Can we know the dancer from the dance?

Abstract

Book Title: Closer than that Book Cover: [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Author: Gail Dendy ISBN: 978-0-9869982-0-1 Publisher: Dye Hard Press, Sandton, 2011, 71 p., ZAR105.00 * * Book price at time of review This collection of poems comprises four numbered but unnamed sections, leaving it up to the reader to determine the significance of this formal structure. The first section might be thought of as dealing with perspectives onto various types of creativity, including the creation of earthly existence according to the mock-theology of the demiurge in the first poem, 'The Apprentice' (pp. 9-10). Other areas include writing ('To Write or Not To Write' [p. 11]), trapeze work ('The High-Wire Artist' [p. 12]), and ballet ('Swan Lake' [p.13]). To disturb my neat categorisation, the section also provides perspectives onto past school-acquaintances ('Linda' [p. 14]), love ('Constancy' [p. 15]), 'Vertigo' [pp. 19-20]), and, with a backward glance at Wallace Stevens, fruit ('Ruminations on the Plum' [pp. 16-17]). Part II might be read as concerning objects, poems, amethyst, skin, cats, the sun, computers and books (pp. 23-35). Part III deals with the self's relation to activity and to others (pp. 39-54), whilst Part IV concerns itself with the self's relation to a wider world (pp. 57-71). Of course, the moment one tries to delimit the significance of a structure, the inadequacy of doing so becomes apparent, and the reader appreciates the poet's use of numerals rather than titles--they give a pace to and, more importantly, a place for the reading. The numerals provide compartments in which to dwell for a time, until the resonances within the parts become clearer, and the structural logic of the arrangement justifies itself from within, rather than being imposed from without. As always, in this book too, one has to live with poetry, not just read it once or twice, in order to appreciate it. And Dendy warrants re-reading. Her style is lucid, her language and images accessible, even when meanings are not immediately apparent. My one complaint is that some poems, whilst they might contain intriguing ideas (I think of 'The Apprentice', which provides a comic cause for a bungled creation), have throwaway lines which, although in keeping with the necessary lightness of touch required in this particular poem, are simply not memorable. The demiurge in 'The Apprentice' 'tried to say sorry' for the 'bloody disaster' he or she or it caused (and here comes the final line, the supposed climax of the poem): 'I did. I really, really did' (p. 10). The book is noteworthy for the lively intelligence that Dendy always shows, even in those poems that present themselves as 'throwaway' poems (in reality, no poem good enough for publication is 'throwaway'; they all require intense effort in the writing). …