Sightlines

I was initially attracted to this book by the cover. Not having read any poetry for a good while, I wondered if I could! I have really loved this book from the poem about Ayorama, the amazing descriptions of Venice, the poetry about the various neighbours trees and more and more! For myself, this is a book I will read over and over again, for comfort, for interest and to expand my own sightlines. It's also a book I will be sharing with others.
Thank you to the Poet, Guernica Editions and Netgalley for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.

Sightlines by Henry Beissel is his seventeenth collection of poetry. Beissel had a long teaching career in English literature, and later in creative writing, which started as a teaching fellow at the University of Toronto. He taught at the University of Munich (1960–62)), the University of Alberta (1962–64) and Concordia University (Montreal) (1966–96), from which he retired as distinguished emeritus professor of English.

2016 has been an outstanding year in poetry and Sightlines earns itself a spot among the best of the year. The poems start with the poet's old home in the woods and fills the reader’s mind with imagery of nature. There is an easy connection with the poet's words and experience in nature. It is a poetic Walden. The reader is simply left in awe of the descriptions and experience. Sightlines is more than the trees and nature too:

For more than three decades Orion visited our sleep with his star-spangled sword, Jupiter and Mars wander up and down the shingled roof while Sun and Moon painted fleeting patterns across the pond.

Poems that focus on nature also include our intrusion on the land:

Profit is the world’s executioner. Cats and dozers erase forests, steel traps eliminate wolf and beaver, rifles exterminate bear and moose. We poison and plunder all habitats as if we owned them…

The poems change geographically but maintain the same descriptive force. Venice, Mexico and space are covered as well as a few passing references to dinosaurs. Beissel has grandchildren he writes for in this collection and there is no noticeable difference in the poetry’s composition, just the subject. Retirement has allowed Beissel to recall and share some fond memories of his life. The collection is open verse and welcoming to readers of either poetry or prose. This is a collection that any reader can fall into and enjoy the comfort of well-written poetry.

Mea culpa: Canadian poet Henry Beissel has been publishing collections for over half a century but I’d never heard of him until requesting his latest book at random from NetGalley. My gain: these are terrific poems, most of them infused with lush nature imagery contrasting with manmade realities. My only complaint might be that there is just too much good stuff here – the material could easily fill two or three shorter books that might therefore be more digestible.

Favorite lines:

[I’m not entirely sure of the proper form because that’s generally lost in a Kindle download.]

“Rainstorms and blizzards gnawed away the shingled roofs, leaving the rafters a ribcage of the beast that devoured them. Carcasses of farms that struggled with drought, debt and depression in vain. Now skunks and squirrels nest in the mouldering silences between jumbled tin and timber. Graveyard of pioneer dreams and aspirations.”

“Sphagnum moss grew soft layer by soft layer and packed down peat barely a millimetre a year for a domed bog fragrant with rosemary, laurel and Labrador tea. / Delicately, dawn’s fingers lift blue veils above the bulrushes and ignite their spiked candles. Swaying on a reed, a redwinged blackbird calls from the heart of stillness to proclaim his mating rights across the bustling realm. / The dappled pads of miniature lilies undulate gently in the clear, umber waters.”