Published 2010 – by Words Indeed, Toronto
Available online through VolumesDirect.com >
Description
Writer, poet and sculptor Ann Elizabeth Carson asks: What is remembrance and what does it mean? in her third book and second collection of poetry, The Risks of Remembrance, (Words Indeed, Toronto).
Carson’s subtle, accessible poems risk “one fierce question at a time” as she excavates the “layered mulch of memory.” In perceptive and detailed imagery she unfolds how we create mythologies of our lives in “life’s long fact-fiction dance.” Carson observes how we create composites of memories that shape and re-shape us: the changing meanings we take from memories mould how we see and interact with life. “Some pasts never get older/And there are some to which we can never return.”
Carson’s poetry presents images that untangle the skeins of life and offer the possibility of transforming travail into songs of celebration. Sustained by the comfort offered by the creatures of the air and of the water, the “thin humming ache” of sorrow is eased, “voices sing in the winds” and long sought-after peace spills onto the page.
Carson’s new work presents images that untangle the skeins of life and offer the possibility of transforming travail into songs of celebration. Sustained by the comfort offered by the creatures of the air and of the water, the “thin humming ache” of sorrow is eased, “voices sing in the winds” and long sought-after peace spills onto the page.
One of the poems in The Risks of Remembrance, “Morning is Always Young” is in Celebrating Poets Over 70, an anthology published jointly by the Tower Poetry Society, and the McMaster Centre for Gerontological Studies, Hamilton, Ontario (2010).
For review copies: John Parry, wordsindeed@rogers.com or 416 964 0802.
Excerpts
Never Ending p.89
Fish gliding among them shift
the shore reeds standing sentinel
in early evening stillness, lift
a silent swirl of sediment, grainy drifts
setting elsewhere.
Up close, a few green stalks reveal
a gall, a small obtrusive bulge.
The chrysalis of a tiny fly grows within,
nourished by the stem’s protein layer.
Open at either end the minutely throbbing
creature distresses with its presence –
without inhibiting growth.
Standing alone, each tall stem,
with its visitor, is connected in the rich muck
of pond water… and by fishes sliding by,
thought meandering in the layered mulch of
memory, stirring the deceptive quiet
to split open in another birth.
Responses & Reviews
Fay Becks, award winning Manitoulin Island poet writes:
“Your book is a lovely publication, both inside and out. I am fascinated by how you manage to encase the reoccurring dread of grief and loss in such a cozy, almost reassuring way, like a shot of whiskey for courage, in a warm cup of tea. The details in your poems show us how to focus on the present. They shine light for those of us who recognize that we will all experience similar
wounds and unravellings, if we haven’t already.”
Regine Kurek, Artist. Director, Arscura School for Living Art, Richmond Hill
“Ann Elizabeth Carson looks truth squarely in the eye. Art can be terrible. Art is not always fun. But it is honest. Art is not just decorative, or superfluous. Art is necessary, essential for our survival! In fact it could just be that Art helps us to stay alive, well and sane. There cannot be enough written about this truth and there will never be enough courageous souls who dare to make art for life as the path to wholeness. Fortunately Ann Elizabeth Carson is one of them. A fabulous and creative read!”