Carole Giangrande is an award-winning author of over ten books, ranging from novels, short story collections, children’s books, to poetry. Her latest collection, this may be the year, is a wonderful exploration of the connection between human emotion and nature. Now that summer is making its slow turn to fall, go for a walk, take in all the nature around you, sit down and give this great book a read!
Where does this book come from?
Many places! The poems were written over a period of time, before I considered putting a book together. Yet somehow, they seem to fall into place, maybe because I’ve been pondering certain thoughts and ideas for quite a while.
There is such a reminder in many of these poems about our union with nature. Is this important to you?
Yes, very. Yet it’s something just below the surface of consciousness. Writing the poems made me realize how important the connection with nature was to me. It put me in touch with feelings I hadn’t expressed before; the language of poetry not only sharpened my awareness, but made me aware as well.
Do you ever write out in nature?
Rarely. Nature is so experiential; for me, its sensory impact drowns out everything else, including writing. But I often carry a notebook and I may jot down a word or two as I’m walking along. The natural world plants dozens of ideas, and later they sprout into poems.
There is such a wonderful control in language and even in the descriptions in these poems. Is this hard to achieve? Do you have to edit down any wordiness?
I guess the control of language is the hard work of many years which includes the absorption of the work of many other poets. I do a lot of revision, but it’s only “hard” as I dig deeper into the heart of language, into whatever nuance of feeling is eluding me. And when I get there, it just feels good! I’m always happy to edit out any words that get in the way of those moments of clarity that come when you write.
How does writing poetry compare to your prose work? Do you find one easier or more fulfilling?
A poem can come very quickly; I’ll have a complete draft, and then I’ll spend days (or weeks) tinkering with it. Or I’ll let it sit for a while and take it to our editing circle for discussion. Writing poetry can give immediate satisfaction, and this feeds the desire to keep writing. Prose is altogether different. When you’re working on a novel (or novella), you’re living inside the world of your characters. You may look and talk like a normal human being, but you’re mostly faking it 🙂 In fact, you’re living and breathing the inner lives of imaginary people. As you can imagine, this can be very stressful when the writing isn’t going well (this is where nature walks come in, but it also helps to have an understanding partner). Yet with prose, there is always a happy moment when you can see that the work is about to come together. Now I don’t have kids, but from what I’ve heard, this process is very much like labour, when the joy of creation far exceeds the pain. The question for me isn’t whether one form is easier than another; it’s the need I feel to create it that counts. In the end, it’s all fulfilling.
Do you think “this may be the year”?
Definitely for this book! The title poem may not be as hopeful as I think I am.
There is a feeling of looking back in some of the poems. Are you at a point as a writer where you want to write more about reflection?
This feeling of wanting to reflect comes in spurts. As a prose writer, I’ve always shaped characters out of the “compost” of human experience, so that elements of my life may peer through but are mostly hidden. Poetry seems like a perfect vehicle for setting down those memories that are indelible, that you feel deserve a life beyond your own.
Does your Italian background influence or inspire your poetry in any way?
I’m not sure who it was who described the family as a shadow that is always following you, but that kind of unconscious awareness is very Italian, and does affect the way I feel as I write poems related to my family. It’s a sense of finding just the right words to let readers into the experience without flinging open the gates memoir-style. There’s a stereotype about big Italian emotions, but I also think that respecting privacy and reservation, treating the family as a powerful unit, separate and self-enclosed, is also part of the Italian experience.
What advice would you have for writers trying to write about birds or nature?
I’ll start with the one that sounds craziest — just go out and love it! Love is how you transcend the barrier between human language and the sheer mystery of creation. Once you’re completely fascinated by some aspect of nature, however small, observe it, learn about it and let that sink in. Soon enough, you’ll be in touch with what that bird, bear, etc. is moving you to express.
What are you working on now?
I’ve just completed a novel. I’m working on submissions, and cleaning my desk!
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