Their one and only concern is for clear succinct reportage, where the emotive power of the poem lies in the pull between the flat-line language and the peaks and troughs of the narrative line. It is a medium that rests largely on the writer's eye for detail, which itself rests on compassion for the subject, which in turn rests on wisdom. Cathy Young possesses all three in abundance.
Only in form is this poetry, if we are going to get pedantic. You are landed in a place and held captive by the skill of the writer, but you are not transported, you don't find yourself either racing ahead or lagging behind the lines on the page. You may find yourself thinking "what would I do?", but that is a documentary device, not strictly a poetic one. As I say, I am playing the devil's advocate here, but please don't think less of me for knowing all too well where these women live:
It was the raw heat of ironing room presses
not giving the cool of summer morning
a chance to breathe as you walked through
passing left stoked up to boiling-industrial
washing machines right drying room cabinets
then a bit further on another steamed appliance
the mangle beast waiting its continuous daily feed
sheets tablecloths pillowcases towels
face flannels tea towels bedspreads napkins
(from "So what was it like (in the home)?")
In his back cover blurb, Mike Ladd of Poetica fame suggests there are "interesting rhythms" to be discovered in Young's long lines. I don't know what kind of music Mike is into, but I found it all pretty 4/4, in time with the machines, like a Joy Division song without the history lesson. Which is not to suggest this is dull writing, but I believe you'd be wasting your time trying to derive any poetic pleasure from this remarkable work through the language alone. Where the language succeeds is in not imposing itself. The stories are all, and the poet's skill is in telling them so succinctly, with the occasional poetic deep sigh, but only occasionally:
It's time to move
when you've run out of paths
when feet don't match
land's past present or future
it's the story of migration
(from "Cheers drink up here's one for the road")
Flicking idly through this book, this powerful document to some powerful women and their staggering defeats and small triumphs, the reader encounters a great many dollar signs, the word "bills" and numbers from the clock like "7:15", a lot of sweat and grind and 3 am horrors wondering how it's all going to possibly add up when the pay cheque comes:
we supply overall hairnet
rubber boots plastic gloves
must be worn when working
change rooms are on the left
after tearoom before time-clock
clock on when you start
and off at meal break
on when you come back
and off when your shift's over
get your supervisor to sign if you forget
we only pay for hours worked
pay day is Wednesday
we keep two days in hand
so you won't be paid this week
(from "Come down the line with me")
Sad to say, this could be my current (other) employer.
But the writing is too honed, the tempo too measured, for any of this to become gruelling or monotonous, because there always seems to be the possibility of a new world dawning on every page, a kind of post-industrial phoenix forever rising out of some heaped ashtray in a lonely room somewhere:
You see it's in my plan
to be a part of this world
systematically really I'm a nothing
lowest life on the floor of production
an eight hour repetitious smiley face
dressed for protection don't exist except to
make the product/check the product/put the product
collect the pay/pay the bills/bill the future
when I woke up this morning
there was a warm body next to me
breathing sweet everythings
promising me smiles
(from "On life: work love being")
Like I already said, the poetry here is in the details, in the waxing and waning of human dreams and fortunes, not in any linguistic nuance or "interesting rhythms". Such readings are innocuous. This is simply the compelling story of simple hard-working people told simply and with heart and mind. These aren't John Howard's "aspirationals" (avarice and narcissism by another name), and for that and many other reasons I'm sure it will win a bevy of readers.
(Reviewed by Justin Lowe, June 2007)
