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Ocean
The ocean has never had a biographer quite like Sue Goyette. Living in the port city of Halifax, Goyette’s days are bounded by the substantial fact of the North Atlantic, both by its physical presence and by its metaphoric connotations. And like many of life’s overwhelming facts, our awareness of the ocean’s importance and impact waxes and wanes as the ocean sometimes lurks in the background, sometimes imposes itself upon us, yet always, steadily, is. This collection is not your standard “Oh, Ocean!” versifying. Goyette plunges in and swims well outside the buoys to craft a sort of alternate, apocryphal account of our relationship with the ocean. In these linked poems, Goyette’s offbeat cast of archetypes (fog merchants, lifeguards, poets, carpenters, mothers, daughters) pronounce absurd explanations to both common and uncommon occurrences in a tone that is part cautionary tale, part creation myth and part urban legend: how fog was responsible for marriages, and for in-laws; why running, suburbs and chairs were invented; what happens when you smoke the exhaust from a pride of children pretending to be lions. All the while, the anthropomorphized ocean nibbles hungrily at the shoreline of our understanding,refusing to explain its moods and winning every staring contest. “I wrote these poems,” comments Goyette, “because I know very little about the ocean and yet rely on it like a mirror, a compass.” In Ocean, Goyette demonstrates how a spirited, playful and richly mythopoetic engagement with the world can actually strengthen our grasp on its bigger truths.
80 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2013
11 people are currently reading
158 people want to read
About the author
Sue Goyette
20 books39 followersSue Goyette is a Canadian poet and novelist. Born in Sherbrooke, Quebec, Goyette grew up in Saint-Bruno-de-Montarville, on Montreal's south shore.
Her first poetry book The True Names of Birds (1998) was nominated for the 1999 Governor General's Award, the Pat Lowther Award and the Gerald Lampert Award. Goyette's first novel, Lures: A Novel (2002), was nominated for the 2003 Thomas Head Raddall Award. She has also written another poetry collection, Undone (2004), and won the 2008 CBC Literary Award in poetry for the poem "Outskirts". The poetry collection of the same name, Outskirts won the Atlantic Poetry Prize in 2012. Goyette's fourth poetry collection, Ocean, was published in 2013 by Gaspereau Press.
Goyette has been a member of the faculty of The Maritime Writers' Workshop, The Banff Wired Studio, and The Sage Hill Writing Experience.
She presently lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and teaches at Dalhousie University.
Her first poetry book The True Names of Birds (1998) was nominated for the 1999 Governor General's Award, the Pat Lowther Award and the Gerald Lampert Award. Goyette's first novel, Lures: A Novel (2002), was nominated for the 2003 Thomas Head Raddall Award. She has also written another poetry collection, Undone (2004), and won the 2008 CBC Literary Award in poetry for the poem "Outskirts". The poetry collection of the same name, Outskirts won the Atlantic Poetry Prize in 2012. Goyette's fourth poetry collection, Ocean, was published in 2013 by Gaspereau Press.
Goyette has been a member of the faculty of The Maritime Writers' Workshop, The Banff Wired Studio, and The Sage Hill Writing Experience.
She presently lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and teaches at Dalhousie University.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
July 2, 2018
This isn't a book about the depths of ocean thousands of lonely, empty miles from land. Sue Goyette has written a book of poems about the very personal ocean off Nova Scotia and Halifax. It's composed entirely of numbered poems (56) written in couplets expressing the wonder and gratitude owed to the ocean roundabout there but also tinged with the fear of it and the sense of its oppressiveness. In the end it's a moody, capricious god more gray than blue. These are wonderful poems carrying humor as well as weighty and deep thought appropriate to the subject.
A reread, June 1918, completed 2 Jul. Wonderful, wonderful again. This reread inspired me to buy her volume after this, Penelope.
A reread, June 1918, completed 2 Jul. Wonderful, wonderful again. This reread inspired me to buy her volume after this, Penelope.
September 20, 2018
Some of the most lyrical, magical, powerful, evocative (too many adjectives? doesn’t matter, they are so necessary) works I have ever read. A must-read.
August 30, 2013
Every once in a while you find something that is an absolute jewel, and for me this is one of those times.
