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Tightrope
‘We are what we remember, the self is a trick of memory . . . history is the remembered tightrope that stretches across the abyss of all that we have forgotten’ – Maualaivao Albert Wendt
Built around the abyss, the tightrope, and the trick that we all have to perform to walk across it, Pasifika poetry warrior Selina Tusitala Marsh brings to life in Tightrope her ongoing dialogue with memory, life and death to find out whether ‘stories’ really can ‘cure the incurable’.
In Marsh’s poetry, sharp intelligence combines a focused warrior fierceness with perceptive humour and energy, upheld by the mana of the Pacific. She mines rich veins – the tradition and culture of her whanau and Pacific nations; the works of feminist poets and leaders; words of distinguished poets Derek Walcott and Albert Wendt – to probe the particularities of words and cultures.
Selina Tusitala Marsh’s Tightrope takes us from the bustle of the world’s largest Polynesian city, Auckland, through Avondale and Apia, and on to London and New York on an extraordinary poetic voyage.
Built around the abyss, the tightrope, and the trick that we all have to perform to walk across it, Pasifika poetry warrior Selina Tusitala Marsh brings to life in Tightrope her ongoing dialogue with memory, life and death to find out whether ‘stories’ really can ‘cure the incurable’.
In Marsh’s poetry, sharp intelligence combines a focused warrior fierceness with perceptive humour and energy, upheld by the mana of the Pacific. She mines rich veins – the tradition and culture of her whanau and Pacific nations; the works of feminist poets and leaders; words of distinguished poets Derek Walcott and Albert Wendt – to probe the particularities of words and cultures.
Selina Tusitala Marsh’s Tightrope takes us from the bustle of the world’s largest Polynesian city, Auckland, through Avondale and Apia, and on to London and New York on an extraordinary poetic voyage.
- GenresPoetry
103 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2017
3 people are currently reading
76 people want to read
About the author
Selina Tusitala Marsh
17 books19 followersDr Selina Tusitala Marsh is of Samoan, Tuvaluan, English, Scottish and French descent. She was the first Pacific Islander to graduate with a PhD in English from The University of Auckland and is now Associate Professor in the English Department, specialising in Pasifika literature. Her first collection, the bestselling Fast Talking PI, won the NZSA Jessie Mackay Award for Best First Book of Poetry in 2010. She has published two additional collections, Dark Sparring (2013) and Tightrope (2017). Marsh represented Tuvalu at the London Olympics Poetry Parnassus event in 2012; her work has been translated into multiple languages and has appeared in numerous forms live in schools, museums, parks, billboards, print and online literary journals. As Commonwealth Poet (2016), she composed and performed for the Queen at Westminster Abbey. She became New Zealand’s Poet Laureate in 2017 and in 2019 was appointed as an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to poetry, literature and the Pacific community.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
March 11, 2018
Selena Tusitala Marsh is New Zealand's current Poet Laureate & there has been some (mild) surprise that this collection of poetry didn't make it past the longlist in this year's Ockham Award nominations. I haven't read the four successful "shortlisters" so I can't make a comment on that.
But I can say that for me this collection is very uneven.
The very best are an absolute delight, in particular at evoking a sense of place. I feel like I am with her in Auckland, Apia or Fiji. Her use of language is indeed very rich & Marsh experiments with a lot of different formats.
But for me, some of the poems in the middle were weaker. Worst of all were the "Black Out Poems" Marsh blacked out words on a book's page, leaving fragments.
I hate fragments. They should stay in the poet's notebook. Looks like fridge magnet poetry.
See what I mean?
But the best is superb & this slim volume is well worth buying so you can dip into it at your leisure.
But I can say that for me this collection is very uneven.
The very best are an absolute delight, in particular at evoking a sense of place. I feel like I am with her in Auckland, Apia or Fiji. Her use of language is indeed very rich & Marsh experiments with a lot of different formats.
But for me, some of the poems in the middle were weaker. Worst of all were the "Black Out Poems" Marsh blacked out words on a book's page, leaving fragments.
I hate fragments. They should stay in the poet's notebook. Looks like fridge magnet poetry.
See what I mean?
But the best is superb & this slim volume is well worth buying so you can dip into it at your leisure.
January 7, 2019
”Or how the poem
is a passport
can transit the likeness of you
from New Lynn
to Niutao
fending off heat and mosquitoes
how its sound and image, its push and pull
can launch you across lined waters
where in another country
you find yourself
home.”
