Imlexures
Reviewed by Glyn
Pursglove
Karen Mac Cormack is based in
Now Bartholine, the first of all this
Crew,
Does to me Nature’s Architecture shew;
He tells me how th’Foundation first is laid
Of Earth; how Pillars of strong Bones are made;
How th’Walls
consist of carneous
parts within,
The out-side pinguid, over-laid with Skin;
The Fretwork, Muscles, Arteries,
and Veins,
With their Implexures, and how from the
Brains
The Nerves descend; and how they
do dispence
To ev’ry
Member, Motive Pow’r and Sence;
He shews
what Windows in this Structure fix’d,
How tribly
Glaz’d and Curtains drawn betwixt
Them and Earths objects[.]
Mac Cormack’s concern is to locate
the ‘implexures’ of a different kind of anatomy, of a
different circulatory structure - that of identity, family and language. The implexures are tangles (“Time tangled” begins the books
epigraph from Bryher) and twists, folds:
The sheets were blue by what the
streetlight outside the window provided. Other rooms in that house were cold,
despite whiskey, gin, various recordings of Callas, Costello. Pitted streets
deviated at the front door, vectors arrived at surface one. Through the years
of twists and numerous preoccupations the folds eventually converged and so
from profiles to full frontal view the angles curved to meet. Intensity’s understatement. An overlay of rain, June
sunshine, bombs.
Everywhere in the text there are convergences, flowings together, twistings on a
common core, times, places, memories folded in on one another - “The wind as
confluence of surfaces tangled if unseen by any ‘poetress’”.
Making use of published sources, family letters, her own letters or journals (I
presume), Mac Cormack’s implexures
have about them a quality that feels unforced - ‘‘‘Language as primary
environment’ applied to re-reading letters (one’s own and others) the decades
interleaved on every surface to blur and redefine the living in & of
perception’s architecture”. Whether noting the gender of old English nouns
(“the word for woman was neuter,
while that for snake was feminine’’)
or wittily discoursing on the etymology and history of the word charm,
Mac Cormack is never in danger of forgetting that
every individual word is already a vehicle of implexed
meaning. To make more complex folds from these folded meanings is to attempt an
activity (of implexure) which, in Mac Cormack’s hands, is never less than exhilarating for the
reader and which, after all, mimics (which ‘isn’t to say that one precedes the
other) another kind of social implexure (which we -
loosely - call experience and memory):
Perhaps
the reunion or similar event (memorial, funeral, wake)
provides an extreme example of the fold when
twenty or (many) more
years separate meetings of those referred to as
friends. Sweet
expectation the deceased will walk through that
door to the
microphone evaporates when the word (death) comes to mind. This
experience is combinatory, not definitively an
echo, yet certainly a
partial grafting of the remembered “known” with
an introduction of
accrued difference.
Implexures
is a fascinating text, not afraid of ‘difficulty’ but not seeming to indulge in
it for its own sake. A fluid sense of time, place, individual and family
generates complexes of meaning and feeling with which most readers will be able
to recognise (whether in terms of difference or
similarity). Mac Cormack’s use of the sentence and
paragraph, her ability to use both structures in a very accomplished and
thoroughly traditional way and, elsewhere, to challenge and subvert orthodox
assumptions about their processes and purposes, makes for constantly
thought-provoking writing.
Glyn Pursglove
Poetry
7, Winter 2004/5