Fires and Crucifixions
by Real Faucher
cover design by Rene Pilon
Samisdat publication
12 pages, $1, ordered from Real Faucher
82 Main Street North, Windsor, Quebec
This chapbook of poetry will not win any prizes for aesthetic appearance. Printed on white stock in red ink it bleeds words, lyrical or banal, onto the sparse pages. The printing job is rather a poor one, and the back-cover biographical details somewhat excessive and as usual with a Samisdat publication, an exercise in weary hyperbole. This collection is an uneven one and although the poems are Real Faucher's, the selection bespeaks the editorial hand of the publisher, not Faucher. I am able to speak with conviction, aware of the process of Samisdat publication.
One can divide the poems represented in the collection into two categories. the first half of this chapbook consists of superbly realized and crafted poetry. The second half appears to be only a half-hearted attempt at poetry; they are neither well-conceived nor well executed.
First to the excellent poems which comprise the first of the chapbook; Faucher is lyrical and metaphysical and sensuous; he is loving with his choice of images and words. His poem, 'All The Way' - "Turning toward the light/like a star toward its centre/burning rays blind his eyes/and the flame of intensity/scorches his flesh" ... likens man in his search for truth to a moth helplessly approaching a flame.
In 'Archaeologists' he questions the truth discovered: "They punctured the stone walls/and found humanoid skeletons/curled up/in question marks". He draws a parallel between all creatures of this earth seeking blind communion in ... 'From our Prisons': "...from his/prison aquarium he now looks out/from my captive world I now look in/and we stare at each other/across the ages/seeking understanding.' But he is at his best with this poem titled 'New Eden':
"Suddenly
each new day is no different
from the others past,
or the ones in my eyes,
and her naked body
is just that,
and a grey film seeps
into my awareness,
and her soft eyes calling me
are painful
like angry points of light
at night.
This is the torment of man
that he creates for himself
this is the agony of
Eden
and the bursting of the ripe apple
between the swollen lips."
This poem, evocative of the love between man and woman, is a study in flux. But behind the more familiar view of a painfully stale alliance is another, more subtle message of archaic biological bondage couched in biblical terms. There are a few other sensitive poems in this collection; some of which are comments on the intrusion of religion into the daily life of the Quebecois.
From the sublime to the absurd in ... 'Mother's Funeral', 'Father's Funeral', are two efforts having not even the saving grace of wit, nor a modicum of humour. They are prose pieces, totally without flair, and it seems to me, not worth the effort of reading them.
Likewise, several other poems fall into the trite category, and thereby reduce the power of this book.
In conclusion, while it's very well to assert that content is everything, one should be able to anticipate a pleasant layout and faultless spelling. The one word, 'cemetery', appears misspelled no less than three times. A cavil, but enough to disturb any poetic trance.
Still, I would recommend the collection. Faucher does write well. He has the ability often to couch his thoughts in fine poetic form. And despite all of the faults in this work, it is still a good start to a promising publishing career.
c. 1980 Rita Rosenfeld
published in Origins, June 1980
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