Tears in the Fence

This is Ed Tapper’s second collection from Cutty Dyer Press and follows on in its exploration of the local environment as well as forays into wider regions. Tapper is a master of wordplay and many of the poems in this substantial volume are generated by observation related to language. He is as entertaining on the page as he is on the stage and he manages to combine the right mix of ‘madness and accessibility’ in his work which is often fuelled by an ongoing flow of wit and linguistic comedy. He also has a serious interest in the visual arts, an aspect which is represented in some of the poems here, as well as a melancholy streak which provides a useful counterpoint to what might otherwise be an ‘excess’ of controlled craziness. There’s a pattern developing in the cover art, titles and typography which is both visual and to do with objects, it would seem, where ambiguity and ‘coming at things from a tangent’ seem to be key concepts.

     In ‘Summer Reverie (for Spencer Shute)’ Tapper amalgamates his recurring wordplay into a sort of pastiche which references earlier styles while managing to feel very contemporary. Here are the opening stanzas:

          Had an awake dream

          A kind of blokey Blakey reverie

          Of Albion and stuff

          Like Spenser and Donne and

          Like what Spencer done 

          Anyway

          I was barking at jackdaws

          That lined the field

          In solemn troops saying

          ‘We did visit all your battles

          On this green earth finding

          Your flesh at intervals regular

          Most yielding to our beaks’

                  Then cackle and fly off always

     A lot of Tapper’s poetry relates to Plymouth and its surroundings, which are spectacularly visual, and to the local characters inhabiting the scene though there is also plenty of material focussed on travel to other countries. His work certainly has a lot of ‘out and aboutness’ to it which provides an interesting contrast to the linguistic inventiveness of his formal devices. These are poems which can breathe and expand as well as entertain.

     A good example of Ed Tapper’s art poems is ‘The Sea at L’Estaque by Paul Cezanne 1878 ‘where we have an excellent description of a painting by a painter/poet of a favourite painter. For a fan of Cezanne’s work, as I am, this is a masterful engagement which really attempts to get to grips with what it is about the painter’s work that made it so special and so important. ‘We are not allowed into the village / We are not allowed to suspend out disbelief / And enter the illusion of the picture plane.’ Tapper’s commentary here relates to the ‘monumental’ nature of Cezanne’s picture building where perspective is overturned and where the flat surface of the canvas is seen as such and is determined by brushstroke and architectural design which is much more than simple decoration or graphic depiction. It’s hard to discuss visual art, especially painting which combines a degree of representation with a more ‘abstract’ feel, involved in the process, via language, yet we have no other recourse if we are to comment at all and Tapper’s words here are exceptionally perceptive: 

‘There is no attempt to deceive the eye / No atmospheric perspective / Or tonal recession / No heavenly play of light on water / Or dramatic sunset / There is no drama here / Just bare facts.’ The final part of the poem which deals with the broken friendship between Cezanne and the novelist Emile Zola after the latter effectively accused the painter of egoism could have been sentimental and too conclusive but this is beautifully avoided with the succinct yet perfect lines: ‘Cezanne never spoke to him again / But he still speaks to me’. Wonderful.

     There’s a sort of theatrical improvisation to Tapper’s poetry, particularly those poems fuelled by an energetic wordplay, which belies the factor of construction, as these poems all feel well thought through to the point of delivery, despite an apparent ‘looseness.’ This may have something to do with his previous experience as a theatrical set-designer but also, I suspect, it’s because of a relatively late entry into the world of poetry.

     ‘The Salt Lake of Tuz Gul’ which suggests a holiday in Turkey also echoes with rhythms which resonate with both Edward Lear and Coleridge (his ‘Mariner’) and has a sort of mini-epic feel to it. Tapper is good at suggesting links between the visual arts and literature and his ‘mock Shakespeare’ poem ‘The House of William Shakespeare’ is another playful example of this which signs off with the wonderfully comic ‘Yours sincerely / Ed Tapper / A knave and a fool.’

     In the opening poem ‘Sing Birdman’ – a reference I think to a local Plymouth character who inhabits the centre of the city, we have the following:

          In the Brechtian disco

          It’s suddenly all gone a bit Kubrickian

          Forget all about Bertolt Brecht.

          The dark is lit with a hundred little black monoliths

          The Brecht Sect Zarathustra

          In a Tik Tok idiolect thus sprecht

          ‘Here comes The Birdman’

          Entrance stage right

          Well deux ex machina Birdman

          Go on sing in their delight

          Get selfie with The Birdman

          Hold my pen while I take flight

          Now I’m The Birdman

          I’ll be The Birdman

          I’m flying over the rooftops

          In the black space convolute

          I’ve completely disappeared 

          Into the mirrorball night.

Here we have cinematic echoes, both comic (Mary Poppins, perhaps) and epic (Kubrick) which also imply a dazzling entertainment (mirrorball).

     There’s a lot more I could say about this impressive second collection which is bursting with a variety of themes and approaches but I’m going to suggest that the reader explore further in his or her own time. I’ve given a hint of the range of material here and it will be interesting to see where Tapper goes next in his explorations of sound, geography and art.

Steve Spence 4^th December 2024