4 out of 4 stars
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Bill Christophersen is an American poet, academic, and musician. Tableau with Crash Helmet is his third collection of poetry. The book has two separate sections, with the second section containing several short prose pieces in addition to the poems. The poems come in different forms. Readers who like their poetry to be formal and structured will enjoy the four haiku pieces included in this collection. There are also poems crafted with rhyme and half-rhyme patterns. On the other hand, those who prefer the unfettered lines of free verse will find just as much to their taste in this book.
The influence of Christophersen’s native New York City runs through these pages like a watermark. In some of the poems, such as ‘New York Minute’ and ‘Absolute Bagel’, the connection is explicit, but the whole collection is shot through with the city’s ambiance. The writer’s interest in Buddhism is also apparent. It can be seen in the prose meditations, and in ‘Zen Redbud Haiku’, in which a riddle is used to illustrate the limits of the power of reason. Christophersen’s academic background provides further inspiration for his poetry, as he makes reference to several major literary figures. Lorca, Emily Dickinson, Shelley, Kerouac, and Allen Ginsberg are all name-checked. No mention of any metaphysical poets in that list, yet when he describes the hue of a leaf in ‘The Reds of Spring’ as being like ‘the sunburst finish on a vintage Stratocaster’, Christophersen shows a willingness to link disparate images, a characteristic which recalls the poetry of John Donne, George Herbert, and others of that period.
Many of these poems are rooted in mundane, shared experiences. Accounts of escalator rides in the subway, reflections in an overgrown community garden, a woman retrieving a ball for a tethered dog; these are all things to which the average reader can relate, thus making the poems more accessible. The poet’s essential likeability is also used to draw the reader closer. We smile at his need to ensure that there is no confusion about the subject matter of ‘The Orange Door’, when he tells us in the very first line: ‘Not the porn flick. Emphatically not the porn flick…’ We empathize when he experiences a bout of existential angst in ‘Compound Eye’, which is triggered by the battle with a swarm of flies in his apartment. He dispatches the intruders effectively and enthusiastically by shooting them with elastic bands. He enjoys the experience, but then finds himself questioning ‘who I was and what I was made of.’
Accessibility, however, does not make Christophersen’s work any less cerebral. The title of the ball-retrieving poem, for example, leads the reader to consider the biblical injunction to love thy neighbor in a new, more inclusive light. In ‘Community Garden’, the untended space becomes a metaphor for society in its diversity and quirkiness. This technique of exploring big issues through the lens of everyday events and everyday language is seen clearly in the poet’s examination of the philosophy of Descartes and Hume. ‘The Vortices of Descartes’ and ‘Cogito Ergo Sum?’ raise valid, philosophical questions, but the first brands Descartes as a ’self-proclaimed, intransigent lay-abed’, while the second summarises the thinking of Hume in very un-philosophical language: ‘You want the truth? The hell you do.'
There are a couple of very minor profanities in this collection and no sexually explicit content, so the book is suitable for almost anyone. It goes without saying that those with an interest in poetry are more likely to enjoy this slim volume. It has no grammatical or typographical errors that I was able to spot and there was nothing I disliked about this book at all. I even liked the cover! For those reasons, I am delighted to be able to award this book the maximum of four out of four stars.
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Tableau with Crash Helmet
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