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WORK TITLE: The Hatch
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE: 1987?
WEBSITE: joefletcherpoetry.com
CITY: Carrboro
STATE: NC
COUNTRY: United States
NATIONALITY:
RESEARCHER NOTES:
PERSONAL
Born c. 1987.
EDUCATION:University of Michigan, B.A.; University of Massachusetts, M.F.A.; University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Ph.D.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Writer. University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, NC, writing instructor; North Carolina prison system, writing instructor; William Blake Archive, managing editor.
WRITINGS
Contributor to journals, including Jubilat, Octopus, Slope, Puerto Del Sol, Gulf Coast, and Painted Bride Quarterly; author of the chapbooks Already It Is Dusk and Sleigh Ride.
SIDELIGHTS
Joe Fletcher is a writer. He has contributed to a range of journals, including Jubilat, Octopus, Slope, Puerto Del Sol, Gulf Coast, and Painted Bride Quarterly. Fletcher is also the author of the chapbooks Already It Is Dusk and Sleigh Ride. When not writing, Fletcher serves as an instructor in writing and literature at the University of North Carolina and in the North Carolina prison system.
Fletcher also works as a managing editor for the William Blake Archive. In an interview in Gulf Coast, he told Christopher Murray that “the actual work I do at the Archive—managing workflows for editors and assistants, cataloguing images, communicating and coordinating with folks who want to reproduce Blake’s images in their own work—isn’t terribly exciting, but I’m glad to be contributing to the Archive’s overall goal: to make Blake’s widely dispersed and difficult-to-access works free and publicly available in high quality digital formats.”
Fletcher published his first horror poetry collection, The Hatch, in 2018. The collection of dark poetry and some works of micro fiction evoke ghoulish and fantastical imagery. Disembodied yet animate heads, forests of meat trees, and trees that smell “like the spit of a tubercular child” inhabit the pages.
In an interview in the Brooklyn Rail, Fletcher talked with Tony Trigilio about the process of writing the pieces that came to be compiled in The Hatch. Fletcher clarified that “The Hatch doesn’t really have a single origin story. Joe Pan and Brooklyn Arts Press had published a chapbook of mine back in 2011, and he expressed interest in publishing a book a few years later. I submitted a couple manuscripts, themselves comprised of poems written over the past decade or so and revised, shuffled in and out of various other manuscripts, etc. Joe culled poems from those two manuscripts and I slipped some more recent poems in, thinking they fit within the book he was envisioning.” Fletcher continued, noting that “I used to be much more rigid about keeping poems written during a particular period united in the same manuscript, but that’s seemed less crucial to me of late. Thus it is with The Hatch: the poems come from all over. So I’m grateful for Joe’s editorial intuition for how these poems were working together. He saw the uncanny/sublime aspects that you describe more clearly than I did, and he even classified the poems in the book into three types (which don’t correspond to the sections in the book).”
In the same interview, Fletcher also discussed how the specific flavor of his writings come to the fore during the creation process. He stated: “As for how the uncanny manifests, I probably don’t have a satisfying answer. It’s just been central to the literature—lyric and otherwise—and art I’ve always loved, and I wanted my poems to do that. It was Joe who identified what you call the ‘phantasmic’ element and who thought the collection could be described in such terms. I don’t disagree, but it probably wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
A contributor to Publishers Weekly noticed that “structural variations keep the collection interesting, and Fletcher impresses with his sense of rhythm and use of alliteration.” Writing in HorrorAddicts.net, Lisa Vasquez commented that “in the end, you will feel every scar–emotional and mental–this author has experienced in some way throughout his life. I recommend it.” In a review in Decomp, Spencer Dew opined that “Fletcher hits his most disturbing notes with the most commonplace image, turned horrific—‘a rain-soaked pizza box in the strip mall parking lot’—and with his most unreal yet undeniable concrete, emerging from recognizable pieces of our world, stitched together in unbearable ways.” A contributor to the Scott Kenemore website mentioned that Fletcher uses his collection “to limn a universe of intriguing, beckoning darkness and mystery. Borges, Thomas Ligotti, Livia Llewellyn … are invoked by the poems within these pages. They are ‘literary’ certainly—whatever that means—yet will also be deeply satisfying to readers who want to feel themselves in the bracing presence of cosmic and mortal dangers.” Writing in the Furious Gazelle website, Colin Boyd lauded that “Fletcher communicates an undeniable resolve to create exactly the art he wants to in as comprehensive a form as possible. Anyone in search of a contemporary twist on psychological horror need not look any further than The Hatch.”
