Margaret Bradstock Reviews Phyllis Perlstone’s The Bruise of Knowing

By | 7 October 2019

The Bruise of Knowing by Phyllis Perlstone
Puncher & Wattmann, 2019



The Bruise of Knowing is Phyllis Perlstone’s third collection of poetry from Puncher & Wattmann, and arguably her best to date. It tells the story of Sir John Monash, highlighting themes of ambition, power and warfare. A talented engineer and commander, Monash’s progress was conflicted by religious bigotry, the rise of feminism, and a growing awareness within himself of the devastation wrought by war. But this is not just history, although the Australia and Britain of Monash’s lifetime are vividly recreated. Perlstone selects revealing episodes of strength and weakness in her protagonist, interpreted through poetic devices that allow the reader to experience undercurrents well beyond the series of events. At the same time, this anecdote is counterpointed with several parenthetic poems drawing the writer-researcher into the framework and underlining current concerns with the encroachment of the built environment on the natural.

Part 1, shifting back and forth in time, deals mainly with the nineteenth century. The collection begins with the poem ‘Two Incidents as Engineer …’ in 1901. In this poem, the language is deliberately hard-edged and precise in its description:

the bridge twists
concrete bits break off
the water's splash, the crashing pieces
the slow time of gravity's next
is like glass
in an accident 

the traction engine tips
and falls

The impact is heightened by concrete, enjambed lineation and broken syntax, brief lines directing emphasis to where the poet wants us to pause and absorb. In this poem, also, the reader is given early notice of Monash’s ‘greatest regret’ for the needless ‘loss of life’:

stilted, his mind's stall
word's remove him from the moment −
as if he could speak for the pall
of ends in the air, of being stopped
of waiting

By contrast, in poems such as ‘In the new Barangaroo Reserve’, we are offered Perlstone’s perspective on the resultant feats of engineering:

As in Sydney now, walking in the city
that some dreamed we would 
wish for,
the heights and bridges built −
though sometimes we want to descend from these
intersecting frets
strutting steel,
sharp-cut graze of concrete
blocking
the intimacy of trees

She follows this with ‘Barangaroo’, where her evocation of the natural world is uplifting:

In this place that's retrieved today
from industry
at Barangaroo
this recreation of a ruined shore
buoys now sway
again, against the white trailed water
of a ferry's wake

Monash married Victoria Moss in 1891. Three months later, diagnosed with suspected tuberculosis, she was convalescing with her sister in Beechworth, Monash travelling back and forth by train from Melbourne. As Perlstone notes, ‘The Law and its outlaws / mixed in Beechworth’, none the least the infamous Ned Kelly. She describes the settling of power that happened here:

Poor equipment
like Kelly's makeshift headgear −
dark imprisoning iron −
more than masking 
armour − Nolan's later icon.

A disputed mythology has grown up, linking Monash to Ned Kelly, as in Peter FitzSimon’s 2014 biography of the bushranger. Perlstone has eschewed including any such incident but uses the iconography with metaphoric force. She introduces an attested meeting between Kelly and Monash’s father (in Jerilderie) and suggests Monash’s later interest in the Kelly Gang. In an ekphrastic poem ‘The Slip’, based on a well-known painting by Nolan, the horse’s fall from a ‘precipitous’ height is perhaps reminiscent of Monash’s own trajectory.

In this first section of the book, Perlstone begins to show the uneasy relationship existing between Monash and his wife Victoria (or Vic). This, she mostly develops through interpretation of photographs and artworks, with an impressive sensitivity to bodily language and gesture, as in the poem ‘1898’:

Vic's full skirt, jacket and jaunty hat
free-stand on her, almost
and match the double-breasted suit
constricting Monash

The rift appears more strongly in ‘An Early Photo of Monash and Vic’:

looking in separate directions
they have the same

upholding of themselves for the camera
to be seen, yet    between them
their expressions dilate with defiance,
expose opposite views

[…]

And what is inner with Vic is there
by her mouth
her dark hair and dark dress
the high collar around her neck
and head, prevent
any premature
list
or lean into
Monash's plans

The continuing disintegration of their relationship is interwoven with related themes including the growing rise of feminism and husband’s and wife’s opposing responses to it:

He's avoided Vida Goldstein, feminist,
18 years old.
Monash announces she is "all too self-possessed and affected".

[…]

Quarrels start
He should be "the master"
their future should be shaped
so he can succeed.

Once again, the poet’s voice interposes, interpreting and responding to emotional overtones, as in the visually evocative ‘Damp Window in the Rain’:

umbrellas passing under the fig tree leaves
hold the patterns like a slide-show
each walker giving way to another
on the wet black pavement
the tented colours screening shapes
traced like under-lit shadows
without the sun

Abstrusely a sight I turn to
reflecting on Vic
watching the hesitant configurations.
It was her time of not wanting a life rushed through
Hardly one to seize
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