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View from an Escalator
Liesl Jobson was born in Durban, South Africa. Her poetry and prose has been published in journals and anthologies in South Africa and abroad. She won the People Opposing Women Abuse women's writing poetry competition in 2005. She as also awarded a community publishing project great from the Centre for the Book under the auspices of the National Library of South Africa in 2007. This is her debut collection which won the Ernst van Heerden creative writing award for 2006 from the University of the Witwatersrand. She is a freelance writer, photographer ad bassoonist.
58 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
June 16, 2009
Hardcore Autobiography
Reviewing Rivers, Runners and Relationships with Liesl Jobson
Dear Liesl,
As I sat waiting for you in the lobby, Queen Gabeba sailed down the stairs to bless our meeting with kind words and a smile. Such chance encounters with royalty are grist for the mill of poets and namedroppers alike. Evidently, I am a bit of both. What I did not know was that I was about to spend two hours with the somewhat reluctant High Commissioner of South African Poetry – a title I have awarded to you, without your consent, on account of your truly impressive curriculum vitae, View from an Escalator, which you inscribed for me as the River Maas gently fed our thoughts in Rotterdam.
Your collection of poems reads like a hardcore autobiography, lyrically documenting peaks and deep dales with vivid and accessible imagery borrowed from everyday life. Like Megan Hall, you are extremely skilled at transforming mega-chunks of trauma into highly palatable, bite-sized snacks, dusted with wit. That may sound a little disparaging, but I find this ability to distil the essence from highly complex experiences and emotions to be the mark of true greatness. This is exemplified by the first verse of ...What I Should Have Worn at my Wedding:
Potato skins, not peach skin satin,
pills, not pearls for buttons at my wrists,
onions in my bouquet for coming tears.
What it boils down to, I think, is the ability to make it look easy, effortless, bringing things back to everyday proportions, without trivialising them. This brings to mind a contortionist performing for a group of children who keep shouting “I can do that!” until they try it for themselves. There, I tried, and failed miserably. Here’s an excerpt from Steinway Summer to demonstrate how it should be done:
Mozart nodded in the sun.
Bach unfurled each tender leaf.
Grandfather sprayed soapy water
to keep the Chopstix away
This winter he awoke
in a quiet flat with a tiny balcony,
big enough for a potted Clavinova
sprouting only headphones.
I could go on and on, but we both know online attention spans are much like the runners we saw galloping over the Erasmus Bridge, their flushed faces and shortness of breath testimony to the limits of their endurance. Those who have read this far will hopefully have the presence of mind and fitness of body to go out and buy your book.
Reviewing Rivers, Runners and Relationships with Liesl Jobson
Dear Liesl,
As I sat waiting for you in the lobby, Queen Gabeba sailed down the stairs to bless our meeting with kind words and a smile. Such chance encounters with royalty are grist for the mill of poets and namedroppers alike. Evidently, I am a bit of both. What I did not know was that I was about to spend two hours with the somewhat reluctant High Commissioner of South African Poetry – a title I have awarded to you, without your consent, on account of your truly impressive curriculum vitae, View from an Escalator, which you inscribed for me as the River Maas gently fed our thoughts in Rotterdam.
Your collection of poems reads like a hardcore autobiography, lyrically documenting peaks and deep dales with vivid and accessible imagery borrowed from everyday life. Like Megan Hall, you are extremely skilled at transforming mega-chunks of trauma into highly palatable, bite-sized snacks, dusted with wit. That may sound a little disparaging, but I find this ability to distil the essence from highly complex experiences and emotions to be the mark of true greatness. This is exemplified by the first verse of ...What I Should Have Worn at my Wedding:
Potato skins, not peach skin satin,
pills, not pearls for buttons at my wrists,
onions in my bouquet for coming tears.
What it boils down to, I think, is the ability to make it look easy, effortless, bringing things back to everyday proportions, without trivialising them. This brings to mind a contortionist performing for a group of children who keep shouting “I can do that!” until they try it for themselves. There, I tried, and failed miserably. Here’s an excerpt from Steinway Summer to demonstrate how it should be done:
Mozart nodded in the sun.
Bach unfurled each tender leaf.
Grandfather sprayed soapy water
to keep the Chopstix away
This winter he awoke
in a quiet flat with a tiny balcony,
big enough for a potted Clavinova
sprouting only headphones.
I could go on and on, but we both know online attention spans are much like the runners we saw galloping over the Erasmus Bridge, their flushed faces and shortness of breath testimony to the limits of their endurance. Those who have read this far will hopefully have the presence of mind and fitness of body to go out and buy your book.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews