Backtrack, Victorian poet B N Oakman’s third full-length collection with Interactive Press, is a suite of poems inspired by an observed, often baffling world. In this interview, Oakman shares his thoughts on the inspirations behind his work, his approach to poetry, and the influences that have shaped his unique voice. Join us in discovering the stories and reflections that lie behind the pages of Backtrack.

Q: The description on the back of Backtrack says that your poems are often written in response to “an observed, often baffling, world.” What baffling world aspects did you find the most stimulating in creating poems from this collection?

A: One example. I’m baffled by the persistence of economic policies that increase inequality and thereby impair social cohesion. This process may ultimately lead to disenchantment with democracy. I’m concerned that the cancer of inequality is rarely mentioned in our political discourse. I don’t need to mention this issue in my poems. I simply write about its consequences

Q: One of your reviewers, Ian Britain, says that you are “not afraid of being comprehensible”. With what modes of poetry do you think Ian is contrasting your work, and how do you work to make your poetry more accessible to your audiences?

A: By trade I was an academic economist. I spent my working life trying to make complex ideas comprehensible and accessible to my students, whose minds and life interests were, understandably, often elsewhere. Perhaps I’ve been unable to shake the habit.

Q: In your poem “An Inquisitor Composes a Sentence” your narrator nun asserts her “moral right to an education”. Such phrases could be taken as didactic and imposing modern moral values on a different historical context. How do you ensure poems remain poetic while still embedding social points?

A: Well, the historical facts mentioned in this poem are just that, facts. Sister Juana attracted the wrath and punishment of the inquisition by writing, on several occasions, that women had ‘a moral right to an education’. 

My contribution is the imagined voice of the inquisitor; his elevated language, his savage intent, his sado-masochistic tone. 

So, I don’t believe I imposed any modern moral values. It’s true, I often write about injustice. I hope I manage to remain, at least to a degree, poetic. I’m content for others to decide for themselves whether I manage to get the balance right. 

My defence against didacticism is that I primarily write about my feelings and reactions to observed phenomena. To accuse me of being didactic is possibly merely a shifty way of telling me to shut up.

Q: You sometimes select subjects that might surprise some readers, such as when you focus on funeral celebrants in “What to Say”. Is this a commentary on your hope that your poetry will have a voice beyond your death, or a general commentary on the ability of poetry to last “through the ages”?

A: Probably neither. I try to make sure I say all I want to say to the important people in my life. I intend to leave nothing for a funeral eulogy. I consider it a failure on my part if I do so. Anyway, it is my wish not to have a funeral service. See ‘A Note for my Daughter’ in my Second Thoughts (IP 2014 p.6).

Q: Your poetry often focuses on an underdog or anti-hero. In the case of “no place like…” you consider the circumstances of the pigeons depicted in Le Carre’s The Pigeon Tunnel. To what extent does the fate of the pigeons act reflect the fate of certain human survivors?

A: Le Carre’s pigeons may be a metaphor for all those who live in fear, but are unable to find somewhere safe to escape to.

Q: In “the ball” you reference the work of American poets like Dickinson, William Carlos Williams and Walt Whitman. To what extent is your work influenced by such Americans, and in what ways does your work depart from the American tradition?

A: I used those three poets basically because their poetry suits the narrative of my poem. My significant American poetic influences are : the conversational style of Ted Kooser, the sonnets of Robert Lowell, the visceral directness of Charles Bukowski and the working class sensibilities of Philip Levine.

As far as Australians are concerned, I suspect Bruce Dawe, Geoff Page and Gwen Harwood have affected me via my appreciation of their poetry. I am unable to untangle details.