A New Heaven by Mark Tarren: Review and Interview

A New Heaven: The Norfolk Poems

by Mark Tarren

The Darkling Call, 56 pp

Pushcart nominated poet, Mark Tarren, has led an interesting life. He has journeyed from England, where he was born, to Queensland, Australia, and on to Norfolk Island in the subtropical South Pacific - a mere speck on a map 1,600 kilometres north-east of Sydney. 

A New Heaven is Tarren’s first full collection and chronicles his deepening connection to Norfolk Island, its seascapes, landscapes, history, and, perhaps most importantly, its people.

So, a review of A New Heaven would not be complete without first an introduction to Norfolk Island. Norfolk Island can be described as both a heaven and a hell. On my arrival there in November 2023, I was struck by the radiant hibiscus flowers, the immense scale of the Pacific Ocean that rose on all sides along traffic-less roads; the sheer size, number and orderly beauty of the Norfolk Pines, and the eerie presence of grey-white black-eyed “white terns” that dived through the air. Norfolk Island would be paradise, that is, if its breath-taking natural beauty were not ruptured by the stately World Heritage site of Kingston; one of the most depraved penal settlements the world has ever known. Norfolk Island operated as a penal settlement between 1788—1814 and 1824—1855 respectively and gained notoriety for its harsh punishments, including the incessant floggings of its prisoners. But Norfolk Island’s infamy did not end with transportation. In 1856, after the last convicts had been removed and resettled in Tasmania, the Pitcairn Islanders arrived. These were the descendants of the infamous HMS Bounty Mutineers and their Tahitian wives. After the “Pitcairners” had outgrown their tiny Pitcairn Island, Queen Victoria bequeathed Norfolk Island to them ‘in perpetuity’ – in an act known as “The Experiment”.
To Norfolk Island, the Pitcairners brought their language (which contains elements of 18th century Tahitian and 18th century North Country English), their Christian piety, and their Tahitian customs, and established an island-nation. There they remained a self-governing community until 2016, when the Australian government took control of the island against their wishes. Today, their language is known as “Norfuk” and their unique culture carries on, albeit under threat from Australian meddling. 

Into this fray comes A New Heaven and Tarren’s growing understanding of this complex community. Through the gradual appearance of Norfuk words, we are ushered into a distinct vocabulary and isolated way of life. Tarren’s prayerful lyrics and free verse weave Norfolk Pines and White Terns ('the quiet ivory bells above') with shipwrecks, phantom voices ('just below birdsong') and fields of harvest (in the reaping of  – / the final harvest of freedom’). Hints about the island’s quest for independence can be read between the lines. 

Nowhere in Tarren’s poems do we feel ordinary time. Frequent references to Greek mythology position us in deep memory. In some ways, Tarren is comparable to Hermann Hesse and his ability to create a spiritual experience on the page. Like other spiritual poets, Tarren displays a certain innocence - a refreshing literary simplicity and frankness that allows him to repeat: ‘It is not the wind. It is not the wind. / It is not the wind.’   

Almost exactly halfway through the collection, the poem "Riversong / Norfolk Hymn" marks a turning point. The poet is no longer a casual observer or flaneur in the landscape; he is immersed and now part of the myths and stories of the island, as passed down through the generations. 

There is a river on Norfolk –

we are that river.

The river of

Aklan.

This immersion allows Tarren to capture the tightly interwoven nature of Norfolk's Christian heritage with its Tahitian forebears in five arresting lines: 

Mauatua places

four black feathers

on his dark black hair.

Four black feathers

his crown of thorns –

The collection closes with a series of poems that linger in the liminal space between waking and dreaming. We meet the body of a child ('tiny, breathless'), the figure of Mary ('On this, her last night, / before she returns to the beginning'), and Norfolk's Tahitian founding mothers, before returning to the shore ('For, as the sea returns to itself – / so must we').

Tarren delights readers with his original language and distinctive imagery, at turns sharp and fragmentary, then song-like and rhythmic. True to the island these poems were written for, Tarren’s new heaven is both ghostly and luxuriant in its details ('charcoal mist', 'the glint of a harpoon', 'the fragrance of identity', 'as the sea sings a requiem / that announces and kisses').

One would be remiss to visit Norfolk Island and leave without a copy of A New Heaven, but you can also travel there from wherever you are, through Tarren’s poetry.

A New Heaven can be purchased from various outlets across Norfolk Island, or read in part, with commentary, on Mark Tarren’s Substack.

Interview

Claire: Mark, I understand a great deal of research went into A New Heaven. Can you tell me about that, and which poems were the most influenced by your findings?

Mark: I spent two years researching and writing A New Heaven. During this time, I read many books and searched the internet for subjects as diverse as Norfolk Island’s flora to the Island’s whaling history. A Norfolk Islander recommended that I read The Mutiny of the Bounty, Story of Pitcairn Island by Rosalind Amelia Young. It was first published in the late 19th century so it is the closest account we have to the origin of the Bounty-Pitcairn-Norfolk story. I lifted the veil of Victorian puritanism that the book is cloaked in, to find many treasures of inspiration. Poems such as The Weeper’s Breath and Mrs Waterson’s Dream were informed by small paragraphs in its text.

I am indebted to the academic papers of Pauline Reynolds and her book Pitcairn Tapa (barkcloth) which was invaluable in composing The Sacred Sky, my poem for the twelve Tahitian foremother’s.

Claire: One of my favourite images of yours is 'charcoal mist', which is so hauntingly accurate of the way mist appears on Norfolk Island. Can you tell me about your writing process; how do you develop your imagery and phrases?

Mark: I believe that poems are alive beings in and of themselves. They are a part of me, yet separate to me. The joy of the writing process is that the poem itself calls to me and starts the journey. It usually begins with an image — or a word or a line — then builds from there.

The next step inside the architecture of a poem is the research. This involves a great deal of reading, note taking and highlighting. I may use some of it, a little of it — or none at all. But it's important to have the weight of research behind it.

When I am working on a poem, I have a board in my studio with images, notes, photographs and clippings pinned to it. My work desk is covered in talismans; pieces of whalebone, wood, feathers, birds nests and Polynesian art provide an immersive environment to inform the poem. 

The writing process is a deeply personal, all consuming, transcendent experience for me and many hours are spent in editing and rewrites. I am not sure where all the images and phrases come from. Perhaps they are already there. Michelangelo used to say about his sculptures that the figure was already inside the block of marble — he just set it free.

Claire: A New Heaven includes several of your darkly lit photographs. Can you tell me more about them? How does photography influence your poems, or vice-versa?

Mark: The photography mainly started as a visual device to engage people with the text of poetry. It somehow grew from there and now has a life of its own. I now use the image making as a part of the writing process. You can do things with images that you can’t do with words. I am usually editing an image while editing a poem. 

I don’t really consider myself a photographer. Photographer’s are highly-skilled technicians — which I am not — however I enjoy working with image making as part of the creative journey.