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Anthem
Winner of the 2000 Canadian Authors Association Award for Poetry and shortlisted for the 2000 Pat Lowther Award and the 2001 Milton Acorn Memorial People’s Poetry Prize
Physical and fiercely lyric, Helen Humphreys' Anthem is a litany of want. A song of poverty and of desire, of the reach forward and the relentless backward glance. With stark images and subtle, tensile strength, her poems touch that rare interval between presence and absence, echo and answer, between wall and window and sky -- that gap in which we live, the space words make.
Physical and fiercely lyric, Helen Humphreys' Anthem is a litany of want. A song of poverty and of desire, of the reach forward and the relentless backward glance. With stark images and subtle, tensile strength, her poems touch that rare interval between presence and absence, echo and answer, between wall and window and sky -- that gap in which we live, the space words make.
69 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 1999
62 people want to read
About the author
Helen Humphreys
31 books421 followersHelen Humphreys is the author of five books of poetry, eleven novels, and three works of non-fiction. She was born in Kingston-on-Thames, England, and now lives in Kingston, Ontario, Canada.
Her first novel, Leaving Earth (1997), won the 1998 City of Toronto Book Award and was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Her second novel, Afterimage (2000), won the 2000 Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize, was nominated for the Commonwealth Writers' Prize, and was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Her third novel, The Lost Garden (2002), was a 2003 Canada Reads selection, a national bestseller, and was also a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Wild Dogs (2004) won the 2005 Lambda Prize for fiction, has been optioned for film, and was produced as a stage play at CanStage in Toronto in the fall of 2008. Coventry (2008) was a #1 national bestseller, was chosen as one of the top 100 books of the year by the Globe & Mail, and was chosen one of the top ten books of the year by both the Ottawa Citizen and NOW Magazine.
Humphreys's work of creative non-fiction, The Frozen Thames (2007), was a #1 national bestseller. Her collections of poetry include Gods and Other Mortals (1986); Nuns Looking Anxious, Listening to Radios (1990); and, The Perils of Geography (1995). Her latest collection, Anthem (1999), won the 2000 Canadian Authors Association Award for Poetry.
Helen Humphreys's fiction is published in Canada by HarperCollins, and in the U.S. by W.W. Norton. The Frozen Thames was published by McClelland & Stewart in Canada, and by Bantam in the U.S. Her work has been translated into many languages.
Her first novel, Leaving Earth (1997), won the 1998 City of Toronto Book Award and was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Her second novel, Afterimage (2000), won the 2000 Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize, was nominated for the Commonwealth Writers' Prize, and was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Her third novel, The Lost Garden (2002), was a 2003 Canada Reads selection, a national bestseller, and was also a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. Wild Dogs (2004) won the 2005 Lambda Prize for fiction, has been optioned for film, and was produced as a stage play at CanStage in Toronto in the fall of 2008. Coventry (2008) was a #1 national bestseller, was chosen as one of the top 100 books of the year by the Globe & Mail, and was chosen one of the top ten books of the year by both the Ottawa Citizen and NOW Magazine.
Humphreys's work of creative non-fiction, The Frozen Thames (2007), was a #1 national bestseller. Her collections of poetry include Gods and Other Mortals (1986); Nuns Looking Anxious, Listening to Radios (1990); and, The Perils of Geography (1995). Her latest collection, Anthem (1999), won the 2000 Canadian Authors Association Award for Poetry.
Helen Humphreys's fiction is published in Canada by HarperCollins, and in the U.S. by W.W. Norton. The Frozen Thames was published by McClelland & Stewart in Canada, and by Bantam in the U.S. Her work has been translated into many languages.
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
August 26, 2025
A Poetry Eulogy 🍁
A review of the Brick Books paperback (1999).
This is Helen Humphreys 5th and last published book of poetry from over 26 years ago. She had written some fiction as well by this time, but after 1999 her work has been exclusively non-fiction and novels. The novels often take inspiration from real life characters or events.
From reading Anthem now, in hindsight, it does seem as if Humphreys is saying goodbye to poetry. Several of the poems evoke days of teenage exuberance and girl-bonding. Several are so-called "transpositions" where Humphreys re-orders words from other poet's work that she has admired.
I read Anthem due to author Helen Humphreys appearance at the 2025 Lakefield Literary Festival which I recently attended. I've especially enjoyed several of her fiction books such as The Frozen Thames (2007), Machine Without Horses (2018), Rabbit Foot Bill (2020), A Dog Called Fig (2022) and Followed by the Lark (2024).
(L to R) Moderator John Boyko, author Jennifer Robson (Coronation Year) and author Helen Humphreys (Followed by the Lark) at the 2025 Lakefield Literary Festival. Image sourced from Facebook.
A review of the Brick Books paperback (1999).
That poet is dead now, and we're all ascending
up through the birch wood, out of the twentieth
century, leaving them behind, those writers who
mended my life in small, permanent ways.
This is Helen Humphreys 5th and last published book of poetry from over 26 years ago. She had written some fiction as well by this time, but after 1999 her work has been exclusively non-fiction and novels. The novels often take inspiration from real life characters or events.
From reading Anthem now, in hindsight, it does seem as if Humphreys is saying goodbye to poetry. Several of the poems evoke days of teenage exuberance and girl-bonding. Several are so-called "transpositions" where Humphreys re-orders words from other poet's work that she has admired.
I read Anthem due to author Helen Humphreys appearance at the 2025 Lakefield Literary Festival which I recently attended. I've especially enjoyed several of her fiction books such as The Frozen Thames (2007), Machine Without Horses (2018), Rabbit Foot Bill (2020), A Dog Called Fig (2022) and Followed by the Lark (2024).
(L to R) Moderator John Boyko, author Jennifer Robson (Coronation Year) and author Helen Humphreys (Followed by the Lark) at the 2025 Lakefield Literary Festival. Image sourced from Facebook.
November 2, 2008
I clipped Humphreys' poem "Installation" from The Globe & Mail somewhere around 1999, and it has been posted on my fridge ever since. I finally got this collection of poems, and will be interested to see if the rest of Humphreys' poetry (she is better known as the writer of The Lost Garden) stand up to the quality of this one.
Back soon with more ...
___________________________________
10/18/08: Liking it. Not loving it. It feels like buying a CD of music based on one hit song. I generally have trouble with poetry collections from one poet; I prefer anthologies or single poems. But that's ok, because this is a lovely little book (physically, I mean) and I like to support poets, especially Canadian ones, even if every single poem is not a bright, shiny gem.
In poetry, I look for three things:
1) Words that make music. The ring and crash of sounds against each other. Doesn't matter what the words mean at this point. Humphreys gets there too occasionally for my liking. In "Installation", it's "grinning with rivets" ... "notes of chrome" ... "chalk circle over dark harbour". There are some, but too few, instances of this in the rest of Anthem, at least so far.
2) Original turns of phrase or concept. A sustained, but not cliché or heavy-handed, metaphor. This is nice, from "Variations":
The notes of the piano released up, showering
down. A word is not pure sound like that, cannot
persuade the air to change.
But I don't like another of the lines in here: Shimmer of rain in the trees like the / shiver of blood in my chest. Let me clarify: I like the line--it's evocative, I can 'feel' what she means here. But this line is not supported with any other imagery in the rest of the poem, and it doesn't seem to support the central metaphor. It's just sitting out there disembodied and falling flat.
Note here: lots of these poems allude to the struggle of using words to describe emotions. Well, isn't that the poet's struggle in general? Humphreys goes literal a little too often for my taste.
3) All of the above, resulting in imagery that sets up ambiguities, dissonant and multiple layers of meaning. "Installation", taken as a whole, does that. Haven't yet found one that has got me there ... but still reading.....................
Back soon with more ...
___________________________________
10/18/08: Liking it. Not loving it. It feels like buying a CD of music based on one hit song. I generally have trouble with poetry collections from one poet; I prefer anthologies or single poems. But that's ok, because this is a lovely little book (physically, I mean) and I like to support poets, especially Canadian ones, even if every single poem is not a bright, shiny gem.
In poetry, I look for three things:
1) Words that make music. The ring and crash of sounds against each other. Doesn't matter what the words mean at this point. Humphreys gets there too occasionally for my liking. In "Installation", it's "grinning with rivets" ... "notes of chrome" ... "chalk circle over dark harbour". There are some, but too few, instances of this in the rest of Anthem, at least so far.
2) Original turns of phrase or concept. A sustained, but not cliché or heavy-handed, metaphor. This is nice, from "Variations":
The notes of the piano released up, showering
down. A word is not pure sound like that, cannot
persuade the air to change.
But I don't like another of the lines in here: Shimmer of rain in the trees like the / shiver of blood in my chest. Let me clarify: I like the line--it's evocative, I can 'feel' what she means here. But this line is not supported with any other imagery in the rest of the poem, and it doesn't seem to support the central metaphor. It's just sitting out there disembodied and falling flat.
Note here: lots of these poems allude to the struggle of using words to describe emotions. Well, isn't that the poet's struggle in general? Humphreys goes literal a little too often for my taste.
3) All of the above, resulting in imagery that sets up ambiguities, dissonant and multiple layers of meaning. "Installation", taken as a whole, does that. Haven't yet found one that has got me there ... but still reading.....................
January 24, 2022
Music comes undone.
Shimmer of rain in the trees like the
shiver of blood in my chest.
These things happen in 4/4 time: walking,
the moving wings of geese overhead,
beating of the human heart.
The slow-motion lurch of leaving. Touching
your life with the flat of your hand.
These walls. This book. Memory as prophesy.
The notes of the piano released up, showering
down. A word is not pure sound like that, cannot
persuade the air to change.
* * *
Tell me a secret. Put your
hand on my heart. The black
flaps on its hinge. Car lights
distant and hard as stars.
Roll a small stone around in my mouth.
Save me or don't, but
arrive sure as morning, the
bright stall of day.
A tangle of light in your hair.
* * *
The silence that we come from
is not strength or virtue. To
have no image for this is not
to love. Time forgets us anyway,
absorbs our secrets and our mettle,
moulds our bodies to earth, to air,
turns us from purpose. No one
inherits who we are. Your hand
in mind is a pressure, a truth
that will not last outside of this,
unless we keep it here, match
it to an image, put it down
as rhyme. What is beautiful
should make a sound, should ring.
If I cannot give you that, then
I cannot give you anything.
* * *
Molten grass, ridged like lava. Mist breathing
above the water. Open this from anywhere.
The world on fire, greasy orange, cascading
down the hills, something that happens in the back
of your throat. Or the gauzy whisper of
morning overheard from shore, ghostly
and specific. I went away. I came back.
The trees like spines. The woods still
green. You will never be here. Push back
wet branches, the lace of ferns
patterning your boots. Alone with
someone else's words. But this is what
there is to believe in. Go on, imagine
this is me. I'll imagine this is you.
Shimmer of rain in the trees like the
shiver of blood in my chest.
These things happen in 4/4 time: walking,
the moving wings of geese overhead,
beating of the human heart.
The slow-motion lurch of leaving. Touching
your life with the flat of your hand.
These walls. This book. Memory as prophesy.
The notes of the piano released up, showering
down. A word is not pure sound like that, cannot
persuade the air to change.
- Variations, pg. 18
* * *
Tell me a secret. Put your
hand on my heart. The black
flaps on its hinge. Car lights
distant and hard as stars.
Roll a small stone around in my mouth.
Save me or don't, but
arrive sure as morning, the
bright stall of day.
A tangle of light in your hair.
- Anthem, 1, pg. 29
* * *
The silence that we come from
is not strength or virtue. To
have no image for this is not
to love. Time forgets us anyway,
absorbs our secrets and our mettle,
moulds our bodies to earth, to air,
turns us from purpose. No one
inherits who we are. Your hand
in mind is a pressure, a truth
that will not last outside of this,
unless we keep it here, match
it to an image, put it down
as rhyme. What is beautiful
should make a sound, should ring.
If I cannot give you that, then
I cannot give you anything.
- After a Poem by Louise Bogan, pg. 53
* * *
Molten grass, ridged like lava. Mist breathing
above the water. Open this from anywhere.
The world on fire, greasy orange, cascading
down the hills, something that happens in the back
of your throat. Or the gauzy whisper of
morning overheard from shore, ghostly
and specific. I went away. I came back.
The trees like spines. The woods still
green. You will never be here. Push back
wet branches, the lace of ferns
patterning your boots. Alone with
someone else's words. But this is what
there is to believe in. Go on, imagine
this is me. I'll imagine this is you.
- Coda, pg. 71
April 12, 2022
Much as I’ve loved some of HH’s novels, most of the poetry in this collection didn’t do much for me. I was conscious of “the poetry” in the choice of words but strung together their meanings often eluded me. My favourites were By Definition, Architecture of the Everyday, and After a Poem by Louise Bogan. I must now go find LB’s Poem in Prose, of which HH’s poem is a transposition.
Read
February 1, 2022My usual reading choices do not include poetry, but I picked this one up at bedtime one night and found that reading one per night gave me something to think about and quieted my too active brain.
April 18, 2015
As a whole, I honestly didn't love this. I don't think there was anything explicitly wrong with it, it just wasn't my cup of tea at all. The words used are all very well chosen, very lyrical. I enjoyed the words more than I enjoyed what they meant. I enjoyed individual lines more than I enjoyed any of the poems as a whole.
My favourite poems as a whole from this were The Anatomy of Trees, Reading, and the transpositions. I wouldn't rank these among my favourite poems in general, as I said I didn't really love this. But I would say these were my favourites out of what Anthem presented to me.
My favourite poems as a whole from this were The Anatomy of Trees, Reading, and the transpositions. I wouldn't rank these among my favourite poems in general, as I said I didn't really love this. But I would say these were my favourites out of what Anthem presented to me.
June 17, 2013
Beautiful. Lyrical. Moving.
"What we make doesn't recover from us."
"It's a surprise / to still have those kisses, to know my body has been more / faithful than my mind."
"Every lover is a thief. / Tell me. Who that rescues doesn't also / dream of being saved?"
"What we make doesn't recover from us."
"It's a surprise / to still have those kisses, to know my body has been more / faithful than my mind."
"Every lover is a thief. / Tell me. Who that rescues doesn't also / dream of being saved?"
March 19, 2008
I adore how every poem ends by rising above itself; every conclusion is a revelation of language or feeling. A beanbag collection for a grey morning.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews