Cocoon is a grand setup of a place – or, in this case, places – where things begin. It is a collection of recollections from the past, often from childhood through the present, and set in places that are not always the best (“with tracks real as death;” “the streets littered in heads / spiked during the commute”), but Jones knows how to inspire awe.
Most of these are small poems, easy to read, each fitting lightly in a palm, and yet revolving around the world with “the pink river dolphins in peru,” a “lyceum,” a “kintsugi” and other wonderful things. Four of the poems in Cocoon appeared earlier in Jones’ chapbook Dark Matters (Tapsalteerie, 2018) – one of these, “An Official Guide to Surviving the Invasion,” which is also a comic poem among several others (now a characteristic property of Jones poetry), is so correctly timed, now more than ever, that the whole collection becomes timeless in its own manners.
those glistening fields
– “cat out the bag”
Touching majorly the notes of philosophy, humour and nostalgia, this new collection filled with a vast range of characters, while bleak, also emanates hope in its very own ways. And so, Cocoon deserves every bit of praise for all it slowly, gradually achieves page by page. It is a collection ready enough “to make a sound in a world of noise.”
Also, read it to say hello to numerous types of birds, animals and other organisms. Say hi!
Russell Jones has published six collections of poetry and edited three poetry anthologies. He is the deputy editor of Scotland’s only sci-fi magazine and was the UK’s first Pet Poet Laureate. Russell also writes books for children, young adults and supposedly-grown-up adults. He has a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Edinburgh and occasionally blogs here.
Jayant Kashyap is the author of Survival (Clare Songbirds, 2019), and a Pushcart Prize-nominee. Among other achievements, one of his poems was featured in the Healing Words awards ceremony, and several others won places in Young Poets Network’s challenges. He is an amateur photographer, a book reviewer and often a food blogger.
We’re publishing Issue 06 weekly, in parts. We’re doing so to keep our readers, and ourselves, interested and occupied. We need to #StaySafe in time of this pandemic, and we can only do this together — by staying inside. (We’re also always open for submissions.)
A Ranch Bordering the Salty River welcomes the reader to a ranch in Argentina. The poems link together to tell the story of a new rancher who is a long way from his home. Love of another person and love of land have brought Jonathan to country he must quickly get to know if he is going to be successful.
Throughout the chapbook, the speaker vacillates between absorbing the beauty of the ranch with its surrounding landscape and the hardships that befall this new lifestyle. At times, Jonathan can “sit on [the] patio” gazing at “[t]he saplings Teresa planted / on the day [they] moved in together” (“On the Culture of Mate”), but drought, cattle rustlers, unending work, and contemporary environmental issues all interrupt the peacefulness.
Tension fosters perseverance. In the epistle poem “Dear Santa Ana,” the speaker catalogues all his achievements: recovering and fixing a stolen telephone-fax, building a brick bathroom, interviewing ranch hands, replacing locks on gates, and other needed tasks. Although far from an appreciation of nature’s beauty, poems like this one show a different appreciation of nature. Nature is powerful, yet easily exploited. Page’s poems recognize this. The speaker will sweat out hours of the day to protect his piece of land and to protect all the animals living on it.
Page’s chapbook speaks to a sense of duty all of us have to protect what we love, to preserve nature, and to give our lives purpose.
Stephen Page is part Shawnee and part Apache. His other books of poetry include The Timbre of Sand (1999) and Still Dandelions (2004). He graduated from Palomar College, Columbia University (with honors), and Bennington College. He recieved a Jess Cloud Memorial Prize for Poetry, a Writer-in-Residence with stipend from the Montana Artists Refuge, a full Writer Fellowship from the Vermont Studio Center, an Imagination Grant from Cleveland State University, and an Arvon Foundation Ltd. Grant. His book reviews are published regularly in the Buenos Aires Herald and on Fox Chase Review. Page also writes short stories, novels, screen plays. He has taught literature, ESL, and film studies. He loves family, spontaneous road trips, and throwing his cellphone into a large body of water.
Lisa Stice is a poet/mother/military spouse. She is the author of two full-length collections, Permanent Change of Station (Middle West Press, 2018) and Uniform (Aldrich Press, 2016), and a chapbook, Desert (Prolific Press). While it is difficult to say where home is, she currently lives in North Carolina with her husband, daughter and dog. Visit her here! and at Facebook / Twitter.
A Book Review of Miriam Darlington’s ‘Owl Sense’, by Jayant Kashyap
Any reader begins Owl Sense, I’m sure, just the same way as they begin any other essay — however good or bad that might be, — but then this 350-page encyclopaedia of a book is what becomes more interesting owing to its range of characters. All good ones. To begin with, it is a wonderfully researched essay on the presence of owls and their interactions with all that is around them, but it is not limited only to that point; it is also the story of the author about breaking all the rocks that bar her route, her story of being a good mother to her son, and daughter.
Owl Sense is the kind of package that many books can only aspire to be — a part research paper and part observational fiction, the combination makes it a tell-tale owl encyclopaedic — vastly ranging in itself from travel writing to writing for environmental awareness and other sorts. Miriam Darlington has written a book of simultaneously parallel stories — one of her first child Benji’s getting along with an initially unknown disease, and the other of the different members of the owl family. It is a story borne out of several different countries. All of which in search of owls, from getting to know about their way of living to possibly helping them wherever need be.
“I found that in the end any encounter between a mild owl and a human must always be tentative, aware of the assumptions we might wrongly make.”
Apparently, Darlington’s very faithful documentation is an excavation of the ‘almost-nature’ of owls; of the fact that we think we know well this extended family of ‘cute’ and ferocious, mostly nocturnal birds of prey, which, however, only turn out to be “our wrong-headed assumptions”, and which are often challenged by these agile creatures.
Evidently, the book is also as much about ‘how’ we see the owls — as omens and symbols and, sometimes, nothing — as about ‘what’ owls are.
“As we cutify and commodify the natural world they risk becoming ornaments: a static picture on a screen, a shining cup, egg cosy or tote bag [which it shouldn’t be].”
Miriam Darlington is a devastatingly curious researcher; and those who have read her Otter Country know this already, while those who haven’t have enough opportunities yet. One of which could be observing the little breezes of behaviour, which more so add to the nature of the book; the little stories that in some way characterise the owls and the people involved with them at times, like the one of Athene noctua (a Little Owl) and its rescue by Miss Florence Nightingale.
On the other hand, ironically, however, our author here also puts how Nightingale’s presence both weakened and strengthened the owl; how in her absence it also never survived.
With bytes of information, Darlington marks throughout the book how human intrusion has hurt owls (and many organisms alike) in numerous ways, most of the times fatally; how her own ignorant intrusion of once she is so ashamed of. How “[t]he bird is feathered perfection; grace and beauty with talons” and yet (or perhaps because of the very reason) never one to be put up as an exhibit.
“When we get it right, and work with nature rather than against it, we can achieve the most extraordinary things.”
So, as a normal book, talking about the unstable number of owls in present day as a result of what we did to them years (and centuries) ago and have continued doing yet in numerous other ways, Owl Sense doesn’t just stand up to my expectations, it rather elegantly exceeds them. There are qualities about it that continuously amaze me; Darlington as an advocate does the best bit possible on her behalf, and in perfect humour — what we need to do now is learn and act thus based on our bit.
Miriam Darlington is a poet and author of Owl Sense and Otter Country. Reviewers have hailed her as a successor to GavinMaxwell and HenryWilliamson, and as a central part of the new nature writing movement. She has a PhD in English from the University of Exeter and a particular interest in the tensions, overlaps and relationships between science, poetry, nature writing and the changing ecology of human-animal relations.
Jayant Kashyap is an artist, reviewer and Pushcart Prize-nominated poet, and among other publications, his poems appear on The Poetry Society’s (UK) website. He is also the co-founding editor of Bold + Italic, and a food blogger. His debut chapbook, Survival, is almost out in print.