Moving Day
Moving Day By Terence Young
Perhaps it was the prospect of reading a book on the cover of which was the ancient converted barn where I attended one of the most enjoyable parties I’ve been to that enticed me to read Terence Young’s newest book of poetry, Moving Day (Signature Editions, 2006). The party, hosted by the Youngs as a summer celebration for the Victoria School of Writing, featured much revelry, dancing and general merry-making on the squeaky (but sturdy) porch of the 116-year-old-structure as Terence spun records from his extensive collection of classic rock and bubble-gum pop hits—pausing only to waggishly dismiss the tasteless song requests of an increasingly high-spirited literary crowd. If it was a memory that drew me into Moving Day, it was the immense magnitude of the verses inside that held me. Young seems to approach his writing as he approaches life: with generosity of spirit, a powerful sense of humour and a keen eye for observation. The house in this book stands as glorious metaphor for the heart of the family. Never cliché, it is a place where the possibilities of love are “like the sound of a window giving way/under the weight of a shoulder.” Young moves through personal history with the ease of someone flipping thorough the weathered pages of a favorite family photo album, discussing the past and present, but also noting the imminent future, a time when, after all is said and done, “everything will seem too brief.”
tags Terence Young Signature Editions Moving Day
This story appears in Poetry Is Dead issue 1. If you like it online, you'll love it in print. Subscribe Now »
