reflect society, these poets treat their art as a counterweight: what could be more subversive in a world dominated by relentlessly cheerful and materialistic advertising than poetry dealing with the vanishing, non-negotiable moment?
Helle Michelsen
It is possible to use this review for promotional purposes, but the following acknowledgement should be included: A review from www.gwales.com, with the permission of the Welsh Books Council.
Gellir defnyddio’r adolygiad hwn at bwrpas hybu, ond gofynnir i chi gynnwys y gydnabyddiaeth ganlynol: Adolygiad oddi ar www.gwales.com, trwy ganiatâd Cyngor Llyfrau Cymru.
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