Poem of the week: from After Fame by Sam Riviere
Mischievous and cynical about modern life, one moment skewering his status-obsessed contemporaries, and the next mock-seriously urging the reader to buy his own books: the ancient Roman poet Martial has found something of a soulmate in Sam Riviere, whose 2012 debut began with an account of where £48,000 he’d received from “various funding bodies” went (“I have written 20 or 21 poems/ developed a taste for sushi,” etc).
After Fame is Riviere’s third collection, and his best yet. It’s mostly a loose, playful translation of Book I of Martial’s epigrams. But scattered through this untitled, numbered sequence are all manner of diversions: a surrealist copyright notice, a Kafka-esque tale of rival archivists, even a spoof of pulp sci-fi. If you’re not always sure what game he’s playing, well, that’s half the fun.
From 'After Fame' by Sam Riviere
[17]
They urged me to address
the issues of the day
they told me I ‘nailed’ it
‘nailing’ it is what
the coffin maker does
I think I screwed it up
[28]
Yesterday is not yet in its box
but somehow the light
has come uncorked
would you understand
if I said the night had failed me
[110]
I am writing to complain my poems are too long.
There is nothing I can possibly write in response.
After Fame is published by Faber on April 2
