Something a Little Bit Magical: Interview with natalie hanna
natalie hanna is a queer, disabled, lawyer of Middle-Eastern descent, working with low income populations. Her writing focuses on feminist, political and personal themes. She is the author of eleven chapbooks. Her poetry, commentary and interviews have been published in print and online in Canada and the U.S. She was the past Administrative Director of the Sawdust Reading Series and served on the board of Arc Poetry magazine between 2016 and 2018. Her poem “light conversation” received Honourable Mention in Arc’s 2019 Diana Brebner Prize.
In this interview, Canthius Digital Content Editor Manahil Bandukwala talks to natalie about her new chapbook, infinite redress, collaborations with musicians, and her press, battleaxe.
To learn more about natalie, see her work on her website, or follow her on Twitter @battleaxenat. Buy a copy of her chapbook, or watch her read from it, accompanied by music.
Manahil: Hi natalie! I want to start out by saying how grateful I am for you and your presence in the literary community. You hold a fierce care for your loved ones, and I have so much appreciation and respect for you.
Without embarrassing you much further, I wanted to dive in and ask you about your forthcoming chapbook with Baseline Press, titled infinite redress. Needless to say, I am incredibly excited for it. How did the chapbook come to life?
natalie: These are overly kind things of you to say, thank you, and I am thoroughly embarrassed. I'm very grateful to be part of our caring literary community, and to see it growing in new directions all the time.
Karen Schindler, the editor of Baseline, invited me to submit a chapbook manuscript in 2018 and it has been a labour of love since that time. The past few years have been a difficult time in terms of various losses and deaths. I've been examining how we mourn, and how it affects the way we see our place in the world and in the universe. It's hard to treat oneself with kindness in the face of deep loss, and sometimes, we lash out the other way in our anger and sorrow over the idea that we will never be able to interact again with those people and experiences we've loved so deeply and that seem lost to us forever. I think that this fear of losing control is also what sometimes drives us to harm our environment. I was speaking with Sanita Fejzić recently about how our desires are manufactured, such as the manufactured desire to accumulate 'wealth', balanced against the need to survive. I think that there's some kind of deep-seated fear of lacking at the root of greed, which can lead us to abuse the world around us.
The idea for the chapbook was sparked by a conversation I had with Billy Mavreas in 2018 at an above/ground press anniversary reading. We hadn't met each other before, but fell into talking about humanity's role in the universe at the end of the night. The opening poem in infinite redress recounts my favourite part of that conversation. From there, the poems move through literal seasons of grief that encompass childlessness, illness, suicide, and mass murders. These poems are intended to speak to and of people. Interposed are poems that are addressed to, and which reflect on how we harm, our natural environments as we also, as a species, look to space and the greater universe that doesn't need us to operate. Mostly, the poems of deepest grief are described in the brightest settings, and the poems of the deepest hope are described in dark or muted settings. The conversation with Billy Mavreas from the first poem circles back at the end.
infinite redress by natalie hanna
Manahil: What was working with Karen like?
natalie: Working with Karen was probably the best experience that one could ever hope for. I strongly recommend it. She is an incredibly patient editor, and worked with me to narrow the initial set of poems to the most cohesive set it could be. I have been sidelined by various physical challenges this year that meant everything ground to a near halt for me, but her commitment to working at my pace so that we could still complete this project was a gift. With a gracious and open dialogue established, we did several rounds of fine edits, discussing and tweaking small details, all the way down to the finish line. I'm really proud of the work we did together.
Manahil: I’m remembering Margo LaPierre’s House Party Poetry Series, and how it’s one of the online events that I really hold dear with the sense of closeness and community it brought. In terms of your chapbook launch, what will that look like?
natalie: Due to health issues, I’m probably unable to participate in Baseline Press’s online live launch for Fall 2020. The launch will debut chapbooks by Anita Lahey/Pauline Conley, A.H. Jernigan, and Olive Andrews. This will also be a joint launch between Baseline Press and 845 Press.
As a result, my portion of the launch looks a little different. I wanted to do something special to celebrate the chapbook, so I prerecorded a reading that can be shared as is convenient. This summer, I read a selection of the poems at night, in my garden, trying to choose poems that would build the narrative from the personal to the vast.
