It’s been said that humour often comes from a serious place. That concept can be easily applied to Caroline Bird’s Ambush at Still Lake. Themes such as parenthood, marriage, addiction and recovery are turned on their head in Bird’s surreal and animated collection of poems. In Bird’s prose poem ‘The Addict Impersonator Contest,’ addiction itself is quite literally turned on its head:
Takes years to master like the Handstand Scorpion Pose in yoga, or
Jazz drumming…
The humour here is wry, perhaps even uncomfortable, but it also dances with the truth. The poem ends with a distortion of the speaker’s mimicked addiction with real-life hurt. I felt the irony of the judges’ description of it being ‘the realest routine they’d ever seen’ and felt the punch of ‘Mum and Dad crying with pride.’ Bird understands how humour and tragedy cause friction when woven together. There’s an intuitive awareness of this that often has startling results.
Throughout the collection, rich images and strange confessions jump out at you. Experiencing a Bird poem requires a suspension of disbelief which I was more than happy to go along with. We live in a strange and complex world and Bird’s poems allow us to navigate the strangeness in an engrossing, vivid way. In ‘Starter Marriage,’ for instance, the speaker in the poem invites everyone to their wedding, including a BT Operator who kept them on hold for ‘forty minutes in 2007.’ Is Bird perchance saying that we live in a society in which most individual relationships are based on shallow connections – or is it just straight-up funny? Or both? What I especially like about Bird’s poems is the reluctance to come up with answers. Instead the speaker and the phone operator dance together, ‘reminiscing / under a marquee of stars,’ to what else but the ‘synthesised’ tune of Greensleeves that brought them together.
In ‘The Baby Monitor,’ a sinister scenario occurs when a baby monitor becomes a living being, long after the actual baby has grown into a child at ‘preschool.’ There is something universal about the monitor itself being an object parents fixate on – and perhaps that stress never goes away:
Like a killer in the dock, Knowing
The monitor was home alone
Crying to an empty room.
For all the humour here, it’s also surprisingly chilling!
Bird’s poems have a spontaneous feel, as if they’ve sprung from a place where humour and pain co-exist. Perhaps when someone has been through a great deal, they appreciate that the so called ‘happy ever after’ of marriage is not a wholly trustworthy thing. In the collection’s title poem, ‘Ambush at Still Lake,’ it’s the placid lake itself which offers an answer of sorts to the manic nature of life: ‘We carry on / dying forever, always almost home.’
Maria Taylor is a British Cypriot poet and reviewer. Her latest collection is Dressing for the Afterlife (Nine Arches Press). Her debut collection of poetry, Melanchrini, was shortlisted for the Michael Murphy Memorial Prize. She has been published widely, including poems and reviews in The Guardian, Magma and The Times Literary Supplement. She has been highly commended in the UK Forward Prizes for poetry. She also works as Reviews Editor for Under the Radar.
