Craven is an exceptional debut: Jane Arthur delights, unnerves and challenges in poems that circle both the everyday and the ineffable – piano practice, past lives, being forced onto dance floors. This is a smart and disarming collection that traces the ever-changing forms of light and dark in our lives, and how our eyes adjust, despite ourselves, as we go along.
Jane Arthur was the recipient of the Sarah Broom Poetry Prize in 2018, judged by Eileen Myles. She has worked in the book industry for over fifteen years as a bookseller and editor. She has a Master of Arts in Creative Writing from the IIML at Victoria University of Wellington. Born in New Plymouth, she lives in Wellington with her family and dogs.
occasionally contrived in its analysis of the mundane; otherwise, i enjoyed it. threads i picked up on: living for the illusion of triumph, navigating vacant deprivation vs. sensory overstimulation, losing love to its waxwork likeness, the dawning of a new day as forced closure, the frustration of only being capable of reacting in retrospect, sealing something away for protection risking its forgettance. really felt the moments of misanthropy, the partial truths, those niggling feelings of not-quite-rightness.
Arthur switches between formal structure and prose interchangeably making the works feel very personal. Nice collection of works overall however the following poems are particularly good; Everyday, Figurehead, You Used to Have Dreams That Unsettled You, Oh Great, and To Check Up On The State Of Your Heart You Must Lie Back. This preference may reflect where my life is at at the moment, regardless they sit nicely in my head.