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Portia Priegert on Russell Thornton
By Portia Priegert
Even in an interview - that most utilitarian of conversations - Russell Thornton has a poet's voice: soft, with a lyrical inflection, offering both fluid metaphor and a probing rumination.
His poetry is like that too. Four well-received books, including his most recent, The Human Shore, explore with impeccable eloquence his preoccupations with nature, travel, solitude and family history.
These are typically Canadian themes, says Thornton, who notes that Canadian writers are obsessed with their roots and family lineages, concerns that often operate in opposition to the wilderness setting and the chill of the Arctic wind.
"For me, it has to do with that strange loneliness that is part of Canada. You hear it in pop songs - Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, these kind of people - you hear that vastness of the landscape and that coldness.";
Thornton places himself in "the real deep mainstream"; of Canadian letters - a lyric poet who distills the natural world, current social realities and the processes of history through the idiosyncrasies of his own personality. He cites the influence of some of Canada's poetic giants - men such as Irving Layton, Al Purdy, Earle Birney and Don McKay.
Thornton describes his creative process as circular, drawing comparisons to the oral traditions of indigenous people.
"I'll start with an image. I'll try to open myself up so that I receive impressions that gather around that image and that help that image to circle around some sort of idea.";
While he eschews formal structures like sonnets or villanelles he spends hours honing what he calls "systems of sonic glue"; - the basic rhythms and flows of language.
"I try to write musically. I pay a lot of attention to the music and the kinetic energy that can be struck between syllables.";
He also allows stories to enrich his work. "I really think it's inevitable that when you try to write about people, narrative is going to creep in. And it's a marvelous creeping in. Creeping in sounds negative but, of course, it's not. It's a wonderful invasion. Story is magical.";
Thornton is an inveterate traveler and lived in Europe for years as a young adult, drifting from country to country, always writing about his impressions, or, as he puts it "blackening pages"; of his notebooks. "I had wanderlust really bad, curiosity, all the standard stuff,"; he says.
Thornton is also interested in ancient cultures and lived for a time in Wales and Greece.
He returned to his native Vancouver 10 years ago and earns a living with two part-time jobs - doing home repairs and teaching English - while stealing moments in between for his craft.
He offers simple advice to aspiring poets. "Read, read, read. Write, write, write. A lot of people who want to write don't actually want to read and the two things are two sides of the same coin.";
But don't expect words to come easily, he warns. "The writing itself, it's a hard slog. It's not just something you spill out and it's done. Spilling out may be the first phase, but after that it's just labour - it's blood, sweat and tears. Language is intractable.";
Even in an interview - that most utilitarian of conversations - Russell Thornton has a poet's voice: soft, with a lyrical inflection, offering both fluid metaphor and a probing rumination.
His poetry is like that too. Four well-received books, including his most recent, The Human Shore, explore with impeccable eloquence his preoccupations with nature, travel, solitude and family history.
These are typically Canadian themes, says Thornton, who notes that Canadian writers are obsessed with their roots and family lineages, concerns that often operate in opposition to the wilderness setting and the chill of the Arctic wind.
"For me, it has to do with that strange loneliness that is part of Canada. You hear it in pop songs - Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, these kind of people - you hear that vastness of the landscape and that coldness.";
Thornton places himself in "the real deep mainstream"; of Canadian letters - a lyric poet who distills the natural world, current social realities and the processes of history through the idiosyncrasies of his own personality. He cites the influence of some of Canada's poetic giants - men such as Irving Layton, Al Purdy, Earle Birney and Don McKay.
Thornton describes his creative process as circular, drawing comparisons to the oral traditions of indigenous people.
"I'll start with an image. I'll try to open myself up so that I receive impressions that gather around that image and that help that image to circle around some sort of idea.";
While he eschews formal structures like sonnets or villanelles he spends hours honing what he calls "systems of sonic glue"; - the basic rhythms and flows of language.
"I try to write musically. I pay a lot of attention to the music and the kinetic energy that can be struck between syllables.";
He also allows stories to enrich his work. "I really think it's inevitable that when you try to write about people, narrative is going to creep in. And it's a marvelous creeping in. Creeping in sounds negative but, of course, it's not. It's a wonderful invasion. Story is magical.";
Thornton is an inveterate traveler and lived in Europe for years as a young adult, drifting from country to country, always writing about his impressions, or, as he puts it "blackening pages"; of his notebooks. "I had wanderlust really bad, curiosity, all the standard stuff,"; he says.
Thornton is also interested in ancient cultures and lived for a time in Wales and Greece.
He returned to his native Vancouver 10 years ago and earns a living with two part-time jobs - doing home repairs and teaching English - while stealing moments in between for his craft.
He offers simple advice to aspiring poets. "Read, read, read. Write, write, write. A lot of people who want to write don't actually want to read and the two things are two sides of the same coin.";
But don't expect words to come easily, he warns. "The writing itself, it's a hard slog. It's not just something you spill out and it's done. Spilling out may be the first phase, but after that it's just labour - it's blood, sweat and tears. Language is intractable.";
Submitted on March 27, 2009 in By David.
