Steven Johannes Fowler reviews
New Collected Poems translated by Robin Fulton
Tomas Tranströmer
There is little doubt that Tomas Tranströmer will be remembered as one of
the last great figures of 20th century European poetry, and by many,
the last of a dying breed – that is a poet whose work and whose persona
genuinely and thoroughly resonate in the consciousness of their nation. All the
more remarkable perhaps, because he has come to stand for an image of the poet
we might perceive as tailored and quaint – a deeply private and modest man,
whose output of poetry over the last sixty years has been sparse though clearly
momentous enough to command a world audience.
This important volume from Bloodaxe, the second of its kind
in under a decade, may not build any new structures for the reception of Tranströmer’s
poetry, but in its simple reconstitution of works past, embellished by the
short, poignant works Tranströmer has undertaken in the 21st century,
the book becomes something of a testament to a remarkable literary figure,
whose recalcitrant writing has fashioned him into the most urbane of contemporary
poetical mystics. In some ways, it is hard to see the volume as anything but a
fitting, if pre-emptive, poetic eulogy.
Tranströmer’s poetry has always been admired for its
clarity and poise. His is a singular mode, so refined to approach a certain
perfection in its simplicity, multifaceted in its exposition but often
returning to the observant, the human, the roots of metaphysical scrutiny, his
work is often quietly biographical, anecdotal or reflective. His poems resonate
with wisdom, and yet rarely fall foul of seeming cloy. In fact, it is perhaps
this which marks his genius. And this volume proves once again that Tranströmer
has always been served by excellent translators, with Robin Fulton perhaps the
most remarkable, having loyally represented his poems for over 35 years.
Not that Tranströmer has been without his critics. Successive
generations of younger Swedish poets have spoken out against his
quasi-religious poetry, claiming his work to be picturesque. Perhaps because
his achievement is so thoroughly individual, though his work may be in some
ways traditional, that those who imitate him will be so clearly in his shadow
to fall at their first hurdle. It has often been said that his life’s
profession as a psychologist and his pseudo-religious intimations have made him
a unique poetic voice precisely because he is a product of a country like
Sweden – liberal and pre-dominantly secular.
This volume is discernible because of its inclusion of his
most recent work ‘the Great Enigma’ (the only poems, bar a cluster Haiku’s from
1959, that is not included in the 2002 Bloodaxe edition New Collected Poems of
Tomas Tranströmer)
and in this, as well as in his memoirs and later poems in general, we see the
arch of his output reach it’s most distilled and modest form. Mortality has
always been a fundamental theme of Tranströmer’s work and in the tone and subject of these
slight poems, one could even compare these final works to that of the Buddhist monk’s death
poems, solemn, accepting and imperceptibly wry.
‘The funerals keep coming
more and more of them
like the traffic signs
as we approach the city’
For anyone with a passing interest in the poetry of 20th
century Europe, this volume is a must have addition to their collection and
with it we are allowed a clear glimpse of Tranströmer looking eye to eye with the very greatest writers of his
time.
Comments
As someone with more than a passing interest in the poetry of 20th century Europe, I shall probably be asking my wife to buy me a volume of Tomas Transtromer for Christmas.
Best wishes from Simon