REVIEW: suddenly, it’s now by Blossom Hibbert (Leafe Press)
There is a strand of poetry, among a certain demographic of its twenty-something practitioners, which is increasingly informed by workshops, degree courses, social media echo chambers and an almost aggressive approach to networking and self-publicity. Homogeneity ensues; a sense pervades of poetry being written to a silently agreed upon ‘house’ style.
It’s a delirious and intoxicating shock to the system, then, to encounter Blossom Hibbert’s debut pamphlet suddenly, it’s now, a heady rush of raw talent fuelled by the sheer love of words and their possibilities. It’s like a Mahler symphony after hours of hold music; a David Lynch film after the thin gruel of anodyne studio product.
Freighted with a back cover endorsement from Martin Stannard (not the easiest reviewer to please, by a long chalk), suddenly, it’s now is a smartly put together piece of work; certainly one of the most confident statements of intent by a young poet I’ve seen in a while.
Bookended by two long poems, both echoing the pamphlet’s title at their conclusion, a series of shorter pieces unspool through the mid-section. Hibbert’s facility with structure as a means of engendering a dialogue between the poems is evident. Extra layers of meaning emerge; whispers of suggestion ghost into the reader’s consciousness.
With one foot in the quotidian – eating breakfast, drinking coffee, lazing away a “languid afternoon” – and the other readying itself for a wild, potentially stumbling leap into entirely different territory, Hibbert relishes the spark that results; the moment of ignition when the unexpected flares across the page. Poetry as incendiary device.
Take this for an opener: “I only want to read my book and sleep and run and buy magnesium by the / bucketload” [‘magnesium’]. It’s brilliant: a prosaic list of perfectly reasonable requests suddenly upended by that what-the-fuck magnesium reference, a sudden shift in tonality emphasised by a jarring line break and the almost comedic “bucketload”.
suddenly, it’s now fizzes with this kind of thing. A few favourites: “orange lights woosh over the train tracks on the ceiling, provincial / station I sit and sip inside” [‘solipsism of the morning’]; “you obsolete thing, you. eating words in front of me, challenging me / to a battle of silhouettes” [‘glenmorangie in the station’]; “whilst you are out on shift, I think to split an atom / exactly in half. hiding under freshly milked sheets / watching how far apart / each half can fight” [‘bats in the room above’]; “kitchen and breakfast room announcement: poetry is dead!!” [‘dear dearest’].
Dark wit. Retina-scorching images. Language slammed around like an eight ball. suddenly, it’s now introduces an exciting and innovative new talent, voice fully formed and hellbent on going her own way. Blossom Hibbert’s next-big-thing credentials are writ large. Poetry isn’t dead; it’s looking to the future.
Neil Fulwood