       
 Todd Swift
is one of Canada's leading younger expatriate writers.
Elegant, moving, and masterful, Rue du Regard forms the
final part of a trilogy, following the acclaimed Budavox
and Café Alibi. Written in Paris and London between 2001
and 2004, Rue du Regard crosses the channel between
these two great cities and between two kinds of poetry:
experimental and mainstream. The book deals with
looking: in, out, back, and ahead. In almost whiplash
motion, certain moods, themes, and images from Swift's
earlier collections here snap forward, double-back. The
universal accidents of travel and memory, love and
desire, violence and innocence, are central.
The poems in this collection were written and/or revised
in Paris and London between 2001 and 2004.
During this time, two of the major incidents in my life
inc1uded a wedding and a car accident. The third was
opposition to a war. Also, much thought went into the
ongoing debate between the 'accessible' and the
'innovative' (or Mainstream and Postmodern as some say
in the UK) in contemporary poetics. This third full
collection of my poems (following Budavox and Café
Alibi) forms the final part of a trilogy.
Rue du Regard is a real street, and it lies parallel to
the one I lived on for two years, in the 6th, near Le
Nemrod café, which is the best in Paris. The former
prime minister lived on Rue du Regard, and I once saw
him in his yellow tracksuit, buying newspapers
announcing his defeat, at the corner shop with the
beautiful older woman (who sold me The Guardian every
day); I miss these people.
The book itself has something to do with looking: in,
out, back and ahead. Paris is a place made for, and
from, cinema; and one is accustomed to the gaze. Models
and immodesty flourish. Rampling seems exemplary of
something agelessly sad, sexual, and sadistic about
Paris. London is, of course, the Unreal City, spun by
sooty politics, business, and the media into a cool but
ugly tension.
I have made this book in two parts, to cross the channel
between the two cities. The presiding spirits of
decadent Huysmans and logical Ayer attempt to find
balance. Certain moods, themes, images, even phrases
from my two earlier collections here snap forward,
double-back, in something akin to a whiplash motion. The
universal accidents of travel and memory, love and
desire, violence and innocence, may prove to be central.
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