{"id":425,"date":"2011-10-29T11:00:00","date_gmt":"2011-10-29T11:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=425"},"modified":"2020-12-09T14:38:54","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T14:38:54","slug":"david-cooke-reviews-ezekiel-and-cain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/david-cooke-reviews-ezekiel-and-cain\/","title":{"rendered":"David Cooke reviews Ezekiel and Cain"},"content":{"rendered":"

Joanna Ezekiel: <\/span>Centuries of Skin.<\/span> Ragged Raven Poetry.  2010. ISBN: 9780955255298.  \u00a37.<\/span>
Miles Cain: <\/span>The Border<\/span>: Valley Press. 2011.  ISBN: 9780956890443. \u00a37.50.<\/span>


Centuries of Skin<\/span> is the first full length collection of poetry from Joanna Ezekiel. Bringing together work from a twelve year period, it was preceded by two pamphlets <\/span>A Braid of Words<\/span>, published in 2003 by Poetry Monthly Press and <\/span>Safe Passage <\/span>published in 2007 by White Leaf Press. Ezekiel has bided her time before publishing this collection and even a cursory glance through it shows that she is a fastidious writer who is at pains to make each word count.  Moreover, although the astringency of many of her poems might lead one to describe them as \u2018minimalist\u2019 this should not tempt one to dismiss them as slight.  The first lines of her opening poem, \u2018Smile\u2019, are precise and matter-of-fact: \u2018You buy a set of Russian dolls \/ from the street market in Budapest, \/ carry it home, gift-wrapped, \/ place it upon the dining table.\u2019 The set of matryoshka dolls is then described in a few deft strokes: \u2018You let them out. \/ Four, three, two, one – \/ identical, \/ the shapes, the aprons, \/ the thick round bases, \/ the holiday smell of lacquer.\u2019  However, the poem\u2019s concluding stanzas show her ability to transcend the actuality of an object so that it takes on a symbolic resonance:<\/span>

   You think: this is what<\/span>
   it must be like<\/span>
   to grow<\/span>
   with your smiling face<\/span>
   turned out towards the world.<\/span>

   And you drop the dolls back<\/span>
   inside each other,<\/span>
   twisting each one shut,<\/span>
   smile after smile after smile. <\/span>

Suggestive rather than explicit, these lines work well because they are open to varying interpretations, but as one familiarizes oneself with Ezekiel\u2019s work one senses that both psychologically and culturally they foreshadow themes which lie at the heart of her collection.  In \u2018Severed Train\u2019, written after a visit to the Holocaust Exhibition at the Imperial War Museum, the poet deals head on with her family\u2019s Jewish heritage:<\/span>

   The back of a railway wagon hangs<\/span>
   on the wall, bordered by darkness,<\/span>
   its warped planks heavy with memory.<\/span>
   I breathe sweat and dread. Avoid<\/span>
   the abyss between each wooden slat,<\/span>
   it\u2019s as though I\u2019m attuned<\/span>
   to a lost radio wavelength, catching<\/span>
   vanishing voices amongst savage crackle.<\/span>
   I can trace their history along the worn grain.<\/span>
   Plain as a train-track, or route on a map.<\/span>

Here, as in \u2018Pigtail\u2019 that classic holocaust poem by the  Polish poet Tadeusz R\u00f3zewicz we see that it is only through precise and understated objectivity that such material can  be negotiated. However, Ezekiel\u2019s family history is complicated by the fact that she is not only Jewish, but of mixed race and that her father comes from the small Jewish community of Mumbai.  This inheritance is dealt with in poems such as \u2018Meeting my Grandmother\u2019 where on a visit to Israel when she was a child, the poet greeted her aged relation with \u2018Shalom\u2019, although the latter then \u2018rasped\u2019 back \u2018<\/span>Namaste<\/span>\u2019.  In \u2018Overheard at synagogue\u2019 she describes an occasion on which she felt excluded within the Jewish community because of her particular family background: \u2018<\/span>Her father an Indian Jew? \/ That doesn\u2019t count. \/ She\u2019s not a proper Jew<\/span>.\u2019 The poem\u2019s defiant concluding stanza then makes clear what lies behind the collection\u2019s evocative title:<\/span>

   But when she approaches<\/span>
   in busy greeting<\/span>
   I grow centuries of skin.<\/span>
   Slip through her verdict,<\/span>
   past her shut eyes.<\/span>

