Communion

Literature is an experience in congregation. Whether reading and having one’s emotions validated by what is on the page or - as is this case here- sitting and discussing literary works in a room full of people, in Santa Maria Della Vittoria on a breezy evening. To write is to absolve yourself from isolation.

Isolation is one of the primary catalysts of Polly Clark’s work. She is interviewed by Stefano Bottero, a fellow poet with whom she immediately feels camaraderie. Even if writing may offer the opportunity for communion, it is not always an easy gig. "Writing, for me", Clark says, "is sometimes like an abusive relationship. It involves a type of submission". Clark once experienced this kind of submission towards her emotions. Her debut novel Larchfield, was born out of acceptance of her loneliness and the solace found in the great poet W. H. Auden - who had lived there almost a century ago.

Animals, like the king tiger in her Tiger, are also pivotal characters in Clark's novels. They too experience isolation. Clark avoids any anthropomorphism though, deeming it unnecessary to understand the natural world - something she learnt during her time as a zookeeper. "It’s quite disconcerting", she says, "to look into the eyes of a Great Ape and realise that the only reason that they are on that side of the bars and you’re not, is because they can’t talk". The isolation of the titular tiger in her novel does not have to be human for us to recognise ourselves in it.

Polly Clark is not just a novelist, but a poet too. She uses both styles to fill, or at least give recognition, to that gap which she recognises in herself and so many others. She is not overly sentimental about it, however. It comes naturally. As she simply states in The Poetry God, "we get on with the business of filling the empty page".