This unassuming, slightly chunky book delivers far more than its undemonstrative cover design might intimate. It is essentially a sampler of what Broken Sleep Books got around to doing in 2020, and some 24 poets are presented along with five examples of prose or nonfiction. It strikes me as pretty remarkable actually, the novelty and standard of writers represented. The publisher is using on demand printing. There is a mantra, ‘Lay out your unrest’, a good one to ponder over. But there is no mission statement nor any commentary on the writers appearing here. They are arranged chronologically according to date of publication and each writer gets approximately about 8 pages, give or take.
So perhaps first off, the grade of contributor quality is satisfyingly met if not exceeded. This, naturally, is a long way from a Faber or a Picador. The press I’m most reminded of is Knives Forks and Spoons. And by that, that Broken Sleep are largely dealing with newcomers and fringe activity. They haven’t quite yet settled with any ‘house’ authors whom they might wish to centre on or prioritise. Also, Aaron Kent is an able publisher but I wonder if he has other interests; he has a great way of identifying talent, but is that centred on literature or perhaps on other media. I think some of us are wondering about YouTube, just to cite one prominent hub of activity.
The book leaves the reader with a dilemma. Surely, all these tantalising excerpts are most entertaining and thought provoking to encounter, but which of these 28 assembled authors would one want to know more about. Being newcomers, few names are readily identifiable.
And this appetite for novelty attends both to form and content. Some contributors are formally highly adventurous. And the range of subject matter is wide including an amount of risqué material, even in our age of unshockable indifference.
I’d perhaps venture that Kent is not getting behind a particular style of writing as such but rather more a sort of sensibility, a state of attitude or mind, that is slightly offkey, an amount of radical departure from what would ordinarily be expected. Looking with a new perspective is some hint, although the waters can become a little uncertain.
The layout prescribes that no one or more authors is highlighted or given unusual prominence. Two I particularly liked were Jonny Wiles, quite radical formally, and Alex Mazey, who is promulgating a Baudrillardian vision of consumerist society. The book both begins and ends well. The conclusion, a most unexpected short discourse on the rhinoceros in classical literature by Luke Thompson is quite fascinating. The opening by Emilee Moyce is actually reasonably indicative of what to expect. Her opening poem ‘Over the Moon’ concludes;-
I felt that I was floating,
my eyes no longer burned, and I slept
until the sun came and went away again,
waking only when the moon called my name. (p12)
which in its mode of narrating is suitably moonstruck and, I think, quite original.
There are numerous edifying passages like this scattered through the anthology. I am reminded again that its design is highly understated, with few real hints of what to expect, although the plug from Andrew McMillan isn’t far off in speaking of an ‘exciting, and vital press in the dreamscape of UK publishing’. A valuable find, then, and I certainly hope that Aaron Kent, our editor, finds his way in the creative sphere, and there might be some anticipation as to where he heads next.
Clark Allison 5th June 2021
Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.