JA Carter-Winward

Well, I was in the middle of Petrarch's lyrical poems listening to him go on and on about Laura. 366 poems about the love of his life that he never spoke a word too. The guy was completely obsessed. Today there would be a restraining order or he would be sharing a cell with John Hinckley sharing Laura and Jodie Foster stories. The guy was even jealous of the earth because when Laura died the earth would embrace her forever and he never could. That might be normal for a medieval poet but what about normal 21st-century poets? Then I picked up HST Quarterly.


HST is a quarterly poetry publication It stands for Horror, Sleaze, and Trash. So think of it for the very open minded, NC-17, cool kids market. I t does have shock value, but Ginsberg and Wilde shocked people too. This may be an opportunity to get in on future classic poetry. Things change. I mean Queen Elizabeth was at the 2012 Olympic opening ceremonies while "Pretty Vacant" was being played. For all we know, Liz and Johnny could have been high-fiving in the stands.

What to expect. If you are expecting Johnny Rotten, you will be as disappointed as someone expecting Carl Sandburg. But, if you want an original poetic experience and something to read in the shop and not have the guys laugh at you for reading poetry....this is it. The poetry is surprisingly good considering the expectations that the publication's title offers. I have read a lot of bad poetry and this is not it.

Most of the poetry is for an adult audience although nothing too graphic. Chelsea Howard would make Petrarch gasp and inspire Dante’s second circle, but they are old guys and out of touch. JJ Campbell writes of what could only be a married couple with a long, long marriage. Angelica Fuse writes "Editors Can Be Dicks," while the publication's editor contributes two poems. All the poems are good and definitely worth reading. Johnny Scarlotti, however, cranks it up to eleven, twice. "Blue Whale" takes dolphin encounters to a brand new level and explains why it's not the great white sharks that make it not safe to go back into the water. He follows up with "Toucan" a poem of seemingly new hope when seeing that there are others who are just a bad off as we are. There is that heartwarming feeling... and then there are the lines written on the side, as sort of a post script.


Overall, I did not read a poem I didn't like which is odd in an anthology. I keep mentioning this is adult writing, the cover will give that away, but not too adult. HST does for poetry what R Crumb did for comics.




This fine publication is available at: http://www.horrorsleazetrash.com/


I can't wait to get to the Winter issue.


… (plus d'informations)

I'm a big fan of J. A. Carter-Winward's poetry, but this was the first of her fiction that I've read and I'm pleased to report it didn't disappoint!

Whereas Carter-Winward's poetry books are dominated by scathing and naughtiness, with sentimental pieces taking more of a back seat, that balance has been reversed in this book. In these heart-warming and compassionate stories, there's a real understanding of what it is to be an everyday human with all of life's struggles, pitfalls, kindness and love. And as a Brit reader, this collection shows the American mindset very well too. Unlike many books of short stories, this hangs together as a collection really well; where the expertly written tales and well-drawn characters feel like they fit seamlessly into the same realistic world, and the themes of loss, hopes, tragedies and reconciliation blend together into one mightily satisfying whole.

I really liked how there's no grandiose nature to the tales and there's plenty of room for the reader to discover things by themselves. I also liked how the stories are told from different perspectives (first person/third person narratives), as it shows how well Carter-Winward can write from different viewpoints and voices. (I especially liked the couple of stories where two first person narratives are mixed up.)

Sure, some stories worked better than others (for me), but that's kind of to be expected in short story collections. Some of my favourites were actually from the bonus stories at the end, where the pieces are more experimental or personal, such as the hilarious parody 'WikiMe' which is a blend of truth and fiction of Carter-Winward trying to come up with a selling-herself-blurb for a Wikipedia page, with all of its honesty and bullshit exposed.

Other favourite stories were:

Cracks.
Going Nowhere.
Sustainable.
Filter.
The Last of These, Our Brother.
The Bus Stops Here.
#1 Leading Cause, and October 11th.
Demographics.

All in all, I very much enjoyed The Bus Stops Here and Other Stories. It's superbly written, engrossing, funny, sad and occasionally shocking. It'll make you think, laugh and empathise. What more do you want from a book?

So when the bus stops, make sure you climb on board.… (plus d'informations)

this review
has turned into
a much longer piece than i intended,
but who fucking cares,
right?
i write,
because i have to,
just like j.a,
who’s just saved
me
from getting too angry
and bored with modern poetry.

So, I want to start this review by saying a little about poetry’s form and style before I move on to content.

I’ve only been using the internet for about three years (for anything other than emails and the odd purchase), so it’s only been in the last few years that I’ve started reading independent contemporary poets through Goodreads and webzines, and I have found many great poets along the way. In fact, I probably very much enjoy eighty percent of the poetry I read – there are some very talented writers out there - so I hope I’m not misunderstood when I simultaneously state that I’ve become quickly bored with the unoriginality of much of it; and when I talk of unoriginality, I’m chiefly talking about the form and style of the poetry, not the actual content.

what i mean is
i don’t get
why every fucking poet i read
seems
to write like this,
with lowercase
and simple language.
it seems
to me
that every
modern poet
tries
to write
like bukowski
and since such things
as tumblr poetry
it seems
everyone wants to write
this way,
and I don’t know why.

There are many poets who write in this type of modern style – including some of my absolute favourites like Andy Carrington and Raegan Butcher, who I can’t recommend enough, but simultaneously, I’ve begun to generally get really bored of just reading the same style again and again and again.

Where are the poets pushing the boundaries of the written word? Did poetry die with Ginsberg?

Would The Beatles be the greatest band in the world if they’d stuck to just playing rock ‘n’ roll covers?

Whatever the art form may be, for me, if it’s to be truly great, it needs to have a dose of originality to it.

So, although J. A. Carter-Winward has been top of my list for greatest contemporary poets I’ve read for some time now (having read her previous two books in this trilogy, and other poems of hers as well), I put off reading ‘no regrets’ for a little while, because I had become somewhat disillusioned with reading this post-Bukowski style.

Then I finally picked up ‘no regrets’ to read, and I can’t have been more than ten pages in before I paused and thought, ‘Fuck man! This poetry is soooo damn good! It’s head and shoulders above all the rest!’ And it made me realise that form has nothing to do with it, it’s just about how well one uses their chosen form.

I’ve read a few poems by J. A. Carter-Winward that don’t conform to this modern style, where she has paid more attention to the sounds of words and even employed rhyme at times, so I know she can write stuff in various styles, but for the poems contained in these poetry books of hers, she has plumped for the exact right style to get her intentions across. When she is speaking so openly, so honestly, and is making valid and original observations, there’s no point in dressing the words up. She’s purposely stripped bare the language and descriptive prose, just like she’s stripped bare herself, where she serves up every intimate detail about her life and her opinions. The style and the content go hand in hand, and it’s honestly the most engaging contemporary poetry I’ve read.

Whether you’re a poet or a novelist or whatever, there should never be any subject you can’t write about. The only criteria should be: can you write about the chosen subject well?

So, I find plenty of poets writing about, say, the boringness of their daily lives, or being glued to a barstool, or the instant gratification of sex – whatever – but it doesn’t mean they’re always writing about it well. After all, anyone can write, say (off the top of my head):

“my dick got hard
and I came too soon
again”

- and call it poetry. And don’t get me wrong, anything can be poetry, just like anything can be art, so I don’t mean to diminish its artistic merit. All I mean is, it’s not necessarily any good.

Whereas Carter-Winward’s poetry is the exact opposite. She has a punchline to her poems, she has a philosophical point to make, she has an original thought… And it’s this that (partially) makes her poetry so damn good. Poems like:

“it seems there is a deluge
of queer poetry out there
but not a whole lot of poetry
from bisexuals.
probably because we’re
too busy
having sex
with everybody.”

And:

“when a man says
i could sleep with her,
it’s a very different ballgame from
i want to sleep with her.

the first is like a rugby match:
he could give it a try.
the second, like a soccer match:
he’s made it a goal.”

Carter-Winward has lived a life that’s worth writing about. Sex is always the main running theme, but the more I read her work, the more I understand that she’s not really writing about sex at all – and it is that (for one thing) which makes her poetry stand head and shoulders above others (who are just writing about sexual experiences). Carter-Winward is writing about the human condition. She’s contrasting her life to others. She writes about growing up as a Mormon and turning her back on religion, she writes about family, and loss and injustice and stupidity. She’s knowingly allowing the reader to be a voyeur into every facet of her world: hence the titles of this trilogy of books: ‘no apologies’, ‘no secrets’ and ‘no regrets’.

As she says in her poem ‘definition’:

“i can’t define
what I do.
this isn’t poetry,
this isn’t a memoir,
this isn’t fiction,
this isn’t biography.
it is all four combined,
and it is none.
it is my art.”

But most of all, like all great poets, Carter-Winward is writing because she has to write, and by doing so, it’s much more about her journey of self-reflection to try and make sense of who she is, more than anything else.

so, just as
i was
beginning
to get a little bored
of poetry like this
j.a.
carter-winward saved
me and showed me the way.
she’s the best contemporary poet I know of,
end of.… (plus d'informations)

Goddamnit, J. A. Carter-Winward’s poetry is good. It’s really fucking good. In fact, I’d go as far as to say her poetry is the very best contemporary verse that’s out there. But it’s not for everyone. Nope, it’s definitely not for everyone. And that’s partly what makes it the best out there.

Her writing is raw, honest, confessional, humorous, stripped back and stripped bare, and the unique simplicity of Carter-Winward’s words perfectly matches the themes presented.

Sex. There’s lots of sex. Not the sort of sexual musings you’ll read about in other poetry collections. No, no, no. Carter-Winward doesn’t hold back anything and she’s happy to share the most personal anecdotes, thoughts and feelings. I mean, where else will you read a poem about a bleeding vaginal cut from rough sex?

It’s not all sex though. It’s just that sex plays a dominant part in Carter-Winward’s life – alongside other themes like relationships, life lessons, non-conformity, art, Feminism, anger at a God she doesn’t believe in, and a lot more besides.

“my poetry/is like my own/personal/speculum./you can either handle/looking inside me,/or you can’t.”

Also, I’m gonna use her phrase ‘muppet-fuckers’ at the very earliest opportunity I have to do so.… (plus d'informations)