Saturday, May 21, 2016

Kristofer Folkhammar read her collected poems and stick to the very … – Aftonbladet

There is one unmistakable tone through the poems, plays and prose books like Bodil Malmsten (1944-2016) managed to compose until his death earlier this year. I thought I even suspect that the tone of her actual voice when she appeared on television and radio. That little sarcastic. But that had nothing grief and of itself. Something illusions and crass, yet carry the slightly warm.

To me she was often like a full privacy loner who still, in his books, invited to recognition. Much of Malmsten’s writing touches an ambivalent longing for belonging and perhaps even the so-called normality. In Malmsten play with clichés – feel they have applied love or advertising slogans or solidified expression – reading at least I was a frustration at not recognize themselves in the message that the world throws against one. Or more specifically, all too often: What the Swedish society with Åsa-Nisse, Åhléns and Explorer vodka, announces an about.

I believe that many different kinds of people felt seen in Malmstens poetic quest for a place in life.

In the thick, stylish compilation now being given out fit her eight books of poetry. From the Collection The dwarf Gustaf (1977) to last year’s acclaimed This is the heart (2015). The volume also includes four detached occasion poems.

In principle all poems look the same: nearly 500 pages of elongated, vertical texts with short lines. Many of titles. Significator is, as mentioned, a stubborn kneading the above expression, rows of children’s songs and other buzzwords. As noted in the Nefertiti in Berlin (1990), that turistbroschyrens word that it will visitors “from all over the world” to see Nefertiti, is wrong, then it is actually all about people “from the fractured the world “. And suddenly be expelled idyll: “Do you see the star in the blue /’ve all seen the // Blast” states alone on a page in the Grace & amp; Disgrace (1989).

This kneading, that in different ways turning the conciliatory and pleasant from the hands of itself, finding support in a narrative, narrative features and an almost Lennart Hellsingsk trallig ramsighet.

I have to admit I have been quite difficult for Malmsten’s early poetry books. Although I lured by the basic ideas in her projects. After initially, in the first book’s first poem, raked the ring with some powerful lines, which she really powerful prepare a place for his continued poetry ( “Since I cried ready / and hated away / since I shut myself / and ripped my fence / ago I have forgiven my sins / and decided to take me / I am / (…) / I start from the beginning “), I read with a rather large and rather unproductive confusion.

It is as if the lyrics virrar off between being a kind of contemporary narrative stories in verse form and pure improvisation where rhythm, rhyme and aural similarity is the fundamental principle. The shoulders are often exciting, but it is as if language games are content with their most immediate good points, and then pulling away or completely silenced.

Here are all too often a slentrianmässighet above the critical appropriation, which makes the poems shiny.

There are treasures, absolute. Often it is then if something “Svensktoppen Easy”, to use one of Malmsten’s own words. As occasion the poem “A puff of Aunt Lillie”. An irresistibly bright bittersweet trifle when someone dies, “She passed away in stockings with seams / & amp; immortal rock’n’rolldrömmar / She went away to nowhere – / Somewhere in there was. “

Perhaps the poet Malmsten big thing death, it strikes me. For on page 413 in this volume happens namely something remarkable: Her last collection This is the heart begins .

This is the heart is a resounding solfège, merciless and immediate battlehit if dirty grief. There is an obvious direction that gives the malmstenska klichéknådandet quite affectionate, easy weight among mourning coaches, silent telephones and false mitigating expressions like “passed away”.

It is the same poet. But still something completely new. Quite undoubtedly ended poet Bodil Malmsten on top.


No comments:

Post a Comment