Between the Lines :Saberstian T Sibanda WHILE most authors prefer to serve their best delicacies during the main course, Tanaka Chidora, author of Because Sadness is Beautiful? reveals his curiously rebellious nature by hastily lighting a forest fire under poetic practice. Using his exceptional knack for intuitive observation, he drops a colossal cluster bomb on the entrée page of his debut poetry collection, which sets the tone for the rest of the book. He muses: “…there is a country whose main preoccupation is to allocate sadness to its people.” This opening salvo detonates inside the mind instantly, obliterating any pre-conceived notions that this book will gather dust on shelves, and fondly reminds me of why I fell in love with Chidora’s finesse with the written word. I first came across Chidora’s hypnotic writing style on the esteemed corridors of the Gould of Consciousness, a gathering place for those with poetic marrow in their bones. And there I found him lamenting the passing of his grandmother in a sombre piece aptly titled, An Old Woman Dying. I considered this desolate piece an outpouring of a myriad of emotions many writers would hesitate to address in the public domain. To his credit, Chidora employs the same meta-personal approach to emphatic writing in his book, Because Sadness is Beautiful? also notable for a most-intriguing title that forces the reader to ponder: how can sadness be beautiful? The literary offering is reflective of a poet who writes for himself first and the reader second, and this is evident by the pervasive manner in which he bludgeons blunt words into the reader’s mind without needing to ask for permission or favour. He artfully uses the book as a vehicle to pay homage to other literary giants who have crossed his illustrious path and in some instances persons with whom he shares personal attachments. One of Chidora’s endearing techniques is intertwining vulgarised shock and awe with prolific aphorisms such as when he writes about, “a country whose peace is governed by beasts, bullets, and bayonets.” This persuasive line is a definitive example of the serpentine prowess of Chidora’s hand, possessing the uncanny ability to deliver a heart-wrenching message without the dissenting political clutter that usually accompanies such notions. And one cannot help imagining the dire fate of such a nation. Happy to reverse into the political mud bath, Tanaka is bent on “carrying the entire weight of the country” on the back of his poetic voice, as he takes different routes and panoramic views to portray the prevailing state of affairs. And at times he brazenly peers into the ghastly intestines of society to reveal abominations normal eyes shy away from — such as the following anecdote: “…it is only in squatting astride the yawning hole of the pit latrine that the emperor and subjects share pieces of democracy.” Chidora’s writing style is peculiarly reminiscent of Charles Bukowski who also possessed a penchant for writing in morbid tones that kicked the reader’s brain into submission. I pleasa