Book Review: The Homeland by Katharina Muller translated by Matthew Landrum
I found this poetry collection in the town of Geraldine. The Homeland was a slither between thick spines. The bookshop felt curated, loved. The poetry section seemed alive, loved. I stood there, flicking through the pages and knew this book belonged to me.
There is a paper sheath wrapped around the cover, a dust jacket that you normally see on hardbacks. The book has a homemade feel to it. This appeals to me. It does not scream for my attention with loud choice or fanciful design choice. It is quietly beautiful. I will not lie to you, I definitely judge a book by its cover. This one has a charcoal sketch of mountains.
Of course, it’s a translation from German. Admittedly, I don’t speak German. But I enjoy gazing at the original language and guessing at the pronunciation. In this case, the original German is on the verso (left page) and the English translation is on the recto (right page). The recto is where our eyes are drawn first and can be considered the more dominant, important page.
The poems are given plenty of space to breathe on the page. Think of blank space around writing as an artwork inside a frame. It can either help or hinder a piece. If the margins or gutters are too thin then a poem can felt cramped, crowded, rushed. But this is perfect.
I love the final stanza on the first page.
“There’s a letterbox labeled homeland
but no one has the key anymore”
Yes, yes, yes. I will keep reading.
The Homeland is short and sweet and can be read in a single sitting. Right now, I’m sitting in a café, in the Golden Bay of New Zealand. My breakfast has just arrived, a falafel sandwich and what turns out to be a truly awful coffee. Yet, I cannot seem to give up coffee and I cannot put this book down. This is not a comparison, merely a coincidence.
I turn the page and find four slices of tomato buried within my sandwich. You may not know this about me but I’m allergic to tomatoes. I surgically remove them with a knife and fork. You see, the experience of reading a book can be just as important as the words within a book.
My thoughts return to The Homeland. I turn the page. There is a shade sail across the cafe courtyard. Seagulls walk and squawk above me. No doubt, they are waiting for me to finish, hungry for my tomatoes. My thoughts return to The Homeland. But the wind changes direction and clouds cover the sky. I left my jacket at basecamp and shivers move through my body. I seek warmth from the poetry of Katharina Muller. But that is just a metaphor. What I actually need is a jacket. I carry the book home with me.
