Melancholy and gratitude

Portraits
by Lacey Jones

N.p.: Nerdy Kat Books, 2025
$14.36 / 9780986120886

Reviewed by Isabella Ranallo

*

This concise collection of poems by Vancouver Island-based author Lacey Jones accomplishes an impressive amount in under fifty pages. With assured voice, far-reaching cultural references, and an connection to the universal via the deeply individual, Portraits has something new to say while bowing its head to predecessors and contemporaries alike. 

There are multiple themes that can be pinpointed throughout the collection, but two resonated with me especially. The first was the portrayal of grief. Jones renders the lived-in state of grieving with aching details. The loss of a spouse, a farewell to a dying pet, visiting Christmastime ghosts à la Dickens: take your pick. There is an expanse of different types of loss here. 

The opening poem, “Elegy to Eric,” is told from the perspective of a widow at her husband’s funeral. A subtle but satisfying rhyme scheme runs throughout the poem, which is laced with gut-wrenching sensory details. “I don’t remember much except / the sadness, smell of sage,” the widow muses. She also asks “why are all these people here? / They came to see the show.”

The question works within the world of the poem, while also potentially breaking the fourth wall. Why are we reading these poems about a grief that is not ours? Is it voyeuristic? No. The grief is unique, and yet anyone who has lost someone can identify, reflecting on shards of their own pain. The elegiac portraits can also be accurately described as mirrors: perhaps a hallmark of enduring poetry. The universal experience is found in the individual. Yet the fact remains, the speaker answers their own question: we opened this book “to see the show” and Jones paints a complex one spanning art forms. 

A tonal shift arrives in the fourth poem, “Compassion Fatigue,” where the speaker tends to a stranger who has overdosed. That stands in sharp contrast to the opening poems. Mourning a loved one shifts into saving the life of a stranger—yet the speaker still sounds weary. This sense of fatigue is a consistent staple of the poem’s voice. The speaker has seen tragedy and wonders how much more they can take. In this case, life goes on. The subject of the poem is revived from their overdose; “a Saviour finds him worthy of His hope.” This poem underlines the randomness of life—and death—before confidently striding into the body of the collection. 

From there, Jones (Soldiers of Gaia) offers introspective reflections across a kaleidoscope of emotions. Losing faith, finding spirituality in nature, and recurring thoughts of death in various and intriguing manifestations are some of the themes that appear. Far-reaching artistic and cultural references are employed to further these themes. One of the final poems is titled “Persephone,” which serves as a full-circle moment. The collection opens with a widow at a funeral and winds down with the appearance of the wife of death—an intentional and satisfying character positioning.

The reference to Greek mythology here is not an exception. Throughout the collection, there is an acknowledgement of literary history that demonstrates the author’s scope of reference and inspiration. Jones annotates Dickens in “Ghosts of Christmas Past,” meditates on Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife in “In Pacifica,” and references a J.M.W. Turner painting with “The Fighting Temeraire.”

Referentiality is the second theme that stood out to me. I can’t recall another poetry collection that had me looking up so many terms or events. Through this, I was introduced to an assortment cultural references. Turns out, Tonn Cliodhna is (I think?) a tide off the coast of Ireland named after a tragic figure in Irish mythology. Thank you, Lacey. The specificity and breadth of knowledge on display is impressive. Take the time to look up each one. It will only enhance your reading experience. Combined with her poetic craft and vivid introspectiveness, Jones offers multiple points of reflection within each poem.

It can almost be wondered if there are too many obscure references. Would the collection have been stronger if the Turner painting or Henry VIII’s marital exploits been the sole recurring reference/motif throughout multiple poems? Ultimately, I think not. Although this is a reading experience that will have you exercising the Google search function, it is not overwhelming. It also manages to come off largely cohesive—perhaps with the exception of the poem from Jane Seymour’s voice, and I say this as a major Tudor buff. Maybe it felt incomplete without delving into the perspectives of Henry’s five other wives. But that could be a whole other poetry collection (or Six, the musical). 

If anything, Portraits is a poetical history lesson. Jones is hyperaware of the space she occupies and successfully fosters a global sense of poetics. With that being said, a lot of the implications of these poems can be missed if the reader isn’t aware (or does not look up) what Jones references. In that way, she’s placing a lot of trust in her readers.

Jones lives on Vancouver Island, which comes to life in many of her poems. Mention of landmarks such as Collier Dam and Departure Bay Beach cements a sense of place. The most successful example of this can be found in “Ode to Tofitian Rain,” which opens with the speaker wondering what makes the seaside rain smell so sweet. In what can be classified as a list poem, Jones goes on to answer that question with an intimate knowledge of the sights, tastes, and smells that make up Tofino. Even though I’ve never been to Tofino (which, as someone who was born and currently lives on the Island, seems mildly insane), I felt an affection and nostalgia for the place by the time I reached the end of the poem. That is one example of powerful emotive writing that is present throughout the collection.

Ultimately, Jones offers a book of poetry that can simultaneously be read in an afternoon while also introducing poetical renderings about art, history, and death that will stay with the reader after the slim collection is closed. Reckoning with death, reckoning with self, or reckoning with niche Irish folklore, Portraits supplies plenty to contemplate.

At age four, Isabella Ranallo stole a sheet of her mother’s office paper to write the first page of a novel about ten kids stranded on a desert island. This led—with some twists and turns, like any good story—to graduating with a Creative Writing and History BA from VIU, where she was awarded the Barry Broadfoot Award for Journalism/Creative Non-Fiction and the Pat Bevan Scholarship for Poetry. Since graduation, Isabella has worked at the Rossland Museum & Discovery Centre as a research assistant; she currently freelances at Granville Island Publishing. Her work has appeared in the BC Federation of Writers’ WordWorks magazine. [Editor’s note: Isabella has reviewed recent books by Tara Hodgson, PP Wong, Thomas Mark McKinnon and Arleen Paré for BCR.]

*

The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

“Only connect.” – E.M. Forster