There are nine Muses of poetry, daughters of Zeus or some say Apollo, and the Titaness, Mnemosyne, goddess of memory, past, and future. And of these nine, the most important is Kalliope, that of the Lovely Voice and muse of epic poetry; and Hesiod and others rightly consider her, in my opinion, the most important Muse. In other words, epic poetry is the greatest expression of a poetry that we can achieve. It is so great and so difficult, and the proof of that claim lies in the absence of a great number of epics to which we return. In the western tradition, there are Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Milton; there may be a few more. Spenser might qualify; maybe Goethe scaling and root planing narrative and some others. But actually, not many. However, as we come to modern times, we are suddenly faced with a glut of poets claiming to be epic poets; it is a very big claim. Personally speaking, I feel that Moses could have felt before the Burning Bush: he is too great, too holy, too much for me to think, or even claim, that he could be in that select and exalted company. To say that you are a poet is a pretty big statement, but to be an epic poet, that is something of a different order.
Keen readers of the reviews may recall that not long ago I reviewed Frederick Glaysher’s “The Parliament of Poets,” which claimed to be an epic (which, with stern caveats, I considered fair). Now Frederick Turner appears with his ‘Apocalypse’ claiming to be an epic poet, and ‘Apocalypse’ an epic poem. It is? And is it possible, also, that we are in a golden age of poetry where 2 epics appear two years apart, whereas before we had to wait a millennium to nominate two reasonable candidates worthy of the name?
There are many things to praise in Turner’s ‘Apocalypse’. First, the sheer erudition that informs writing. If one were a visitor from Mars and wanted some kind of overview of human history combined with a rap on what is current and technological now, and also projected 50 years into the future, this would be his book. It is full of arcane facts, demotic languages , and brands that give a very strong flavor about what is happening now and where these trends may lead 50 to 100 years from now. In fact, this leads me to say that the book is prophetic: an epic science fiction, set on Earth about to be destroyed by rising tides and then Wormwood, a black star on its way to destroy us, and how humanity faces these. crisis. . The vast amount of information, then, could be considered Turner’s way of deploying our available resources.
Second, and even more impressive, Turner’s epic, unlike Glaysher (whose meter was everywhere), writes in rather amazing blank verse. This leads to wonderful, aphoristic phrases that are eminently quotable and also seasoned with wisdom, sometimes wit. For example:
“Is the brain a robot with a muse in charge?”
“A crisis is a terrible waste”, or
“The poet is the axis of everything”
Note the strong iambic rhythm. And this also extends to great couplets:
“Democracy is now irrelevant:
A beauty pageant for celebrities. ”
But more than this, Turner, in his prime, creates some beautiful and luscious lyrical pops:
“I took him by the elbow and pulled him out
In the beautiful still electric night
Where the Milky Way turned up above
In the blackest holes, all crossed by light ”
Isn’t that fabulous writing? It reminds me of Dante’s fascination with the stars and their significance in his writings.
Third, Turner writes consistently and with a consistent tone. It doesn’t seem to waver, which is an effect you get in many long poems: poets seem to get bored even before you with their efforts! So this work has been nurtured and grown for a long time, and with love, there is a lot of poet in it; and this poet is a scholar, highly skilled in a technical sense, and possesses a clear vision and visionary apprehension of the future of mankind.
