As distinct from the ‘alternative’, the state of ‘between’ is inhabited in the collection On the Ship of Dreams by Nikos Ninolakis. This is a posthumous collection of poems, previously written and published in Greek, and carefully selected and translated into English by Konstandina Dounis.1 Her research, study and reverence for Ninolakis’s output, as one of Australia’s earliest writers from Greece, is acutely acknowledged in the way all the poems capture Ninolakis’s voice – his emphatic tone, the rise and fall of his metre, his innate use of Greek myth to imbue contemporary thought. In The Son of the Argonaut, Ninolakis’s executes a perfect portrait of his father, Lefteris, and the inclement journey of migrant:
My father was a true Argonaut Iolkus, his homeland and his eyes had the colour of the Morning Star! He would often tell me stories about the old homeland and his desire that I learn the Greek language lasted until he drew his last breath. His countenance appeared sad eyes ever downcast searching for roads of escape. But the Argus lay shipwrecked on the savage crags of some shore. He sails within his thoughts pushing on the heavy oar and amidst the deep silence an inviting voice calls him to Mother Earth, to rest. My father was forgotten by all in Iolkus even that he had a son taught at the helm of return: with the Argus.
The art of finding by Dorothy Poulopoulos is sure-footed in its exploration of the continuum. The poems are visceral, ethereal and intellectual, exposing the delight and despair of the everyday encounter with one’s self. As Kevin Brophy2, in his introduction states: ‘This poetry partakes of that small range that brings poetry into the common experiences of life, and that more expansive range that brings a vast and ancient world into poetry.’ As exemplified in the longer poem, Sorrow, which begins with personifying this emotion as unwanted friend and midway introduces a specific friend, intervening like a sweet surprise:
I am still able to work and meet up with Eleni at East Pearl, 44 Akti Moutsopoulou in Piraeus, Greece for hot and sour soup to reminisce about the places we came from and what we miss … We speak of the day and our English students too, Poros… summer and swimming in crystal clear waters. I also speak of you at sea and how Sorrow crept in and how the letter s makes me feel sad and my heart sink and how I prefer the letter w
With the Unspeakable by Petr Malapanis an exploration of ‘being’ is documented, which isn’t so much about the journey or the intersection, rather it is about the aftermath. It is the unwavering brilliant shout of returning from Hades to tell the tale as testimony of victor. The brutality of cancer, childbirth and sexual assault is dealt with ‘eloquently, savagely and beautifully’.3 Each poem enters the personal to speak of the violent encounter of women multitudes:
Greek School Memory My scalp tingled From the force needed To tame my curls My toes throbbed Squeezed into shiny Leather shoes Fit for school My palms smarted Raw lines Marked my flesh For each answer I did not know And under the desk You placed your hand So gently on my knee I thought I must have dreamt it Shame shone on my face Your slick smile Dared me to protest My tongue tripped over strange words Choked on unfamiliar sounds Faster and faster In an effort To stall your fingers’ trip Up my skinny thighs Full stop. At last, I can breathe again You move onto the next desk The next girl Her eyes meet mine As her cheeks redden I glance away.
- Dr Konstandina Dounis, Cultural historian and literary translator, Monash University ↩
- Professor Kevin Brophy, School of Culture and Communication, Melbourne University ↩
- Christos Tsiolkas’s introduction to the collection is an exceptional insight into the bones and flesh of the collection. Tsiolkas is a multi-award prize winning novelist and playwright and a second generation Australian of Greek heritage. ↩
