I Am Not Light
by Louise Machen
Manchester poet Louise Machen explores the troubled emotional undercurrents of life with a full-throttle poetics in this Forward Prize-nominated poetry collection, I Am Not Light.
Machen’s debut poetry collection burns with betrayal, pulses with love, and fights with grief and loss at every turn, as the speakers in her poems explore wild terrain, personal pilgrimages searching for meaning and direction. As readers, we are taken to the remnants of holy places and to the ocean’s edge, where a sense of true escape from all-consuming despair can be achieved.
We welcome Dylan Lisle, cover illustrator, who studied Fine Art at Gray's School of Art in Aberdeen, Scotland. Lisle has strong connections with the Scottish art community having painted from studios in both Edinburgh and Aberdeen. Now based in Manchester, he continues to paint at 1853 Studios in Oldham, Greater Manchester.
Lisle’s style of work stems from an appreciation of the dark, moody and striking images found in Baroque and Classical art. The strong chiaroscuro lighting of Caravaggio and the tactile quality of Titian’s drapery are of great influence. Lisle borrows elements of these styles and marries them with unusual, challenging poses and compositions more reminiscent of 20th Century work. Website: www.dylanlisle.com
“‘I sing the world/ to kill this knowing’ affirms the first speaker in Louise Machen’s collection. The musical language that follows is urgent. It confronts a dark backdrop through crafted, sensuous imagery, daring the reader to ‘Wade in, take the risk.’”
John McCullough, author of Panic Response
“Louise Machen both creates and explores her own literary tradition in her debut collection, I Am Not Light. Through dizzying line-breaks and a complex control of speed, Machen explores loss and living amidst a raw and wild landscape. The speaker of her poems is multiple, part ghost in absence, and yet, we find her sitting next to us on the bus. To balance such distance with the personal is a complex feat which Machen masters. To be both grounded and heartbroken simultaneously makes this one of the most exciting contemporary poets I have read.”
Wendy Allen, author of Portrait in Mustard
“It is a fine day when a writer is so staggered that she is lost for words and this, after reading I Am Not Light, is the joyous position I find myself in now. Machen’s work is more than words; there is a drive and dynamism in her poetry that can only be felt – mysterious intimations that tug quietly at the throat, prickle the eyes, clutch at the heart. She is, to borrow her own perfect term, edgeless, as she pays homage to the rich lyricism of her poetic ancestors – Plath in particular comes to mind – while carving her own brilliant future, where her impeccable poetic voice sings as a timeless, boundless marvel.”
Briony Collins, author of Blame it on Me
“Many of Louise Machen's poems in I Am Not Light seek out and describe shorelines and borders, and those moments when change happens, or is wished for: these poems know ‘impossible depths / and hope of a handhold' as she puts it in 'In Pursuit of Edges'. But this book is alert too to the kind of grace that is found in poems like 'Pebbles and Bricks', when the speaker can declare, 'I am light in your hands'. And in the middle of these poems of becoming is a set of affecting family poems describing a childhood which will, I am sure, be remembered by everyone who reads them.”
John McAuliffe, University of Manchester’s Centre for New Writing, author of Next Door
“If poetry is both the reader and writer making sense of the world, then this collection by Louise Machen seeks to achieve this on an elemental level. Immersed in the turbulence of nature; its raging seas, orange moons and secret gardens, the author takes a hand full of each and sculpts something that gives a shared understanding of all the facets of being alive that are sometimes so difficult to hold. There is grief, loss, love, and yet a feeling of familiarity. It is in this magic that Machen manages to speak to the deepest parts of our subconsciousness, and in doing so inadvertently makes us feel more alive”
Stuart McPherson, author of End Ceremonies
