Poetry Thomas Kinsella

POETRY THOMAS KINSELLA Ⓒ Cian Hogan English Notes 2011 Thomas Kinsella ranks among the most distinguished of modern Irish poets. While he may not be as well known outside literary circles as some of his contemporaries, his work over the past 50 years has enriched the poetic landscape. Born in Dublin in 1928, he attended University College Dublin and entered the Irish civil service but quickly abandoned his job in the Department of Finance in order to pursue a career as a poet. Although he has lived on and off in the United States for over 50 years, “ his work is for the most part rooted in the people and places of his native Dublin. Yet despite the essentially local nature of his poetry, Kinsella is now perceived as being at the vanguard of modern literature. The poems on the course by Thomas Kinsella are entirely representative of his work as a whole in that they combine intense explorations of self with social commentary and satire. His poetry dramatises these explorations through the use of myth, historical narrative and elegy. Many of the poems by Kinsella contained in this anthology examine the origins of the creative process. Although Kinsella can be perplexing at times, close attention to his poetry compensates the reader for any difficulty encountered. The poems on the course by Kinsella illuminate the depth of the poet’s insight and the scope of his artistic vision. In the words of the poet himself, they ask us to share in his search for meaning and to follow him ‘back to the dark | and the depth that I came from’. © Cian Hogan - 2 - Mirror in February The day dawns with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air. Under the fading lamp, half dressed – my brain Idling on some compulsive fantasy – I towel my shaven jaw and stop, and stare, 5 Riveted by a dark exhausted eye, A dry downturning mouth. ✶ It seems again that it is time to learn, In this untiring, crumbling place of growth To which, for the time being, I return. 10 Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more; for they are not made whole That reach the age of Christ. ✶ Below my window the awakening trees, 15 Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities, And how should the flesh not quail that span for span Is mutilated more? In slow distaste I fold my towel with what grace can, 20 Not young and not renewable, but man. glossary 1 must – the condition of being musty or 16 Hacked clean for better bearing – it is mouldy. The word adds to the overall important to understand this paradox. In order atmosphere of staleness that dominates the for the trees to bear fruit, they must be pruned, first stanza. or hacked. 4 compulsive – exerting a powerful or 18 17 brute – cruel or savage. unstoppable attraction. 18 quail – to tremble with fear. 14 the age of Christ – Christ is thought to 20 grace – dignity. have been 33 years old when he died. © Cian Hogan - 3 - 1. Content This short poem, which was included for study on the former Leaving Certificate English syllabus, is familiar to generations of Irish schoolgoers. The poem, which first appeared in the 1963 collection Downstream, is in many ways typical of Kinsella’s poetry in general. ‘Mirror in February’ opens with a highly memorable, if depressing, depiction of the dank and dreary February weather: The day dawns with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air. The speaker has just woken and his mind, not yet fully alert, is ‘Idling on some compulsive fantasy’. The scene is an entirely familiar one. However, as he towels his ‘shaven jaw and stop[s], and stare[s]’, the poet experiences a moment of epiphany that rivets him to the spot. The source of this startling moment of revelation is his appearance. His ‘dark exhausted eye’ and ‘dry downturning mouth’ force upon him an acknowledgement of his own mortality. This in turn leads to the admission at the beginning of the second stanza that it is ‘again [...] time to learn’. Many readers find the next line, where Kinsella speaks of this ‘untiring, crumbling place of growth’, difficult to decipher. In order to understand this line, it is necessary to appreciate the full context of the poem. The awareness that Kinsella experiences is informed and directed as much by the natural world as by his own thoughts. Outside it is February and the natural world is slowly beginning to wake and renew itself. This fact is uppermost in Kinsella’s mind when he looks into the mirror. The ‘opened soil’ and ‘dark trees’ of the previous stanza are reminders of the natural cycle at work. In contrast to the renewal taking place outside his window, the poet confronts the uncomfortable reality that he is ageing. Looking ‘plainly in the mirror of [his] soul’, he understands that he has looked his last ‘on youth’. However, in the final lines of the second stanza, he acknowledges that despite having reached ‘the age of Christ’, or 33, he has not yet completed his life’s work. According to the Bible, Christ died having fulfilled the covenant between man and God, but the poet accepts that he has not yet been ‘made whole’. In the final stanza, the link between the poet’s altered perception of his physical state and the natural cycle is made explicit: Below my window the awakening trees, Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities, © Cian Hogan - 4 - In order for the trees to bear more fruit, they need to be pruned, or ‘Hacked clean’. Such suffering is a necessary price to pay for the trees’ growth. The parallels between this and human existence are obvious. In order for human beings to experience growth, suffering is not only inevitable, but perhaps necessary: And how should the flesh not quail that span for span Is mutilated more? [...] In slow distaste at the realisation of this fact, the speaker folds his towel. It is of course significant that he does not throw in the towel, choosing instead to put it aside with ‘what grace [he] can’. The final couplet of the poem is both an acknowledgement of the fragility of the human condition and a triumphant testimony to the power of the human spirit to endure: I fold my towel with what grace I can, Not young and not renewable, but man. 2. stylistic features This deeply thought-provoking poem opens in a manner that recalls a moment from Irish literature. In the famous opening sequence of James Joyce’s novel Ulysses, Stephen Dedalus stares into the mirror as he shaves. Here in this poem, the bedroom, which is normally associated with rest and comfort, becomes the location for an extraordinary event. In the course of this poem, the speaker experiences an unsettling epiphany that alters his understanding of his place in the world. The mirror into which the poet stares – ‘the mirror of [his] soul’ – is an appropriate metaphor for the exploration of self that he undertakes. In many of Kinsella’s poems, a male figure is forced to reassess his self-image while staring at the actual image. Kinsella is a fluent Irish speaker and the critic Brian John has asserted that it ‘is hardly coincidental, that the Irish for mirror (scáthán) and for shadow (scáth) are commonly derived’. In other words, in this poem the poet examines his reflection and is confronted by a shadow image of himself. Mirrors reflect and this mirror provokes a moment of intense reflection. Looking in the mirror, he not only sees his ‘dark exhausted eye, | A dry downturning mouth’, but his own soul: Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more; for they are not made whole That reach the age of Christ. © Cian Hogan - 5 - In other respects, this poem is typical of Kinsella’s poetry in general. Many of Kinsella’s poems take place at dawn, centre on the importance of self-awareness and self-revelation and examine man’s place in terms of the broader natural cycle. Another interesting aspect of the poem is that for the greater part of ‘Mirror in February’, Kinsella employs rhyme in such a way as to reinforce the mirror metaphor. The uneven rhyme in the final lines of the first two stanzas is resolved in the final two lines of the third stanza, where ‘can’ rhymes with ‘man’. ‘Mirror in February’ opens in a dramatic way that manages to capture both the physical reality of his surroundings (the ‘dry bedroom air’) and his mood. Dawn is often associated with hope, yet any sense of hope in this poem is obscured by the dark and gloomy atmosphere. St Brigid’s Day, the first of February, has traditionally marked the beginning of spring in Ireland, but any sense of renewal that one would normally associate with spring is lessened by the sense of existential malaise that dominates the poem. Outside his bedroom, there are reminders both of growth and the inevitability of decay. While the ‘opened soil’ may hint at the process of planting and renewal, it may also point to the ineluctability of death or the certainty of the grave. Furthermore, the long vowels coupled with the repetition of the consonant d sounds create a heavy, plodding and oppressive effect. Yet despite all this, the predominant mood in the opening stanza remains one of startled awareness.

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