Ten-Headed Alien draws from sci-fi and poli-sci, prog rock and politics, climate fiction and ancient mythology to create poems that are at once global and personal. The opening sections of the book take the reader on a harrowing sea-to-sky epic, from a drunken plane crash in the BC interior to a ruined picnic on the Rhone. Mythological creatures battle in subway stations, bionic pigeons flee their creators, barflies conjure soulmates, balloon farms exist on the moon and pigs, of course, fly. From Lake Nipissing to the moons of Jupiter, these poems travel around the world (and off it) united by the language of human fragility, and a sense of the body as engineered, temporary and exquisitely sad.
David James Brock is a playwright, poet, and librettist whose plays and operas have been performed in cities across Canada, the US, and the UK.
He is the winner of the 2011 Herman Voaden Canadian National Playwriting Award for his play Wet.
Brock is the author of two poetry collections, Everyone is CO2 & Ten-Headed Alien both released by Wolsak & Wynn. Most recently, his play A Million Billion Pieces premiered as part of Young People’s Theatre 2019/2020 season.
In 2022, his play A Million Billion Pieces will be published with Playwrights Canada Press.
This was one of those cases where the premise was better than the execution. I wouldn't say that "Ten Headed Alien" is niche. It will apply to sci fi and music lovers alike, as well as movie buffs and nerds like myself. But with the exception of a couple of poems, like "Obituary for Old Moon", even the titular section took some getting into. The main issue I had was that Brock's poems lacked that bounce, that excitement and adrenaline like energy that I usually hope for in similar collections. I'm sure there was an extra level of appreciation that I missed because I am not as into music or as familiar with the references Brock made. Nonetheless I am glad such a book exists because, despite not being as exciting as I had hoped, "Ten Headed Alien" is a collection I'll remember for it's quarkiness, and perhaps after a revisit in the future I'll be able to appreciate it better than I did this time around.
Ten-Headed Alien deserves ten stars. With a clear clean eye, David Brock dares us to look at ourselves with unflinching detail. Filled with beautiful horrors it reminds us the most despicable actions of the world reside is us all, yet by holding up a mirror we are destined to succeed and destined to live in hope. Such as in the poem BC Interiors "We mistreated our lovers and children...." yet by the end of the poem..."So we pledge to forgive//everyone on their deathbed if we ever loved them once." It's a beauty of a book. It's a keeper of a book.
I am just a few too many degrees removed from the core inspiration of Ten-Headed Alien to appreciate fully, I'm afraid. Does this mean it's niche? Maybe. Does this mean it's inaccessible? Maybe. One can try to follow the beats and the language to glean some enjoyment, but by the time you get into it this short little collection is already over.