{"id":11316,"date":"2023-07-17T13:35:28","date_gmt":"2023-07-17T13:35:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/?p=11316"},"modified":"2025-02-03T11:42:04","modified_gmt":"2025-02-03T11:42:04","slug":"close-reading","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/2023\/07\/17\/close-reading\/","title":{"rendered":"Close Reading"},"content":{"rendered":"

From time to time, when I\u2019m reading for The Rialto,<\/em> I come across poems that I really need to write about. Usually my long running wrestle with procrastination gets in the way, but when I wrote the recent Newsletter I found that I was writing about a poem from Issue 99 that I really like. I thought I\u2019d share it with readers who don\u2019t get further than the front page of the website, so here\u2019s my close reading of Louise Watts\u2019 poem.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

WITHOUT<\/p>\n

I go outside at twilight in the high wind
\nto put the tins and plastics in the recycling bin
\nand think of the way that I have imagined this place \u2013
\nthe patio and the garden \u2013 as the setting for our meeting:
\nhens on the lawn and at the end of the garden
\na summerhouse and you at the gate
\nand me, somehow casual and beautiful \u2013 and tonight
\nas the wind blows I see:
\nthere are no hens. There is no summerhouse.
\nThere is no beautiful and casual. There is no you.
\nI go back in and close the door. I cook dinner.
\nI wonder how is it possible, that I have to live here in this world?
\nThis place of wind, without hens.<\/p>\n

Louise Watts<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What is it that I like about these thirteen lines? The title: I like that because it draws attention (and poems are good for this) to the word \u2018without\u2019 \u2013 reminds me how important the \u2018with\u2019 bit is. And I like the fact that the word recurs towards the end of the last line, tying the poem together. I also like that the \u2018out\u2019 part is in the third word of the first line. This is not nit-picking: this poem is about an imagined idyll and its fracturing. There\u2019s a lot of balancing and dancing going on.<\/p>\n

I notice how the poem is also tied together by the word \u2018wind\u2019, which occurs at the beginning and the middle and the end, and by the word \u2018hens\u2019 which occurs in line 5, line 9 and line 13. And I also notice the importance of \u2018in\u2019, both as a sound in the first four lines and the last three lines (noticeably absent in the middle six lines), and as an, at least partial, antonym to \u2018without\u2019. Also important to the structure of the poem is the pause in the middle of the line (the caesura): it\u2019s less emphatic in the opening seven lines, speeding the poem along, and then strongly present in the last four lines. The hinge of the poem, line 8, which makes the transition between anticipation and loss, is a half line.<\/p>\n

I like how the opening line could be the start of a Romantic era poem, with its \u2018twilight\u2019 and \u2018high wind\u2019 and could be going anywhere but is in fact leading to the second line with its likeable grounding mundanity. We don\u2019t know it but these two lines set the matter of the poem before us, the anticipation of possibilities and the ordinariness of actuality. The third line takes me again into anticipation, \u2018think\u2019, \u2018imagined\u2019, \u2018this place\u2019: and reflects on the importance of imagination in our psychology, how so much of what we do is preceded by thinking\/imagining. The line rolls over into the specific \u2018the patio and the garden\u2019 and then it\u2019s off again imagining, \u2018setting\u2019, \u2018our meeting\u2019. The next three lines are not end stopped and move with the speed of thought, or film. The language is very simple, but very evocative, \u2018hens on the lawn\u2019 and \u2018summerhouse\u2019 (that symbol of gentility, so seldom actually used). The strong resonance of \u2018you at the gate\u2019\u2013 we know quite a lot about the narrator, but nothing about \u2018you\u2019, whether imagined or real they have to be special because the narrator has created a paradise for them to come into. And I like how the word \u2018casual\u2019 is reinforced by the casualness of the preceding \u2018and me, somehow\u2019, and as well by the internal rhyme with \u2018beautiful\u2019. As I look at my screen the words \u2018casual and beautiful\u2019 stand out visually as the middle of the poem.<\/p>\n

And then the \u2018wind blows\u2019, takes everything away with it. The \u2018noes\u2019 and the full stops thud along. Even the \u2018beautiful and casual\u2019 is robbed of its aura by being inverted. The narrator turns their back on the vision and we go back to the work of the second line, \u2018I cook dinner\u2019. And the imagination deserts the project, \u2018how is it possible\u2019. The last line is pure skill. Ruefulness, exact.<\/p>\n

I am debating with myself as to whether I need to \u2018contextualize\u2019 this poem: and at the same time thinking that my endeavour to do this would probably be too rooted in the Western poetry context to be entirely useful. It\u2019s hard for me to move away from the fact that Milton wrote a long poem about two people who met in a garden. Or to ignore the fact that this poem alludes to the long tradition of \u2018Come live with me and be my love\u2019 addresses (though in this case \u2018you\u2019 doesn\u2019t turn up). Marlowe\u2019s poem does have, in its last stanza the line about the Shepherd\u2019s \u2018Swains\u2019 dancing in the morning for the beloved. This would have been a dance performed by young males. Or I could write about the Pastoral Tradition: I know that Vergil wrote about bees in the Georgics, but am less sure if he gave any attention to Poultry Husbandry. When did hens become important? I know that when I moved to Norfolk at the end of the sixties, to become \u2018self-sufficient\u2019, the keeping of hens was part of our vision. The word \u2018gate\u2019 has acquired large significance in the Western traditions. Both Heaven and Hell have gates, for example, and John Bunyan\u2019s Pilgrim has to pass through a Wicket Gate on his way to the path to salvation. These thoughts and ideas turn up in my mind as I consider the poem, but they may just be particular to me. You don\u2019t need them to appreciate the poem.<\/p>\n

In practical psychological terms this poem is an excellent example of choice, in action or otherwise, and its place in decisions. As Raymond Antrobus said in his introduction to the reading in Norwich (May 27th.,), we do have choice about continuing the dialogues in our heads (although it can frequently feel that there\u2019s no choice). The garden was imagined: did the narrator actually invite the presence of \u2018you\u2019? Or is this \u2018what always happens\u2019? Lots of potential for \u2018moving on\u2019 in a Counselling session here. But what is star is that the poet has created this very successful poem.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Michael Mackmin<\/em><\/p>\n

You can buy issue 99 here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From time to time, when I\u2019m reading for The Rialto, I come across poems that I really need to write about. Usually my long running wrestle with procrastination gets in the way, but when I wrote the recent Newsletter I found that I was writing about a poem from Issue 99 that I really like. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"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":[204],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11316","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11316","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=11316"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11316\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11320,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11316\/revisions\/11320"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=11316"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=11316"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=11316"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}