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The Unknown Civilian<\/em> is a magic book. It has magic spread all through it. Antony Owen faces up to the atrocities of war and speaks on behalf of all who it sweeps away or has left behind. He questions the skewed morality war lets loose – as in anything goes, anything is allowed when at war – and demands that it this skewed morality is held to account. Like a very skilled lawyer he sets about questioning the culprits, bringing before us victim statements, accused statements, innocent statements – many posthumously of course – testament after testament – shocking image after shocking image – laying before us all the evidence.<\/p>\n The beauty of it all is Owen\u2019s humanity and ability to get down killer line after killer line. He sums up so well often leaving you unsure of whether what you have just read is horrific or a bit of magic.<\/p>\n When you read this book you become a witness to all that has gone before. What you do with that is up to you. But you certainly won\u2019t be looking at the images of war on the television and papers in future without thinking about this book.<\/p>\n There is a section in The Unknown Civilian<\/em> called The Invisible<\/em> which deals with PTSD, battle fatigue, shell shock and madness. It contains a quite stunning series of poems where Owen really shows his skill in being able to weave the effects of war into the contemporary fabric of society. In the poem The Suicide of John Doe<\/em> we are in the aftermath of a Private soldier\u2019s suicide, being taken through some of the moments that led up to that terrible event:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I wonder in those brief PayPal unions I wonder if Bob at Wickes saw the rope I wonder which random thing set you off, <\/p>\n This is where Owen really shines – for me he writes best when he\u2019s writing about people \u2013 when he isolates a single person or a thing and then explores the effects that war has had on them – or them on the war. You could not choose a more heart-slaughtering, more poignant set of examples if you tried. It made me think for days afterwards as I went about my business whether there was any significance in some of the events I was a part of, or I had witnessed, that I was missing. Unfortunately, like for Private Doe, we often only get to find out the true significance when it\u2019s too late, if ever at all.<\/p>\n Some of the other poems in this section, most notably Valentine\u2019s Day for Invisible People<\/em> and The Surprise Welcome Home Party<\/em>, talk about the effects of post-traumatic stress, and you get this feeling that Owen knows well that not only the soldiers who are returning experience this but also that there is a kind of sympathetic PTSD that families and friends experience too \u2013 like in The Surprise Welcome Home Party<\/em> where the writer is describing the potential pitfalls of throwing a party for a returning soldier:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Do not think a salmon with cucumber fins will save him\u2026<\/p>\n An exhaust backfires and the haunted are returned to war\u2026<\/p>\n There has to be noise and preferably a song he liked. <\/p>\n This is again an example of what I mean by a people person. We all know that even in times of great stress and loss, humour is often the best weapon to use to defend yourself, and others, from the pain. When I say \u2018we all know\u2019, I mean people – proper people – they know – the stiff upper lipped, those who have gone through an emotional by-pass, a humour extraction, a dark-side removal – they haven\u2019t got a clue how to behave in this sort of situation apart from remain stoic and taciturn building up an atmosphere that you couldn\u2019t cut with a chainsaw. Owen is the complete opposite of that \u2013 he knows people.<\/p>\n In Valentine\u2019s Day for Invisible People<\/em> we get the following:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sometimes you drift back there <\/p>\n I cannot express how much I like this poem. It uses the \u2018killer line\u2019 the \u2018summing up\u2019 at the end to impart what it is like to live in the foggy trauma many soldiers, and medicated civilians, live in \u2013 these thoughts, completely unconnected to what might be going on in front of them – they rise up, uncalled, out of the subconscious \u2013 as though they are there to help heal or put up a force field to protect against the painful dialogue taking place. A defence wall to stop you getting completely ripped apart.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n There is a poem in Part 2 called A German Soldier in Russian Boots<\/em> in which Owen shows just how much skill he has at creating a series of images built upon each other all heading towards an ultimate meaning. This poem takes you through the reflections of a German soldier after capturing; defrosting over a fire; slicing; eating and then stealing a Russian soldier\u2019s boots before using them to try to \u2018footstep\u2019 it home:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Comrade, your thigh meat tasted like game and leather. Comrade, I defiled your body because I needed your boots. <\/p>\n Maybe he got home, maybe he didn\u2019t? – The images are haunting and so powerful that they stayed with me like a sore for days afterwards. In many of the poems Owen conjures up these images that sear themselves into your mind which, as I say, makes you as good as a witnesses to the events.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sometimes I found the writing reminiscent of the great Native American chiefs when they sat down with the white man to explain how they feel about what the white man had done to their land and their people. As in the poem Rape Seed<\/em>:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The bald crow was not itself. The dead reek of fish hung like Alaskan salmon. Lucifer watches the rape of Mother Nature. <\/p>\n With a few nouns changed this could as easily be Red Cloud or Standing Bear or Roman Nose. I don\u2019t think for one minute that Owen has set out intentionally to come across as a wise American Indian chief – I think it\u2019s just that when war, or any big heavy subject is spoken or written about, it imbues the writer or speaker with a responsibility to respect the immensity of that subject and writing in this way \u2013 with weighty punches directed to take you down – feels like one of the most respectful ways to approach it. After all, isn\u2019t it true that the subject matter can often direct and dictate the style and tone of the writing?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Martin Hayes<\/strong> was born in London and has lived around the Edgware Road area of it all of his life. He has worked in the courier industry for over 30 years and is the author of four books of poetry: Letting Loose The Hounds<\/em>, (Redbeck Press, 2001). When We Were Almost Like Men<\/em>, (Smokestack, 2015). The Things Our Hands Once Stood For<\/em>, (Culture Matters, 2018) and Roar!<\/em> (Smokestack, 2018).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Unknown Civilian is a magic book. It has magic spread all through it. Antony Owen faces up to the atrocities of war and speaks on behalf of all who it sweeps away or has left behind. He questions the skewed morality war lets loose – as in anything goes, anything is allowed when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20361","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20361","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20361"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20361\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20366,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20361\/revisions\/20366"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20361"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20361"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20361"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nof credit card wanks and smileys
\nif hotgirl97 misses you at all.<\/p>\n
\nas he scanned it through and thought
\nthat ain’t pulling no tree down.<\/p>\n
\nwas it Afzal in Texaco holding your tenner to the sun,
\nor a cherry short on a scratchcard?<\/p>\n
\nThere has to be a window that opens.
\nAnd preferably, no fireworks.<\/p>\n
\nwhen people pluck up the courage
\nto ask you what it was like out there.
\nAnd you think of job centre smiles
\nwhen they meant \u2018out there\u2019: war zones,
\nand you think of that party at Kev\u2019s gaff,
\nwhen people fought over Miley Cyrus and if she\u2019d gone too far.<\/p>\n
\nI needed your boots, so hung you over the fire to loosen them.
\nYour winters are so cold that my piss comes out like red fire\u2026<\/p>\n
\nI hacked into the ice with my blade like you were meat,
\nAnd you were meat, you were my footsteps home.<\/p>\n
\nIts mange maddened caw hushed cicadas.
\nThe fingering wings afraid to touch the blue betraying sky\u2026<\/p>\n
\nZombies return to where their homes once stood.
\nHow could they know this? Nothing is here\u2026<\/p>\n
\nMan is unborn.<\/p>\n