Brick Books, 2006
There are so many forms that a
book of poetry can take, so many functions one can serve, and different forms
will resonate in particular ways, with particular people, and in particular
moments. A book of poetry can be a deep rumination on one subject, or a series
of insights into a particular perspective, or can even take the form of a
pastiche or a collage. After finishing Diana Hartog’s 2006 work Ink Monkey
(I read it in one sitting, outside on what felt like the first real day of
spring here in Calgary), I’ve concluded that the best way to characterize this
book is to think of it as a freewheeling adventure – a clear-headed, highly
observant stroll through a vast panoply of milieus and moments, all
accomplished with an earnest traveler’s sense of wonder. In this way, it is a
book of poetry which is particularly well suited to our current era of
confinement and general malaise.
The poems in Ink Monkey
are divided into textual sections which, in my view, can be thought of as
“locales” in some very abstract sense – places along the stream of human
experience where Hartog has stopped and taken in the sights. These sections are
blessed with an almost geographical coherence. After the introductory notes of
the opening “Twice”, we are taken to the desert in the long section “Oasis”,
and we are made to see the complementary reflections on creation, mortality,
and the particular nature of the everyday. We arrive at the endlessly
instructive milieu of pre-modern/early modern east Asia in “False Start” and
return there in “Japanese Prints”. In between, we spend time reflecting on the
ephemeral beauty of jellyfish (“They seem to invite metaphor” writes Hartog) in
an oceanic setting in “Jellyfish Suite”. Each section can, perhaps, be seen as
a sealed-off poetic project; there is nonetheless a visceral and noteworthy feeling
or even aura to the work as a whole, which is that of a grand tour of immensely
interesting places.
Indeed, it is not through
accident or chance that these subjects of attention are so immediately and
intuitively fascinating; this is accomplished through Hartog’s incredible
poetic finesse. In Ink Monkey, the poet pulls off the immense feat of
writing in a way which is simultaneously elevated and conversational,
undeniably poetic and yet thoroughly and intimately accessible. Seemingly
concrete subjects like jellyfish and mountains are used as ornate prisms
through which Hartog reflects a diverse array of profoundly human concerns. In
this way, the book commands both the grand spontaneity and joy of a
globetrotting adventure and the piercing articulation of the abstract which
effective, honest poetry is so uniquely capable of. These, of course, are both
qualities which seem to be uniquely tailored to the present moment; despite
having been published fourteen years ago, this book is incredibly timely. As
such, it comes highly recommended for anyone who needs adventure and insight in
these trying, chaotic times.
Ethan Vilu hails from Calgary, Alberta. Their poetry longsheet A Decision Re: Zurich was published by The Blasted Tree in March 2020. In
addition to editing for NōD Magazine and filling Station, Ethan is also a fledgling
bookseller and collector.
