Poet Raymond Antrobus stunned the literary world with his debut, The Perseverance, which won the Rathbones Folio Prize. His second collection, All the Names Given, proves the depth and clarity of his voice as it draws upon the complicated history of his surname and the interrelation of sound and silence, mingling the tangible with the transparent.
In these poems, Antrobus cross-pollinates time and space, each poem reminding readers of the ways a human can, in fact, be two things at once: here and there; now and then; fluent in the formal and the fractured musicality of language. Inspired by the work of Deaf sound artist Christine Sun Kim, Antrobus (also Deaf) interjects [Caption Poems] throughout, reframing closed captioning as a creative act, each description providing layers of unexpected complexity, such as "[sound of something left out]" or "[sound of mirror refusing reflection]."
Whether confronting the raw truth of new love or shared pain, Antrobus creates unforgettable images, simultaneously searing and tender, as in "For Cousin John": "I prepare silence,/ practise each time for a calm dinner/ but you lift a fork, unsettle the territory." And later: "Cousin,/ we all alone in these streets. I wish you/ horses in rain and fields of broken gates," before concluding "Cousin, why couldn't you/ let us see what you were burying? Cousin/ I wish sunlight on all your fields." Often bold and direct, these poems are stunning in their generosity: two hands open, offering abundance. --Sara Beth West, freelance reviewer and librarian