Review by Christine Hammond of "The Pretence of Understanding" by Beth Davies

When you read The Pretence of Understanding (The Poetry Business), it’s not hard to see why Beth Davies won the 2022 New Poet’s Prize. 

Her debut collection is a considered response to the realities of transition, exploring both the resultant rewards and losses. Her voice is clear and unambiguous. It re-visits childhood, acknowledging the immovable family roots that are woven in and uses them to help make sense of past and present experiences.  

There is a reflective tension throughout. A sense of belonging and valuing what matters competes with the inevitable change, autonomy and distraction that come with leaving home, university life and starting work, as seen in “A Plea for Future Winters”:

           … if one day, these Christmas card mornings cannot
           make me child again, throw a snowball 
           In my face. 

Davies dedicates this volume to her Grandparents and there are several poems that will resonate with anyone who has known the sorrow of dealing with elderly relatives and witnessing the slow decline. “The Garden at William Street” uses their overgrown garden as a metaphor:

          Later at the care home, you don’t notice 
         our scratched legs, dirty shoes, the tang
         of grass clippings. Your mind is too overgrown,
         your words behind thorns, my name
         a house you cannot reach. I hold your hand
         wishing I could tame that wilderness.

There may be retrospection in this collection, but there is no sense of over-sentimentality or sugar-coating. The poetry has its own motif of loss, decay, decline and death. This is often intelligently articulated using nature, notably through a lens of some of its not-so-cute inhabitants such as rats, crabs, insects, earthworms and (rotting) fish. The restrained, everyday portrayal of their visceral fates subtly serves to remind us on a metaphysical level of our own human experience.

About the reviewer
Christine Hammond began writing poetry while studying English at Queen’s University, Belfast. Her early poems were published in The Gown (QUB), The Female Line (NIWRM) and Women’s News where, as one of the original members she also wrote Arts Reviews and had work published in Spare Rib. She returned to writing again after a long absence and her poetry has been featured in a variety of anthologies including The Poet’s Place and Movement (Poetry in Motion – The Community Arts Partnership), The Sea (Rebel Poetry Ireland), all three editions of Washing Windows and Her Other Language (Arlen House) and she has also been a reader at Purely Poetry - Open Mic Night, Belfast.

Review by Vic Pickup of "Have a nice weekend I think you're interesting" by Lucy Holt

This pamphlet is eclectic and captivating. Described by Ella Frears as ‘sharp, surprising and very funny,’ its pointed couplets present a myriad of observations – from eyelash curlers and windsocks to Coronation Street – appealing to the reader to revisit these poems and see what else they can find in this box filled with random treasures. 

The poet writes in short phrases or sentences, with focused images or ideas which are often tenuously tied together. Holt avoids punctuation, using line breaks to give just enough clarity for ideas or images to be interpreted and threaded together by the reader. 

In ‘Blue light, morning,’ Holt concludes: ‘knowing things named for revenge / rarely bring it.’ It’s this kind of philosophy-in-passing which demands more than a moment’s consideration, and which allows these poems the space they need to resonate. 

One of my favourite couplets features in ‘Timperley’: ‘I have loved men from the coast who cannot swim / I am always seeking a challenge.’ The irony here is marvellous, the phrasing deadpan. Is it the challenge of teaching these men how to swim, or the question hovering over the character of someone who lives by the sea but is not sufficiently equipped to enter it? 

Black humour is also present in ‘COS woman’: 

          a windsock woman
          I am capacious and shakeable

          … serious like wearing lead clogs
          to breakfast

These two images stuck with me (I doubt I’ll again see a windsock without empathising with it). Holt is brilliant at capturing this dry wit on the page, but she’s also highly eloquent in her descriptions, which are every bit as precise, as in ‘Entertaining’: 

         on the drive home
         I push my palms to the sunroof
         feeling for weak points

The title poem’s interlinking couplets present a rather shocking image, which says a great deal about a relationship, self-worth and perhaps even abuse: 

          I am face blind apart from 
          you sometimes

          and at night you roll me
          across the wet grass

          to a gentle stop
          outside my mother’s porch

Ultimately, I loved Holt’s gift for concise imagery and her sharp wit which resonates throughout this pamphlet. I admire the control the poet displays, knowing how to piece seemingly conflicting ideas together and, in doing so, invite the reader to fill the gaps. 

What really won me over is that, above all, I found this pamphlet personal and relatable. See ‘Lessons in gifting’:

         What does it mean to be a woman today
         reading the slogan lingerie for women who don’t do lingerie
             wondering to what extent you do?

         I have owned the same pyjama bottoms for a decade
         there never was a shirt

The poet thinks of themselves as an oddity, with things not quite fitting. This is consolidated in ‘Birds as consolation,’ as Holt explores this sense of alienation further:

           I’m jealous of stupid birds who are sincere
          and can murmurate – yes – murmurate

          without knowing
          how embarrassing it is to lean in

Yes, there is awkwardness here, but there is also intelligence and truth – as in ‘There is no word for this in German’:

          In the third decade of the twenty-first century
          it is illegal to be bored
          of your most persistent self

          In the third decade of the twenty-first century
          you have stopped shopping for clothes
          there is a group chat for all mankind you are admin

This poet has to no reason to be jealous of birds for their direction or natural instincts – she possesses both in the careful, measured craft of her poems, which say so much about herself, the world, and indeed, our place within it all. 

About the reviewer
Vic Pickup is a previous winner of the Café Writers and Cupid’s Arrow Competitions, and shortlisted for the National Poetry Day #speakyourtruth prize on YouTube. Lost & Found is Vic’s debut pamphlet, published by Hedgehog Poetry Press and featuring Pushcart-nominated poem ‘Social Distancing.’ @vicpickup / www.vicpickup.com

You can read a review of Lost & Found on Everybody's Reviewing here.