|
Better To Travel Collin Kelley iUniverse, 2003 120 pages ISBN: 0-595-28409-4
Reviewer: Kathy Vogeltanz
Better to Travel, Collin Kelley’s first collection of poetry, is an emotionally-charged journey in free verse. The photo on the book’s cover, a snowbound tree in the north of England, is beautiful but deceptive. The fifty-one poems inside are anything but icy.
Kelley’s work has been labeled “confessional," after the likes of Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, and, more recently, Sharon Olds. But I’m going to argue against the use of this categorization. I was raised as a Catholic, and I’ve kneeled in confessionals, so I know this description isn’t entirely accurate.
There’s no guilt in these poems. There’s no hedging around the truth, no stammering to implicate other influences, no beating of the chest or begging for absolution, no fear of retribution from authority-- of this world or beyond. Most of all, there’s no apology. There’s just truth without regret.
The only proper classification for this collection is relational poetry. While the poet’s travels are mapped from geographical standpoints--a hotel in Paris, Battersea and St. Christopher’s Place in London--Kelley’s basic movement involves stepping inside and outside of himself, as is demonstrated in "Paris Hotel."
Somewhere beyond this window is Paris. For now, all I can do is stare across Rue Rampon. I watch the old woman tend her balcony full of flowers, see inside her spare rooms. I chose to stay behind, lying on the bed in dark recess. But I am thinking of you. The old woman sighs and we hear the noises of the city together. She looks at me and our eyes meet. But she looks through me, as if she’s seen all this before.
He examines moments shared with those with whom he’s been closest-- lovers, idols, and family members. And he contrasts or connects them with objects and places that move into and through his life-- a forgotten coat, an unopened umbrella, the London Underground.
While European cities seem to be his favorite backdrops, Kelley also weaves dramatic images using nearby, ordinary settings, as in this excerpt from “Diners at 2 a.m."
At 2 a.m. we sit next to our ghosts, still locked in combat. And sometimes we do not speak, because the din of the past drowns us out.
Most striking is a certain clear vision of himself and the world around him. He holds out his memories and emotions, and lets his heart report on them from arm’s length, using words and rhythm to bring everything into sharper view.
Kelley avoids the trap of many relational poets: his voice is neither the high whine of the soap opera victim nor the booming bass of the self-righteous lecturer. In a few poems, he identifies himself as a writer. This can be a disturbing practice, leading the reader to be overly aware of and ultimately detached from the written words, which serves to break the spell of the poem. Though I clenched my teeth as I encountered these lines, they never became overbearing or stopped the flow of feeling.
I was, however, jarred by some of the more political poetry that was included-- “60 Seconds in Zaire," “New York," “Tapestry." While they stirred the mind, they seemed out of place in this collection, where the main speaker is the heart.
While all of Kelley's poems, even the longer pieces, move strongly and smoothly without a lapse, the title poem ("Better to Travel"), short and packed with a punch, is my favorite:
The unused black Umbrella bit my Hand today. Cheap, angry metal And plastic offering Travel tips: Take me someplace Where it rains.
Better To Travel is a journey worth taking. An impressive debut.
|
|