Mon écologie, Alasdair Rees
Les
Éditions du Blé, 2021
The book is slim, the poems are short, the lines are spaced out, the images are clear, and the language is direct (I recommend it for those who’ve done some French in the past). Rees speaks in a literary version of the French spoken on the Prairies, the French of people who constantly think and speak in either or both French and English, as a way to insert himself in the tradition of French-language poetry from places such as Saskatoon or Prince Albert. He also shows his roots in spoken word and performance poetry by remaining close to spoken French. Conserving a sense of uncertainty as to the powers of language and its relation to flesh, he describes language (in general, and as a language, a tongue), and perhaps his practice:
Language is a
wrapping machine
small geometry with
many faces.
Meaning implies a
direction,
the movement of
the tongue is round,
everything comes
back to the circling.
Le langage est une
machine à emballer
petite géométrie à
plusieurs faces.
Le sens implique
une direction,
le mouvement de la
langue est rond,
tout revient à
l’encerclement. (44)
As another poem uncovers, his poetic practice is concrete, emerging from a deep-seated existential desire:
I would like to
find the right expression,
give strength to
the tip of my tongue
to pile up word upon
word, build
a wall that
protects me from the nothing.
Je voudrais
trouver l’expression juste,
rendre fort le
bout de ma langue
pour empiler mot
sur mot, construire
un mur qui me
protège du rien. (26)
In addition to parsimony and careful choice in the writing, the poems are presented without any kind of introduction or section – all but five of the forty-three only bear a consecutive number for a title. Each poem manifests in its own manner an impression of calm and wonder. Ants, bees, birds, flowers, mushrooms populate many of the poems, allowing the speaker to turn back into himself through their mediation, while others turn to named or unnamed people whose slipperiness is tangible, revealing faces and dimensions that can’t quite be perceived. There’s a sense that the speaker has his hands full, carries too much, perceives too much, and yet still misses what he hopes to reach as he seeks clarity in his apprehension of the world. On many occasions the effect of this search is that of haikus – short bursts of images, leaving room for breath, at once being and creating a pause.
15
Possibility is a
burden
it makes me naive.
The options create
confusions -
I retrace the
steps
but the resolution
hardly reveals
itself.
Flies find more
peace
thanks to a
compounding eye
plural vision
singular thought
I’d like to open
my other eyes
15
La possibilité est
un embarras
elle me rend naïf.
Les options créent
des confusions -
je refais les pas
mais la résolution
ne se révèle
guère.
La mouche trouve
plus de paix
grâce à son œil
composé
vision plurielle
pensée singulière
je voudrais ouvrir
mes autres yeux
(21)
Aware of his limitations and keen to explore them and find strength in them, Rees demonstrates self-assurance in this book. As the first Youth Poet Laureate of Saskatchewan (2019-2020), former poetry editor of Grain magazine, and participant in the sustained artist engagement series at the Remain modern museum (he also creates installations and videos), he’s already made his place within two poetry scenes, publishing this book in Les Éditions du Blé’s “Nouvelle Rouge” collection that gathers emerging Francophone voices from Western Canada and the territories (see my review of Amber O’Reilly’s book, and also the play Inédit by Éric Plamondon). He formulates strong stances, like “I am able to exist in a world that negates me” (Je suis capable d’exister dans un monde qui me nie, 42), or “The electric gesture is the inheritance of my origin” (Le geste électrique est l’héritage de mon origine, 41).
With Mon écologie Rees has published what might be the first Fransaskois existential literary work. A later reference to Plato confirms (to me at least) an impression I carried from the first few poems, that Mon écologie is a poetic reflection on philosophical themes through descriptions of everyday life – still life, moments when time stops or hesitates, opens room for distance and amazement. As he tackles meaning, perception, the self, time, the ability to relate to others, the fragility and strength of the body, the permanence of the world he asks himself: “Does the simple idea exist?” (Est-que l’idée simple existe?, 26) and searches for them in the interconnections present in perception.
