BOOK REVIEW Poet examines humanity reflected in natural world
William Robertson’s fifth book of poetry, Decoys (Thistledown Press, paperback, $17.95) is a visceral, robust journey into the field, the forest, the lakeside cabin, the urban backyard. As the title and cover image suggest, these poems illuminate the enticements of the natural world as well as the manner in which things are sometimes not what they initially seem.
Noteworthy poet and literary critic Samuel Taylor Coleridge said that poetry involves “the best words in the best order,” a statement easily applicable to Robertson’s writing. What immediately jumps out from Decoys is a stunning use of vocabulary to represent sensory experience, every metaphor elegant and careful, and fresh, insightful verbs: robins skirling by, ice that shillies against itself, chickadees topsy-turvying their way.
Robertson’s calling-card humour is both expected and startlingly original, abundant in wry connections to the human condition. In the title poem the author presents his father as a would-be hunter leading his son into battle with fitful birds who simply would not fly “to the stubble horizon/a scene from a hunter’s calendar/minus the hunters/minus the ducks/ just a little down, that day/on their brand-new hunter’s luck.” In another poem, “Starting the Story,” we see the narrator disturb a fallen wasp nest and out they come with him in floppy sandals on gravel thinking he can outrun wasps, wrenching his lower back. Swatting at them, his prayer surprisingly isn’t that he will escape. It’s the hope that someone will have seen him, some kid who especially needed a story that day.
Robertson cleverly borrows the occasional line from other poets, resulting in literary nuance that serves with simple grace. Note the italicized lines by Emily Dickinson in “Fly Buzz”: “I take another swing at it/rolled up newspaper/riles it to another window/where it continues its tiny/fly-brained inquiry/with the impossible outside/walking again with blue/uncertain stumbling buzz/up my front window.” Exactly right. Helpful, too, as a path for readers to follow in pursuit of further reading.
In contrast to the hearty tone in many of the poems, Robertson mines obsequious depths of place and time to shape serious recollections. Death and life are pondered in tandem with a deft, engaging touch. Birds flit through much of the writing, their “sweet loop of song behind the leaves,” while geese fly “… south, looking full grown,/ facing the distance, the guns.” While many of these poems evoke the natural world, it’s really us the author speaks of, us and people we know. Here Robertson candidly transforms personal experiences into universal ones — another attribute of good poetry and great writing in general.
In addition to being a poet, Robertson is also a university English instructor, freelance writer, reviewer and broadcaster. His newest title would make a great gift for anyone who enjoys the natural world, animal encounters, ponderings on birth, death and everything in between. Highly recommended.
Bev Brenna is a literacy professor at the University of Saskatchewan who has published novels and poetry.