Scott Bryson reviews Sarah Swan's Domestica (2017) in Broken Pencil

Not the most gushing of reviews (and he seems to acknowledge a nuance he also completely misses), Scott Bryson has provided the first review of Sarah Swan's Domestica (2017) in Broken Pencil. You can see the original review here.

Domestica Chapbook, Sarah Swan, 24 pgs, above/ground press, abovegroundpress.blogspot.com, $4

Domestica is a title that manages to conjure elegance and tedium at the same time, and that dichotomy is mirrored in Sarah Swan’s verse. In subsequent breaths, she compares her children’s “clear and clean” faces to icebergs in a Lawren Harris painting, then finds herself swept up by a wave of monotony as she pulls them down the sidewalk in a wagon, “grey square after grey square / after / solemn / grey / square.”

This collection is only half homebody musings; the riskiest — and most rewarding — section of Domestica is a numbered series of poems, all titled “Childhood.” Each does little more than list items, scenes or events that are presumably all from Swan’s youth. It’s a recipe for idiosyncrasy, but that line is never crossed; Swan’s choices for the lists consistently breed familiarity, at least for this reader: “The squat green / rotary telephone. // Porridge and / molasses. // Burrs / stuck / on my / sweater.”

If you’re looking for uncomplicated, mater-of-fact poetry, this one’s a safe bet. There’s nothing veiled, here — what you see is what you get — but Swan doesn’t sacrifice subtlety or nuance.

some author activity: Blades, Ursuliak, Swan + Hogg,

Joe Blades has a new poem as part of the Chaudiere Books National Poetry Month series; Emily Ursuliak is interviewed in the "12 or 20 questions" series; Sarah Swan is interviewed over at Touch the Donkey; and Robert Hogg speaks stone mill, organics and poetry over at CBC Radio Ottawa.

new from above/ground press: Domestica, by Sarah Swan

Domestica
Sarah Swan
$4

Still Life 4



Here is a pile of too-small shoes:
the previous selves of two little girls. I miss them.
These register as losses.

Here is light arriving whole, sudden –

to illumine such common things:

another brick of butter,
soft enough to be finger-poked all over
by two little girls,

a red and white striped bowl
of snow-white flour.

published in Ottawa by above/ground press
January 2017
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy

Sarah Swan is from Winnipeg, but currently lives in Yellowknife, NWT. She is a former medic with the Canadian Armed Forces, a homeschooling mom, and a freelance fine arts writer. Her publication credits include the Winnipeg Free Press, Canadian Art, Galleries West, Studio Magazine, and Macleans’ Magazine. At one time, Sarah was also a poet, having published a book of poems titled Rapture Red and Smoke Grey with Turnstone Press in 2001. She is happy, and relieved, to be writing poetry again.

To order, send cheques (add $1 for postage; outside Canada, add $2) to: rob mclennan, 2423 Alta Vista Drive, Ottawa ON K1H 7M9 or paypal at www.robmclennan.blogspot.com