#god it felt like such a parody of itself (affectionate)

[passionpluto]

wow i can't believe some guy's auditory processing disorder almost made a precure season end after one episode

[paulisweeabootrash]

Book Review: Princess Holy Aura

An earlier version of this post was published on Facebook on April 30, 2018.

PAUL IS WEEABOO TRASH; or, Paul Reviews... A Book?!

Q: A book?  So, like, you're reviewing based on the first volume of a manga series or something?

A: No, a novel.

Q: A novel.

A: Yeah.

Q: Why not manga?  You have a problem with it?  Are you being snobby about what kinds of books are better than others?

A: No, not at all.  Manga is just another kind of literature.  I just felt like doing this novel because it's relevant to--

Q: How?  Oh!  Is it a novel that an anime is based on?  One of those outrageously-long light novel serieses?

A: No.

Q: A visual novel?  That seems like something you'd review.

A: No, it's a Western print novel, and there's no anime based on it.  But I swear it's relevant.

Q: Relevant...?  Hm.

A: Because it's--

Q: Is it something mentioned in an anime or something else you'd review?  Oh!  Is it "Hyperion"?

A: No.

Q: ..."Portrait of Markov"?

A: That's not a real book.

Q: Well what then?

A: It's a novel about a magical girl.

Q: Oh.  Huh.  Weird.  Proceed. -----

EPISODE 8: Princess Holy Aura (2017)

Princess Holy Aura by Ryk E. Spoor is a magical girl story for people who are familiar with the genre and find its absurdities at least as endearing as they are frustrating.  It's a sort of affectionate parody.  We follow the normal progression of certain famous magical girl anime — the mascot (a magic rat named Silvertail) giving our heroine her powers, the escalating danger of fights with an otherworldly enemy (an assortment of creatures derived from Japanese and American pop culture and folklore), meeting and bonding with a whole team of magical girls (the Apocalypse Maidens) — with some added twists and an awareness of the rules of the genre that allows the main character to succeed because of his ability to deconstruct what's going on.

The deconstruction is justified--

Q: Wait, did you say "his"?

A: Yes.  I'm getting to that.  And the pronouns are going to get confusing.

See, the reason Holy Aura is genre-savvy is that her secret identity is Stephen Russ, an impoverished thirtysomething otaku and Air Force veteran.  Chosen for his intense willingness to help others and his experience with the stresses of adult life, his knowledge of magical girl shows also turns out to gives him the preparation he needs to understand and anticipate his enemies.  Why?  Because, as I was going to say before, the deconstruction is justified by magic-users' beliefs about magic affecting how magic works — so it's susceptible to the magic-related memes of whatever culture(s) the current crop of Apocalypse Maidens are from.  This means Holy Aura and the other Apocalypse Maidens apply knowledge of various media conventions to figure out, and sometimes anticipate, their enemies.

The other four magical girls, for magical plot contrivance reasons, are actual teenage girls, so Stephen must go undercover as "Holly Owen", Holy Aura's eyeroll-inducing normal human girl form, to find and recruit them.  Stephen/Holly deals with the strangeness of abandoning his old life and adjusting to his role — not just physically, but because of how his status as small, young and female now drastically change how others interact with him.  This leads to one of my favorite things about the story: how it describes Stephen/Holly's adjustment.  Each Apocalypse Maiden is partially herself, but also a cumulative reincarnation of every previous version of the Maiden they are.  So Holly not only has Stephen's memories, but those of every previous person to become Princess Holy Aura, all of whom up to this point have apparently been actual teenage girls.  As Stephen adjusts to the radically different physical form of Holly, and the differences in treatment that come with it, he also finds himself feeling more and more "right", as if Holly is the "original" and Stephen the assumed persona.  This is true not only of acting like a high school girl but also true of her physical body.  Stephen's crisis of identity as he realizes he is becoming Holly to the point that his own male body becomes just plain disorienting to walk around in feels genuine and understandable.

