Parental Exhaustion and the Echoes of Empire: A Look at New Australian Poetry
The landscape of Australian poetry is currently being shaped by a diverse array of voices, tackling everything from the relentless demands of parenthood and the stark realities of inner-city living to the profound reckoning with global capitalism and historical injustices. Recent collections offer a compelling glimpse into these multifaceted experiences, demonstrating the enduring power of verse to explore both the intimate and the expansive.
The Exhausted Dad: Parenthood and the Poetic Stream
Ender Başkan's debut collection, Two Hundred Million Musketeers, plunges headfirst into the often-unseen world of modern fatherhood. The opening lines immediately resonate with any parent: "549am/i am dad/im on demand." The title itself, and the poem "Here Is the Shirt, (Get) Off My Back/Swimming in the Afternoon," capture the ubiquitous feeling of being constantly needed, a sentiment familiar to anyone navigating the early years of raising young children. Başkan meticulously documents the domestic sphere, from the organised chaos of Saturday morning sports to the imaginative realms of playtime, all through the bleary-eyed lens of a parent whose "work" often feels more like a respite from the demands of his children.
Stylistically, Başkan embraces an extended stream-of-consciousness approach, eschewing punctuation and capitalisation, perhaps a reflection of the sheer exhaustion that leaves little time for such formalities. His poems offer a relatable entry point into the everyday, but they also venture into the surreal and tangential, weaving in memories of his Turkish heritage, the diasporic journeys of his parents and grandparents, and the perennial struggle to reconcile artistic aspirations with the need to earn a living. While some readers might find the lack of narrative succinctness frustrating, with poems often meandering and shifting focus unexpectedly, there's an undeniable charm in Başkan's freewheeling, playful, and impressionistic voice.
Confronting the Rot: Rage, Grief, and Global Critique
In stark contrast to the domestic intimacy of Başkan's work, Evelyn Araluen's The Rot offers a powerful and unflinching confrontation with the darker aspects of our contemporary world. As the title suggests, this is not a collection designed for lighthearted escapism. Following her critically acclaimed Dropbear, Araluen's latest work is a potent blend of poetic prose that delves into the grim realities of global imperial capitalism, the horrors of weapons manufacturing, the ongoing conflict in Gaza, and the enduring legacy of settler-colonialism.
The Rot is a deeply researched, critical, and incisive examination of our times, braiding together academic critique with raw emotional outpouring. It is steeped in a palpable sense of grief and rage, reflecting the anxieties and disquiet of a world under constant scrutiny. Araluen frequently employs the second person, directly addressing the reader with lines like, "Like you I have/fought not to lose myself in complacency," forging a sense of shared struggle and demanding solidarity. The poems can be challenging, marked by a literary and academic tone that requires concentration. There's a palpable restlessness and resentment throughout, with fragmented entries that read like late-night ruminations, a poet grappling with complex issues in a pique of frustration. Later in the collection, the "You" turns inward, as Araluen explores self-reflection and the search for internal answers. This is a collection that demands to be read slowly and deliberately, requiring attention not only to individual lines but also to the overarching conceptual framework.
Inner-City Grit and the Everyday: Finding Beauty in the Mess
Holly Friedlander Liddicoat's Doghouse shifts the focus to the vibrant, and often gritty, realities of Sydney's inner-city life, offering a lighter, though no less insightful, perspective. This collection captures the voice of a 20-something navigating urban existence, moving beyond the postcard-perfect tourist facade to explore the more down-to-earth, and occasionally unsavoury, aspects of shared housing and close-quarters living. Friedlander Liddicoat deliberately sidesteps the sweeping harbour views, instead immersing herself in the backstreets, the detritus, and the everyday details that define this environment.
Doghouse is an erratic and experimental exploration of the busyness of urban life. It's a collection brimming with vivid, often surprising, details: cinnamon donut crumbs in a book-strewn bed, the rummaging sounds of people collecting bottles for the 10-cent refund, or the furtive picking of flowers from a neighbour's garden. The narrator is depicted vaping candy-flavoured fuzz while attempting to write and publish poetry, dating a barista, and striving to find that elusive balance between "Stress & the Good Life." The poems don't shy away from the less glamorous elements, depicting rooms where "crevices spew German cockroaches like confetti from a piñata." Yet, despite the lack of overt glamour, there's an endearing quality to this heightened sense of life's messiness. The collection finds purpose and even beauty in these small, often overlooked, moments: a forgotten slushy in an outdoor carpark, the practical use of coconut oil, blackout blinds drawn against the midday sun, or the specific hue of a guava Cruiser sunset.
Navigating the Inner Landscape: OCD and the Solace of Nature
Laurence Levy-Atkinson's debut, Too Much Night, offers a profoundly personal and sensitively rendered account of living with long-term, undiagnosed Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The collection charts the author's journey from acknowledging his condition to coming to terms with its pervasive influence. Levy-Atkinson articulates the relentless nature of his compulsions, the struggle for breath in confined spaces, and the desperate need for ritualistic handwashing that can lead to physical harm. He details the compulsion for counting, the meticulous repetition in everyday actions, and the internal conflict between logic and intuition that dictates the need for even numbers to ensure safety.
However, Too Much Night transcends a singular focus on mental illness. Levy-Atkinson's lyrical prose speaks to anyone who has ever felt overwhelmed by the world's intensity – its noise, its intrusiveness, its demands. It's a book that resonates with those who experience profound loneliness, and paradoxically, with those who find it a struggle to leave the confines of their homes and engage with social life. With a sharp, forensic eye, Levy-Atkinson dissects his symptoms, but he also discovers a crucial source of solace in the natural world. His interactions with the environment provide a much-needed respite from his obsessive thoughts, offering a pathway out of his internal headspace. The collection is rich with descriptions of seasonal changes, the immersive experience of natural sounds and textures – from mango trees and wild mushrooms to rock faces, driftwood, and the calls of spring birds. Ultimately, Too Much Night achieves a delicate balance, weaving together the darkness of internal struggle with the restorative light found in the natural world.
The Complexities of Separation and a Son's Future
David Stavanger's third collection, The Drop Off, delves into the intricate tapestry of modern life, where anxieties are often diffused through humour and self-deprecation. Stavanger approaches the painful subject of divorce with a wry wit, portraying the separation in "Joint Statement" as a press conference, with the ex-partners declaring they have "mutually resolved to end this transaction amicably." The title poem itself captures the drawn-out aftermath of separation and the logistical challenges of co-parenting, observing that a child "is smaller than a nuclear family."
The negotiation of part-time care for a child, alongside issues of child support and custody, is rendered with a spare yet emotionally potent style. Stavanger then pivots to a more acerbic critique of the housing crisis, real estate agents, and landlords, lamenting that "... people like them//will always take the last beer//from your fridge." Beyond the complexities of broken families, the collection also addresses the health of the planet and the personal landscape of one's own mental and physical well-being, touching on climate change, ageing, and medical appointments.
The Drop Off is dedicated to Stavanger's son, and many poems directly address him, allowing the reader to witness him at various stages of life, from infancy to adulthood. In one extended prose poem, father and son collaborate on their shared experience of being bullied, a generation apart. This intimate piece lays bare a vulnerability that is both poignant and, at times, difficult to read. The domestic sphere is interwoven with an ironic turn of phrase, as Stavanger speaks from his own lived experience. While some of the hurt is tempered by years of reflection, other moments remain raw and inchoate, offering a powerful testament to the enduring complexities of love, loss, and the passage of time.
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