A contributor to the BookBum website noted that “a lot of the imagery in this collection is rather grotesque, and some of the subjects of the poems are dark, so I understand the horror genre label. However, the poems didn’t frighten me.” In a review in Hellnotes, Brian James Lewis “highly recommended” The Hatch, claiming that “Fletcher’s writing is very original and has qualities that will appeal to many readers. I think that those who enjoy speculative fiction, weird tales, and dark poetry will really enjoy The Hatch! But it’s certainly not limited to just us. Anyone who’s looking for a collection of real poetry that connects solidly with readers will dig it, too.” A contributor to the Misadventures of a Reader website admitted that “The Hatch was something different to what I normally read and was a good palette cleanser.” Writing in an eponymously named blog, Diana Hurlburt remarked that “the collection is a continual unveiling of embodied strangeness, a flesh carnival of physical horror melting into mindfucks and picturesque vistas. Certain poems, including the eponymous segment and “Suite for Henk Boerwinkel,” press down against the reader like a nightmare crouched on the chest.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Publishers Weekly, May 21, 2018, review of The Hatch, p. 43.
ONLINE
BookBum, https://bookbum.co.uk/ (May 9, 2018), review of The Hatch.
Brooklyn Rail, https://brooklynrail.org/ (July 11, 2018), Tony Triglio, author interview.
Decomp, http://www.decompmagazine.com/ (September 17, 2018), Spencer Dew, review of The Hatch.
Diana Hurlburt, http://dianahurlburt.tumblr.com/ (June 1, 2018), review of The Hatch.
Furious Gazelle, http://thefuriousgazelle.com/ (June 11, 2018), Colin Boyd, review of The Hatch.
Gulf Coast, http://gulfcoastmag.org/ (October 13, 2018), Christopher Murray, author interview.
Hellnotes, https://hellnotes.com/ (April 17, 2018), Brian James Lewis, review of The Hatch.
HorrorAddicts.net, https://horroraddicts.wordpress.com/ (April 22, 2018), Lisa Vasquez, review of The Hatch.
Joe Fletcher website, http://www.joefletcherpoetry.com (October 13, 2018).
Misadventures of a Reader, https://themisadventuresofareader.com/ (June 4, 2018), review of The Hatch.
Scott Kenemore, https://scottkenemore.com/ (April 7, 2018), Scott Kenemore, review of The Hatch.
Joe Fletcher is the author of the full-length collection, The Hatch (Brooklyn Arts Press) and two chapbooks: Already It Is Dusk (Brooklyn Arts Press) and Sleigh Ride (Factory Hollow Press). Other work of his can be found at jubilat, Octopus, Slope, Gulf Coast, Painted Bride Quarterly, Hollins Critic, Puerto del Sol, and elsewhere. Joe holds a BA from the University of Michigan, an MFA in poetry from the University of Massachusetts, and a PhD in English Literature from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where he currently teaches in the Department of English and Comparative Literature. He also teaches in the North Carolina prison system and serves as Managing Editor of the William Blake Archive.
Joe Fletcher is the author of THE HATCH (Brooklyn Arts Press, 2018), as well as two chapbooks of poetry: ALREADY IT IS DUSK (Brooklyn Arts Press) and Sleigh Ride (Factory Hollow Press). Other work can be found in jubilat, Octopus, Slope, Puerto Del Sol, Gulf Coast, Painted Bride Quarterly, and online at joefletcherpoetry.com. He teaches literature and writing at the University of North Carolina and in the North Carolina prison system, and he is the Managing Editor of the William Blake Archive.
The Hatch
Publishers Weekly. 265.21 (May 21, 2018): p43.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
Full Text:
The Hatch
Joe Fletcher. Brooklyn Arts, $18 (114p) ISBN 978-1-936767-54-0
Fletcher conjures a dizzying array of fantastical and macabre imagery in his debut collection, which features lyric narratives and flash fictions that evoke the original versions of the Grimms' fairy tales, Pagan rituals, and horror films. His speakers chronicle violently losing limbs, being buried alive, and receiving sustenance from "dripping forests/ of meat trees." One speaker is summoned into a van by gray-faced strangers, while another witnesses the trial and execution of a cow for some unnamed and unpardonable crime. The title poem centers on a character, referred to as "The student," finding a disembodied but animate human head in a pile of leaves. Fletcher deals in common horror tropes ("A red-haired clown slumped/ atop a wall beside the monastery"), but his vague suggestions ("Something danced through the windy forest") are often the most unsettling. Structural variations keep the collection interesting, and Fletcher impresses with his sense of rhythm and use of alliteration: "Nightlong the sickly sea sludged/ against the sagging sea-wall." A poem called "Hoopoe Balm" describes a mysterious plant in arresting and confounding detail, with leaves shimmering in the wind "like champagne at the feast of the Queen of Sheba" and a scent "like the spit of a tubercular child." Fletcher's inventive and technically proficient collection is as wicked as it is weird. (June)
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"The Hatch." Publishers Weekly, 21 May 2018, p. 43. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A541012572/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=2c1a571f. Accessed 17 Sept. 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A541012572
Book Review: The Hatch by Joe Fletcher
April 22, 2018 by Lisa Vasquez: Author, Publisher, Book Cover Designer in books, News, review and tagged Joseph Fletcher, Lisa Vasquez, poetry, The Hatch
The Hatch is a book of poetry by Joseph Fletcher.
