The Three Hills, and Other Poems — A Closer Reading

Metaphysical Landscapes and the 'Eternal Personality'

Several poems in the excerpts treat physical settings as thresholds to a hidden reality. In 'Antinomies on a Railway Station,' the speaker asks whether the dissolving of solid forms reveals 'the moveless and essential me, / The eternal personality alone enduring.' This idea recurs in 'In an Orchard,' where a friendly gaze suddenly gives way to a vision of standing 'by a giant gully's brink / In some vast gloomy land.' The shift from a domestic scene to an alien landscape is abrupt and unexplained, suggesting that Squire uses everyday places as springboards for metaphysical speculation. The poems do not resolve whether these visions are memory, imagination, or genuine transcendence; they simply record the moment of rupture.

The Mind as a Contested Territory

'The Mind of Man' literalizes the inner landscape, describing a 'city of Cis-Occiput' with 'marshes and the writhing mere' that every person 'knows in himself but not in me.' The poem divides the mind into zones: a clean, orderly city of 'white thoughts and wishes pure' and a darker region that 'could not live' in that innocent place. This cartography of consciousness is echoed in 'In a Chair,' where the speaker becomes 'naught / But a pair of eyes that gaze at a fire,' and in 'A Day,' where the sequence of morning, midday, evening, and night tracks a wandering speaker who 'never asked my name.' The excerpts do not reveal whether the darker regions of the mind are explored further, but the poems consistently present interiority as a landscape with its own geography.

Baudelaire in Translation: Voice and Adaptation

The volume concludes with twelve translations from Charles Baudelaire, including 'Spleen,' 'The Cracked Bell,' and 'The Cats.' Without the French originals, it is impossible to assess fidelity, but the English poems share Squire's own preoccupations. For instance, 'The Cracked Bell' describes a 'bitter rattle' and a 'wounded man' forgotten by a lake, images of decay and isolation that resonate with Squire's 'The Mind of Man.' The translations are grouped under Baudelaire's name, yet their inclusion raises questions about influence: does Squire select poems that mirror his own themes, or do the translations introduce new tonalities? The excerpts offer no preface or notes, leaving the reader to compare the translated pieces with Squire's original work without guidance.

Readers approaching The Three Hills should note that the catalog subject 'Science Fiction & Utopias' is not evident in the excerpts; the poems are more concerned with perception, memory, and the instability of the self. The translations from Baudelaire form a distinct section, but without the originals, their role remains ambiguous. Pay attention to how Squire uses ordinary settings—a railway station, an orchard, a chair—as catalysts for metaphysical inquiry, and consider whether the Baudelaire translations extend or complicate that project.

Standing on a wet platform last autumn, I remembered Squire’s railway stations—that odd stillness between departures. It reminded me of how I felt reading Lewesdon Hill, with other poems — Themes and Context years ago, that same quiet watching of hills from a distance. Both books let me sit with observation rather than rush past it.