{"id":3856,"date":"2013-01-12T09:00:12","date_gmt":"2013-01-12T09:00:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=3856"},"modified":"2020-12-09T14:36:19","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T14:36:19","slug":"beverly-ellis-reviews-he-took-a-cab-by-mather-schneider","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/beverly-ellis-reviews-he-took-a-cab-by-mather-schneider\/","title":{"rendered":"Beverly Ellis reviews ‘He Took a Cab’ by Mather Schneider"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Cabby or Charon?<\/strong><\/p>\n

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The back-seat of a cab, anywhere in the world: it\u2019s a fair bet that all of life has been played out there at one time or another.\u00a0 The taxi in question here is that driven by American poet and cab-driver Mather Schneider who, in this collection, focuses his attention on the experiences of a cabby, his relationships, colleagues, other road users and the many passengers who are ferried around Tucson, Arizona.<\/p>\n

The collection is prefaced with this statement:<\/p>\n

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In the old jazz argot, when it was said of someone,<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHe took a cab,\u201d that meant he died.<\/em><\/p>\n

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And this very much sets the tone for the impressive collection of poems that follows.\u00a0 Vignettes of the driver\u2019s different fares are piercing in their clarity and the impact they make lingers on, long after reading. \u00a0Some people set out on pleasure trips, but unalloyed joy is rare in a chiaroscuro world where the shadow-side is always laying in wait, despite everyone\u2019s best efforts.\u00a0 The slice-of-life Mather Schneider portrays is the imperfect, real world as most of us experience it and definitely not the ideal American Dream or an airbrushed fantasy of celebrity culture.\u00a0 Passengers in the taxi are often ferried to and from significant appointments, grave life events that have to be faced, like chemo sessions or detox, whilst others attempt to leave their troubles behind them, through a change of scene or leaving town.\u00a0 But rich or poor, their hubris is often only partially successful, occasionally doomed, although most retain a measure of optimism, sometimes in the face of overwhelming odds.<\/p>\n

In many of the poems, there is a sense of the confessional, accounts of a sudden, short-lived intimacy such as may occur in the seats of confined spaces, like a hair salon or on the couch at the shrink\u2019s office.\u00a0 The poet makes effective use of short lines to reflect the tentative drip-feed of information in conversations that take place between occupants of the back seat and the driver.\u00a0 Some passengers are liked or admired by the driver, whilst others treat him badly; whatever transpires, a strong sense of compassion for the struggling mass of humanity beams out from the pages of this collection.\u00a0 Yes, some folk are irritating or downright rude, some are dishonest and some are actually dangerous, but we\u2019re all passengers in the taxi of broken dreams and most of us (including the driver) are just making our way through life\u2019s minefield as best we can.\u00a0 These poems are testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the poet is brave enough to allow this to tip over and encompass some people who probably should have thrown the towel in long ago, but just don\u2019t know when to quit.\u00a0 This is sometimes an uncomfortable read, but always fascinating; ultimately, the reader can\u2019t help wondering not whether, but where<\/span><\/em> they feature in this litany.<\/p>\n

Other poems in the collection feature significant and frequently touching episodes from the driver\u2019s own life; for example, \u2018My Father is an Alien\u2019 where the driver collects his father from an airport: \u2018We hug like squeezing by someone\/in an airplane aisle<\/em>\u2019 and \u2018Eyes thirst for their own\/among the bags that descend\/no two exactly alike, all falling\/into the same slow orbit<\/em>.\u2019\u00a0 Mather Schneider has that essential gift of the memorable poet, of being able to approach the metaphysical via the seemingly mundane; the poems are all accessible and interesting, but soon lead the reader into deep waters in all sorts of ways.<\/p>\n

Similarly, the glimpses of nature that can be seen from the window, in what is fundamentally an urban setting, often represent far more than themselves, like an eagle devouring a snake or a cougar materialising on the road beside an expensive golf-course.\u00a0 And, of course, in all environments, the Reaper is never very far away:<\/p>\n

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I had just dropped off a fat business man<\/em><\/p>\n

with his heavy bag of golf clubs<\/em><\/p>\n

like a body bag with a skeleton<\/em><\/p>\n

rattling and knocking around.<\/em><\/p>\n

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(From \u2018A Cabby, not a Caddy\u2019)<\/p>\n

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The portraits of colleagues are very revealing (e.g. \u2018Cruddy Buddies\u2019), most sharing the suggestion that cab driving is not their career of choice, more a temporary necessity that may turn out to be permanent.\u00a0 Also, building across the collection of poems, is a sense of alienation, that perhaps the cabby is somehow existing outside the lives of others, as in \u2018Destiny of a Cab Driver\u2019 where the geometry of journeys exists unseen, a bit like ley-lines:<\/p>\n

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Until someone needs me<\/em><\/p>\n

I have no reason to be.<\/em><\/p>\n

I have no destination of my own.<\/em><\/p>\n

I spend my life driving in circles<\/em><\/p>\n

and never get any closer<\/em><\/p>\n

to the center.<\/em><\/p>\n

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The perpetual pitfall is summed up in a poem called \u2018The Crack\u2019 (in the windshield), emblematic of the flaw or damage potentially inherent in \u2013 well, everything: like the worm in the apple, the silent and ever-watchful snake in the garden of Eden.\u00a0 But, as in life, there is balance in the universe of this collection and many poems point to moments when faith is restored for a time, e.g. in \u2018Zen Cabby\u2019 which begins: \u2018All the lights turn green at your approach\u2026<\/em>\u2019\u00a0 This poem will stay with you just as much as the bleaker material, forever an instant gauge of your current karmic status whenever you approach an intersection!\u00a0 And there are some lighter moments: I won\u2019t say what happens in \u2018Secret Santa\u2019 \u2013 don\u2019t want to spoil the surprise \u2013 needless to say, it should\u2019ve<\/span> <\/em>been fun for all concerned\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, but surely not me\u2026\u201d we all say, a bit like a Beckett monologue, steeling ourselves to look again at this collection with its accounts of diversions and waiting, stalled relationships, the lost dreams and lovers left behind\u2026\u00a0 And, in case we ever doubted it: the Ferryman is not exempt, he suffers too.\u00a0 So perhaps the message is to remove the coins from our eyelids while we still can and make that pie-in-the-sky journey we always intended to go on, but somehow never got around to; it may not turn out as planned, but better to have tried…<\/p>\n

Poetry is very hard to do well, particularly metaphysical poetry with a wry, philosophical humour and elements of magical realism that feel naturalistic, but Mather Schneider achieves all of this, whilst making it look deceptively simple.\u00a0 By examining the human condition and mortality, this vibrant and accessible collection works to restore the reader\u2019s faith in life, with a capital \u2018L\u2019: essential reading.<\/p>\n

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He Took a Cab<\/em> by Mather Schneider, pub. 2011 by NYQ Books, an imprint of The New York Quarterly Foundation Inc, price $14.95, ISBN 978-1-935520-21-4.\u00a0 Order your copy here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

                Cabby or Charon?   The back-seat of a cab, anywhere in the world: it\u2019s a fair bet that all of life has been played out there at one time or another.\u00a0 The taxi in question here is that driven by American poet and cab-driver Mather Schneider who, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","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-3856","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3856","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=3856"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3856\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23735,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3856\/revisions\/23735"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3856"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3856"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3856"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}