A collection of poetry since 2014 📖 // #readharder2019
Selina Tusitala Marsh is Queen 🙌🏽 AKA Pasifika poetry warrior, as per a blurb on the back. Referencing a quote by Samoan writer and poet Maualaivao Albert Wendt, also the epitaph to this collection, Selina writes of her memories and experiences as a mixed heritage Pacific Islander woman who grew up in New Zealand. She further pays homage to Wendt by including poetry blacked out from his 1977 novel Pouliuli, about life in Samoa and how New Zealand affected it. This theme runs through Tightrope as well, as she explores the spaces and relationships between Pasifika and NZ cultures, philosophising on the Samoan concept of Va (‘What y o u do, affects me.’) I spent ages thinking about her lines and then binging on her poetry performances afterward. Let’s just say there is a reason she’s the current NZ Poet Laureate!
is a passport
can transit the likeness of you
from New Lynn
to Niutao
fending off heat and mosquitoes
how its sound and image, its push and pull
can launch you across lined waters
where in another country
you find yourself
home.”
A collection of poetry since 2014 📖 // #readharder2019
Selina Tusitala Marsh is Queen 🙌🏽 AKA Pasifika poetry warrior, as per a blurb on the back. Referencing a quote by Samoan writer and poet Maualaivao Albert Wendt, also the epitaph to this collection, Selina writes of her memories and experiences as a mixed heritage Pacific Islander woman who grew up in New Zealand. She further pays homage to Wendt by including poetry blacked out from his 1977 novel Pouliuli, about life in Samoa and how New Zealand affected it. This theme runs through Tightrope as well, as she explores the spaces and relationships between Pasifika and NZ cultures, philosophising on the Samoan concept of Va (‘What y o u do, affects me.’) I spent ages thinking about her lines and then binging on her poetry performances afterward. Let’s just say there is a reason she’s the current NZ Poet Laureate!
April 18, 2021
This has glowing reviews, but I can’t help but see the cliche or nonsense in half these poems. For the most part Selina sacrifices meaning and narrative for lyricism. It’s like a slam poet writing down their poems and expecting them to translate to the page, just like that. It feels unedited and sloppy.
There were some quality lines, and Selina can really transport you to a place when she wants to, but overall there was nothing that ‘stuck’ with me. Regardless, I appreciate that Pasifika language and values pervade her work. Though it’s interesting to note that coloniality has left its mark - it’s not often that the Pacific comes without its colonial baggage in her poems.
I suppose I read poems for that moment of realisation or enlightenment. I’m not here for words that make nice sounds when you say them out loud.
Poems to note:
Apostles (about Kepari Leniata)
Tantrum Tightrope (about the death of her father)
Essential Oils for the Dying
The Working Mother’s Guide to Reading Seventy Books a Year
In Creative Writing Class (notable because I am currently in her creative writing class)
Quotes:
We are what we remember, the self is a trick of memory... history is the remembered tightrope that stretches across the abyss of all that we have forgotten (Maualaivao Albert Wendt).
If you’re terrified of dying, if it
at every moment, tightens its grip round
your bleeding pancreas
its clustering bombs
lemon is there.
There were some quality lines, and Selina can really transport you to a place when she wants to, but overall there was nothing that ‘stuck’ with me. Regardless, I appreciate that Pasifika language and values pervade her work. Though it’s interesting to note that coloniality has left its mark - it’s not often that the Pacific comes without its colonial baggage in her poems.
I suppose I read poems for that moment of realisation or enlightenment. I’m not here for words that make nice sounds when you say them out loud.
Poems to note:
Apostles (about Kepari Leniata)
Tantrum Tightrope (about the death of her father)
Essential Oils for the Dying
The Working Mother’s Guide to Reading Seventy Books a Year
In Creative Writing Class (notable because I am currently in her creative writing class)
Quotes:
We are what we remember, the self is a trick of memory... history is the remembered tightrope that stretches across the abyss of all that we have forgotten (Maualaivao Albert Wendt).
If you’re terrified of dying, if it
at every moment, tightens its grip round
your bleeding pancreas
its clustering bombs
lemon is there.
December 13, 2020
Selina Tusitala Marsh’s poetry does all that I think the medium should do; it is richly evocative, it disrupts and unsettles, it charges us with the task of looking anew at things we think we know, and it resonates in multiple ways with its context and its source(s). Selina (I’ll presume – she’s an acquaintance, we meet up a references from time to time, and a recent piece of mine owes much to our discussions in the middle of 2018) is a storyteller, as we’d expect of one who is named Tusitala, weaving tales practice from the everyday while managing to avoid the risk of romanticising that banality: I adore her explanation of poetry to her mother:
Or Ma, Ma, the poem’s like the kids’ lucky dip bin
love, grief, rage wrapped in headlines
bow tied with rippling alliteration
guesses up for grabs.
(‘Explanation of Poetry to My Immigrant Mother’)
along with her playfulness with the form and requirements of the genre:
We won the war
In 1944
Because 1945
Did not rhyme.
