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Star Struck
'In the beautifully calibrated "cardiac ward poetics" of Star Struck, David McCooey re-energises the old binaries of life and death, public and private, culture and nature. Irony's the pacemaker here, driving these superbly restrained poems home, though never at the expense of feeling and tenderness. McCooey understands, unsentimentally, that we are all trapped together on the "ward."' - A.Frances Johnson
'I would rather read his poetry than that of anyone else of his generation' - Craig Sherborne.
With poems ranging from the confessional to the mock-autobiographical, from imagism to a strange storytelling, from the comic and satirical to the plangent and disturbing, Star Struck startles us with the many faces of lyric poetry. This book of poems by the award-winning poet David McCooey is made up of four sections. The first documents an alienating encounter with a life-threatening illness. The second plays out an unforgettable obsession with darkness and light. The third brings together popular music and the ancient literary mode of the pastoral. In this highly original sequence we find, among other things, Bob Dylan singing Virgil, Joni Mitchell reflecting on life in Laurel Canyon, a lab monkey pondering the sound of music, and a bitter, surreal rewriting of 'Down Under'. (Series: UWAP Poetry) [Subject: Poetry]
'I would rather read his poetry than that of anyone else of his generation' - Craig Sherborne.
With poems ranging from the confessional to the mock-autobiographical, from imagism to a strange storytelling, from the comic and satirical to the plangent and disturbing, Star Struck startles us with the many faces of lyric poetry. This book of poems by the award-winning poet David McCooey is made up of four sections. The first documents an alienating encounter with a life-threatening illness. The second plays out an unforgettable obsession with darkness and light. The third brings together popular music and the ancient literary mode of the pastoral. In this highly original sequence we find, among other things, Bob Dylan singing Virgil, Joni Mitchell reflecting on life in Laurel Canyon, a lab monkey pondering the sound of music, and a bitter, surreal rewriting of 'Down Under'. (Series: UWAP Poetry) [Subject: Poetry]
100 pages, Paperback
Published November 1, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
October 9, 2017
It's always a joy to read McCooey's wistful, elegant poetry and his latest offering, 'Star Struck,' is no exception.
Blending observation and autobiography, the poems are a series of meditations on illness and recovery; musical and literary influences; the lessons that our children teach us and the minutiae of the everyday, which continue to resonate long after the book is temporarily set aside. Read him.
Blending observation and autobiography, the poems are a series of meditations on illness and recovery; musical and literary influences; the lessons that our children teach us and the minutiae of the everyday, which continue to resonate long after the book is temporarily set aside. Read him.
January 5, 2018
McCooey's verse is sensitive to the small nuances of life, our large fears, small mercies, and emotional traces from the past taking on a captivating range of voices and uncanny perspectives. A broader reflection on this collection to come...
Never confident about reviewing poetry, I think it's important to try; here are my thoughts on this collection: https://roughghosts.com/2018/01/05/wi...
Never confident about reviewing poetry, I think it's important to try; here are my thoughts on this collection: https://roughghosts.com/2018/01/05/wi...
February 25, 2017
“Star Struck” opens, and closes, with “This Voice”, not forming part of the four sections of poems, these 2nd person poems act as parenthesies for the whole collection, the sounds of “phantom traffic, and the/enduring noise of a goods train” letting us know that the everyday noise drowns out our voices. Although the tone is isolating, removed, the reader knows that the singular multitude of voices throughout the collection are being amplified over the mundane.
Section 1 “Documents” opens with an epigraph from Renata Adler’s “Pitch Dark” (1983), advising us of the innocence of children, with the fifteen following poems, again using the second person, relaying the poet’s experiences whist in hospital for cardiac surgery. Clinically removed, the poems open with a family reality, the possibility of being entombed in a labyrinth, this juggles against childlike play where the realities of the impending critical surgery loom.
The human connection is brought home in “Music for Hospitals” and “Cardiac Ward Poetics” where numbered catalogues and lists suddenly move to “The Hunter” where the ‘male nurse’ shows photos on his phone. From “1. Hospital light, like any other/light is rarely ‘lemon coloured’” and “v) Everything happens at once;/a nurse with a needle;/the synaesthesia of breakfast.” to “ Then he turns to the other patient/who is sitting in bed in his striped pyjamas/and too far away to see anything./He holds the phone aloft like an offering/or a promise"
For my full review, plus a bonus poet interview visit Messenger's Booker (and more)
https://messybooker.wordpress.com/201...
Section 1 “Documents” opens with an epigraph from Renata Adler’s “Pitch Dark” (1983), advising us of the innocence of children, with the fifteen following poems, again using the second person, relaying the poet’s experiences whist in hospital for cardiac surgery. Clinically removed, the poems open with a family reality, the possibility of being entombed in a labyrinth, this juggles against childlike play where the realities of the impending critical surgery loom.
The human connection is brought home in “Music for Hospitals” and “Cardiac Ward Poetics” where numbered catalogues and lists suddenly move to “The Hunter” where the ‘male nurse’ shows photos on his phone. From “1. Hospital light, like any other/light is rarely ‘lemon coloured’” and “v) Everything happens at once;/a nurse with a needle;/the synaesthesia of breakfast.” to “ Then he turns to the other patient/who is sitting in bed in his striped pyjamas/and too far away to see anything./He holds the phone aloft like an offering/or a promise"
For my full review, plus a bonus poet interview visit Messenger's Booker (and more)
https://messybooker.wordpress.com/201...
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews