Andrew Taylor: Australia’s Poet of the (Extra)Ordinary

Introduction

Born and bred Australian, Taylor has developed an interest in the world within and without his homeland. In his previously published volumes of poetry, such as Travelling (1986) or Sandstone (1995), his attention concentrates upon the homely landscapes, either big Australian cities like Sydney, Melbourne or Adelaide and Perth or he travels along country paths, in bushland or the beach.

However, later volumes, such as Götterdämerung Café (2001), Rome (2005), Regret about the Wolves and Other Poems (2006) or The Unhaunting (2009), take the reader to the world outside Australia, particularly to Germany (Wiesbaden), Italy (Rome) or Poland (Opole). “Two Dates,” from the volume Impossible Preludes, is certainly a very unusual poem not only because these “two dates” denote two different times – though close to each other – but rather because they indicate two different spaces situated in two different geographical and climactic zones, one in Europe, Wiesbaden in Germany, the home town of Taylor’s wife, and the other in Australia, Perth, W.A. where they spent two decades together.

The first part starts on the date marking the beginning of Northern hemisphere winter, 22 December:

“Two Dates”

1. 22 December 2011, Wiesbaden

So this is the official

start of winter.

Was that what Tuesday’s snow

was all about, not some meteorological mistake

or an over-eager Frau Holle

plucking her goose too soon?

Its tatty remnants still spread like a picnic’s leftovers

on the lawn, a robin

warily inspecting them, while busy

as usual blackbirds hop and pose.

Even our squirrel is out

a fluent darting redcoat

in the rain. Parsifal

go back to your shelter, your hoard

of hazelnuts, before you catch

cold. This is officially

winter, you’re supposed to snooze. (13)

The poet seems to be amazed at the sight of snow, so uncharacteristic of Australian landscape, particularly at that time of the year, when the Aussies prepare for Christmas at the beach and suffer from the heat. In contrast, the native German animals and birds prepare themselves for the winter sleep whereas patches on snow on the lawn recall the picnic leftovers in the poet’s mind.

The other part of the poem takes us back to Australia in time to celebrate Australia Day not so much as the political or national holiday, but rather as a stunning summer contrast to European winter:

2. Australia Day, Perth, 2012

You’d think the lawn would melt

in this heat and trees

burst into incandescence,

the flippy tails of wagtails wilt

and dangle and ants under paving

too hot to touch would coalesce

into tiny deposits of coal.

People on the beach

would bleach and generations hence

children would scuff their ossified

iPhones a few bones and a towel.

Seven more days of this

while Queensland’s flooded

again! This is Australia

and we accept thee

for hotter and for colder

for dryer and for wetter Until death … ah well/ it’s not so terminal yet. (14)

The beach, the symbol of Australian lifestyle, democracy and personal freedom, serves here as a sharp contrast to European wintery lawn, itself full of life and scorching heat. Northern December and Southern January are poles apart even though they are close to each other in the calendar. They can also be read – metaphorically – as death and life, winter and summer, frost and heat, sleep and activity, night and day.

The next poem from the volume, “River,” is still different. This time, river, a geographical feature, is a starting point for the poet’s philosophical reflection of the nature of passing time:

How can we measure

a reflection’s depth

how can we figure

what my kayak inscribes

on what it means

to be a universe’s mirror?

The river sleeps

its face sleeps

it’s a sheen of perfection

as I dig my paddle in it

stirring at all that deeper

is not asleep

How can one define a river?

A thin downhill of water

a living a fishing a swimming

a highway that never finishes

a place for walking

a place for reflection?

You’re on the opposite bank

of my dream

you’re wading waist deep

into the current

that’s sweeping us further and further

together (26-27)

Written in couplets, the poem seems to be a reflection on reflections, embedded deeply in transcendental, Emersonian philosophy of nature, to which Andrew Taylor gave a specifically Australian pragmatism of everyday objects, like a kayak, alongside simple activities like paddling and swimming. His ability to define simple phenomena like a flowing river (“a thin downflow of water,” “universe’s mirror”) is absolutely amazing and extraordinary. He uses simple vocabulary to speak of great things, universal problems and dilemmas just in order to get his message across to his readers who need simplicity and straightforwardness in the times of complexity and perplexity.

References