Drawing upon Edmund Burke’s definition of the sublime—the odd beauty associated with fear and self-preservation; our astonished delight in what destroys, what overpowers and compels us toward darkness—these strange poems mine the sinister fault lines between weird fiction, expressionism, gothic horror, and notions of the absurd, cracking the mundane shell of our given metaphysical order. In the traditions of Nerval, Trakl, Schulz, Tadić, Poe, and contemporaries Aase Berg and Jeff Vandermeer, the wonderful disassociation brought to bear on the reader lies in the conjuring of unprecedented worlds, their myths and logics, their visions and transformations—worlds that resist interpretation almost successfully, and reveal to us the uncanny and nightmarish.
On first impressions, this book boasts an incredible cover which conveys an uncanny look at the emotion contained within. Each poem embraces the reader with a mountain of emotion and collapses upon them until every emotion spirals into a dark chasm. If I have to be honest (which I do because…well, this is a review), the poems aren’t what I’m used to.
Admittedly, I’m not a poetry expert. With that said, I am used to-and prefer-another style. Don’t let that stop you from reading this book though, because this author delves deep. If those kind of poems are what you’re looking for, then this is the book for you. I’m more used to poems with more rhyme, and gentle flow but Fletcher’s style rocks you out of your comfort zone and causes you to scramble for the light at the end of the tunnel.
In the end, you will feel every scar-emotional and mental-this author has experienced in some way throughout his life. I recommend it to anyone who wants a little something different. Rinse your pallet and give this one a go
A Review of The Hatch
by Joe Fletcher
Spencer Dew
One person’s cocoon is another’s jackal turd, to use a debate image in this collection of poems exploring and offering glimpses of the uncanny. There are teeth gone slightly wrong, or in the wrong place, or absent when they are needed, and milk with an off taste—“like fungus grown on the underside of the moon.” There are drowned bodies visible beneath the ice, a mysterious “oiled tusk your uncle gave you,” and unlucky cities to dream, furniture mistaken for long lost loves and long lost victims.
The title has a double valence, a hatch being that often unexpected opening, the section of floorboard with a certain hollow sound, the shifting panel half-hidden within the wall, a portal between otherwise separate spaces, yet a hatch, too, is a new brood, creatures freshly—often wetly, and blind with hunger—birthed into the world. The dynamic Fletcher goes for here is that of hatching—that scratching from inside, that chipping away, that shaky emergence. A variety of things hatch: horseflies and plots, criminal conspiracies and large, wingless birds. The hatching here—like a cocoon that turns out to be a turd—hinges on a disturbing surprise, on the unexpected as that which causes a shudder, from a phobia of waitstaff to close encounters with a snake penis.
The book begins with the image of a failed suicide steering a boat toward shore, the first in a motley menagerie of damaged people—mutilated and partial, existing between life and death. There is a man half-“crushed by a massive bell,” another whose limbs are disappearing, even a disembodied head, animate, found in the dirt. It snaps and yowls, a cross between a mad dog and a vicious tulip.
There are, admittedly, some canned, stage-prop stabs at horror here—a scalpless gnome emerging from the earth, a “banshee made of gas and thing hoses,” a living clown puppet, a forest “of meat trees, branches / hung with red marbled cuts.” But there are also observations of banal life that evoke a deep sense of the uncanny, the repellant: a clot of eggnog in a man’s mustache, blue jeans “crusted with shrimp juice,” wounds sucking air, the hushed voice of wind in canebrake, “a knot of branches” too resembling a skull.
Fletcher hits his most disturbing notes with the most commonplace image, turned horrific—“a rain-soaked pizza box in the strip mall parking lot”—and with his most unreal yet undeniable concrete, emerging from recognizable pieces of our world, stitched together in unbearable ways—“a writhing knot of knuckles,” or that cocoon that might well open to reveal a piece of shit, an unnatural birth, a shattering parody of life and reality.
THE HATCH by Joe Fletcher
April 7, 2018 scottkenemore 1 Comment
It’s exciting when a respected press publishes a volume of horror poetry for the first time, and at least equally exciting to discover a new poet who is building powerful, unsettling worlds of eldritch imagery. To our great good fortune, these excitments are set to converge on June 1, 2018 with the release of Joe Fletcher’s The Hatch from Brooklyn Arts Press.
