REST ON THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT
By A. F. Moritz
The title of this new collection of poems
by A. F. Moritz is taken from a painting by Bernard van
Orley depicting a scene from the Gospel of Matthew. In the title poem this background of art and
myth helps to bring into focus many of the book's complex yet beautifully
rendered themes.
"Van Orley has shown things/ as they are" the poem tells us, which isn't
at all a nod to realism. Plato banished poets precisely because they do
not show things as they are, but rather imitate a phantom show of surface
appearances. In defence of poetry it might be said that this mistakes the real
poet's aim, which is the construction of concrete universals and ideal (if
minute) particulars. Things as they are get changed upon a blue guitar,
which in turn only reveals to us more of what they really are. In other words,
poetry is a sort of sur-realism, showing us not what is real so much as what
is more than real.
Moritz's penchant for the surreal is evidenced most clearly by his imagery.
The sharply limned otherworldliness and grotesquerie he describes in such poems
as "Manifestation" and "Industry" are like scenes from Dali. But
the surreal is also very
much a part of the collection's philosophical foundation. Throughout many of the poems
we find a three-fold
conception of reality. In the middle is "fact": a reality of
desolate autumn landscapes and post-industrial burnout. This fact is, in turn, fashioned
by authority into a corrupt vision of
reality that is superimposed on things as they are. The authoritative vision of
fact is associated
with lies and propaganda, a word we are confronted with in the first poem as a General
describes his hollow conquest of a border country. Propaganda is also the
form reality takes in the self-help manual written by the clerk in "Artisan
and Clerk" and the "muffled memories/ of ancient eloquence" indulged
in by Kissinger at Nixon's funeral.
But fact itself may only be another kind of vision, something
superimposed on a more basic reality that Moritz associates with many favourite Surrealist motifs. Since this reality is imagined as
metaphorically "lower" than the one of fact it is evoked through images of
roots, night, and dream. It is a world of archetypes that the reader falls
into, an earthward urge that ends up evoking a morally neutral primitivism.
"Life's better now", but things as they are, which includes
injustice, tyranny and oppression, tend to stay the same. The archetype
this autumnal world is associated with most frequently is the desert, and so landscapes of desolation
frequently recur, presided over by generals, lords, strongmen and upper management.
It is unlikely such a landscape will be redeemed. Christianity seems
ambiguously located throughout the collection (including a strangely constructed
epigraph from the Gospel of Luke), and is shown in a harsh ironic light in "Artisan and
Clerk":
And we were shaken by a further rumour: of a flaw
in the world, in being itself, and even deeper -
a flaw in salvation. It was said that those ghosts,
even beatified, were eating heaven - that despite
infinity, they would soon consume it all,
have nothing left, and start on their own bodies.
Was this, then, what awaited us? Not likely. We
were condemned.
So much for the "fortunate fall."
The interpretation offered here may be incorrect but it is at least an
attempt at dealing with what are complex poems. Moritz is
clearly writing in an intellectual tradition of poetry. (I would say
"academic," but that is too pejorative a term to use.) My own reservations
about this direction in poetry I have noted elsewhere, along with my preference
for poetry that is more "simple, sensuous and passionate." This said,
it is a relief to find in Moritz a poet capable of maintaining a
balance.
He does so mainly through two stylistic decisions. The first is his frequent
use of the
dramatic monologue form, a useful tool for avoiding the oppressive
self-consciousness and therapeutic confession that weighs down so much
contemporary verse. The second escape route is his colloquial manner. In terms
of their rhythms the poems imitate conversation rather than song. The tone is
often understated, and some of the ironies muted as a result but, while quiet,
the poetry is not resigned.
As a collection of poems Rest on the Flight into Egypt has highs and
lows. Among the former, however, there are some truly excellent poems,
including "Manifestation," "Artisan and Clerk,"
"The Little Walls Before China," "Rest on the Flight into
Egypt," and "The Lines." Each of these deserves re-reading,
containing much of that hard-to-crack simplicity which is both the essence of
poetry and things as they are.
Notes:
Review first published online November 15, 2000.
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