Rosie Johnston appreciates the enthusiasm and energy in Fiona Sinclairâs latest collection
The Time Travellersâ Picnic
Fiona Sinclair
Dempsey & Windle
ISBN: 978-1-907435-83-6
111pp ÂŁ11
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If âAunty Internetâ ever wanted a poet laureate, Fiona Sinclair would walk into the job. âThe Time Travellersâ Picnicâ is a happy love song to Kim, whom she internet-dated for a bet and describes as âa regenerated Dr Whoâ with a âJackson Pollock time-lineâ.
Sinclairâs poetry has been published by Lapwing Publications, Koo Press Scotland, Original Plus Press, Indigo Dreams (twice), Smokestack and now, for a second time, by Guildfordâs Dempsey & Windle Press, following A Talent for Hats in 2017. That is eight publications since 2011. Sinclair puts her prolific output down to âa good dose of CBTâ (cognitive behavioural therapy) after, as she puts it, âa medley of chronic illness terminated teachingâ.
Another powerful presence is Sinclairâs mother, whom she introduces in âA History in Clothesâ:
At 16, with Janice Joplin hair, I hippy chic strutted into college
in charity shop finds. Often yanked home by motherâs married man woes,
bust up with lodger, lonely; until became her full-time companion paid in
cast-off bras, knickers.
The poem reads like a scatter of old photographs leading us to a romantic holiday in Crete and, at 53, Sinclairâs
first ever
beachwear, scarlet one piece with woman of a certain age tummy control.
Encountering for the first time all-inclusive holidays meant I spent
two weeks falling for third deadly sin, flying home to fully join the middle-aged sisterhood;
Weight Watchers, fat clothes, thin clothes. At 55, I work out, fast and sauna
like a jockey desperate to make the weight until one June morning,
a zip slides up on the nipped in waist of my bright red wedding dress.
Here we have the essence of Sinclairâs style: conversational, so fast that punctuation and full sentence structure would slow it down, memories and revelations tumbling in an artful, glamorous rush. The bookâs landscape format accommodates her long, narrative lines and anything less than a glossy, photographic cover for this material would feel underdressed.
Sinclair writes unsparingly about mental health. In âNot a Monster Thenâ, a memoir extending over three pages, she starts:
I attend this psychiatrist in more cubbyhole
than waiting room. Pondering how Freud can cure pelvic pain.
After 4yrs (sic) of Maudsley forensically examining my past,
I am zipped up as the handbag on my lap
at prospect spilling my mindâs contents again.
But he is clairvoyantâs tall, dark, handsome promise,
augmented by confidence-loosening charm
that would make him an ace blackmailer.
The psychiatrist does prise open the âtin man secretâ of Sinclairâs upbringing: the âdrawn bow atmosphere at homeâ. He âprescribes a dozen appointments / for starters, which I later cancel.â Salvation arrives in another form:
Then, as always, you time your entrance just right.
I am gung-ho grabbing life after illnessesâ lengthy sentence.
First dates I insist we go Dutch, making it clear
I am not to bought for the price of a coffee;
but read Dinner next week? as having definite hanky-panky subtext.
These are splendidly happy poems, as free as a fountain whenever she writes about Kim, with the smile of someone trying to work out why she has struck lucky. Not that Kim is always easy to read. In âTrying to Map Youâ:
Over a year you have wooed me with
ripping yarns of life as an engineer overseas:
rock star strutting onto Concorde twice,
commuting to work on a camel in a sandstormâ âŠ
Yet, in âIsland Weatherâ
When your small-boy-self visits,
I want to kiss eyes that reboot too childhood settings,
ruffle hair that reverts to a kidâs quiff âŠ
(Other) times I glimpse the teenage biker rucking on Margate Beach,
the man whose drinking years were tinder to this temper,
hide in silence until the reassuring touch on my kneeâŠ
Just when it feels as if the marital rollercoaster might be rocking a little, the poem culminates in this tender couplet:
And when my fault line brain triggers another earth quake
he holds me firmly Iâm here, till my world stops rocking.
Sinclairâs complex weave of language and images feels like being wrapped in a brocaded patchwork quilt of silks and denim. Yet it is her unsparing honesty, often funny, that keeps us with her. âNot as Young as We Feelâ, reproduced here in full, suggests that, for all the physical restrictions, âNovember marriageâ years can be the best of all:
After gourmet sex
we entwine like twins in a womb.
Doze under exhaustionâs ether.
Twenty years ago, even,
we would be free to slumber until morning.
But in middle age,
sleep must be prepared for like a journey,
a check list of pills for pain, cholesterol, blood pressure âŠ
nightclothes stripped off in present-tearing lust,
retrieved from floor and pulled back on,
sheets smoothed, pillows plumped, duvet adjusted,
the final pee.
A Night Night kiss
then easing onto back and side,
the width of a double bed growing between us.