The gradual shift from Stephen to Holly eventually leads to (sigh) an inevitable romantic subplot between Holly and another student, because the genre demands it.  But I actually like how uncomfortable this is for both Stephen and the reader.  At this point in the story, Stephen is in a truly alien and frightening situation.  Since Holly is not just a persona adopted by Stephen but has traces of the personalities and feelings of all people who have ever been Princess Holy Aura in the past, Stephen is more and more a passenger in Holly's body rather than the "driver".  Stephen is becoming subsumed into Holly, a brand new person born out of the combined experiences of many.  So of course Holly has feelings Stephen feels alarmed by and does things Stephen doesn't fully control, and the reader should be creeped out by contemplating what that would be like.

As the book goes on, however, its flaws also become more apparent.  Expository conversations (both between heroes and between villains) are an expected part of this genre, and given that there have been many iterations of the Apocalypse Maidens vs. Lovecraftian Aliens battle in the past to learn from there is at least an in-universe justification for them, but there are so. many. of. them.  Silvertail's advice in particular gets increasingly tiresome, sometimes feeling as if we're reading "Silvertail's Walkthrough Guide to Magical Girl-ing" instead of a novel, and he has far too many conveniently-helpful magical abilities despite his alleged weakness.  The premise also leaves itself vulnerable to an obvious in-universe problem, which it tries to address, but not convincingly.  For reasons to do with how magic works, the Apocalypse Maidens reveal themselves to their parents, and this includes them learning that Holly was previously Stephen.  As you might expect, this does not go over well.  Stephen is genuinely a nice guy, not a "Nice Guy", and attempts to get that message across, but the most convincing argument he can muster is basically "your daughters are safe around me because they could kill me easily if I tried to molest them even if I was in full Holy Aura mode", and worse, parents accepting the situation is explained mainly as a mixture of that reassurance and magic itself keeping the Maidens together.  There is, apparently, nothing Stephen can possibly say or do to reassure them he's not a sexual predator.  Maybe that's the point of those scenes?  It's unclear.

That takes us most of the way (and slightly out of order) through a broad overview of the plot, and I don't want to give any spoilers for the resolution (go read it yourself!).  Suffice it to say that it continues along a pretty much "first season of Sailor Moon" trajectory.  And of course, the whole book ends in a way that leaves it open to a second season-- er, I mean, sequel, but still definitely ends this particular story arc.  Exactly as you'd expect.  Exactly as it must, according to the memes controlling magic.

-----

[Classic] W/A/S Scores: 4(+extra) / 1 / 4

Weeb: This is very much a book by a geek for fellow geeks.  Although I previously said the Magical Girl genre does not have a high a barrier to entry in terms of general cultural knowledge, and although Princess Holy Aura also incorporates tropes and characters from, and makes references to, a great deal of American media, knowledge of both Japanese and American horror and fantasy tropes is really helpful to "get" what anyone is talking about.  Not only is it taken for granted that characters recognize the source material for what's going on, they also sometimes make leaps of logic that I have trouble following, and I don't know if that's a problem with the story or with my own background knowledge so that if I'd seen the right show(s) I would've caught on immediately.  Plenty of things are explicitly spelled out, especially in early conversations between Stephen and Silvertail, but familiarity with several magical girl shows or manga would probably be helpful if only to know more specifically what Stephen is talking about.  I'd rate this a 4 on the Weeb scale, but also at least a 4 on a scale of American Geek Media — knowledge of H.P. Lovecraft and recent internet lore, and to a lesser extent general knowledge of RPGs and major works of sci-fi and fantasy, are probably essential to not staring blankly going "what is this?"  Like certain interminable live-action shows I could name, it mashes together monsters from a variety of source materials with mixed results.

Ass: As if directly responding to common complaints about men writing women in inappropriately-sexualized and deeply-implausible ways, descriptions are actually descriptive rather than gratuitous, and Stephen-as-Holly really only talks about his/her own body in the context of getting used to it, and does so in less-sexualized terms than I've heard women I'm friends with use in moderately-polite company.  In fact, although Holly is understandably portrayed as having sexual feelings, Spoor rather aggressively avoids sexualizing her to the audience, which is an important distinction.

Shit: The whole "trust me, I'm not a pervert" interactions with the parents, some way-too-convenient things about the way magic works, and OH DEAR GOD THE EXPOSITION just end up making me go "is that really the best way you could think of to resolve that?".  Also, the Cthulhu mythos seems shoehorned and incongruous.  It's not great, but it is entertaining and coherent, unlike some things I've reviewed so far, so I'll give it a middling score.  I still recommend it if you're in the target audience of "gigantic fucking geek", which, face it, you probably are if you read my reviews.

-----

Stray observations:

- The action scenes are described well enough that I can pretty much imagine how they'd go shot-by-shot in an anime.  Or maybe I've just seen enough anime to know what common shots Spoor is talking about.

- SLENDER MAN IS NYARLATHOTEP.  (This is barely a spoiler.  It takes about one page for the characters to make the connection.)

- If "Silvertail's Walkthrough Guide to Magical Girl-ing" were a real book, I would totally read it.  It would go on my shelf right next to Hate You Forever: How to Channel Your Rage Into Effective Supervillainy, which is also not that good but quite entertaining if you're the right flavor of geek (which, again, you probably are if you read my reviews).

[emeraldembers]

Looloo’s Horror Rec List!

Tagging @eatingcroutons​, @monstermonstre​ as requested <3.

SO. I apologise for how long this list took, but as it turns out, I have watched a slightly silly number of horror movies, and with it being such a varied genre, I didn’t want to accidentally rec a bunch of things people would end up hating or spoil the heck out of them during the reccing process, so. But it’s finished now, and I intend to try and keep it up to date as time goes by and I encounter more horror flicks worth watching. I’m also going to stick a little italicised bit after any movies I remember having potentially squicky/triggery stuff in for people who are okay with horror but not That Kind Of Horror.

Behind a cut because this is Quite A Lot Of Movies My Dudes.

- - -

Movies I’m reccing because they actually scared me:

* Alien

Yo, it’s a classic for a reason, and if I’m doing a rec list of horror movies, I’m determined to address all the movies I’d rec, regardless of the likelihood of everyone having seen it already. Fantastic characters who behave believably, the cold cruelty of both monsters and capitalism, slow builds that pay off, it’s just - it’s so dang good, from start to finish, and all the spoofs and parodies and homages in the world will never fully diminish its success as a genuinely scary movie. CW: Soooooo much imagery suggesting sexual violence.

* The Autopsy of Jane Doe

Brian Cox is a frigging awesome actor, and he and Emile Hirsch absolutely and 100% sell you on the affectionate but strained relationship between father and son in this brilliant little flick that makes you root for the leads so hard. It’s claustrophobic and creepy and made by how the leads actually use common sense for the majority of the movie, and while I will admit the ending wasn’t my favourite, that by no means spoiled the film for me. CW: Animal death, references to human trafficking and sexual violence.

* Hereditary

Oh man. This film is absolutely brutal emotionally, one of the most intense (and imho, accurate) depictions of the pain of mourning I’ve ever seen on screen, and the horror happening around all this pain is just... torture. It’s almost unbearable to watch, but I can’t deny how incredibly well-acted it is, or how frightening it is. For quite a few people the ending doesn’t stick - people feel it over-explains itself - but I personally felt it worked. CW: graphic child death, graphic animal death.

* Jacob’s Ladder

This is such a weird and wonderful creation and I am so, so happy that I found it during the height of my Silent Hill fangirling days. It’s like watching a dream - sometimes quiet and comforting, sometimes loud and terrifying, and the movie just has this magnificent atmosphere of paranoia. It’s unlike any other horror movie I’ve seen in terms of it successfully pulling off the nightmare effect (controversial but true, I’m not a fan of Suspiria, though I appreciate several of the works it inspired). CW: Some imagery suggesting sexual violence.

* Kill List

Please, pretty please watch this without spoilers if you can. The less you know about it going in, the better. It’s a slow build, with the first half of the film playing out more or less like a kitchen sink drama with occasional bursts of explicit violence, but the payoff is worth it imho. CW: Mentions of paedophilia, violence against children.

* The Orphanage

This Spanish language flick is tragic, beautiful, and absolutely bloody terrifying on a first watch. It’s the only film that’s ever made me scream in fright, and is without a doubt the scariest movie I have watched to date: CW: Jaw trauma, child deaths.

* The Thing (1982)

God, I cannot describe how much I loved finally sitting down and watching this movie and realising that for all that I had seen the majority of the transformation and body horror sequences in it, it was still scary. Thanks to the sense of paranoia, and how many times you’re left waiting for something to happen, knowing something is about to happen, on a first watch it’s got some truly chilling moments and it deserves its status as a known classic.

- - -

Movies I’m reccing because they may not have scared me but they sure left a lingering something behind:

* Kairo (also known as Pulse)

Pretend there was never a remake because jfc the ball on that one got dropped harder than Vin Diesel’s voice during puberty. Kairo is utterly and completely bleak and depressing but the bleak and depressing nature of it is what makes the horror in it work. Watching the world in Kairo go quieter and emptier over time is distressing in the strangest of ways, and - fun fact - this film gave me one of the weirdest fears of all time, because now I have nightmares about windows and doors surrounded by red tape. As you do. CW: Suicide depicted explicitly and frequently.

* Lake Mungo

This flick and the Marble Hornets series on youtube are the only things I’ve seen using the found footage format that I felt really got its potential. Plenty of movies have had fun with it, and I’m grateful to The Blair Witch Project for popularising it, but a lot of the time it feels like long periods of nothing then suddenly All Of The Things. This one is a lot subtler about building an increasing sense of dread, and handling the subject matter in a way that feels very, very real for once. It’s fab.

* Let the Right One In

The English language remake, Let Me In, is apparently pretty good? But I haven’t seen it, so I’m going off the original here. And it’s a flaming beautiful film. It’s discomforting and its balance of achingly sweet and tender moments with brutally violent moments is perfect. There’s a bleakness to it that might put some people off, but it’s just gorgeous in my eyes, and I’m very, very fond. CW: Strongly implied paedophilia.

* The Mist

This is a perfect example of how you don’t necessarily have to have the best CGI if you have a great cast. I could never watch it again because it left me so shaken and upset at the end, but some of the imagery in it is just astonishingly haunting, like the best entries of SCP brought to life, and I have to commend it for being one of the classiest adaptations of Stephen King’s work to date. CW: Assisted suicides.

* Session 9

This is a bit of a weird one to put down on a rec list because I personally didn’t enjoy it, but I can’t say that it didn’t leave a lasting impression. There’s a sense of discomfort and wrongness that permeates the film, and it leaves a sort of... almost a slimy coating of creepiness all over you by the time it’s finished. CW: ~Creepy mental hospital~ setting, ableism ahoy.

* The Vvitch

I will admit that in retrospect, I do think this is a little overrated, but only a little, aaaaaand also I may as well admit that there is something about Kate Dickie’s acting that I hate. I have nothing against her as a person! I just don’t personally think she’s a good actress. That being said, everyone else in this movie, especially the children, did a brilliant job. It’s an uneasy watch from the start and only gets more uneasy as it goes on, and I love how straight it played its central concept. What elevates it for me in particular though is the ending, which I openly admit I did not see coming, and was delighted with. CW: Child deaths, strongly implied paedophilia.

- - -

Movies I’m reccing because they were just dang good and didn’t fit into the above categories:

* 28 Days Later

Not to be crude but I wish I could turn this film into body butter just so I could smear it all over me. Flawless cast, an adrenaline rush of a movie that I could watch a hundred times and never tire of, and the climax of the movie is straight up one of my favourite endings ever for its heart in throat intensity. CW: Suicides, threats of sexual violence.

* The Babadook

All Netflix categorisation jokes aside, I genuinely adored this movie. The leads are so well acted and I love their characterisation; it also has one of the best depictions of mental illness in childhood I’ve ever seen (second only to the little girl in Don't Be Afraid of the Dark 2010, whose portrayal of childhood depression resonated with me so strongly I couldn’t finish watching the movie). Also, for frigging once, the portrayal of mental illness is sympathetic, and people suffering from it get shown at their best, not just their worst.

* Coraline

To be honest, a lot of children’s movies are more successful at getting a reaction out of me than “grown-up” movies - All Dogs Go To Heaven’s hell sequence still unsettles me to this day - and Coraline is one of the rarities that plays out almost entirely as straight horror from start to finish. As per all things Laika it’s gorgeously animated, and the progression from eerie to nightmarish as the movie progresses is fantastic. CW: References to children’s deaths.

* Dog Soldiers, Ginger Snaps

It might seem an odd choice to pair these two up, but I couldn’t rec one without the other because to me they’re two sides of the same coin - violent werewolf movies with a wicked sense of humour, one focused on the relationships between men, the other on the relationships between women - and because of both the tone and the subject matter, I think Ginger Snaps makes a better pairing with Dog Soldiers than The Descent.

* Get Out

There’s very little I can say about this film that hasn’t been said already; it’s a film that uses humour like a knife, it’s a masterpiece in building discomfort and tension, and every single actor in it is top notch. It’s impossible not to root for the main character, and if you’re not cheering him on at the end, you may want to get your pulse checked.

* IT (2017)

Now this definitely terrified some of the people I saw this in the cinema with - one man peed himself, a woman fled the viewing, and I overheard people talking about smelling poop in the back of the cinema - but for me it wasn’t particularly scary. What it was, however, was moving, and funny, and had fantastic acting from all of the children involved. I was cheering the kids on constantly, and you could really believe their fear of Pennywise. I loved this so, so much. CW: Child deaths including on screen violence against children, depiction of bullying, heavily implied sexual abuse via parent/child incest.

* Pitch Black

It was a toss-up for a while whether putting this on here would be miscategorising it - is it more of a sci-fi action flick, or a sci-fi survival horror? - but based on the majority of the characters not being Riddick I’m going for survival horror. This is the perfect execution of a simple, brilliant concept, and it’s a delight. Plus, it has sympathetic Muslims in space, and I can’t ignore an excuse to cheer for that.

* [Rec]

This is another movie where I’ve heard good things about the English language adaptation but have only watched the original, and oh man, it’s fun. It’s not a film I consider particularly scary, but it has my hands down favourite protagonists of any found footage horror movie, and I love that the constant use of cameras makes sense in this one because it does start out as a documentary gone wrong. Also, the ending is a classic <3.

- - -

Movies I’m reccing but fully acknowledge their flaws:

* Candyman

Tony Todd is the man, dude, and it wouldn’t be right to make a horror movie rec list without having an absolute classic of his up on it. It’s wonderfully dreamy, packed full of that lovely late 80s/early 90s washed out aesthetic, and has one of the handsomest movie villains out there. 

* The Crazies (2010)

Virus outbreak movies are a dime a dozen, but for all that there’s little new here, it’s still one of the better ones, helped by a good cast playing the core group of survivors. Worth seeing if you’re a Timothy Olyphant and/or Radha Mitchell fan, and I love them both to bits, so.

* Event Horizon

A cult favourite with a ridiculously awesome cast (Sean Pertwee? Jason Isaacs? Laurence Fishburne? And more?), this does go over the top at points, but it is such a fun ride. You can see where games like Dead Space drew their inspiration from; it’s visually stunning, and the main characters are frequently (alas, not always) sensible. Also, regarding who dies/doesn’t die, if you haven’t seen it before, I think you’ll be quite pleasantly surprised? I know I was. CW: Explicit depiction of suicide, brief but explicit glimpses of sexual violence, references to child death.

* The Girl With All the Gifts

If you haven’t played or watched someone play The Last Of Us, this is well worth a watch. With the rise of zombies in recent media, no pun intended, it was inevitable there would also be a rise in how many showed the results of a zombie cure, or of intelligence in zombies. Cordyceps based zombies are rarer in media, and The Last Of Us used them brilliantly, but this is a good, solid film, bleak in some ways but hopeful in others, and I loved it. Also, Gemma Arterton is in it (as is Glenn Close, who is fab as always) and there are very few things I would not do for that woman.

* Grave Encounters

This isn’t a particularly good movie, but it is so much fun to play “spot the gif” with; there’s hardly a scene in it, once the ghostly shenanigans kick off, that hasn’t been put into gif format for use alongside creepypastas and the like all over the net. Girl turning around and face melting into blackness? Masses of hands pushing out through a wall suddenly? It’s just fun to spot them. Not to mention that, once in a while, it is fun to see a movie where the main characters are unironically Those White People In A Horror Movie and as such deserve pretty much everything that happens to them. CW: Ableism, ~scary mental hospital~ trope.

* Let Us Prey

This is a flawed film that could have been a great movie if it had been handled with a subtler touch. Some flashback sequences in it are more gratuitous than they need to be, and the end villain is just bizarrely over the top, but overall I love that it’s almost like a British-Irish take on Silent Hill? Liam Cunningham and Pollyanna McIntosh in particular, as the leads, are wonderful in it and bring a touch of class to something that could otherwise have just been a straight up hot mess. CW: References to child death, references to and flashbacks to sexual violence. Also, going to throw homophobia on here, because god knows I’m tired of the Evil Predatory Gay trope.

* Mandy

Placing this one anywhere on the list feels strange because it’s... this odd mixture of extremely beautiful and dreamlike, but also cult-classic over the top to the point of clearly being deliberately funny about it in places. I don’t quite know how it leaves me feeling on the whole, but I do know I absolutely love it. CW: Description of animal death, drugging, sexual harrassment.

* Silent Hill

This isn’t by any means a good movie, but I’d be lying through my teeth if I claimed it wasn’t one of my favourites regardless. It’s just ridiculously pretty, the music (courtesy of Akira Yamaoka being a genius) is amazing, and I will ship Cybil and Rose to the end of my days. Also, Pyramid Head, guys. Pyramid Head.

* Switchblade Romance (also known as Haute Tension or High Tension)

This French language flick is one of my favourite guilty pleasures. Most extreme horror bores me or leaves me cold, but there was something about this one I enjoyed despite it having plot holes you could drive a truck through; the lead actresses are fantastic, and it has some of my favourite uses of music in a modern horror movie. Please be warned though, this one has some very violent sequences, even in the cut version. CW: Child death, home invasion, continuous threat of sexual violence.

* We Are What We Are

This was a very unevenly paced movie, slow in parts and then jarringly fast in others, and some of the exposition felt clunky, but it’s overall a beautifully made movie and I was so drawn to the love between the siblings in this. I really felt like they were a real family, and was rooting for them so hard. CW: Cannibalism, threat of violence against children.

* The Wicker Man (1973, unless you want to watch the remake for so-bad-it’s-funny shenanigans. I won’t judge)

This is up there with Alien in terms of “even if you haven’t watched this movie, you have watched this movie” courtesy of pop culture referencing it every which way but loose, but it’s so worth a watch. I can’t recommend a particular cut because I’ve seen so many I wouldn’t know where to begin! It’s also kind of fun to enjoy it as a musical in its own way - there are so many songs in it that it’s hard not to sing along after a few viewings - and for all that the ending isn’t a shocker these days, it’s still so much fun to watch.

- - -

And a horror-comedy rec list to wrap things up:

* He Never Died

This is a great example of how you can do great things with a threadbare budget if you have a good idea and the confidence to commit to a concept. It is so, so funny, its humour sometimes dry, sometimes black as tar, and I just adored the main character’s absolute exhaustion with the world. I’m trying to sell this one without spoilers, because it’s another one where going in with as little info as possible is a good idea <3.

* Shaun of the Dead

It’s pretty much just the best ode to zombie movies and their inherent silliness that exists, and Simon Pegg is an adorable mess in it.

* Trick R Treat

My favourite horror anthology film by miles. It’s just fun. Aaaaaand the werewolf girls are hot af, soooooo. This also lets Brian Cox join Laurie Holden and Radha Mitchell on the list of people who managed to show up more than once in recced movies!

* Tucker & Dale vs. Evil

Aside from a few tonal missteps - references to sexual violence in the middle of a horror comedy, even if those references weren’t there as a joke, aren’t ever going to sit well - this film is hilarious, and frequently adorable too. Not to mention, it’s always nice to see a big guy get to be a hero.

- - -

Movies I need to update this list with:

The Lighthouse. CW: Explicit animal death, eye trauma.

Us. CW: Description of animal death, child deaths and self-mutilation.

The Endless. CW: Graphic suicide.

Midsommar. CW: Graphic suicide.

[daigeorge]

New Paths in Irish Inheritance Poetry: Siobhán Campbell and Stephen Sexton

Back in March I had the pleasure of saying a few words at the launch of Siobhán Campbell’s new collection, Heat Signature. It was the idea of Seren’s poetry editor, Amy Wack, who matched us up on the grounds that Siobhán and I were kindred spirits, which I took to mean, roughly, that we were both poets trying to write about cultural inheritance in 2017, with a healthy degree of scepticism about how that type of writing so often turns out. Among other things, it offered a rare chance to talk about a Seren poet in the public round, without the anxieties about soft-pedalling a stablemate or biting the hand that feeds that would loom if I were commissioned to write a review. (For these reasons, I prefer not to write about Seren poets, which unfortunately means I increasingly don’t write about contemporary Welsh poetry at all. But that’s another debate, for another day.) Campbell’s a top-drawer poet, and one who should be more widely celebrated. With any luck Heat Signature – her second collection for Seren and fourth overall – should change that.    

Above all, I admire how Campbell handles the weight of history in her poetry – the social history of a particular community, but also that swirling brew of anecdote and myth that makes up an individual’s or a family’s history. These are hardly new topics for post-Heaney poetry, but nor are they topics I can easily see my way around – the trick is to find the new and probing angle on them, and I think that Campbell does this very well. There’s a poem early on in Heat Signature that explicitly announces how her project emerges from Heaney’s classic brand of Irish inheritance poetry, but also how it resists that idiom like the work of Carson, Muldoon and McGuckian before her. The title of ‘Weeding’ recalls Heaney’s none-more-famous ‘Digging’, though in place of that great, over-anthologised call to verse Campbell gives us an altogether more modern, and less stable, celebration of ‘seeing things anew, filthy / with possibility’.

There seems to me to be an instructive switch between the durable and solid potato (or poetry) crop of ‘Digging’, and the essentially purifying, negative harvest of ‘Weeding’: it’s about getting rid of the calcified and complacent tropes that we too readily rely upon and build into monuments. Heat Signature is a collection for busting myths, though its method is always exploratory, ambivalent, imagistic, never tubthumping or didactic. In ‘Piebald’, horses turn into an objective correlative for an older, mythical nation, ‘where mis-remembrance is a dream to nourish, / where promise can out-run irony’, and ‘a quiver of legends misted into song’.

Campbell always urges the opposite of these values. She asks us to remember properly, but also to move beyond remembrance, to imagine alternatives and futures. The promise that we glimpse in her poetry goes hand in hand with the quickness of her irony. ‘Concentration’, which opens the second section of Heat Signature, spells out the dividend of this rigorous, attentive approach. It’s a poem that’s ostensibly about – not to put too fine a point on it – the speaker’s grandaunt squatting over a potty and peeing late at night. But what could be a hollow, mean-spirited poem, revelling self-indulgently in the ugliness and indignity of life, turns out to be anything but. The last stanza passionately articulates the moral purpose behind Campbell’s work:

 When things attract our deep attention

they give back out the stare that we put in.

We know this is commitment of relation.

And though it seems innocent to say,

it is a form of love.

  That’s what Heat Signature asks us to do, time and again: to pledge our ‘deep attention’, to make a ‘commitment of relation’ between the difficult and the beautiful in our lives, and to find there ‘a form of love’.

                                                     *

 Round about the time that I was immersed in Campbell’s work, the results of the National Poetry Competition were announced. Granted, in all my time writing poetry I’ve never won so much as a raffle, but I hope it’s not just sour grapes that make me feel jaded about the prospect of reading competition-winning verse. It’s not even that I mind competitions per se, or look down on people for entering them (mazel tov); I’ve just got to the point where I don’t expect them to turf up anything that stops me in my tracks. Generally speaking, I assume poems triumph in competitions because they satisfy a consensus between the judges, which naturally leads to a bias against poems that are divisive, experimental or strange – you’ve heard the argument before. Anyway, I mention all of this just to hint at some of the obstacles standing in the way of Stephen Sexton, who had the gumption not only to win the NPC this year, but to do it with a poem so good that it made me consider giving up writing poetry altogether. It was tantalisingly close in intention to the type of poem that I might try to write, but executed in a way that felt beamed in from another planet.

‘The Curfew’ is a poem of inheritance about the speaker’s grandfather, a miner of ‘legendary’ kindness possessed of a surreal turn of phrase. His lovably Ringo-like aphorisms are delicious in themselves (‘If you can’t count your onions, what can you count’) but Sexton complicates and lifts them brilliantly. First, he undercuts anything that could get too loquacious or cute with a recurring caveat, apparently toneless but deeply equivocal: ‘He said a lot of things.’ I love the layers of irony in this sentence, which is at one level a cliché colluding in the norms of a more reticent community, one that would discredit the grandfather’s lovely, glinting verbal gems by reducing them to faceless ‘things’. Then there’s the hint of unreliability it introduces, ‘he says a lot of things’ being an innuendo one makes of a liar, a panderer or a teller of tall tales. But who’s being unreliable in the following lines?

 The memorial fountain says nothing

of the weeks before the rescue failed

  but mentions God which, as my grandfather

used to say, is just the name of the plateau

  you view the consequences of your living from.

  This subversive conception of God sounds like it could come from the speaker as much as his grandfather, perhaps more so – when the next sentence fudges it (‘Or something like that’) we’re not sure if it’s due to a failure of memory or a liberty of paraphrase. By this point in the poem we don’t even know the pivotal biographical fact that grandpa and his colleagues were caught up in a mining disaster; the memorial fountain is the first solid hint of tragedy, after the unstable, figurative exaggerations that foreshadow it:

 … when no more than the thought of the pink crumple

of his infant daughter’s body came to mind

  a glow would swell in the pit, the men

would mayhem bauxite by the light

  his tenderness emitted.

  An explosion is suggested, but so far it’s only one of ‘tenderness’. When the literal ‘mayhem’ finally arrives, it’s reported with a deadpan seriousness that it’s hard to place – or hard to take – amidst all the emollient blarney: ‘One by one eleven miners starved to death.’

 The speaker can’t figure out the right way of paying tribute to his grandfather’s personality, or of honouring that tragedy down the pit. Those are the twin anxieties haunting the poem, and they place it in a vein of post-inheritance poetry we might date to Don Paterson’s first collection, Nil Nil. (I’ve alluded to this book, and what it represents, a good half dozen times in public down the years, at least. For good reason, I hope.) My first collection has a poem in it about a mining grandfather, ‘Seven Rounds With Bill’s Ghost’, another tribute to a man of tenderness and grit, this one an amateur boxer. I’ve written about that poem elsewhere, but ‘The Curfew’ made me see it in a new, less forgiving light. Paterson broke new ground by peeling away the piety of your average inheritance lyric to expose the feelings of distance, anger and alienation that fester beneath the surface of any class-conscious tribute to an ancestor. (Not by coincidence, the diction of that average inheritance mode ripples through ‘The Curfew’, as one of its many fluctuating voices: ‘my grandfather used to say’; ‘Among the other miners he was legendary’, ‘It would have pleased his handsome shoulders’, etc. There’s something so coercive about that past subjunctive mood – something that deserves to be parodied.)

 For thirty-odd years, then, there’s been a fairly rigid dialectic in play between the earnest, affectionate, old-school inheritance lyric on one hand, and the streetwise, complicated post-inheritance poetry of Paterson et al on the other. That dialectic has led to some good poetry, a little great poetry, and plenty of not-so-great poetry, but I worry that it’s become a rigid structure in itself. The very rebels who would reinvigorate the project of writing about family history and class by exhibiting their anxieties about that project – well, they too are now writing in an established mode, carrying on an angry dance whose moves we know. (If it isn’t clear yet, I include myself entirely in this camp.) The great sadness of post-inheritance poetry, I think, has been its narrowing of the window for legitimate affection. If you say that your grandfather was legendary among his peers or had a wonderful tenderness, you sound complacent and naff, and maybe that’s because there is something inherently complacent and naff about believing those things (what was he, a saint?). But then what do we do with all that persistent, unfashionable affection we might still feel for our grandparents? Ignore it and write about something else altogether?

 That would be one way out of the dialectic. But it seems to me that Sexton has found an alternative means to escape, and one that might be more appealing to those of us who, try as we might, can’t seem to escape this topic. By tapping into the anarchic spirit of the grandfather’s language, Sexton unleashes a menagerie of fantastic animals that somehow honour him while at the same time liberating the poem’s logic from the confines of linear, retrospective narrative. And because the poem licenses so many dissonant voices, it allows for an unlikely harmony to emerge between the voice of the speaker and the grandfather: ‘He grew wise and weary as an albatross / and left for that great kingdom of nevertheless.’

  This is poetry that has its cake and eats it in the most exquisite way: a whip-smart and undeceived pastiche that finds a way to admit the genuine play and articulacy of that beloved voice. Small wonder, then, that in the last line the speaker can vow with a straight face, ‘I understand him’. If Sexton keeps this up, his first collection is going to be a thing of magic. In the meantime, I’m off to rethink everything again.