Thief by Bianca Bowers: Guest poetry review from Richard Gibney

Richard Gibney, writer and editor, joins us today with a review of Bianca Bowers’ poetry collection Thief

No shortage of creativity in Thief: Bianca Bowers’ lamentation on poetry block

Peppered with gems throughout, Bianca Bowers’ latest poetry collection, Thief, shows both the poet’s growth at verse-craft and the poet-narrator’s frustration that, as the poem ‘Quiet Deaths’ eloquently announces: “the well of words, that had once overflowed, was empty, bone dry”.

A lamentation on inspiration-loss is the antithesis to John Keats’ hope that he doesn’t pop his clogs before his pen has glean’d his teeming brain. There are, however, many parallels in Bowers’ collection with the Romantic poet’s expressed thoughts on mortality and creativity, and Bowers’ frustrations make for some sterling verse.

There is plenty of tragedy throughout the poems. It might be suggested that philosophical idealism is a thread woven into this collection; the notion that one’s perceptions and reality are inextricably linked dampens our ability to connect with others. There is tension here, then, between the first-person subject and the object (be it the reader, a lover, or the world at large); there’s a curse underlying the sociological dualism inherent in each person’s interactions. Arguably, a contemplation on whether it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all – ‘Vulnerable as a human’ – all but condemns the poet-narrator to her loneliness. A sense of existential distress pervades much of the work.

Yet, moments of crisis often inspire creativity. Necessity is the mother of invention, for one. Comedian Spike Milligan was said to write some of his best work while in a mental institution. We see Bianca Bowers at her best in Thief in crisis moments, with meditations on time stealing youth, on artistic needs both material and sublime, and on the rejection of social norms when it comes to those aforementioned ‘Quiet Deaths’ which themselves might be considered seemingly minor but significant traumas – the artistic ruptures such as a loss of inspiration – as can be experienced by a poet. These are moments that she tends to accept, rather than – as she suggests – ought to be screaming about.

Ironically, here, the poet bleeds onto the page, creating a work of great beauty. Bianca Bowers’ Thief encapsulates a determination to work through writer’s block, with the undoubted implication that the phenomenon is a myth. The success of this poetic endeavour is testament to that.

You can order Bianca Bowers’ Thief here.