The Multiverse ( or theermvsuitle as it says on the cover)  is the first poetry collection by Andrew Wynn Owen, a fellow of All Souls College. It is published by Caranet and praised by the poets of likes of Simon Armitage. Each poem exuberates life as Owen crafts each and every word with the authority of a laureate. If there is another universe where he has not written this book, then it is a darker place indeed.

Owen’s collection is expansive and varied with sixty poems exploring themes such as science, philosophy and human nature. He tests our perceptions on reality, and ourselves too, both elegantly and rhythmically. His piece Mirrors and Windows is just one example of a piece which does this in Multiverse:  

‘A window, though
Shows more than any mirror.
Pervasive happening opens space
And lets free landscape flow.’

Multiverse is more than just a collection of writing. Like a song or a dance, his poetry resonates and inspires the inner creative. His words seem to take on a form and start to waltz with the reader – dipping and twirling them to each step of the iambic pentameter.

This is a book to savour as, with most great poetry, you cannot rush over the lines. If you do, you will miss out on the chemistry. There will be some phrases that, when you read them, will give you a sensation of a first skin – that pulse of electricity. For me, it was a line in The Door:

‘I’d never loved the room. It is the door
That I adore.’

Owens zips between various styles throughout his book from pieces resembling Shakespearean sonnets such as The Scientist (using an abab structure and rhyming couplets) to Stonehenge which feels almost like an epic. Yet even with their historic roots, his poems feel fresh and contemporary. Where Shakespeare would focus on love and marriage, Owens explores scientific discovery and alternate realities. Like epics, Owens also sings of legends and folklore, but in relation to modern society, ‘beyond the power plants, main roads’ and ‘churning cars.’

Owen has the skill to take something and subvert it, scrutinise it under his creative eye and turn it into something else. Take April Shower for example. In this piece, he simply writes about rain. It may not be much to us British but Owen changes this and turns it into something fantastical, stunning:

‘But now let fall
In plosive drops,
Startling the land and pulling out the stops.
Torrential fuel. A shapeless rush
Of see-through resin beads.’

Yet, although breathtaking, some of his poetry is not the most accessible. It darts around like a hummingbird you so desperately want to get a glimpse of. You can chase it around, and try to predict its moves, but you will tire yourself out. Or, at least, modern audiences and those who don’t like poetry will. But to enjoy poetry, as these people fail to realise, you have to get lost in it. Explore the words. Reread lines. Question what you are reading and soak it all in.

Of course, if it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing and I doubt there’s much I can say to convince you. But, keep in mind, there is a universe out there where you are reading Multiverse and loving it.

Multiverse is released today (May 31st). 

By Emily Priest