PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
News and Notes
Digital Access to PN Review
Access the latest issues, plus back issues of PN Review with Exact Editions For PN Review subscribers: to access the PN Review digital archive via the Exact Editions app Exactly or the Exact Editions website, you will first need to know your PN Review ID number. read more
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Drew MilneTom Raworth’s Writing
‘present past improved’: Tom Raworth’s Writing

(PN Review 236)
Alejandro Fernandez-OsorioPomace (trans. James Womack)
(PN Review 236)
Kei MillerIn the Shadow of Derek Walcott
1930–2017

(PN Review 235)
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Gratis Ad 1
Gratis Ad 2
Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This review is taken from PN Review 18, Volume 7 Number 4, March - April 1981.

THE CLOSED DOOR Leo Aylen, Return to Zululand (Sidgwick & Jackson) £2.95
Derek Stanford, The Traveller Hears the Strange Machine (Sidgwick & Jackson) £2.95

It is difficult to tell moral tales. If they are intended to appeal to sensibility, intelligence may accuse them of sentimentality. Leo Aylen's Return to Zululand includes three poems entitled 'Parable I', 'Parable II' and 'Parable III', and three called 'Monk Poem I', 'Monk Poem II' and 'Monk Poem III'. In 'Parable I' all kinds of retailers and consumers do business outside an elaborately carved door which is never opened. We are clearly intended to deduce that the door gives on to something not at all mundane, but spiritual. This is fair but it feels wrong that nobody should ever have opened the door, not even a chosen few or even the parabolically gifted Christ Himself. 'Monk Poem II' is a dialogue between a Sultan, whose dinner has seventeen courses and is followed by a choice of three hundred and sixty-five concubines, and an Ascetic, whose dinner is one raisin. In the last line of the poem the Ascetic says to the Sultan, 'You've sacrificed . . eternity'. The two dots and the small 'e' seem uninten-dingly significant. If eternity is known only as a received item of lexis, is a contented sybarite going to be convinced of feeling the loss of it? It would of course be unappreciative of, precisely, the spirit of these poems to expect them to be as logically rigorous as a theological treatise, but Leo Aylen's moral tone is high enough to attain to invective and one feels bound to run to the defence ...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image