New Zealand Gerald’s second Pretentious Poet is Robert Sullivan. According to the New Zealand Book Council, Sullivan “has emerged as a significant Maori poet, publishing several collections and featuring in key anthologies. His writing explores dimensions of contemporary urban experience, including local racial and social issues. His writing has a postmodern feel, where history and mythology, individual and collective experience, become areas of refined focus.”
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Tahi.
The first thing I do is look up a book about history,
The first thing I do is look up a book about history,
or maybe a reference book (I’m a librarian), have a bit of a read,
and then I write poems that begin like this:
According to his entry in the New Zealand Encyclopedia of 1966,
Sir Algernon walked around with the feathers of the last Huia in his cap . . .
Sir Algernon walked around with the feathers of the last Huia in his cap . . .
Rua.
A Pakeha woman once said to me: “You’re just copying stuff
out of books and calling it poetry, aren’t you?”
I said: “The Moa is held up as an example of Maori
exterminating a food resource.”
She said: “Now surely you’re just having a laugh.
My 8 year old’s poetry is more original than that.”
How could I make her understand? I said:
“The Giant Eagle had a wingspan of three metres —
its main food was moa. It was the world’s
largest eagle — the youngest set of bones found so far
is five hundred years old.”
its main food was moa. It was the world’s
largest eagle — the youngest set of bones found so far
is five hundred years old.”
But she walked away before I’d finished.
She would never understand my attempts
to draw the attention of Pakeha to their own
literary and customary heritage.
Toru.
I read a Marxist history of London by George Rudé.
Lemony Snicket recently completed A Series of Unfortunate Events.
Lemony Snicket recently completed A Series of Unfortunate Events.
The Cliffs Notes on The Odyssey is so poetic — it reminds me of my poems.
Wha.
What I like to do best is rewrite history.
I make stuff up like a warrior-laden
waka travelling up the Thames
in the hull of a steamer called Troy which
leads to Governor Heke ruling the British Empire.
waka travelling up the Thames
in the hull of a steamer called Troy which
leads to Governor Heke ruling the British Empire.
A Maori man once said to me:
“Your understanding of history
is as outdated as the books you read.
You’re living in a fantasy world
That’s sustained by Pakeha poetasters.”
I said: “Palestine free! Rhodesia free! South Africa free! Kenya free!
India free! Canada free! Ireland free! Australia free! West Indies free! Aotearoa free!”
India free! Canada free! Ireland free! Australia free! West Indies free! Aotearoa free!”
But he walked away before I’d finished.
He would never understand my attempts
to draw the attention of Maori to their own
literary and customary heritage.
This is a brilliant, self-parodic display by Sullivan. Or is it? There are 2 possible readings in my view: Is he a victim of artistic false consciousness, or a wry postmodern exponent of faux-uncle-tomism? As Yeats put it once, "How can we tell the dancer from the dance?"
ReplyDeleteFascinating stuff. Has he written on the fate of the Moriori? That would be very interesting indeed, and would help put this poem in its proper literary context.
Brian Goebbels