Fletcher, unknown to me before this review, uses The Hatch to limn a universe of intriguing, beckoning darkness and mystery. Borges, Thomas Ligotti, Livia Llewellyn — and just a little Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett — are invoked by the poems within these pages. They are “literary” certainly — whatever that means — yet will also be deeply satisfying to readers who want to feel themselves in the bracing presence of cosmic and mortal dangers.
In “Umbilicus” we meet a narrator who wanders through a forest filled with trees made from dripping meat. In “The Vegetable Staticks” strange, Lovecraftian beings form and re-form themselves (perhaps physically within the narrator; perhaps only within his mind). In “The Dalles” the dark side of life in a small city in Northern Oregon is described in a decidedly True Detective sort of way. And in “Wayne” a 300-lb man who works as a supplier for grocery stores stalks a sleeping dog and attacks it. Has he killed the beast or not? We are not sure. And we are even less sure when the canine seems to make something of a return. . .
These are but a few of the poems from the collection that stuck with me.
I probably read hundreds of horror short stories each year, but seldom horror poetry. Reading The Hatch is like reading a collection of horror fiction, but also not. The imagery is the power. But, like in good horror fiction, the “reveals” when they come, reveal only more mystery, and in precisely the right way.
The poems in The Hatch are also not without a playfulness and verve. In “Hoopoe Balm” Fletcher channels Kool Keith as much as King or Koontz:
Women dreamt of giving birth to dead catfish and rain-wet dogs gorged themselves on the corpses of antelope that had grazed in the hoopoe meadows.
I think that the smile that comes to my lips as I read these lines is a reaction the author has intended. I hope so. (When I was in grad school, Peter Straub visited one of my classes and talked about “Ashputtle.” Though a tale of terror about a subject no less dark than child murder, Straub said something like “I hope it’s clear that when the lady tries to get into the car, but she can’t fit, I mean it to be funny. This is a horror story, but I mean that part to be funny.”)
Straub need not have worried. He had succeeded. So has Fletcher.
The worlds Fletcher builds conjure feelings that will stick with me for a long time. It’s like early Ligotti– Grimscribe or so– but also something else. Something that’s new and powerful and wonderful. And the questions these new feelings raise are harrowing in precisely the right way.
In “The Fiery Trigon” Fletcher wonders:
What appears? What lowers
a milky and sky-wide eye
to the nether end of Brahe’s scope?
What indeed?
Book Review: “The Hatch” by Joe Fletcher
June 11, 2018 / The Furious Gazelle Editors / 0 Comments
Joe Fletcher’s The Hatch contemplates the mystery of human consciousness through a series of narrative poems constructed in a gradually developing, non-linear collection of verse and prose pieces overflowing with morbidity, misdirection and disconcertion. Not for the faint of heart, The Hatch immerses its reader in an expansive environment resultant of Fletcher’s painstaking efforts to ensure that every detail has the power to incite apprehension and morbid curiosity.
An aspect of the collection that really shines out is the world built within its pages. Every poem Fletcher includes adds to the conceptualization of a realm outside of geography, time or physical law. He achieves this effect through the introduction of temporary characters and lore such as in his poem “Isaiah”, and the manufacturing of a linguistic flow that takes the reader through a chronologically warped series of sensory imagery like in “Saturn Day” or “The Vegetable Staticks”.
It is evident that Fletcher utilized a variety of creative approaches to construct the ideas for The Hatch. Fletcher’s work draws from a myriad of places, Egyptian and Greek mythologies are present, and creative influences like Tolekin and Poe can be felt. At times these references are subtle and incite within the reader a pleasant sense of familiarity, like his naming of a character Leonora alluding to Poe’s classic “Lenore”, simultaneously adding a new perspective for interpretation of the work. Yet, other applications of these references feel overused or underdeveloped, such as the nautical motifs that appear regularly throughout the first half of the book, which often nod to ideas like the River Styx or Boat of the Dead, but feel stale quickly with such persistent but not particularly novel exploration.
There are a few moments that feel cliché and poetic forms that feel unoriginal or forced. The brief, undeveloped escapades into interpersonal relationships and some uninspired rhyme schemes add a layer of blandness to the reader’s experience. Generally, Fletcher’s embracing of his individuality as a creator manages to shine through clearly.
Fletcher presents a multitude of unique ideas to his reader through the imagery and chronology of the poems he writes, and often presents them in a seamless manner. Fletcher communicates an undeniable resolve to create exactly the art he wants to in as comprehensive a form as possible. Anyone in search of a contemporary twist on psychological horror need not look any further than The Hatch.
Review by Colin Boyd, book review intern