The
flamingo is an exotic bird we know to frequent the tropics.
John Barlow is from England. I doubt he likes plastic flamingos
on his front steps, so the title of this book, Flamingo
Shapes, is the first clue that this is a book of travel
haiku. The gorgeous cover of an orange beach sunset suggests
the Mediterranean, and this turns out to be correct. Even
the books dramatically horizontal shape, which doubles
in width when you open the cover, suggests the wide horizons
of the sea between the islands and the laid-back Mediterranean
lifestyle.
Yes,
this is Greece, poems from a trip to Lesvos, to be exact,
taken in July of 2001. We know this from the cheeky credits
on the books last page, where Barlow also acknowledges
the sort of beer he consumed (Amstel), the scooter he rode
(Piaggio Liberty), music he listened to, and even his taxi
driver (Jimmy). Before this, though, the reader gains a
sensory feeling for the sun-drenched island, beginning with
"4 A.M./first the cockerel/now the donkey." We
wake up right in the Greek village, and are spared the details
of a tiring plane flight. The books haiku and senryu
are populated with local flora and faunacicadas, squid,
topless beaches, olives, cafés, and a creaking postcard
carouseland readers are given hints at the vacation
activities of an unabashed tourist.
Indeed,
John Barlow is in Greece to have fun, yet the poems also
show spritzes of keen haiku observation. For example, one
wonders if his drinks are free in his hotel or in a bar
so long as hes paying to play backgammon, or if hes
losing the game because hes getting happily drunk:
another
free drink
I lose again
at backgammon
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Then
we have this, which is more of an insightful comment about
himself than his surroundings:
topless
beach
I watch for the cormorant
to resurface
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Some
poems arent so insightful, and are more observational,
as in "skinning squid/the deep-tanned hands/of the
fisherman," though we can deduce from this "local
color" that the fishermen work outside. One or two
poems are a little plain, as in "fresh lobster catch/the
community descends/on the roadside café," where
the cause and effect needs something more to elevate the
poem as a haiku or senryu (these poems seldom contain season
words), and "community" seems a bit too indefinite
to visualize. Thus, with a few of the poems here, one may
wonder, as Paul O. Williams does in The Nick of Time
[Press Here, 2001], if "the delight of discovery . . . is
so intense as to fool one," and conclude that "even
clear delight in new perceptions tends to create images,
not haiku" [21]. Many books of travel haiku have this
problem to some degree, sometimes to the point of misunderstanding
what is perceived.
Flamingo
Shapes,
however, is not a book of travel haiku, but vacation haiku.
Theres a difference. Even the back-cover picture of
the author on his Piaggio Liberty makes that clear. He is
not here as a haiku anthropologisthe is not on Lesvos
to pretend to fully absorb and understand this foreign culture,
but to enjoy himself, see the sights, take some snapshots,
and accumulate a few souvenirs. I am grateful, as a reader,
for this lack of pretense.
pine
woods
each cone she collects
a little better
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And
theres more. One aspect of this book that bears particular
emphasis is the quality of design and excellent production
values. The high visual and tactile standards and pleasing
overall effect result from the authors effective choices
as a professional graphic designer. We can easily see similar
production standards in Barlows haiku and tanka journals,
Snapshots and Tangled Hair, as well as in
other Snapshot Press publicationsall superbly produced.
We cant all be graphic design professionals, but too
many haiku books look amateurish in their typography and
design, often relying on software defaults rather than any
informed and unified choices regarding dozens of design
possibilities. This is not one of those books. From the
stylish font choices, creative folios, and unusual trim
size, to the carefully paced and placed internal photographs,
the book is a pleasure to behold. Poems appear side by side,
two to a page in silver ink on white paper, and the photos
have a similar silver look, perhaps suggesting the lazy
ocean haze of a Mediterranean afternoon. More haiku books
should aspire to this level of visual quality and learn
how to harmonize design with content and tone.
Indeed,
Flamingo Shapes is a recommended book whose design
features pull together stylishly, yet the focus is still
the poetry. The book is not only well designed, but presents
a buoyant vacation tone through the poems. As readers, we
are left with an infectious sense of placeof enjoying
that place, even when things go a little wrongand
with an unpretentious sense of the authors temporary
place in the exotic locale.
crawling
from crumpled sheets
a five-legged spider
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out
of service
the bus picks us up
anyway
|
power
failure
running a wire between villas
a brown rat
|
as
we get closer
to the flamingo shapes
flamingos!
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In
the end, we know we are just tourists on such a vacation,
but we are content. In Flamingo Shapes, John Barlow
takes us on a brief haiku vacation that we can thoroughly
enjoy.
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