Cornelius and Co - Collected Working Class Verse 1996-2009 John O'Connor

(Post Pressed, 2010) RRP $25 ISBN 9781921214448

Keith Nunes

Laurice Gilbert pissed me off for a few minutes. She recommended John O'Connor's latest collection and I was disappointed.

It opened on the streets of religiously offended Christchurch with little nods to her and him - be they grandparents or cousins. That opening grouping from the Painting The Wooden Butterfly collection turned me into an annoyed little man with a thumping heart.

Then I moved on - and wow, what a relief I stuck at it. The collection got better with every page and soon I was noting poems and lines and wishing I could just write something to reflect this great stuff.

John O'Connor got robust. He may have been sleeping better - I don't know. He went from understated and easy-listening to thought-provoking and brutal. Now that's what I call a poet.

In poem after poem he rivets the reader to the black spot. There are deep-seated quaverings and long-held sufferings and then it explodes into majestic and bright-light painkillers.

once, my father on the wrong
end of a beating within a circle of rowdy
work-mates, he broke ranks,
removed his boots
& settled the opponent -
a single whack
to the back of the skull:

            (‘Getting in Behind')

 Then you get a string of what should be famous poems. ‘Spare the Rod' is strong and powerful; ‘A Sense of Tradition' is cool; ‘Language Makes Nothing Much Happen' is thoughtful and insightful with its "embarrassed silence. then the/ boldest boy in class/ mentioned sarcasm..."

I was sitting in an artist's exhibition reading this and kept marking the book - I could never re-sell the publication with all its page marks.

‘Curious' tells me that heavy drinkers must face reality and little boys get to see where they might end up. It goes on with classics - ‘Gone with the Wind' is a little ripper, with its "no-one/ believed/ that".

‘Went North' is a film noir movie in a short script. ‘Dorie' is a lovely, touching piece and shows O'Connor at his sentimental but punchy best.

The book grows for me - from each of its collections it is emboldened and I think O'Connor grew with each page. He's not a young man - he has seen what he would rather forget and felt what he never wants to leave behind and still he can put it on the page.

I got home and kept reading - one moving piece after another. We shifted down the road and here on the curb was a group of fantastic pieces about taxi driving. Of this grouping I loved ‘Kips / Taxi': "too pissed to agree/ to anything - they want/ her out as she's slumped/ over her drink".

There's also great imagery in ‘The Club / Taxi', where this occurs: "she says she's dying but doesn't/ mind. Seems to mean it."

Then with a final flourish O'Connor rips a belting into your guts with ‘Stan Muttering to Himself' - possibly the most powerful poem I've read all year.

the old suburbs is dyin'
just the old / folks...
...
no-one cares / no-one's
gonna die for a dump
...
                        whatever it was / it's not
                        the shit I see on ANZAC Day.

...

what I remember /        ya wouldn't think worthwhile.

Terrific book of poetry surrounding the Catholic enclave around Addington, Christchurch, through the 20th century. Moved me!  

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