In âAn Ideal Husbandâ, Oscar Wilde wrote âDamn it, sir, it is your duty to get married. You canât be always living for pleasureâ. Sinclair shows with her accumulation of beautifully expressed details about family life, survival and love that it is gloriously possible to do both.
Rosie Johnston‘s four poetry books, published by Lapwing Publications in Belfast, are Sweet Seventeens (2010), Orion (2012), Bittersweet Seventeens (2014) and Six-Count Jive (2019). Her poems have appeared or featured in Hedgerow, London Grip, Culture NI, FourxFour, The Honest Ulsterman, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Mary Evans Picture Libraryâs Poems and Pictures blog, Words for the Wild, From The Edge magazine and in Live Canonâs anthologies â154: In Response to Shakespeareâs Sonnetsâ (2016) & âNew Poems for Christmasâ (2018). She has read her poetry widely, including Hungerford Literary Festival, Watfordâs Big Word festival, Winchesterâs Loose Muse, the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden, the Troubadour, Torriano, Margateâs Pie Factory, In-Words in Greenwich and Whitstableâs Harbour Books. Â Rosie was poet in residence for the Cambridgeshire Wildlife Trust until she moved to live by the sea in Kent. www.rosiejohnstonwrites.com
London Grip Poetry Review – Fiona Sinclair
July 7, 2019 by Michael Bartholomew-Biggs • books, poetry reviews, year 2019 • Tags: books, poetry, Rosie Johnston • 0 Comments
Rosie Johnston appreciates the enthusiasm and energy in Fiona Sinclairâs latest collection
.
.
If âAunty Internetâ ever wanted a poet laureate, Fiona Sinclair would walk into the job. âThe Time Travellersâ Picnicâ is a happy love song to Kim, whom she internet-dated for a bet and describes as âa regenerated Dr Whoâ with a âJackson Pollock time-lineâ.
Sinclairâs poetry has been published by Lapwing Publications, Koo Press Scotland, Original Plus Press, Indigo Dreams (twice), Smokestack and now, for a second time, by Guildfordâs Dempsey & Windle Press, following A Talent for Hats in 2017. That is eight publications since 2011. Sinclair puts her prolific output down to âa good dose of CBTâ (cognitive behavioural therapy) after, as she puts it, âa medley of chronic illness terminated teachingâ.
Another powerful presence is Sinclairâs mother, whom she introduces in âA History in Clothesâ:
The poem reads like a scatter of old photographs leading us to a romantic holiday in Crete and, at 53, Sinclairâs
Here we have the essence of Sinclairâs style: conversational, so fast that punctuation and full sentence structure would slow it down, memories and revelations tumbling in an artful, glamorous rush. The bookâs landscape format accommodates her long, narrative lines and anything less than a glossy, photographic cover for this material would feel underdressed.
Sinclair writes unsparingly about mental health. In âNot a Monster Thenâ, a memoir extending over three pages, she starts:
The psychiatrist does prise open the âtin man secretâ of Sinclairâs upbringing: the âdrawn bow atmosphere at homeâ. He âprescribes a dozen appointments / for starters, which I later cancel.â Salvation arrives in another form:
These are splendidly happy poems, as free as a fountain whenever she writes about Kim, with the smile of someone trying to work out why she has struck lucky. Not that Kim is always easy to read. In âTrying to Map Youâ:
Yet, in âIsland Weatherâ
Just when it feels as if the marital rollercoaster might be rocking a little, the poem culminates in this tender couplet:
Sinclairâs complex weave of language and images feels like being wrapped in a brocaded patchwork quilt of silks and denim. Yet it is her unsparing honesty, often funny, that keeps us with her. âNot as Young as We Feelâ, reproduced here in full, suggests that, for all the physical restrictions, âNovember marriageâ years can be the best of all:
In âAn Ideal Husbandâ, Oscar Wilde wrote âDamn it, sir, it is your duty to get married. You canât be always living for pleasureâ. Sinclair shows with her accumulation of beautifully expressed details about family life, survival and love that it is gloriously possible to do both.
Rosie Johnston‘s four poetry books, published by Lapwing Publications in Belfast, are Sweet Seventeens (2010), Orion (2012), Bittersweet Seventeens (2014) and Six-Count Jive (2019). Her poems have appeared or featured in Hedgerow, London Grip, Culture NI, FourxFour, The Honest Ulsterman, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Mary Evans Picture Libraryâs Poems and Pictures blog, Words for the Wild, From The Edge magazine and in Live Canonâs anthologies â154: In Response to Shakespeareâs Sonnetsâ (2016) & âNew Poems for Christmasâ (2018). She has read her poetry widely, including Hungerford Literary Festival, Watfordâs Big Word festival, Winchesterâs Loose Muse, the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden, the Troubadour, Torriano, Margateâs Pie Factory, In-Words in Greenwich and Whitstableâs Harbour Books. Â Rosie was poet in residence for the Cambridgeshire Wildlife Trust until she moved to live by the sea in Kent. www.rosiejohnstonwrites.com