Mountain Tea: & Other Poems [Paperback]

For readers and writers of my generation, mention of the name Peter Van Toorn was apt, until recently, to elicit a shrug. He was in the audience of a poetry reading I attended in Montreal three years ago and I hadn’t the faintest notion that I was in the presence of an original genius. None of his work was in print and his poems were not to be found in any of the standard anthologies. But with Signal Editions’ re-issue of Van Toorn’s magnum opus, Mountain Tea, all that should change.
Originally published by McClelland and Stewart in 1984, Mountain Tea was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Award that year, but soon slipped into obscurity. This is due, perhaps, to the fact that the author has published nothing since. But this is a weak excuse, an indication that our cultural values are biased more towards production, promotion and personality than towards the preservation of excellence and originality. It’s more than a little tempting to think that the source of this poet’s neglect is the jealousy of his would-be peers, very few of whom can hold a candle to him. As Van Toorn puts it in a version of a ballad by Villon, this revised edition (which, along with new work, includes a number of poems left out of the prior edition) should be enough to “shake’n bake their envy-schooled tongues.”
Van Toorn’s poetry is as rooted in various ancient traditions of verse as it is in jazz rhythms and the vernacular of the Canadian present. He is equally masterful in free verse-

Wawa,
sound of wind:
good grass out front, bad brush behind.
Try feeling at home
and the loon reminds you-smack in the gut
boatmiles off
of travelling way out alone.

-as he is within the confines of the sonnet:

Hey, Denise, soon as you’re in the room,
I feel jumpy in my head. Why hide it?
Next to you, even sunrise looks like gloom.
As long as you’re in that crisp, white outfit,
I’ll never be able to get my fill
of you, except in ink. Cheat on my chart:
fix it so I can leave this hospital.
My fever’s gone; I feel sharp as a dart.

Poetry like this explodes the false dichotomies of postmodern and classical, formalist and avant-garde, traditional and experimental. The above sonnet, called “Mountain Nurse”, is, believe it or not, Van Toorn’s version of a poem by 16th century Italian poet Giambattista Marino. Mountain Tea is studded with this sort of idiosyncratic translation of poets, often obscure, from diverse regions and eras. His take on translation makes something like Erin Moure’s ‘translations’ of Pessoa appear rather wan, joyless and self-indulgent in comparison.
Van Toorn’s poetic resources seem almost limitless. He uses repetition in all its forms (anaphora, epistrophe, symploce, anadiplosis as well as less regular patterns) better than any contemporary poet I know of, in a way that almost always appears effortless and natural. As in the following lines from “Mountain Fox”, his inventive diction, alliteration and stress patterns remind me often of Hopkins:

And how does the fox get rid of his fleas-
red fox, blue fox, grey fox, white fox, black fox-
not just the ordinary case of fleas
a choker of chalk dust can keep in check,
but a case the moon charges to the chase,
a pack of them, from his brush to his ruff,
falling in fast falling flakes for his fur,
sticking to his skin, and clicking like clocks,
licking his blood for a way to his ace
from the scoops of his ears to his dew socks?

But ultimately, Van Toorn is, as David Solway says in his introduction to the book, sui generis. His verse embodies Lao Tsu’s maxim, which Van Toorn quotes as an epigraph to “Mountain Fox”: “Woe to him who willfully innovates while ignorant of the constant.” Mountain Tea is a lesson to poets about dedication to the craft, of how to make the work of hours, as Yeats put it, “seem a moment’s thought.” Beyond that it is also a howl to read, especially aloud. Allowing it to go out of print once was a mistake. To do it again would be a crime.
Zach Wells (Books in Canada)
-- Books in Canada

Nominated for the Governor General's Award for Poetry in 1984 and out of print for almost twenty years, this will be a new revised edition of Peter van Toorn's exhilarating, landmark collection of poems. The introduction to the new edition by poet David Solway describes Mountain Tea's unique place in Canada's literary history.

The original McClelland and Stewart edition described Mountain Tea, as a "book of cosmopolitan delights ... a kaleidoscope of voices, from jazzy riffs to highly formal poetry ... a collection enriched by its free-ranging translations."

"In Guildenstern County"* is a sheer exuberant explosion of a book. Nobody here since Klein has done things like this with words; they fizz, thrash, honk, simmer, collide and agglutinate. Van Toorn hears whole new kinds of musicality in the language." -Saturday Night

[*In Guildenstern County, an early van Toorn book, comprises Part 1 of Mountain Tea.]

Peter van Toorn was born in Holland in 1944, and has lived in Montreal since 1974. He co-edited Cross/cut: Contemporary English Quebec Poetry and The Insecurity of Art: Essays on Poetics.

Mountain Going

With rips in my pockets big enough to put my fists through, my coat in great shape too, I made for the mountains, Muse, true to you. Jesus, the dreams of love I’d wake up too! Skies I wore for hats! So who came by, hole in his shorts, staying the night at Hotel Big Bear, to hear his stars swish and rustle? Me, Tom Thumb, dreamer. Doodling my cuffs full, leaning up against a ditch slope, left heel under my bum, I’d smell valley wine, feel it stick to my brows like a sweat, and start deep shadow songs – rhyme them full of moon light, twanging the red elastics of my right running shoe, its sole just jammed to my heart.

from Rimbaud