(‘Siren’)
These are poems that centre Pasifika consciousness, a Va view of the world, as seen in her piece ‘Unity’ written for a royal performance on Commonwealth Day 2016, followed shortly after by ’Pussy Cat’ presented here as a commentary on that regal gathering. The same sequence includes the poignant ‘Queens I have met’ asserting queenly status for Māori academic Ngahuia Te Awekotuku (marked only as Dr Ngahuia), Queen Elizabeth II, Oprah and Alice Walker. This commentary on the contemporary continues in the final in the royalty sequence, ‘Dinner with the King’ where her answer to his question ‘What’s happening with our people in New Zealand?’ includes references to spoken word and:
I speak of e-books and twitterature
Self-publication, Facebook and literature.
This awareness of the slyness of colonial persistence is also, in places, pushed aside for a much more direct confrontation with those historical relations. The politics of literary production are seen in ‘In Creative Writing Class’, which idiosyncratically brought to my mind the fabulous Afro-Latina poet Ariana Brown. While in ‘Inwood Hill, New York’ we are reminded that although ‘Peter Minuit’ bought Mannahatta for 60 guilders, and that despite the best efforts of colonial occupation there remain signs and people of Lenape, that even the best efforts of settler colonialism are not absolutely successful. In a similar vein, the wonderful ‘Atoll Haiku Chain’ eviscerates a French colonial presence that continues in the Pacific. At the same time she is acutely aware of the limitation of her chosen form, where the harrowing ‘Apostles’ confronts the even more harrowing 2013 case of the murder of Kepari Leniata to ask ‘how can poetry possibly revolutionise?’.
Scattered through the collection are the ‘black out poems’, where pages of Albert Wendt’s classic of Pasifika literature Pouliuli are ‘blacked out’ to leave only a few words; poems emerging from older texts, presenting this current work as palimpsest, owing to its predecessors and making work anew. The recrafting of boxing as marriage, with ring, vows and anniversary, continues this sly reshaping of cultural forms, while the practice of editing at 'Warrior Poetry' as a popular culture world played out through the invocation of a rugby league match.
This is poetry for the now; it calls on classical, modern and postmodern forms, places front and centre the Pasifika ways of seeing and being that colonialisms, with all their racialized and gendered hierarchies, have sought to extinguish to challenge us to see anew and in doing so to see the things we’ve not recognized, not only for what they are but that they exist. There is so much here, and like all good poets this collection merits multiple return visits.
Or Ma, Ma, the poem’s like the kids’ lucky dip bin
love, grief, rage wrapped in headlines
bow tied with rippling alliteration
guesses up for grabs.
(‘Explanation of Poetry to My Immigrant Mother’)
along with her playfulness with the form and requirements of the genre:
We won the war
In 1944
Because 1945
Did not rhyme.
(‘Siren’)
These are poems that centre Pasifika consciousness, a Va view of the world, as seen in her piece ‘Unity’ written for a royal performance on Commonwealth Day 2016, followed shortly after by ’Pussy Cat’ presented here as a commentary on that regal gathering. The same sequence includes the poignant ‘Queens I have met’ asserting queenly status for Māori academic Ngahuia Te Awekotuku (marked only as Dr Ngahuia), Queen Elizabeth II, Oprah and Alice Walker. This commentary on the contemporary continues in the final in the royalty sequence, ‘Dinner with the King’ where her answer to his question ‘What’s happening with our people in New Zealand?’ includes references to spoken word and:
I speak of e-books and twitterature
Self-publication, Facebook and literature.
This awareness of the slyness of colonial persistence is also, in places, pushed aside for a much more direct confrontation with those historical relations. The politics of literary production are seen in ‘In Creative Writing Class’, which idiosyncratically brought to my mind the fabulous Afro-Latina poet Ariana Brown. While in ‘Inwood Hill, New York’ we are reminded that although ‘Peter Minuit’ bought Mannahatta for 60 guilders, and that despite the best efforts of colonial occupation there remain signs and people of Lenape, that even the best efforts of settler colonialism are not absolutely successful. In a similar vein, the wonderful ‘Atoll Haiku Chain’ eviscerates a French colonial presence that continues in the Pacific. At the same time she is acutely aware of the limitation of her chosen form, where the harrowing ‘Apostles’ confronts the even more harrowing 2013 case of the murder of Kepari Leniata to ask ‘how can poetry possibly revolutionise?’.
Scattered through the collection are the ‘black out poems’, where pages of Albert Wendt’s classic of Pasifika literature Pouliuli are ‘blacked out’ to leave only a few words; poems emerging from older texts, presenting this current work as palimpsest, owing to its predecessors and making work anew. The recrafting of boxing as marriage, with ring, vows and anniversary, continues this sly reshaping of cultural forms, while the practice of editing at 'Warrior Poetry' as a popular culture world played out through the invocation of a rugby league match.