Goyette has lived in Halifax, a city located on a peninsula surrounded by ocean, for over twenty years. The ocean dominates the city where all the downhill road streets lead to it, and the sea naturally becomes a part of the lives of people who live there, even if they don’t realize it.
These are not the usual “ode to the sea” offerings, but instead, very original crafted observations, some striking and poignant and some actually quite funny. The collection is not meant to be read as individual discrete poems, but as an ongoing series in which each piece builds upon the preceding one. None of the poems are titled. Instead, each individual piece, composed of unrhymed couplets has been assigned a number. As you read through the series you recognize the inherent rhythm and the soft hidden cadence she has created, almost reminiscent of the soft lap of the waves as they wrap the shoreline.
Gaspereau Books are known for the detail and attention in the design and production of its offerings. This book deserves its beautiful cover, done in a textured dove grey. The heavy vellum cream colour of its pages complements the entire work.
I cannot say enough good things about this volume.
It is one of the best poetry books I have ever read.
Simply excellent.
Goyette is quite simply a marvel.
Goyette has lived in Halifax, a city located on a peninsula surrounded by ocean, for over twenty years. The ocean dominates the city where all the downhill road streets lead to it, and the sea naturally becomes a part of the lives of people who live there, even if they don’t realize it.
These are not the usual “ode to the sea” offerings, but instead, very original crafted observations, some striking and poignant and some actually quite funny. The collection is not meant to be read as individual discrete poems, but as an ongoing series in which each piece builds upon the preceding one. None of the poems are titled. Instead, each individual piece, composed of unrhymed couplets has been assigned a number. As you read through the series you recognize the inherent rhythm and the soft hidden cadence she has created, almost reminiscent of the soft lap of the waves as they wrap the shoreline.
Gaspereau Books are known for the detail and attention in the design and production of its offerings. This book deserves its beautiful cover, done in a textured dove grey. The heavy vellum cream colour of its pages complements the entire work.
I cannot say enough good things about this volume.
It is one of the best poetry books I have ever read.
Simply excellent.
Goyette is quite simply a marvel.
June 18, 2014
Normally, I fall into the ".... I don't get it" camp with poetry. Not so with Sue Goyette's Ocean. Something about Goyette's poetry really jived with my brain. Each poem was brilliantly metaphoric; many made my heart ache. Although in a few instances the metaphor might have become a bit too forced or slipped into abstraction (leaving me with the "... I don't get it" feeling), these instances were fortunately few and far between, and did not overshadow the deeply moving--and often funny--poetry of this wonderful little book.
A word, too, on the book as a physical object: Ocean is, without any hint of exaggeration, one of the most beautiful books I've ever held in my hands. The paper is of excellent quality, and the cover, though simple, is pure magic. In the age of debate over the ebook, I encourage you to at least hold a copy of Ocean in your hands to feel all that a book could be.
A word, too, on the book as a physical object: Ocean is, without any hint of exaggeration, one of the most beautiful books I've ever held in my hands. The paper is of excellent quality, and the cover, though simple, is pure magic. In the age of debate over the ebook, I encourage you to at least hold a copy of Ocean in your hands to feel all that a book could be.
Read
November 20, 2021I wanted to like this one, but couldn't get into it. The author is REALLY great at capturing the ocean in every work. I was next to the ocean every day reading this and really enjoyed that part of it. I think I am just not a fan of the writing style but can not explain why (I'd be a terrible critic). Seemed a little too cryptic?
February 1, 2014
A beautiful collection of poems about the Ocean's influence on a community of people. It it in turns generous, punishing, tricky, and unpredictable. So much gorgeous language here it was like swimming in gentle waves. The imagery and allegory were neither too challenging not too obvious.
December 26, 2015
The ocean nursing new rocks ... I so afore this collection. Thank you :-) so much Teresa :-)
January 23, 2022
The real estate agent chewed gum to cover the smell
of bank on his breath and told us a snow fence would keep it
out. That it wasn't so much like student housing
but a wishing well that would one day increase
our property value. Oceanfront was like 24-hour shopping;
we'd browse its surface and wonder who really needed
all this stuff. And what a hurricane of a question!
What a tidal wave of disruption. It got worse
when we walked into it and let it taste us. Courtship!
We had never heard of marriage let along ceremony.
When we wrote our names in the soft sand of its back,
we didn't know the first thing about commitment
or about being out of our depths.
* * *
The idea of courting began after a group of us
smoked the exhaust from a pride of children
imagine they were lions. We wouldn't normally
smoke something that potent but the night had begun
to pontificate, droning on like a politician
promising us more day. Some of us were feeling
a little hemmed in. Understand, the strongest
we were used to smoking was the echo
of a good laugh so this feeling of having paws
and a home as far as our growls could reach
was something new. At first our prowl
was self-conscious. The way we'd nudge
into each other. We blushed at the sharp teeth
of being touched. Of course, everything changed
when we discovered our purr.
* * *
The barbers taught us how to trim the trees.
They'd day careful of their ears, proving something
we'd all suspected. A farmer came to show us how to use
the chainsaw. Say your names, he said above the banshee
of its teeth. That's how long it takes. This is now a steadfast
rule about a lot of things though at the time all we could imagine losing
was a limb. The trees knew we were coming. You could feel them
cower. Our best day was following the grade one class
learning of habitat. The trees were giddy, all those hands
on their knees, the tree jokes the children were practising:
Leaf me alone, leaf me alone! They practically bent down
for us. But some of us had to retire early. We knew how trees
could hear everything, the way they spiced the breeze,
even with the names we had kept hidden.
* * *
Because the ocean's motor never wore out,
we knew we were in the presence of something
special. We brought it gifts of fancy earrings because,
so often, we treated it like an ear. We brought it
coins for the jukebox it sometimes was. Our poets
claimed the ocean was an edit of its former self,
that it once was bejewelled with a great many more
adjectives and went on like a dirge. Some of us
painted our lips and breasts with it. We wanted
to wear it like a badge or flag; we wanted to be
an edited version of our former selves, and like it,
we wanted to keep moving with clouds at our back
and an implication of orcas beneath our talk.
* * *
We'd been jilted, left at the harbour. Our wild lover;
our reckless friend. Our raison d'être had transformed
into a bland and mild version of itself. It was a lion
pacing beneath the bridge, the grid of condo shadows.
It was a mangier version of itself, its surface lacklustre
and its growl, without the saw teeth of threat, was senior.
It had been taught to go down on its knees, to climb
on the chair, leap through fire and recite the seasons.
It was like a dog dressed in finery. And you know the way ears
can give away so much of what an animal is thinking?
If it had ears, they'd have slid down its head by now,
quivering.
of bank on his breath and told us a snow fence would keep it
out. That it wasn't so much like student housing
but a wishing well that would one day increase
our property value. Oceanfront was like 24-hour shopping;
we'd browse its surface and wonder who really needed
all this stuff. And what a hurricane of a question!
What a tidal wave of disruption. It got worse
when we walked into it and let it taste us. Courtship!
We had never heard of marriage let along ceremony.
When we wrote our names in the soft sand of its back,
we didn't know the first thing about commitment
or about being out of our depths.
- One
* * *
The idea of courting began after a group of us
smoked the exhaust from a pride of children
imagine they were lions. We wouldn't normally
smoke something that potent but the night had begun
to pontificate, droning on like a politician
promising us more day. Some of us were feeling
a little hemmed in. Understand, the strongest
we were used to smoking was the echo
of a good laugh so this feeling of having paws
and a home as far as our growls could reach
was something new. At first our prowl
was self-conscious. The way we'd nudge
into each other. We blushed at the sharp teeth
of being touched. Of course, everything changed
when we discovered our purr.
- Thirteen
* * *
The barbers taught us how to trim the trees.
They'd day careful of their ears, proving something
we'd all suspected. A farmer came to show us how to use
the chainsaw. Say your names, he said above the banshee
of its teeth. That's how long it takes. This is now a steadfast
rule about a lot of things though at the time all we could imagine losing
was a limb. The trees knew we were coming. You could feel them
cower. Our best day was following the grade one class
learning of habitat. The trees were giddy, all those hands
on their knees, the tree jokes the children were practising:
Leaf me alone, leaf me alone! They practically bent down
for us. But some of us had to retire early. We knew how trees
could hear everything, the way they spiced the breeze,
even with the names we had kept hidden.
- Twenty-Six
* * *
Because the ocean's motor never wore out,
we knew we were in the presence of something
special. We brought it gifts of fancy earrings because,
so often, we treated it like an ear. We brought it
coins for the jukebox it sometimes was. Our poets
claimed the ocean was an edit of its former self,
that it once was bejewelled with a great many more
adjectives and went on like a dirge. Some of us
painted our lips and breasts with it. We wanted
to wear it like a badge or flag; we wanted to be
an edited version of our former selves, and like it,
we wanted to keep moving with clouds at our back
and an implication of orcas beneath our talk.
- Thirty-Three
* * *
We'd been jilted, left at the harbour. Our wild lover;
our reckless friend. Our raison d'être had transformed
into a bland and mild version of itself. It was a lion
pacing beneath the bridge, the grid of condo shadows.
It was a mangier version of itself, its surface lacklustre
and its growl, without the saw teeth of threat, was senior.
It had been taught to go down on its knees, to climb
on the chair, leap through fire and recite the seasons.
It was like a dog dressed in finery. And you know the way ears
can give away so much of what an animal is thinking?
If it had ears, they'd have slid down its head by now,
quivering.
- Fifty
June 30, 2019
We were alone, the way the ocean was alone/ and briefly we understood why it couldn't find the right words/ for what it wanted to say and why it kept trying. (6)
This poetry book mythologizes the settlement of Halifax, human interaction with the ocean, natural landscapes, and development of a community. Goyette plays with the concept of discovery and invention, with lines like:
We discovered death under the bridge, and someone insisted we take it home (4)
On bees: when we tasted their honey,/ we realized they weren't miniature flying lions at all/but small winged gospels sent to sweeten our tongues (11)
We had found/ love like a box of candles beneath our beds/ and lit each other with the flames of our tongues (15)
The trees were giddy, all those hands/ on their knees (26)
Our girls taught us the right way/ to spoon the spilled stars (32)
She brewed a drop of his laughter/ with a handful of mint (36)
we learned that words also have souls,/ and when the souls of our words escaped, there was a glitter/ frosting the ocean (38).
There's a path through the book, from beginning to many layers of a middle, through losses and learning to the end. Much of it is poignant, and reframes thinking about a town, about the personality of physical setting (the prairie, where I live, is so different from the sea's shore), about how culture and people develop in relation to the space they lives in. Much of it is lyrical language and inventive images; often they're striking, but just as often, what they describe is unimaginable or clunky, and the poems become weighed down by these half-creations that struggle to reveal what they're meant to symbolize. I found myself disappointed at the end of quite a few poems because I couldn't grasp anything Goyette spoke of, it veered too much into abstraction and the land or people she began with either were contrived or disappeared.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy playful, spirited poetry. Goyette has fun with the project, even when it gets away from her just a little bit. I enjoyed her writing on trees, lifeguards, snow, "the poets," enigmatic teenage girls, ferries, and the soul of Halifax.
The poems I liked best were: 4-6, 11, 15, 18, 23, 24, 26, 29, 32, 35, 36, 38, 42-44, 48, 52, 54, 56
This poetry book mythologizes the settlement of Halifax, human interaction with the ocean, natural landscapes, and development of a community. Goyette plays with the concept of discovery and invention, with lines like:
We discovered death under the bridge, and someone insisted we take it home (4)
On bees: when we tasted their honey,/ we realized they weren't miniature flying lions at all/but small winged gospels sent to sweeten our tongues (11)
We had found/ love like a box of candles beneath our beds/ and lit each other with the flames of our tongues (15)
The trees were giddy, all those hands/ on their knees (26)
Our girls taught us the right way/ to spoon the spilled stars (32)
She brewed a drop of his laughter/ with a handful of mint (36)
we learned that words also have souls,/ and when the souls of our words escaped, there was a glitter/ frosting the ocean (38).
There's a path through the book, from beginning to many layers of a middle, through losses and learning to the end. Much of it is poignant, and reframes thinking about a town, about the personality of physical setting (the prairie, where I live, is so different from the sea's shore), about how culture and people develop in relation to the space they lives in. Much of it is lyrical language and inventive images; often they're striking, but just as often, what they describe is unimaginable or clunky, and the poems become weighed down by these half-creations that struggle to reveal what they're meant to symbolize. I found myself disappointed at the end of quite a few poems because I couldn't grasp anything Goyette spoke of, it veered too much into abstraction and the land or people she began with either were contrived or disappeared.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy playful, spirited poetry. Goyette has fun with the project, even when it gets away from her just a little bit. I enjoyed her writing on trees, lifeguards, snow, "the poets," enigmatic teenage girls, ferries, and the soul of Halifax.
The poems I liked best were: 4-6, 11, 15, 18, 23, 24, 26, 29, 32, 35, 36, 38, 42-44, 48, 52, 54, 56
June 7, 2025
a biography of our culture, so clearly withering under climate change yet so happy to distract itself with excess and absurdities. goyette hooked me in and about halfway through the book i began to hold my breath and brace for the ending. goyette paints an evocative picture, and writes an apt, striking conclusion to this (our) story.
December 29, 2017
A clever, quirky, touching book of poetry about the humankind's relationship with the ocean. I've read this three times and appreciate it more with each read.
August 11, 2018
In 2018, these are better suited for older parents. I'll come back to this in 20 years.
It is refreshing to read poetry with modern day references.
It is refreshing to read poetry with modern day references.
September 7, 2020
Playful, intricate and poignant, the best piece of poetry you can ever read. It's breaks and warms the soul all at once like the crashing of the waves.
It's everything I've ever wanted in poetry.
It's everything I've ever wanted in poetry.
January 10, 2023
Beautiful, at times whimsical, but always honest. By turns an ode and at others an elegy, Goyette does a superb job of capturing the seasons of life beside the Leviathan Atlantic.
June 2, 2024
Vielleicht war auch die Übersetzung das Problem, aber das find ich doof…
December 19, 2024
Poesy is not for me. Sorry.
September 13, 2023
Always thoroughly enjoy Sue and the enchanted, strange way she sees the world.
Also love the way that the acknowledgements were written.
Also love the way that the acknowledgements were written.
February 7, 2017
What an amazing and inspiring body of work. Sue Goyette captures the spirit of the ocean and life! Our connection to the oceans of the world and what it means to be alive. To give you an idea of how ingenious this poet's writing is here's one sample of what is in-store for those who find themselves caught in the undertow of poetry.
"Pandemonium was at high tide in those days
and women were insisting on diving into every wave.
In this way, we learned about the undertow
of flirting, the grit of heartbreak and how it can get into
places you didn't even know you had.
The nest time you look at the ocean you may want to sit on the shore and read Sue Goyette's beautifully crafted collection that speaks volumes about our connection to the ocean and the mythological qualities that are part of it's charm. I am so happy to have taken the plunge and find myself afloat with a wondrous and new appreciation for the world that we are connected to on so many levels.
"Pandemonium was at high tide in those days
and women were insisting on diving into every wave.
In this way, we learned about the undertow
of flirting, the grit of heartbreak and how it can get into
places you didn't even know you had.
The nest time you look at the ocean you may want to sit on the shore and read Sue Goyette's beautifully crafted collection that speaks volumes about our connection to the ocean and the mythological qualities that are part of it's charm. I am so happy to have taken the plunge and find myself afloat with a wondrous and new appreciation for the world that we are connected to on so many levels.
November 25, 2024
I read this for class.
February 6, 2017
I loved this. This poetry was so alive and I fell deep into the pages and read it in one sitting. Sue Goyette is writer in residence at my school, and she'll be teaching this lecture on Wednesday and I cannot wait to pick her brain.
Read for ENGL 3271: Contemporary Canadian Literature
Read for ENGL 3271: Contemporary Canadian Literature
June 3, 2023
4.5 / 5
This was weird, somewhat ominous but reverent I really enjoyed it. I guess the trick to poetry for me is to have 0 expectations going in, because I liked this much more than some more popular poetry I've read.
This was weird, somewhat ominous but reverent I really enjoyed it. I guess the trick to poetry for me is to have 0 expectations going in, because I liked this much more than some more popular poetry I've read.
May 28, 2016
Amazing. Every single poem was a jewel. Some were more beautiful than others, but all were lovely. There was not a single dud in the whole bunch.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews