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As a child I was a
sceptic. [You still are - editor] I can remember aged 13 being told that Shakespeare wrote 'perfect
sonnets', my English teacher laboriously explained that each line had ten
beats, each sonnet had fourteen lines, the first eight lines followed one
train of thought which then subtly switched for the next four lines and that
the last two lines revealed another facet of the poem. Further there was a
unique rhyme pattern which went AB AB CD CD EF EF GG. Now I figured that if
Shakespeare wrote 154 of these sonnets then he's bound to have slipped up
somewhere along the line and I was going to be the guy who'd spot the
mistake; so I waded through them, not absorbing the intelligent and beautiful
messages you understand but lipping A B A B etc and counting the beats on my
fingers 1, 2, 3 etc and then going over them again to ensure the divisions
after the first eight lines and the next six lines were all correct. They
bloody well were! What a waste of time that was!
And now, close to fifty years later, my Boss sends me Allen's 67 sonnets to
review and on the rear cover I read; 'Allen takes on the whole tradition of
the sonnet, from Shakespeare to Frost, and emerges a clear winner...' ...and yeh
you are right dear reader I sat up all last night lipping A B A B etc and
counting the beats on my fingers 1, 2, 3 etc and then going over them again
to ensure the divisions after the first eight lines and the next six lines
were all correct. They bloody well were! What a waste of time that was!
So; Mr Allen can write sonnets... and if you believe the cover blurbs he leaves
Mr Shakespeare in either second or third place... 'a clear winner'. Mmm.
These sonnets all centre on a figure called Suzi. They all contain at the
beginning of every ninth line the five-beat phrase; 'I love you Suzi...' They
appear to be the record of an individual (who may or may-not be Mr Allen),
who is ambiguous about his own sexuality which tends towards gay but may have
also an element of lust for Suzi who is much younger than he and who seems to
be female although not all descriptions of her suggest this. The 'mixed
messages' of the title presumably refer also to the observing individual's
ambiguity about his sexuality and the age-difference.
I have to confess that when I read these poems aloud I actually like most of
them; they roll of the tongue agreeably, partly, as stated, because they are
perfectly constructed, partly because the sense of longing mingled with a
tentative sense of humour at the poet's own predicament is emotive and
sometimes poignant; as in sonnet 52 when Allen ends a sonnet with: 'a fantasy
/ Each man born normal gets to touch; not me.' And Allen is clever, and well
read (as an associate Professor of English, albeit at an American University,
he should be)... and being well-read myself I like to come across phrases
like this in sonnet 48; 'Can
this be right, or just the famous lie / Explaining how it's dignified to
die.' It allows me to let Horace enter my consciousness and in a sort of
snobbish way I feel an affinity to the poet almost as though I'm saying;
'Thank you Mr Allen for allowing me to feel clever and well read.' But when
Allen then begins to presume a Shakespearian stance, as in sonnets 35 and 36;
'If Suzi's eyes could look more like the sun/ Lips red, or something near...'
and 'Could I be wrong? If that's the charge they hurl,/ Ed never wrote, and
no man loved this girl.' I find myself then making unfavourable comparisons
and a slight distaste replaces my sense of affinity. As too in sonnets 29, 30
and 31 when he drops into poems the name of Robert Frost... it takes me back to
the rear cover blurb comparing Allen to Shakespeare and Frost and frankly
such a comparison is absurd.
By this time you'll be sensing that there is something about this collection
that disturbs me... and I think I know what it is. Here we have an aging
Professor wrestling with his own sexuality and his attraction to the central
figure that we know as Suzi. Suzi (the observed) we presume is female and the
Prof/writer (the observer) we presume is male but not heterosexual... his
fascination with regard to this real or fantastical 'other' borders on the
sinister, at times it seems as if he is stalking the object of his desires.
At times I feel like saying to the observer; 'Fuck off you dirty old pervert
and leave the poor wee lass alone!', because his obsession, although at times
tinged with humour and a sense of his own ludicrous stance, makes me want to
apply for an ASBO to restrict his disturbing intrusions. To add to that the
poet's use of language is sometimes laughingly complex as when he wrestles
with the age-difference in sonnets 39 and 40: 'If I were less than twice as
old as she, / less than myself...' and 'It's weird to think - the day of Suzi's
birth: / Less time from then to now than from the day / Of my first day to
her first day on earth' which is torturous and extremely badly written... and
in sonnet 17 he chooses to rhyme 'shiny blue' with 'shining...Subaru!' which
may well be intentional humour but more likely is forced rhyme.
In the end I find myself saying rather sadly, 'what a waste'. To sit down
with a single verse form which has been done a thousand times better,
hundreds of years ago, in a time when such a form was at least original and
to ape Shakespeare's 'Dark lady' to boot is just... well it's a waste and it's
also slightly arrogant. I want to make it clear however that these are
perfectly constructed, sometime poignant, sometime humorous, creations which
I know many people will thoroughly enjoy. I don't doubt either, not for one
minute, Allen's artisan ability to construct a perfect verse form with never
a deviation from the accepted pattern. I just wonder why he bothered. Surely
he could have spent his time equally creatively building himself a sweet
little brick barbeque in his garden and then only a few close friends would
be required to admire it; and he could then have written 67 mixed messages in
Haiku form explaining his ambiguous feelings towards charcoal or coal or
about whether it is best for Barbie's to be constructed in English-bond
brickwork as opposed to Flemish... Haikus written on paper which he could then,
(doing us all a favour), burn as fuel with which to cook himself a nice juicy
burger with onions...
It would be time equally well spent, and the burger and onions would surely
be more tasteful than these 67 mixed messages.
© Alan Corkish
2006
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