I approached poet, musician, and literary collaborator Liam Burke with an advance copy of the chapbook, and he agreed to create a guitar soundscape with thematic shifts after reading the poems and listening to me deliver the reading. His portion of the video is also shot at home, but in daylight, and both halves are joined split-screen, reflecting the light and darkness of the poem cycle itself. As the tension grows across the poems, the music intensifies in a way that responds to the anxieties discussed, before slowing at the end and suddenly extinguishing. I find neat effects are produced depending on which half of the screen you're watching, or whether you're listening with eyes closed.
As far as long distance COVID-era collaborations, I'm relieved we were able to sort this out using mostly our phones with editing and production help from R.B. Fairchild, none of us having access to professional recording equipment.
Manahil: I’m very excited to hear it. I’m thinking of Conyer Clayton and Nathanael Larochette’s poetry-music collaborations here when I say this, but music definitely has a way of enhancing the poetic listening experience. How do you know which musicians can produce the soundscapes you’re seeking for your poetic work?
natalie: Everything is bound up in trust and respect for me. My collaborations have involved friends whose music I already know and whom I trust, as well as those in whom I am willing to place trust based on dialogue. As a poet, I feel I've had a lot of opportunity to meet artists of various disciplines. Every once in awhile, a feeling of connectivity to their work settles over me. From there it's a matter of determining fit. I suppose any musician could, theoretically, create a soundscape that suits your work...but I like the kind of collaborations that feel like a conversation, like something a little bit magical is happening.
Conyer and Nathanael are cherished friends. My poem "mitosis" takes its name directly from one of their pieces in their collaboration on "If the river stood still," which is a deeply moving project to commemorate the passing of Conyer's mother. So their collaboration finds its way into my work, while I collaborate with someone else in another part of the conversation. While I was attending their launch (hosted by Liam) with a dear friend, we actually did receive news of someone about to pass. I've mentioned to Conyer that in that moment, I was caught up in a continuum of music and words, of memory and predictions. The combination of music and poetry enabled me to access an enhanced level of feeling and compassion.
Manahil: The two of us have also read our work to Liam’s soundscapes at his show at All Saints Event Space. I find he has this great ability to play music that builds and releases that tension you’re talking about.
natalie: I got this really casual message asking if I was coming to the show, and inviting me to share some poems onstage. I was going to be coming directly from work, without stopping at home, but I happened to be carrying a draft manuscript of infinite redress and had some of the sequenced long poems with me. There was again, no time to rehearse.
We've been sharing writing and I've been listening to him play guitar for long enough, though, that when asked what I wanted played behind the poems as I stepped up to the mic, I just asked for "the softest and sweetest" guitar he could give me and wasn't nervous about it. There was trust there, and I felt that the music made the experience of auditioning the poems more comfortable.
Manahil: How did that affect working on your chapbook?
natalie: What is really interesting to me is how, over time, "things pulled from the earth" (the long poem I auditioned that day that made it into the chapbook) took on a different tone due to its contextual placement against the other poems in infinite redress. When I first performed it, it was standing more or less alone in a place of sorrow and compassion. Within the context of the chapbook, while those aspects are still reflected, it lives in a position of increasing anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion, as the poems reach a crescendo of grief that has to be met with the consolation of the final two poems.
When I asked Liam to provide the soundscape for the whole video launch of the chapbook, I briefly described to him its broader structures and provided an advance e-copy. He felt he had just the thing, proposed a long ASMZ-esque jam, and understood what kind of thematic shifts I'd be wanting after reading the manuscript. He took some passes at the backing music that were really moving. I started to assemble a selection of poems for the reading and testing them against the music, and we went forward from there, refining it. The strangest part was not being able to perform in the same space, having two people speaking in different languages back and forth to create a common feeling.
Poetry is an art that sometimes involves reaching out as you are reaching in. The appeal of music to our emotions is so strong, and when your musical collaborator understands where you wanted to go with the poetry, they can bring a real power to bear on things. They can create, as mentioned above, layered tension, but also create silence and docility between notes that are just as important.
