Travelling Light
by Mary Soutar-Hynes
Hamilton, Seraphim Editions, 2006, ISBN 0-9734588-8-7, 87 pp., $16.95 paper.

Mary Lou Soutar-Hynes emigrated from Jamaica to Canada in 1969. A former nun, she now classifies herself as a poet/educator, and has published one previous collection, the fires of naming (Seraphim, 2001).

Preceding the four sections dividing the poems of Travelling Light is one solitary poem. Titled "writing a life," the last stanza could be read as an aphorism for Soutar-Hynes' life: "scaffolding life/ no hay camino no road / caminante -- se hace one creates it / al andar as one walks" (9). This is a beautiful poem (though the inclusion of Spanish terms, given that the official language of Jamaica is English, seems odd).

The opening poem, "on atmosphere and sentences," of the first section, titled "the poetry of hands," has the potential to be an excellent poem, but it is confused. Here is the first stanza:

a capital offence     from the start     writing
a sentence     pen-to-paper     fingers-to-keys
only a full stop     to close it down     period
e x i t point of bleed          the
                                                  length of an arc
                         along the horizon a
               broken      overcast sky (13)

The first thing the reader notices is the lack of capitalization, then the spacing and the lack of punctuation--all things indicative of a kinetic poem. But the flow of the words is more typical of a lyrical poem. Words and phrases are fragmented, but for no discernible reason. This leads to confusion. How is the reader to interpret "writing / a sentence"? Is this an enjambment? If not, is it intended to be two sentence fragments? This problem could have easily been solved if the left-hand margin had not been so religiously adhered to. When it isn't, as when "length of an arc" appears, we ask why? It is as if Soutar-Hynes wanted to liberate her lines but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. The last line of this poem exemplifies this problem when she writes "can't trust a    word." Had the article been left with the first part, so that the line read "can't trust a word," the meaning of the line would have held more ambiguity.

Soutar-Hynes is capable of very effective kinetic poetry. Examples abound. "panel 1" of "measure of wings: a triptych" employs the confessional in a powerful kinetic poem:

released      from the constraints
of convents
she negotiates the abyss
between microns      and light-years
following      a new
obedience (17)

Note the playfulness here. The gap following "released" is brilliant. The use of the word "abyss" is another powerful stroke, carrying with it not only the idea of gap but the echo of "abbess." In "the topography of weather," she writes "haze broods over / the river shrouds / the far shore's greying edge" (22). Here she has finally allowed herself to escape the gravity of the left edge, engaging in freefall. Because of this, the use of the three-line stanza form which, at least in part i, employs a complete clause as its third line, becomes musically quite effective. One of the strongest poems in the collection, "mother-tongue / in parentheses" extends her repertoire by creating, in each part, one voice which extols the virtues of a tropical paradise in travel brochure language while, sandwiched between, is homage to language:

you speak in coral-white nights of floodlit
beach where stately palms in stark silhouette

raise chaliced leaves keening to the wind
murmur your mother tongue mourn your

loss (41)

The enjambment between the second and third stanzas beautifully captures the sense of regret. Note the use in all of these examples of words that carry religious overtones--shrouds, chaliced, etc.

Still, in some instances a more careful editing could have produced a stronger poem. The first stanza of "starting with Unless by Carol Shields: a found poem" is a case in point: "the middle of a rambling paragraph     reveals hard cartilage / the rounded snout of crocus     on cold lawn." (47) Both lines would have been stronger without the word "the."

There are some exceptional moments in this collection. Soutar-Hynes creates strong images, with a potential for being much stronger. We await her third book to see how her writing develops.

John Herbert Cunningham is a Winnipeg writer. He reviews poetry in Canada for Malahat Review, Arc, Antigonish Review, Fiddlehead and The Danforth Review, in the U.S. for Quarterly Conversations, Rain Taxi, Rattle, Big Bridge and Galatea Revisits, and in Australia for Jacket.

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