Book Review: Slipping Between

by Diana Webb
2023, paperback, 36 pages
£5.00
E-mail the Author to Order

Reviewed by Terri L. French

I must confess, on first perusal of this 36-page booklet I was left quite confused. I’d never read anything quite like it—part instruction manual/workbook, part fictional memoir, and containing only one complete haibun … What was I to make of this, and how would I ever write a review? I put the book down and decided to look at it again in the morning, after coffee.

The caffeine and a fresh perspective seemed to help. After slipping between the pages of the book several more times, I came away thinking this was one of the most unique and creative reads I’d had in a long time. In it, a fictional character—a haibun writer whose name we do not know—takes us through her personal process of coming up with the “most fitting haibun she can create, as a comment on and tribute to a relationship between herself and another” (a mysterious friend referenced only as “she.”) Readers are invited to play along in this writing experience. Those who do may, like me, find themselves with a new haibun at the end of it all.

The booklet is divided into three parts and closes with a single, culminating haibun. In the first part, “A Beautiful Title,” the haibun writer shares with the reader 16 short journal/notebook entries. The writer’s musings meander, with many depictions of Ophelia, a character from William Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, along with references to the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais and the life of the model who posed for that painting, Elizabeth “Lizzie” Siddal. Here’s one example:

Research into the milliners’ practices. The Ophelia model’s profession. At least at first. Pins. Hatpins mass produced from 1832. So when she was free of nappy pins, assuming there was some equivalent then, pins, crafted by hand to secure a piece of headgear in place were few and would not have threatened her plump little fingertips. No sleeping beauty she. In 1962 there was no trace whatsoever of everyone’s favourite Ophelia painting herself back to life.

Among those rather fragmented pieces, the writer highlights words and phrases (such as “No sleeping beauty she”) that might be good haibun titles. She invites the reader to do so as well, making their own choices.

I paused after this first section—a bit of an art history lesson for me—to do some reading up on art and culture in the Victorian era, including the Great Exhibition of 1851, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the artists Millais and Dante Gabrial Rossetti, the painting of Ophelia, and more. This allowed me to become familiar with this period and to more easily join in the writer’s experience. Some of my highlighted phrases from the journal/notebook entries were “echoes of petals,” “poised to fly,” “space for snails,” and “what most would discard.”

In the second part of the book, “A Central Narrative,” the writer offers several paragraphs about incidents that she feels sum up the essence of the relationship between herself and her friend. All reference works of art by such luminaries as Millais, Samuel Palmer, and Paul Cezanne, each being viewed and commented upon by the two friends. Here’s the final piece, which alludes to Cezanne’s The Bay of Marseilles Seen from L’Estaque.

A holiday snap. L’Estaque near Marseilles. It’s nothing like it she says. His sea is so much bluer. All blues dissolved in one ethereal shade. The idea of blue. Platonic blue. And his trees. The essence of trees. Bare bones of an arch in his subtle overlapping boughs. The roofs. The chimney. Essence of a chimney. Her friend looks through their window. Look out at those. The roofs. The chimneys. Chimney pots. The slants of terra cotta. Let’s catch the morning sunlight as it highlights the matt surfaces. Let’s catch it now.

Readers are encouraged to imagine themselves as the central characters and, from what they have gleaned about the relationship, write a new central paragraph around one of the incidents. At this step (rule bender that I am) I decided to create a somewhat new incident centered on these two characters and their interest in the painting of Ophelia.

The third portion of the book consists of a few pages of zig-zagged words and phrases pulled from the writer’s recollections of the events that inspired the prose pieces. From this list a three-line haiku is formulated. I played around with different combinations of fragment and phrase and came up with a three-line haiku that I thought suited my paragraph. Then I went back to the first section to find a title I thought suited both prose and haiku. I wound up using one of the writer’s highlighted choices—”Just the one.”

The haibun writer does not share the various iterations of title, prose, and haiku that she experimented with before deciding upon the final, most fitting haibun she could create, and I will not ruin the surprise by sharing her haibun. But I will share my final haibun.

Just the one

I tell her the dress is all wrong. The neckline too low. No silvery thread running through the brocade. She tells me we can make it work, to use my imagination. After the second-hand store we visit the florist. He says violets are out of season and he’s no poppies in stock. We settle for a half dozen red roses and a bouquet of pink carnations. Back at my flat I fill the tub with warm water. The dress is too tight and won’t float like it ought. Her mousey brown hair lacks the original model’s luster. I toss the flowers into the water around her and run to fetch my paints and canvas. Open your eyes, I tell her, part your lips just so. My model lacks patience and I lack talent, so after an hour we call it quits. She tells me my painting is more Matisse than Millais. I tell her she is more drowned rat than Ophelia. Later we enjoy a glass of claret by the fire. To Lizzie, says my friend. I raise my glass noticing the copper glow of the flames through the wine—the perfect shade.

all that's left. . .
strands of sunlight
on the floorboards

I thank the fictitious haibun writer and her creator, Diana Webb, for inviting me on this journey. I know it is one that any reader of haibun would enjoy.

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About the Reviewer

Terri L. French is a poet/writer and retired Massage Therapist. She and her husband, Ray, have four mostly grown children and one spoiled dog. They now enjoy the nomadic life of full-time RVers.

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