Watch natalie hanna and Liam Burke perform
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Manahil: Can you talk a bit about your other poetry-music collaborations?
natalie: I’ve collaborated to combine music and poetry only five times: with the women of the Aella choir and Badger Jones (drums), with Jason Sonier (bass, guitar), with Nathanael Larochette (guitar), and with Liam Burke (guitar, twice). Each was a very different experience. Some of these have involved pre-planning and some very little at all.
In 2017, I was part of a storytelling and poetry event at The Origin Arts and Community Centre, where musician and friend Jason Sonier (who has worked with dancers, storytellers, and folk artists) provided a soundscape for the performers. We hadn't had any time to rehearse beforehand. I only was able to give him a broad idea of the kind of emotional tone I was trying to set and the kinds of musical tones I'd wanted to pair with the poems. I wish I could have been a bigger help to him, as professional musicians must find this kind of generality maddening! When I stepped on stage he was preparing to accompany me on upright electric bass (bowed), and part of my brain turned off as I tried to perform while listening to this gorgeous music on this instrument that kind of drags your heart along the strings with the bow. Later, he shared he too wanted to stop playing and listen to the poetry. I remember I kept looking back at the bass, actively telling myself to keep reading, keep pace. There's a way to put yourself in the moment that suddenly transforms something that is taking place in a public space into a beautiful personal one. We were enhancing one another's own experience of performing along with the audience's experience.
Later in 2017, I was also approached by fellow poet and friend Jennifer Baker to perform in the "Her Voice" concert, with the women of the Aella choir, founded by Artistic Director Jennifer Berntson. I've discussed the beauty of that experience here.
It involved both adapting my poems to include lines from the powerful songs that the women's choir was performing, and performing while the choir members sang along with Jennifer Baker and I. One of the choristers, Terri Slade, also provided haunting solo background vocals echoing the adapted lines. I invited my friend, drummer Badger Jones, to join us as my poems featured a Middle Eastern theme that would naturally be well-supported this way. I also had the opportunity to teach the choir how to perform a zaghrouta, which is a Middle-Eastern ululation of joy, to go with one of my poems. It can be quite an intimidating sound for those not familiar with it and I loved that the choristers trusted me and each other enough to let loose with it! That collaboration felt like a very generous, joyful exchange and, when performed in a church, one that produced powerful effects.
In 2019, I collaborated with Nathanael Larochette (The Night Watch, Musk Ox) on a storytelling performance for the Hindsight Storyteller show, curated by Danielle K. L. Gregoire, at the last ever Westfest. Westfest was an Ottawa festival run by the indomitable Elaina Martin for 16 years. It enriched the city so much and it feels irreplaceable. I was telling a story about my mother, which lends itself to reflective tenderness, and I am still at a stage where I write stories to be performed in the same style as I perform my poetry. I approached Nathanael, sent him a copy of the story I would be performing, and he invited me over to try some music out ahead of time, based on soft Moroccan and Turkish music I'd been listening to. We made quick recordings of me reading the story alone, and of both of us performing together. We then spent some time talking about family, and listening to amazing world music, which was very important to me and helped situate us on a similar plane (though as a non-musician, I will not say the same plane out of respect for his skill). It was a wonderful experience, having someone of Nate's creativity and mastery working with me on the stage, his musical calmness and delicacy lending a sort of peacefulness to my story. He had a great sense of my pacing through the story and gently lifted it throughout.
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Manahil: On that note, staying connected to a creative community can be especially hard. What are ways in which you’ve tried to or managed to do that?
natalie: I continually feel like I want to be doing more, and chafe against the practical restrictions. I am completely encouraged that the movement towards online events this year was swift and well-adopted. Suddenly, it's easy to attend events all across the country where normally these opportunities would have been limited by time and cost. This means that I'm not only seeing people from my own local creative community more often, but getting to meet new ones virtually all the time.
Manahil: You also have your own press, battleaxe, which I know holds a special place in my heart. battleaxe published one of my first poems, and then later published my first chapbook. We’ve had conversations about what your goals for battleaxe are. Can you talk about what the press has accomplished?
natalie: I really enjoyed publishing your Pipe Rose in 2018. It was such a set of beautiful poems that established a kind of stillness in me when I first read it. This was also the first time an author had offered to include their own illustrations. Authors often come to the table knowing what kind of cover art they have in mind, and even come with the names of other artists whose art they want, but I couldn't pass up the chance to include your own gorgeous illustrations.
