An incredible collection. I came to Pritchard via his second collection, EECCHHOOEESS, a slim but phenomenal (and highly addicting—I’ve now read it 5 times through in the less than two months I’ve owned a copy of it!) book containing some of the most radical and elaborate typographical experimentation I’ve seen in ages, which greatly excited me. But it wasn’t just the visual spectacle of his poems that struck me; rather, the quality of the words themselves mesmerized me. The work frequently begs to be read aloud and absolutely deserves to be, and so I did. Often. And I loved it.
Fast forward to the end of March and I’ve got his earlier, lengthier first collection, The Matrix, in my hands. I’m staring at the cover, holding my breath, hoping his earlier work measures up to my beloved EECCHHOOEESS but also fully expecting it not to be. I made my peace with that possibility, was fully prepared to enjoy it on its own, possibly lesser, terms.
I opened the book slowly, started reading. I smiled. I was relieved. My worry was unfounded and entirely unnecessary. Indeed, I found The Matrix to be every bit as incredible as it’s follow-up, maybe even more so due to the wide variety of styles it encompasses. Extreme typography/layout workouts bump up against conventional structure, irregular and regular syntax coexist and frequently collide and elegantly mingle. It’s extremely invigorating to read this stuff. There is an exuberant energy throughout. Pritchard just makes me smile. Even when he’s somber, the work is so gorgeous when recited that I can’t help but find myself grinning by the end of a poem.
Highlights for me were the three epics, “N OCTURN E,” “AURORA” and “L’OEIL,” and among the shorter works “ASWELAY,” “DESIGN,” “THE OWN,” “THE HARKENING,” “EPILOGUE,” and “THE NARROW PATH” were also particularly stunning.
I can’t recommend this book, this poet, highly enough. N.H. Pritchard deserves a much wider readership and you owe it to yourself to pick up these gorgeous (and affordable) reprints from DABA Press and Primary Information/Ugly Duckling Press while you can.
In summation: if you enjoy poetry and you’re sleeping on Pritchard, you’re fucking up. Five stars. Get it in your life.