Ezekiel\u2019s family history is central to her work, but that is not the whole story. <\/span>Centuries of Skin<\/span> is a wide-ranging and varied collection which contains many vignettes of contemporary life, which are always well observed, yet sometimes coloured by the poet\u2019s diffidence and vulnerability. In \u2018Forty minutes to London\u2019 she observes \u2018a girl in black leggings \/ leaving the hairdressers for cigarettes; \/ opposite, the library … still as wide \/ as a Roman villa..\u2019 but then is taken back to earlier days:<\/span>

   I would say a mantra, like <\/span>I am an island<\/span>

   or <\/span>Shyness is nice<\/span>, as if it would save me, <\/span>
   above the Tube subway, forty minutes to London, <\/span>

   where we thought all the action happened.<\/span>

In \u2018Crossing Hungerford Bridge\u2019 her eye roves like a camera across the scene before settling on one final poignant image: \u2018At the steps, \/ a man with broken boots asks me to spare some change.\u2019 Several poems are inspired by the poet\u2019s experience as a primary school teacher, while others such \u2018Walking Home\u2019 and \u2018Coffee with an Ex\u2019 explore relationships.  In a less overtly confessional context, love, is also the theme of her wonderfully poised lyric \u2018The Astronaut\u2019s Wife\u2019, which concludes with the lines: \u2018I see the stars, their sudden sweetness\u2019. Ezekiel is a clear-sighted poet who has a knack of homing in on the telling detail.  She also has a fine ear. However, one senses that she may be feeling the need to push beyond the boundaries of her minimalism.  In \u2018Witness\u2019 she builds up an enigmatic narrative from lyric fragments, the effect of which is not dissimilar to that of a <\/span>nouveau roman<\/span>. In \u2018She Dreams\u2019, a sequence of eight independent lyrics, each poem reinforces our sense of a single personality. Experimental, yet technically adroit, <\/span>Centuries of Skin <\/span>is an impressive debut from a poet whose work is memorable in the way that it transmutes everyday reality but also explores complex issues of cultural identity.<\/span>

Miles Cain\u2019s <\/span>The Border<\/span> is also his debut collection.  Along with writing poetry he is a musician and storyteller.  His novel for teenagers, <\/span>A Song for Nicky Moon<\/span>, was shortlisted for the Times\/Chicken House Children\u2019s Writing Award in 2012. If Ezekiel\u2019s poems are pared down and sometimes reminiscent of the work of certain East European poets, Cain\u2019s are expansive, unashamedly demotic, and fit more recognizably into the mainstream of contemporary British verse which goes back to Philip Larkin and has been developed more recently by poets such as Simon Armitage and Carol Ann Duffy. His dark humour and surreal flights of fantasy are also reminiscent of Matthew Sweeney, another poet whom he admires. Cain\u2019s idiosyncratic perspective can be seen in \u2018Instructions for Downloading the Human Heart\u2019 in which he creates a kind of cyberpunk reality where, if you\u2019ve got the money, you can endlessly renew yourself: \u2018It\u2019s easy.  All you need \/ is superfast broadband \/ and the right chip\u2026 \/\/ You\u2019ll feel decades shrivel, \/ find evenings pulse \/ with possibility\u2026\u2019 However, as the poem comes to its wry conclusion Cain is dismissive of the simple-mindedness of those who would make a Faustian pact with consumerism and technology:<\/span>

   One last thing.  The heart is just an engine,<\/span>
   A valve of sorts. That other stuff<\/span>
   (anger, jealousy, compassion etc) \u2013<\/span>
   all of that is up to you. <\/span>

Intimations of mortality also come to the fore in poems such as \u2018The Man Who Lived In Shadow\u2019 and the collection\u2019s title poem \u2018The Border\u2019:<\/span>

   You hold your child like a promise,<\/span>
   imagine begging her<\/span>

   not to grow old, kiss her <\/span>
   again and again, holding <\/span>
   her small fingers inside your palm.<\/span>

Like Philip Larkin, Cain frequently evokes the monotony of the daily grind.  In \u2018Thirty Seconds\u2019 he deliberately uses mundane syntax to mirror the relentlessness of modern existence. In \u2018Parfitt\u2019s\u2019 he describes his youthful experiences of working as the \u2018boss\u2019s son\u2019:<\/span>

   Each morning I stepped in to the Harrow air<\/span>
   with a neat packed lunch and a small foreboding, <\/span>
   knowing orders and sweat lay ahead. <\/span>
   The dirt and shovels, the jibes <\/span>
   from the boys who took the piss.<\/span>

