Book Review: Meat Lovers by Rebecca Hawkes

This book has been sitting in a bag, in a box and stored in my girlfriend’s sister’s garage. For well over a year. It survived the great cull of my bookshelf. I was moving out of my apartment and onto the road. But I couldn’t bring myself to give this book away. After months of galivanting the country in my orange station wagon. I got a phone call. My girlfriend’s sister wanted to free up her storage. So, Wellington bound, we sorted boxes and bags. This how I discovered this book like a long-lost treasure. My copy of Meat Lovers did well to avoid the dust mites. Rebecca Hawkes must be made of sturdy stuff.

I was at the launch for this book, at Meow in Wellington. I was sipping whiskey and watching the theatrics on stages. There was a performance by Chirs Tse, who was also launching a poetry book, Super Model Minority. There were many speeches and you must forgive my memory, I remember very little of what was said. I only recall the ice melting in my glass and the wall to wall froth of bodies. So many fans in one small venue, Meow. I brought a copy of Meat Lovers and left after the last performance. I didn’t get my book signed. I must have been hungry. There were no snacks, no free wine, no crackers and definitely no hummus. There wasn’t even a sausage sizzle for a book supposedly about meat.

I fully intended to read this book upon purchase but it become just another unfinished task on a never ending list. But you came here for a book review, didn’t you?
I’ve finally, finally opened the pages and read the book. Here’s what I think.

I made the first pass with greasy fingers from a blue cheese and artichoke pizza. This was an excellent pairing for the poetry. The parchment like paper absorbed my hunger like a napkin. The pages must be made of 200gsm Munkin paper stock. Good stuff. However, the cover is a little flimsy and begins to curl after a flick through. The inside of the back and front covers are nicely marbled with varying shades of red. It’s a nice throwback to the books of yore. The practice of marbling pages in books was originally a way to prevent forgeries, as each leaf would be unique. Meat Lovers is printed with coloured ink to replicate a marbled pattern but it’s still a nice touch.

My favourite poem is Death imperative. It is the final poem and opens with ‘You have been communing with eels all morning.’ And it’s true, I have. This piece reads fluently, beautifully on the page. But try to speak it aloud and it’s a mouthful of chunky cadence. The line breaks break up my breath in unusual ways. I cannot help but feel Rebecca’s enjambment needs a bit more jam. But maybe it’s just me and my sugar-craving vocal cords.

Here, now, I feel a little guilty for scrawling my review in the margins of this book. It was an effort of will to translate my handwriting and scrub out my penciled thoughts. I’m lying. I wrote it in pen and now the book is forever tarnished and branded as mine. Back on the shelf it goes, for the future version of myself to read and read again.

Please, do not mistake my tangents for anything other than praise. I love this book and highly recommend you read it too.