Going Home

by Anne Peterson

‘Going Home’ is an evocation of the author’s encounters with the natural, economic and cultural environment of south-eastern Bulgaria.

The poems trace Anne’s initial sense of dépaysement at moving to a country so different from her previous life and chart her growing familiarity with a warm-hearted people and their country rhythms.

The reader is left with Anne’s paradoxical sense that going home may require reversing your direction of travel.

You can read more about the inspiration behind this chapbook here, and buy a copy of this subtle and rewarding collection of poetry here.

A review, by Chrissie Williams in SOUTH69 magazine, can be read, below.

Going Home, reviewed by Chrissie Williams in SOUTH69

This engaging, slender chapbook contains twenty poems and helpful accompanying photos which span a period of sixteen years. It opens with the poet explaining the choice of Bulgaria for a summer home, followed by first impressions when she and her husband travel out to find and buy a village house. The collection closes with a wonderfully bittersweet poem reflecting on all she is leaving behind as she shares an impromptu last supper with neighbours.

Of the early poems, I particularly liked Unscheduled stop where the poet describes her anxiety at breaking down and pulling into the world’s most unpromising garage:

‘..where two guard dogs, long-chained,
drink water from sawn-off cooking-oil tubs
’All ends well: ‘– relieved, we pay, shake hands,
boss-man’s smile broadens as we nervously
try to reverse, gets in, does it himself in seconds.’

The poems between show increasing knowledge of the country, and the vibrant people in the village of Svirkovo. Marika is only twelve lines long, but paints a vivid picture of the reality of village life for a teenage girl who longs for the world beyond:

‘She dreams herself a city job in high-heels
selling sparkly tops and denim jeans’.

Zornitsa is another warm poem where you feel you are right alongside the errant singing cleaner, her little sister, and the poet. The men of the village get a look in too: Upwardly mobile describes a brief meeting with Goshu, who travels to Switzerland for work, bringing in his colourful harvest of pumpkins:

‘– him…
beside the orange and gold wagonload
clicking his tongue to his prancing pony,
an upgrade on last year’s donkey.’

A sense of dislocation and relocation permeate these subtle and rewarding poems. The seasons change, life changes as the poet contemplates her double life and what it is to be home alone.