| GILLIAN BENCE-JONES: OSTRICH CREEK. |
|---|
 | ISBN 0 903610 22 1 |
| £3; ex-UK £5; €10;
US$10; 12 IRCs |
| "For Gillian Bence-Jones poetry is one of
life's pleasures to be enjoyed in the same way as, say,
the search for a wild orchid in the marshes or a swim in
the Orwell in October during a freak Indian summer. For her,
it is natural to express her feelings and observations of her
surroundings in verse. She can generalise the particular, unlock
personal feelings, manage in a short space to be funny, sad and
elegiac all at the same time. Like Betjeman, she is inspired by
a sense of place. She celebrates the essential Englishness of
country life. Her voice is the voice of no-nonsense Suffolk:
clear, lyrical and straight to the point. She has the
confidence to tackle historical themes — as in the
stirring Elizabethan nautical poem Round the World in
this new collection - without affectation but with no
shortage of romance either. Sometimes, too, one hears
the melancholy echoes of the Somme. Like Siegfried Sassoon,
Gillian Bence-Jones is at her best contrasting the horrors
of the Western Front with the pastoral beauty of home. But
it would be quite wrong to suggest that her poetry is
exclusively concerned with her native heath. She has
the true poet's instinct of registering impressions
wherever she finds herself — whether in Ireland, or
on her travels in India and the Middle East. Gillian
Bence-Jones is not predictable: she is an original,
individual and stimulating poet for all seasons." —
Hugh Massingberd
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| Sample poem |
How to order |
| extracts from reviews. |
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The poet is struck by characters as in such vignettes as, "last laugh,"
"Cup Bearer" and "Tom". Each alone is worth
the purchase of this book.
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Pulsar (Lachlan Robertson).
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In her writing Gillian Bence-Jones, like all interesting gossips,
makes no concessions to strangers, gives no explanations.
Here is here, she says, and there they were.
And it works. As in TOM, the collection's keystone poem,
which successfully marries memories of the matter-of-fact killings
on the Somme with those of a matter-of-fact life in rural Suffolk.....
Poetry for the palate this. Just take this one word-lovely line
from the beginning of DRISHANE, The house rang in
cuckoo-clamour.
...intensely human and humane; this collection left me,
for one, with a warm feeling. And there's not much that
does that these days.
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Sam Smith.
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What I like about Ostrich Creek
is the ease with which Gillian Bence-Jones
stimulates the ordinary.
Waffle-free, the poems speak volumes in a
rich swell of implicitness
'Twilight', 'The First', 'Safe as Houses', 'Sea-Beast' all bask in suppleness.
I also enjoyed being taken on a trip abroad,
skimming the surface of a new exotic culture
... the poems shift sand,
are warmed and cooled by the tide of wonderful
language:
Scarlet, amber. mauve azaleas blaze
Under the Maple;
Wide Oak. awake at last
Tosses a green shirt.
Cuckoo jubilant
Over buttercups.
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The Affectionate Punch (Andrew Tutty).
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Gillian Bence-Jones writes simply of simple things:
Born beautiful
We drift through bring ugly bores
To being bones.
STRANGERS & PILGRIMS
More tellingly she writes of old country people
who connect back to the
First World War which remains a contrasting
presence to:
Dapple-dance of sun and shade,
Time caught in a leaf net.
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Other Poetry.
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how pleasant to find a poet who can vary the current trend for short, free-stressed unrhymed
lines with an occasional jewel of prosody, like
the delightful pantoum
My Father, or
the mordantly witty Hymn Modern.
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Manifold (Vera Rich).
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What is it that makes these deceptively simple pieces 200 watts brighter than most writers in this
field? Why does she make me realise I know so many words? Why do the first lines bear so little
relevance to the rest of the poem but are so vital to its whole existence? Why can't I write as good
as this? Why can't you write as good as this? Why don't you just read it and stop asking
questions? A long, long overdue large collection from Gillian
that's good to have around.
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Krax (Andy Robson).
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