Much like the studies of geology and history which form the foundation of her sixth collection of poetry, Brenda Hillman’s “Cascadia” (2001) often feels like a mystery waiting to be unpacked. In comparison to her first collection of poetry, “White Dress”, “Cascadia” leaves the reader with the impression that Hillman has spent the intervening decades digging deeper into her understanding of place, relationship, and what – in fact – is poetry.
The collection is built from the poet’s exploration of California through the lens of geology. Indeed, one can easily imagine Hillman and a companion spending several weeks or months driving up, through, and across the great state, guided, perhaps, by Roert Durrenberger’s “Elements of California Geography.” Explanations of geological processes, mountain formation and the plate tectonics which led to the submerging of a landmass known as Cascadia and the geological creation of California as we now know it provide a consistent motif throughout Hillman’s collection. This bedrock, in turn, provides the basis for reflections on architecture, history, beating addiction, industrial development, poisoned landscapes, relationships, and the act of writing poetry.
This last topic of reflection is both explicit in Hillman’s writing and implicit in the changes one observes in the presentation of her writing in comparison to “White Dress.” While the shift may appear more subtle to someone who has had the opportunity to savour Hillman’s intervening published works, I found it to be quite striking. In “Cascadia,” the majority of Hillman’s poems are several pages long and feel much darker than the ideas in “White Dress.” Hillman’s writing also feels more ‘modern’ (I use the term reluctantly) in that the ideas written explicitly on the page feel more abstract and loosely connected, there are more spaces (both in her language and the physical presentation of words on the page) for the reader to make his or her own connections. This approach is reflected in Hillman’s use of line breaks and white space mid-line.
Even more notable is her use of words and punctuation around the margins of her poems. (It’s also interesting given her discussion of margins and poetry using the metaphor of plate tectonics throughout these poems). In “A Geology,” for example, each page is marked with a word in a corner of the page. On the first page, the words (clockwise from top left) read: “range, condition, locust, disagree”, while on the eighth of eight pages, the words read: “fault, fault, fault, prevalent.” On this same page, she muses in the body of her poem, “tempting to pun on the word fault.” The poem “Sweeping the interpreter’s house” is marked with four different combinations of the symbols + and -, in sets of three. The poem Noon Chain Replica includes a vertical chain of curved parentheses on the left-hand margin. These are just a few examples. Another way that Hillman enlists the margins of the page for the success of her poems is with the inclusion of vowels as with “Emigrant Gap” and “Twelve Vowels” or bracketed words in “Dioxin Sunset.” One of the most striking examples of this is the poem, written in grey text, which shadows her poem “Cascadia” in its left-hand margin.
The poem “Hydraulic Mining Survey” also introduces an interesting visual-textual feature with the second, third, and fourth stanzas rotated 90-degrees counter-clockwise. While these lines are clearly a part of the poem and present a striking visual representation the methodology and impact of this type of mining, the poem can also be read – with different consequences for the reader – without these stanzas. Finally, Hillman employs numbers, asterixes, and other punctuation throughout some of her poems as if to represent the unrepresentable word. Her poem “Pre-uplift of the Sierra”, for example, opens with the line:
“Hermit thrush ,??;;&,~ (Having chosen the wrong female) –”.
While the fifth stanza of the poem “The white of action in literature” reads:
“ ;;;?(), ––!.”
As with my review of “White Dress,” I’d like to conclude by sharing some of my favourite lines from Hillman’s poems in “Cascadia.” The poem “Past Guinda” opens with the lines: “The temporary, remade milder, / into permanence.”
The poem “The (or: It)” includes the lines:
“A translator trying not to decide God’s gender:
“wretched was”
his/her (or: it) – vaguely,
like ordering from a truckstop menu.”
Her poem “The Rise of the Napa Hills” opens with: “The sea has receded a little. Mild layer stack up / without panic, like email.”
I also greatly enjoyed “The Shirley Poem,” written with the found text from “The Shirley Letters, Being Letters Written in 1851-1852 from the California Mines” by "Dame Shirley" (AKA Louise A.K.S. Clappe).
Finally, I spent a long time considering the final lines of “Sad Cookies,”:
“Double Jeopardy category sweet nothings for $200 / Sweet nothing surrounded by anything // What is a poet’s destiny?”