This is poetry for the now; it calls on classical, modern and postmodern forms, places front and centre the Pasifika ways of seeing and being that colonialisms, with all their racialized and gendered hierarchies, have sought to extinguish to challenge us to see anew and in doing so to see the things we’ve not recognized, not only for what they are but that they exist. There is so much here, and like all good poets this collection merits multiple return visits.
April 5, 2018
This is a wonderful collection of poetry.
I love the way that Selina Tusitala Marsh plays with the words. In ‘Led by Line’ she lists the lines that lead us; blood line, love line, land line and ends by reminding us of how to realign “laying it on the line by drawing a line in the sand”. Just a few words that repeat many times over but have a powerful effect and a powerful message. ‘Apia Seawall’ also plays with words, two word columns down both sides of the page challenge the reader about how to approach the poem - down each slim column or across the page, conforming to the norm? The poem works both ways, so that it is like having three different poems on the same page.
The poet is not afraid to confront us, such as with ‘In Creative Writing Class’ which portrays the ignorance of the pakeha man and his envy of the work of Pacifica women who can draw upon their oppression while all he can offer is “… staid, North Shore-ish lukewarmish gumboot tea”. A cry against the cliché and how terrible it sounds to be called “North Shore-ish”.
One of my particular favourites was ‘The Working Mother’s Guide to Reading Seventy Books a Year’ which challenges our time-poor lives to find more time to read a book. This really resonates for book reviewers.
Don’t have babies
Don’t have a full time job
Don’t be working class
Don’t be time poor and extended family rich
If you have babies, don’t let them play sports
Definitely don’t let them play an instrument
(extramural activities increase peak-hour traffic commuting time)
Instead there is a list of Reads, such as “Read one-handed in the line at Countdown”. There is no mention of writing as well, finding time for children, family, job and your own writing. Perhaps that would be a step too far.
All brilliant, often surprising and well worth reading.
I love the way that Selina Tusitala Marsh plays with the words. In ‘Led by Line’ she lists the lines that lead us; blood line, love line, land line and ends by reminding us of how to realign “laying it on the line by drawing a line in the sand”. Just a few words that repeat many times over but have a powerful effect and a powerful message. ‘Apia Seawall’ also plays with words, two word columns down both sides of the page challenge the reader about how to approach the poem - down each slim column or across the page, conforming to the norm? The poem works both ways, so that it is like having three different poems on the same page.
The poet is not afraid to confront us, such as with ‘In Creative Writing Class’ which portrays the ignorance of the pakeha man and his envy of the work of Pacifica women who can draw upon their oppression while all he can offer is “… staid, North Shore-ish lukewarmish gumboot tea”. A cry against the cliché and how terrible it sounds to be called “North Shore-ish”.
One of my particular favourites was ‘The Working Mother’s Guide to Reading Seventy Books a Year’ which challenges our time-poor lives to find more time to read a book. This really resonates for book reviewers.
Don’t have babies
Don’t have a full time job
Don’t be working class
Don’t be time poor and extended family rich
If you have babies, don’t let them play sports
Definitely don’t let them play an instrument
(extramural activities increase peak-hour traffic commuting time)
Instead there is a list of Reads, such as “Read one-handed in the line at Countdown”. There is no mention of writing as well, finding time for children, family, job and your own writing. Perhaps that would be a step too far.
All brilliant, often surprising and well worth reading.
November 13, 2018
This wasn't what I'd expected. Some of the content is really dark like 'Apostles' which deals with the demise of Kepari Leniata. I liked the creative and visual way this particular piece ended. The less than favourable topics continue with 'Eviction Notice 113' and 'Essential Oils for the Dying'. A favourite line from 'Dinner with the King' is "I speak of e-books and twitterature / Self-publication, Facebook and literature..." Three poems which made me think about culture and identity were 'Led by Line', 'Bread Bags' and 'Ka'ena, Leaping Point'. I liked 'Nadadola Road' as I learned the ways of Mr Indo-Fiji-Taxi-Driver-Man. The meanings in 'Path' are multilayered and beautiful. For a lighthearted laugh ensure you read 'The Working Mother's Guide to Reading Seventy Books a Year'. Her blackout poem "never / wound a / new / bird" reminds me of the message contained within 'To Kill a Mockingbird'.
I admit that the blurb helped me see the "big picture" direction the poet was taking. Her poetry collection does do enough to, as she says in 'Warrior Poetry', leave us 'flicking the page / like a Mexican wave / ...wowed.'
I admit that the blurb helped me see the "big picture" direction the poet was taking. Her poetry collection does do enough to, as she says in 'Warrior Poetry', leave us 'flicking the page / like a Mexican wave / ...wowed.'
September 13, 2018
This is virtuoso stuff; a visionary, profound work. Best set of poems I've read in a wee while.
April 4, 2020
Some terrific poetry from the former NZ poet laureate but a bit mixed in quality.
September 6, 2021
Beautiful, sardonic, and willing to look thr colonizer in the eye.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews