We’re told by the cover flaps that Sam Riveire’s After Fame is a collection of 118 poems based – in some way shape or form – on Book 1 by the Roman poet, Martial. Which on the face of it is fair enough.
However a significant proportion of the 118 are clearly not poems but rather prose or some rambling textual explosion. Perhaps this is only to be expected when we’re also told that the collection is a mix of original writing, machine translation, and good old-fashioned gobbledygook. Even plagiarism. Reading it is a little like wading through a literary acid trip.
Is that a good thing – not the acid trip, but the book? It has its moments. #33 stood out for me. Indeed, the earlier you are in the book the closer to poetry you get.
Whilst I can’t recommend After Fame, I also can’t help but wonder whether Riviere is onto something here. This is an incredibly fluid work which seems to defy just about every contention going (including around footnotes and ‘further reading’). Maybe it goes too far – or not far enough. Maybe it’s a glimpse into what could be possible…
Ian Gouge - Writer 