Riposte to Death
Esther Jansma's Poetry
Esther Jansma (1958-). Photo by David Samyn.
Mourning. Cherishing the dead. Examining, delaying, outwitting, toying with, and renaming death, in order finally to let go of it again. This is the essence of Esther Jansma's work.
Esther Jansma, born in 1958 in Amsterdam, made her debut in 1988 with Voice under my Bed (Stem onder mijn bed), an impressive collection of poems, whose tight form and grim subject matter immediately made an impact. The poems are constructed in compact stanzas, with short sentences. They have a strong rhythm which never sinks into a metric drone; alliteration and more particularly assonance are what carry it. Even so, Jansma's language always remains close to spoken language: anyone who has heard her give a reading knows how naturally her poems accord with her own voice and intonation.
The tight form naturally also fits the content. Jansma often chooses the perspective of a child, using the short, peremptory or defiant sentences that children often utter when playing together. In Voice under my Bed play is a vital element, as the children in these poems, sisters, see themselves confronted by matters they can barely grasp or bear, which nevertheless have a strong influence on their lives: parents divorcing, a father dying and an inaccessible, domineering mother. The violent emotions are made manageable and bearable by both the children's play and the effective form of the poems. In one of his poems the Dutch poet Lucebert wrote that poetry is child's play; Jansma is not likely to quarrel with that.
Despite all the loss Voice under my Bed concludes on a hesitantly positive note, with poems about a pregnancy. In one of them the following lines occur, which always spring to mind when pregnant friends tell me how taken by surprise they feel by the new life within them: ‘Sometimes I am afraid. I don't / get it at all. How perfect is a god, / who one day must fall?’
Mourning pervades Jansma's second book even more strongly. Her first child died at birth. Flower, Stone (Bloem, steen, 1990) is entirely devoted to despair, rage and the painful acceptance of this loss. In an interview with the Flemish newspaper De Morgen Jansma said that she wrote the poems largely because her feelings could find no words and met with no response. This collection too contains extremely compact poems in which the poet flirts