TOP The Hiding Place by Tom Duddy selling eReader how download reading read

Book description

Book description
You see, IвЂ™m starting this review worried because my dear friend Nell is very fond of this poet and I donвЂ™t want to say anything that is clearly daft about him. But that is always the risk when you say anything about poetry.IвЂ™m going to start this by saying something that hadnвЂ™t quite been at the front of my mind before about poetry that IвЂ™ve noticed in reading TomвЂ™s poetry. Now, this really does seem daft, because it is one of those big obvious things about poetry that IвЂ™ve spent a lifetime sort of missing. It is one of those things that should have always been obvious nearly from the start, but I miss the obvious too often. In a way it has to do with metaphor. You see, a metaphor is when you say something like, вЂhe is a lionвЂ™ вЂ“ that is, you superimpose one thing on top of another thing. A metaphor is more than a simile, where you just compare two things. The difference here is what is important and explains what these poems finally made clear to me. A metaphor smashes two things together and it isnвЂ™t just that one of them is being compared with the other, rather the two things are commenting on each other. That is, a good metaphor might make you think something new about both the man and the lion, where a simile probably will only make you think something new about the man. Poetry is very, very often about metaphor. Not always and not only, but very, very often.Many of the poems in this collection are a bit like his poem The Life of Robert Frost,. At least, this bit of that poem makes the point I want to make as clearly as any other:As I switch from the page of doubtto the page of triumph, back and forth,like some child with a holographic toy,In this poem Duddy has a book about the life of Frost and, like one of those images of Christ you see in Catholic Bookshops (at least, thatвЂ™s the only place IвЂ™ve ever seen them) where the image changes from Christ on the cross to Christ showing you his bleeding heart, Duddy jumps between these two key points in the book вЂ“ when Frost believed he had no talent and where he writes the perfect poem вЂ“ doubt to triumph and back again.Except, IвЂ™d never really thought of metaphors in this way before. As two entire ideas, big and full and like a snapshot from life, being brought together in the entire poem. Ive always thought of metaphors as something that happens time and again within the poem. Is that clear? Ive always thought of poems being made up of metaphors, not as the part being the whole.So many of the poems in this collection do exactly that - smash two ideas together. There is a breathtaking one called ,The State of Nature, where a man is walking towards some sliding doors and a woman is approaching from the other side and they are looking each other over вЂ“ but it is odd too, because in his mind it is like he is approaching a mirror where she is his image, except, and this is hinted at in the poem, certainly not said outright, thereвЂ™s a sexual thing going on between them here as well, very much understated вЂ“ much more understated in the poem than it must have been in the implied real life. Anyway, suddenly they realise they are each otherвЂ™s neighbours вЂ“ she moved in at the start of winter and their paths just hadnвЂ™t crossed until now. They talk for a few minutes, but theyвЂ™ve just been eyeing over each other, so it is uncomfortable вЂ“ what had been a safe stranger has become a kind of acquaintance and both of them have exposed more of themselves to each other than they would have otherwise if they had known, had understood the full implications. What is going on here happens time and again in his poems. There are dichotomies. The main ones tend to be inside and outside, old and young, back and front. And the poems slam these together in some way. So that in one of the poems there is a house with three doors all in a line and when these are all open a kind of draught happens and at the same time all the doors slam closed вЂ“ but for the time just before they slam you get to see right through the house, you see both the front garden and the back. And these are a kind of contrast between a public and a private space: a place of display and a place of work.What I thought I would do, as I was halfway through reading these poems, was to find one and quote it and write about that, because I can write for hours about these poems, but until youve read one youre not going to know. I marked half a dozen along the way as possible choices. But IвЂ™d decided which one I would do as soon as I read this one. And then now, flicking my way to all the marked pages, I couldnвЂ™t find the one I was after. You see, I read it three times and obviously completely forgot to turn the page down.Garden PartyAt some strange distance, the good childrenare playing among the metal chairsin the patio; laugh after laughgoes up from a group that still loitersby the dead barbecue; old old friendslook well pleased to assemble againon awkward ground under the sycamore;the evening sun leaves all impressionsat the edge of consciousness; and an airof lateness shimmies in the trees.I almost reach across the tabletowards the woman opposite,almost speak warmly to her,almost give myself away for once. Do you know what I like most about this poem? It is the way it does in the mind of the reader what it is trying to explain. There is a wonderful confusion that goes on in the mind of the reader here вЂ“ and I think that is all due to the awkwardness of the emotion that is being described. Okay, this is the McCandless reading. There is a man at a garden party and there is this woman that he has known and fancied for a very long time. And maybe there has been wine and certainly there has been laughing and joking and pleasant conversation, and all that has made him feel even closer to this woman. This is the twilight hour after all, that moment betwixt and between, when anything seems possible. Except he has never told her how he feels about her, and life has gone on since a time when saying such a thing might have made sense, and so catches himself before he does now.You see, we start with a strange distance and weвЂ™re standing on awkward ground, but than an air of lateness shimmies as he catches himself before he gives himself away.But it is the reader that is dazzled here, I think. The images we are being shown almost need to be read backwards to be made sense of. The voice is careful in trying to hide their true feelings and they do this in how they go about the telling of the poem too. The reader never feels completely sure who is being spoken of, thinking, for example, that laugh after laugh is about the kids, until we realise it is about the group of adults at the barbecue even then these may not be the same adults who are the old old friends. Relationships here are tenuous and hard to follow and get closer as the poem goes on. Strange distances indeed.Time and again these poems stopped me. I particularly liked Table for One and Side Street and for many of the reasons IвЂ™ve said above - they seem to take two clear ideas and smash them together to see what spills out. How two ideas might make sense of each other in being brought into close contact.The other thing that I couldnвЂ™t help thinking in reading these was that in Ireland and in Australia there is this really odd relationship between вЂthe real IrelandвЂ™ вЂ“ think a white walled cottage with thatched roof surrounded by some stone upon stone wall вЂ“ and then the cities where most of the Irish live. The real and unreal вЂ“ except the вЂrealвЂ™ isnвЂ™t the reality of most of the Irish. Im not sure too many other countries are like that - where country people are the real representatives of that country. But it is certainly true of Ireland, and here, in one of the most urbanised nations on earth, we too have a very strange relationship with вЂthe bushвЂ™. The bush where the real Australians live, even if you could really probably count them on one hand compared to us uneasy city dwellers.
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