Oraclau - Oracles

Oraclau – Oracles (2010) by Geoffrey Hill. Clutag Press. ISBN: 9780955347696. Condition: Good.

There are poets who invite you to sit down for a pleasant chat.

Geoffrey Hill is not one of them.

Hill’s poetry has occasionally been described as "difficult," though this rather undersells the experience. Climbing Everest is difficult. Rewiring a Victorian lighthouse during a thunderstorm is difficult. Geoffrey Hill simply expects that language deserves to be taken seriously, history deserves to be remembered properly, and readers are capable of meeting him somewhere above the foothills.

Oraclau – Oracles is a perfect example.

This slender volume is proof that a surprisingly small number of pages can contain an alarming quantity of thought. It asks its readers to slow down, read carefully and occasionally stop halfway through a line to wonder whether a single word has just acquired three entirely different meanings.

The answer is usually yes.

Published by the wonderfully independent Clutag Press in 2010, Oraclau is an unusual and beautiful production. The title itself hints at its bilingual nature, with oraclau being the Welsh plural of "oracle." Hill, whose fascination with history, language, religion and landscape runs throughout his work, creates poems that resonate across English and Welsh traditions without ever becoming merely academic exercises.

Fortunately.

Nobody has ever voluntarily curled up with an academic exercise on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

Hill’s poems are dense, yes, but never empty. Every allusion, historical echo and carefully chosen rhythm serves a purpose. He writes as though language possesses moral weight, as though words themselves carry responsibilities accumulated over centuries.

Which, after spending time with him, begins to seem entirely plausible.

There is a peculiar pleasure in reading Geoffrey Hill. Initially, one suspects that the poet is considerably cleverer than oneself. This feeling persists for several pages. Then one discovers that everyone has exactly the same reaction—including many professional critics—and suddenly the experience becomes oddly liberating.

You are not expected to understand everything immediately.

You are expected to enjoy the pursuit.

His poetry rewards rereading perhaps more generously than almost any contemporary poet. A line that appeared opaque on Tuesday somehow becomes luminous on Thursday. An image quietly unfolds several weeks later while making tea. A biblical reference unexpectedly collides with medieval history and modern politics in ways that seem impossible until Hill calmly demonstrates otherwise.

He was never interested in making reading easy.

He was interested in making it worthwhile.

This Clutag Press edition feels entirely appropriate for such work. Small independent presses often preserve the kind of serious poetry that larger commercial publishers increasingly struggle to accommodate, and Oraclau carries that quiet confidence. It has the reassuring air of a book produced because somebody believed it deserved to exist rather than because a marketing department calculated its seasonal profitability.

There is something rather comforting about that.

Readers familiar with Hill’s later collections or his monumental Mercian Hymns will recognise many of his characteristic concerns: faith, justice, memory, the burden of history and the astonishing precision of language. Newcomers, meanwhile, may discover that while Hill asks much of his audience, he also gives enormously in return.

Provided one is willing to meet him halfway.

Or perhaps three-quarters of the way.

This copy remains in good condition, preserving a beautifully produced edition from one of Britain’s greatest modern poets. Whether purchased by collectors of fine press publications, admirers of Geoffrey Hill or readers simply curious about contemporary poetry that refuses to underestimate its audience, it remains a rewarding addition to any serious literary collection.

From Crappy Old Books—because every bookshop has at least one shelf where the volumes stand quietly together, waiting for readers prepared to invest a little more than five distracted minutes between checking emails. Geoffrey Hill has occupied that shelf for decades, looking neither apologetic nor particularly concerned. Oraclau – Oracles belongs proudly among those books that improve with patience rather than speed. It may not reveal all its treasures during the first reading, or even the second, but then neither do old churches, ancient cities or long friendships. Second-hand books have an advantage here. They arrive already bearing the reassuring evidence that someone else once undertook the journey before you—and thought it worthwhile enough not to throw the map away.

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