Review: Antony Di Nardo's Alien, Correspondent

What I like about this collection is . . . well . . . just about everything. Divided into three sections -- Alien, Correspondent, and Birthplace -- Antony Di Nardo's book of poems is a treasure of a poetry trove. The first section is minutely observant, relentlessly immediate, and undeniably relevant -- connecting the various pasts with the now of the reader. This section is alive with a traveller's observations, the poet as outsider, the poet as travelling voyeur. Morocco, Beirut, temples and Fred Astaire, no possible (or impossible) image is overlooked. And so beautiful are some of the lines (especially those in the first poems of the Alien section) that at times one forgets to pay attention to specific words and has to go back, read again, appreciate the details. These are largely laments for war, loss, the fear of the inevitable changes in the wind.



The second section is more contemplative, or, at least, contains more commentary. But that doesn't mean the lines don't sing. "Dear Mahmoud", for example, is a quick-weft comment on composition in context, and "Every Note Is Equal" an image-rich poem about watching the Grammy Awards. Di Nardo has a talent for connecting the narrative line to life, and making it memorable.

In the third section, Birthplace, the poems steep slowly while increasing the intimacy factor. There is much mention of ruby (as colour and name), and women appear in various states of reflection. Sadness lingers, though time doesn't, and the end feels like a return.

Maintained throughout is a witty wordplay that pleases. But these are, often, grim poems for all their play with language. Serious poetry in theme and execution. Di Nardo's expert use of line break and rhythm between lines, the pauses of sound and meaning, are all as significant as they need to be.

I'm so glad I got the chance to read this, because it's going on my list of favourites for this year.

*Many, many thanks to Brick Books for the review copy!