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Full Light Falling
60 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
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October 17, 2012
This is the earliest published volume of Bernadette Rule's poetry which I happen to own. The contents date from the 1980s and the underlying theme is Hamilton, Ontario. Though Bernadette now lives in nearby Dundas, Ontario, she still has cultural roots in Hamilton. (Note: In fairly recent times, Dundas was "annexed" to its larger neighbour; it used to be an independent town.)
Besides being the birthplace of the Tim Hortons franchise and of the present reviewer, the home of several sports teams and the location of a prestigious university, Hamilton happens to produce about sixty percent of Canada's steel. This last fact is one which surfaces often in this collection of poems. For, as you could probably tell from my reviews of her other poetry, she is very much attuned to nature, its moods and colours, and its various seasonal manifestations. So how do these play out in an environment largely dedicated to serious industry?
These poems are quite environmentally conscious, and so Rule shows nature and civilization (read: industry) as being in conflict. In "City with a View," she writes:
We are a city on the edge
and beyond. On the escarpment
one becomes a small child
lifted onto her father's shoulders
again, astounded at the sudden vistas.
Yet we dream of being
Toronto dreaming of being
New York. Erecting
brave new buildings
over derelict lots
we demolish old trees
and fountains.
Trust me, to a Hamiltonian this makes a lot of sense. Back in the '80s, this city was full of the evidence of nature, and yet one could see broken down buildings, multi-lane traffic, pollution from the steel plants, and so on. Moreover, I thought I lived in a big city until I went away to the University of Toronto in 1990. (I've never been to New York, so I haven't seen the next step in the comparison. But one need only look at the news to get an idea.)
In many ways this is a strident, angry, mournful book, in which the poet speaks out against injustice and the despoiling of the world. "Battered Wife" laments the plight of an abused woman. "Heart Attack" eulogizes a departed friend. "The Madwoman in Church" is a compassionate look at a mentally ill person, of whom Hamilton still has too many on its streets. "Food Chains" looks at the difficult ramifications surrounding the ethical treatment of animals.
But all is not rage and despair, for nature breaks through in unexpected ways. Rule speaks humorously of crops growing in the fields, and notes with awe the passing through of various wild animals. She evokes mountainous layers of snow (now largely a thing of the past, but etched sharply in my childhood and adolescent memories), the advent of spring, the blankness of fall, the touch of sunlight or moonlight on the streets. In "Notes," we even hear the delightful play of precipitation:
While I practice
piano, raindrops begin
pressing the green keys
of the plum tree.
This is a book meant to raise consciousness about humankind's relationship to the world. But (as is the rule with Bernadette) it also seeks out the joy of life in all the unexpected places where it may be hiding.
Besides being the birthplace of the Tim Hortons franchise and of the present reviewer, the home of several sports teams and the location of a prestigious university, Hamilton happens to produce about sixty percent of Canada's steel. This last fact is one which surfaces often in this collection of poems. For, as you could probably tell from my reviews of her other poetry, she is very much attuned to nature, its moods and colours, and its various seasonal manifestations. So how do these play out in an environment largely dedicated to serious industry?
These poems are quite environmentally conscious, and so Rule shows nature and civilization (read: industry) as being in conflict. In "City with a View," she writes:
We are a city on the edge
and beyond. On the escarpment
one becomes a small child
lifted onto her father's shoulders
again, astounded at the sudden vistas.
Yet we dream of being
Toronto dreaming of being
New York. Erecting
brave new buildings
over derelict lots
we demolish old trees
and fountains.
Trust me, to a Hamiltonian this makes a lot of sense. Back in the '80s, this city was full of the evidence of nature, and yet one could see broken down buildings, multi-lane traffic, pollution from the steel plants, and so on. Moreover, I thought I lived in a big city until I went away to the University of Toronto in 1990. (I've never been to New York, so I haven't seen the next step in the comparison. But one need only look at the news to get an idea.)
In many ways this is a strident, angry, mournful book, in which the poet speaks out against injustice and the despoiling of the world. "Battered Wife" laments the plight of an abused woman. "Heart Attack" eulogizes a departed friend. "The Madwoman in Church" is a compassionate look at a mentally ill person, of whom Hamilton still has too many on its streets. "Food Chains" looks at the difficult ramifications surrounding the ethical treatment of animals.
But all is not rage and despair, for nature breaks through in unexpected ways. Rule speaks humorously of crops growing in the fields, and notes with awe the passing through of various wild animals. She evokes mountainous layers of snow (now largely a thing of the past, but etched sharply in my childhood and adolescent memories), the advent of spring, the blankness of fall, the touch of sunlight or moonlight on the streets. In "Notes," we even hear the delightful play of precipitation:
While I practice
piano, raindrops begin
pressing the green keys
of the plum tree.
This is a book meant to raise consciousness about humankind's relationship to the world. But (as is the rule with Bernadette) it also seeks out the joy of life in all the unexpected places where it may be hiding.
Displaying 1 of 1 review