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Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 15, No. 15. August 7, 1952

[Introduction]

Let me first say that I have nothing but praise for the enterprise. It is good that students should be writing and should want a printed outlet for their work; it is good that V.U.C. life includes, besides daily swot and sweat, the Museums, Art Galleries, French Maid Coffee Houses, pub crawling, parties, poetic interests, and Kinsey reading which are reflected in the Literary Issue. It is good that the rest of us are sufficiently interested to buy out the first 1000 copies. If I speak plainly about individual contributors, it is because I believe, with the Editor, that the "most urgent need of New Zealand writing is intelligent literary criticism." You may not think my comments intelligent, but they will be honest, and should provide suitable subject matter for those cosy sessions in the Cafeteria of which Mr. Dronke writes so enthusiastically.

Some things in the Literary Issue would be worth reading anywhere. Mr. Baxter's Moa Hunter for instance, and Mr. Paterson's The Puppet Master. The rest are "creditable" for a" student production." As Mr Baxter is the Senior Author of the Literary Issue, I shall discuss his contribution first.

Moa Hunter is a complete poem, [unclear: logical] and a mood. Its clearly defined form offers a [unclear: sti] logical progression. Mr. [unclear: Baxter] springs no surprises of imagery, but works by exploiting precise detail. The most successful stanzas are the first and the last; the first calls up with vivid economy the necessary "given" picture about which the meditation circles; the last makes the comment which the first has set moving in the reader's mind, and then, with "but passed on to the room that held Scabbards Oriental," shifts to a more distant focus in which we see the episode as a whole. The "wave-burnished seashell" of the final line, by recalling the "sandscoured" bones of the opening, dismisses the skeleton as just another object for that detached contemplation which the poem suggests is somehow inhuman.

The central stanzas do not have sufficient concentration, and leave me uncertain of their emphasis. Stone Age man is at case with death, as never with life? Then should not the primeval life evoked be nesty, brutish, and short—not romanticised? Or is Mr. Baxter merely drawing a picture of that life? If so, his pictures are loose and thin. Has his chosen outward form left him with space that had to be filled?

To continue cavilling—why is November darkness specified? Perhaps this is a private reference, but is November in New Zealand notably either dark, or stormy?

"Lay in swans down a willing bride." I feel there is incongruity here, that an attractive phrase has tempted Mr. Baxter away from [unclear: the] core of his idea. "Barebones, Adam," with his sharktooth necklace is sunken deep in "millenial night."yes—but, "as in swansdown a willing bride"????

There are other infelicities. "Turned, turned to his pallet." Why this repetition? Does the word need emphasis? Is the man turning in a restless tossing? (no, clearly not). Is he turning away from fear to seek comfort? Where does the stress come—on the pallet, the fears, the mate, the sleep—and if on sleep, how is this "otherwise"? And the "kahawai in their green treasurehouse." Isn't this a loose use of words? Is it the hunter's treasurehouse or the fishes'? (Perhaps the twist on the idea is justifiable.)

Other comments could be made, but [unclear: here] are enough to suggest that, good though Moa Hunter is, it is not excellent. Mr. Baxter has weakened the poem by the thin romantic water-colouring of the middle stanzas.

Tantalus, and The Sealion, are equally interesting. Tantalus has the compression which Moa Hunter lacks and is a really good poem. Significant detail, skilfully modulated sound and hythm, all serve the total meaning. There are memorable things—"stonefast in the lock of despair," the image of the bear "Shaggy with death, savaging his rag of pretence," and the Donne-ish intricacy of the last line.

The Sealion is in structure similar to Moa Hunter—contemporary episode, reflections arising from contrast with the past, a return to the present, the poet's comment. The opening quatrain is notable for its consonantal capers, effective enough in suggesting disgust and suffering, and then with another—"Oh, otherwise" we slide into the contrast. This section is weaker. Mr. Baxter makes large gestures, but what do they mean? "Priest of Delphic mystery", "bridegroom of silence" Keats?), maelstrom's cradlesong (who cradles whom?). I do not suggest that romantiac imagery should be logical, but there is an emotive logic, and sometimes the intellect too demands satisfaction. The image of the sealion, "bridegroom of silence, strong to break the grave ice-hymen", born of the immortal sea, his "bride and mother", is an effective contrast to the "clown and hobo stranded on the dunes." But where does the sudden identification with "Truth" in the 13th line come from? Sealions rot, and so does "Truth." Nothing in the first 12 lines however, leads the reader to suspect that this is Mr. Baxter's theme.