The Martyrology Book 5

The Martyrology #5

by bpNichol

'All of Nichol's work is stamped by his desire to create texts that are engaging in themselves as well as in context, and to use indirect structural and textual devices to carry meaning. In The Martyrology different ways of speaking testify to a journey through different ways of being. Language is both the poet’s instructor and, through its various permutations, the dominant 'image' of the poem. The [nine] books of The Martyrology document a poet’s quest for insight into himself and his writing through scrupulous attention to the messages hidden in the morphology of his own speech.’ � Frank Davey

Genres: Poetry

176 pages, Paperback

First published January 18, 1994

About the author

Barrie Phillip Nichol, known as bpNichol, was a Canadian poet, writer, sound poet, editor and grOnk/Ganglia Press publisher. His body of work encompasses poetry, children's books, television scripts, novels, short fiction, computer texts, and sound poetry. His love of language and writing, evident in his many accomplishments, continues to be carried forward by many.

Reviews

[Amanda · Rating 4 out of 5]

this was probably the most interesting & challenging volume of the Martyrology so far. there was a lot of variety in style. some of the word divisions were difficult to read & had to be gone over with care, which i guess was the point. onward...

[b · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was talking with a good friend recently about the long poem, and they chuckled when I pulled the usual suspects out of my bag to show them what I'm reading. We remarked on the cover style of each book in the martyrology, and then she said "I think I like bpNichol most when he's being his least bpNichol," which made me cackle, and is something I might agree with based on what I've encountered in school, in various older Canadian anthologies, and in my pursuit of the martyrology. Nichol's martyrology is very insular, very internal, very personal, like a diary with elevated language, without the strictest "point" that poetry is supposed to make. That said, I think it's freer, less Nichol than the usual Nichol project. I'm not sure if this claim can be sustained, but these books, in being so personal and without efforts to be 'poetry,' thrive, all affectation abandoned, play and experiment because the brain has gone there in the unfurling memory act. That said, the book is so open for readers too! A choose your own poem, chains of thought, that at first I could not comprehend, and didn't respond to. I've been working at this book for a few months. But once it clicked, I was in, and I followed the chains at whatever leisure I wanted to, read in chiropractor's offices waiting for my appointments, read before bed, read out loud to my dog as I cooked my supper with one hand and the book in the other. There's so many spooky coincidences in my life that reflect in Nichol's. I am not 'getting' every moment of the book. I am not in total love with some of his tactics and experiments. But every time I close this book I get the distinct feeling it cannot be closed, whether or not the spine is relaxed (back pains in my life, and Nichol's life, no pun intended here, but worth noting my language went there, maybe just my anxieties or maybe I was guided). I ended the book in the middle, with "music," and that's such a haunting and bizarre chapter to finish this on. It does not have a feeling of closure, and the language in this chapter is so discombobulated word to word so Nichol can isolate t's and give us beautiful little tail ends I'd never seen on the page that way (and attributing it in-text to— maybe BLAMING—Williams for the inspiration). This was the hardest one to meet. I think it might be, on average, unreadable. But the least structured components still have feeling, still carry sentiment and surprise, and the tone and intimacy of the Martyrology is deepened and augmented by book 5, whether or not it asks more of the reader than an average book. The 'experiment' if we call it that is by no means mean-spirited. The book does not benefit from strict expectations of 'poetry' (and the distinction in genres is unfruitful anyhow, as Nichol has demonstrated plenty of times). I am really glad I didn't give up on this book. I didn't realize until I finished that I'd earmarked nearly every other page in the collection for moments that surprised me, and I'd like to look at later, and so the book truly is now, impossible to close flush, a lump accordion, cannot shut flush without force, and it's still broiling in me, honking like an accordion whenever I do flip between pages.

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am id St noise / the voices / ignorance / such lack of knowing / starts there / ... / we meet again in the great noise / among the languages / the breathing / end of one dream / beginning of another