Successfully recalling the poet\u2019s early induction into the world of work, it also convincingly suggests that sense of ambiguity he felt as the boss\u2019s son who couldn\u2019t just get on with the job and mix easily with the other lads: \u2018The relief when it was all over \u2026 \/  as if work was simply something to endure.\u2019 Alienation is a unifying theme throughout much of <\/span>The Border<\/span>, and not just that of anonymous workers. There are also the youths in \u2018Lessons\u2019 who have been \u2018banged up\u2019 or those who in \u20181977\u2019 find new idols in \u2018Vicious and Rotten\u2019. Work may be \u2018something to endure\u2019, yet in \u2018Shouting down the Moon\u2019 he describes the despair of someone who, having lost his job, goes on a bender and harangues the moon. Here again the theme is Larkinesque with its echoes of the earlier poet\u2019s \u2018Sad Steps\u2019.  However, while Larkin\u2019s tone is self-deprecating and elegiac, Cain\u2019s is tougher and more bleakly despairing: \u2018Sour day. Job lost. Four pints \/ dropped to a crater of stomach; \/ I sprayed my borrowed confidence \/ on a damp alley wall.\u2019  The poem then concludes with the image of an idealised world where problems may be resolved: \u2018Up there, past planes and satellites \/ where gravity counts \/ a little less.\u2019 <\/span>
   In \u2018Sax\u2019 the main character is, like Cain, a musician and finds in music temporary relief from everyday pressures: \u2018You\u2019d think he\u2019s ordinary, alright: \/ usual debts, wife, two kids\u2026 But on Saturday night\u2026 \/\/ he takes \/\/ centre stage, \/ presses his lips \/ to the mouthpiece \/ and pushes at stars, \/\/ bridges canyons, \/ tunes every face to freedom.\u2019 \u2018Runner\u2019 is also about escape. With the voices of a toddler and his wife ringing in his ears, the man of the house grabs his trainers and sets off running. Down the street and onto the hard shoulder, he is soon making his way across France, Morocco, Asia, \u2018through the whole world \/ turning on a compromise\u2019. It\u2019s a clever and appealing conceit. However, in a society where paternal absenteeism is a significant problem, the figure of the runaway father is surely let too easily off the hook. Doesn\u2019t someone have to stay put and take care of the screaming kid? Maybe the wife also has her issues.  Whether or not one accepts Cain\u2019s take on modern life one cannot help but respond positively to his gift for dark comedy. However, the poet\u2019s concerns range beyond the merely quotidian. He is also fascinated by history and poems such as \u2018Enemy Funeral\u2019 and \u2018Brennt Paris?\u2019 are set against the backdrop of the Second World War. In \u2018Coffee\u2019 a poem which was the overall winner in the 2009 Sentinel Poetry Competition, he writes impressively about the slave trade: <\/span>

   We murmured in the darkness,<\/span>
   creaked with the timbers,<\/span>
   craved a hard breeze.<\/span>
   When they let us on deck<\/span>
   we filled it like flies<\/span>
   at the eye of a horse.<\/span>

From the horrors of the slave ships Cain makes a skilful transition to the elegant world into which the survivors were transplanted:<\/span>

   Groomed for parlours,<\/span>
   we stood in shadowed rooms,<\/span>
   kept tight in cuffs and collars.<\/span>
   I waited near tables,<\/span>
   poured coffee into pale cups,<\/span>
   and thought of skin and coins.<\/span>

Cain\u2019s work is occasionally marred by a slight awkwardness of style and the odd image which doesn\u2019t quite work.  However, <\/span>The Border<\/span> is a highly promising debut. Cain\u2019s vision may at times be bleak, but this is mitigated by its quirkiness, humour, and accessibility.  It is also underpinned by a strong moral sense. An entertaining and endlessly inventive writer, Miles Cain will certainly be one to watch.<\/span>
<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Joanna Ezekiel: Centuries of Skin. Ragged Raven Poetry.  2010. ISBN: 9780955255298.  \u00a37.Miles Cain: The Border: Valley Press. 2011.  ISBN: 9780956890443. \u00a37.50.Centuries of Skin is the first full length collection of poetry from Joanna Ezekiel. Bringing together work from a twelve year period, it was preceded by two pamphlets A Braid of Words, published in 2003 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"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-425","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425","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\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=425"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23765,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425\/revisions\/23765"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=425"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=425"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=425"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}