Two collections published by battleaxe press
I guess the press has accomplished some small things. I've discussed projects like a chapbook to benefit the Ottawa Rape Crisis Centre and to commemorate the final year of the Sawdust reading series with Gap Riot Press for the Toronto International Festival of Authors.
Generally, it helped me to reconnect more deeply with the community. In the mid-90s, I ran a small press, but came away from that eventually as my life changed and was overtaken by other work. In 2012, when I came back to Ottawa after a three and a half year absence, I was missing my literary community immensely. By 2013, I started to attend readings again, learning about all of the new developments and making new connections. I'd resumed writing and performing as well. In 2016, after a discussion with friend and mentor rob mclennan, I decided it was time to start up a small press again. I'd reached a place where I had some modest resources I could devote to this. I was also working full time at another profession, however, and was nervous about the pace of production I could/couldn't meet. Sometimes, it takes an outside voice to change your mindset. mclennan, who produces hundreds of small press publications per year, convinced me that even if I were to publish only one or two items per year through my press, that would be just fine. So the first thing that battleaxe accomplished was to let me understand that I could still make a contribution to our literary community even if it wasn't at the pace of better funded / resourced people and organizations who could do this work full time.
The press has published chapbooks that span poetry, poetry and musical collaborations, poetry with visual art, two anthologies, a spoken word chapbook, a chapbook of centos, and one cheeky colouring book, as well as a series of broadsides. I enjoy that there is a diversity in structure of these items. The majority of the chapbooks / broadsides have been authored by women. I invite, in particular, authors who are BIPOC, and writing from authors who identify as LGBT2sQQIAAP+. I identify as being in these groups, as strange as it is to have to categorize oneself for the sake of expediency. When I was in my early 20s, I didn't see small press publishers like me. I didn't have a model for what might be different if a press were run by a young, queer, Woman of Colour, and what constraints I might be able to do away with. Now, we're growing nationally and it's amazing. Sometimes, you have to make the success you want to see. So I guess that the second thing that battleaxe has accomplished is allowing me to support others who are in the place I used to be. I want developing authors to know that there are places for their voices and innovations.
Manahil: I definitely appreciate there being a press run by a queer Woman of Colour (WOC), in Ottawa, when I was looking to publish my first chapbook. I had an assurance that my work would be treated with care and love when I sent it to you, which was incredibly important to me as a young WOC writer very new to the literary scene.
What is the editing process like for a battleaxe chapbook?
natalie: Much like Karen Schindler suggested in her interview with you, I often accept chapbook submissions that I know I will be happy to publish with very few edits. I've mentioned elsewhere that when I was a young writer, I had some negative experiences with more experienced authors seeking to alter my literary voice. They probably had the best of intentions in doing that, without realizing that this is fraught with danger of overwriting the narrative of a WOC if not done carefully. If you connect well enough with a set of poems to want to publish it, you should still be asking the author what is important to them about those poems before you jump into editing.
I think there's a particular skill of editing to enhance versus editing to transform. Above checking the basics (i.e., like whether words spelled unusually are intentional, confirming breaks and layout, etc...), when you accept a submission for publication, you should be committing to working not just to the words on the page, but the motivations that drive the author's work. It will help you to understand them better and how the poems work as a collection. It will help you to suggest subtle changes that give stronger effect to the intention for the author to consider (but you have to be prepared for the author to explain why they may not accept your suggestions). It will help you understand how the poems would be most advantageously ordered. There is nothing that is not improved by having an open dialogue with your authors. From there, it's a matter of working collaboratively to produce hard copy drafts until you're both happy with the results.
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Manahil: What is one post-pandemic wish you have?
natalie: I don't even know how to really answer this. What are wishes anymore, in the context of a pandemic? I hope that when this is all truly over and we are safe, that we're all still together revelling in the company of everyone we missed, mourning as few lost friends as possible.