# Angel Ruckus, by B. K. Filson: Review

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-21 — 1 clipping.*

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Albert Ouimet, Angel Ruckus, by B. K. Filson: Review, bahai-library.com.
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> R e v i e w s /C r it iq u e s /R e s e ň a s               69
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> ANGEL RUCKUS
> AUTHOR: B. K. Filson
> PUBLISHED BY: Nine Pines Publishing, 1994, 64 pages
> 
> B. K. Filson’s Angel Ruckus is a delight to read, both for its brevity and
> simplicity, and will appeal to the majority of readers. At a time when the reading
> of poetry is relegated to the background in favor of the novel and various media
> offerings such as newspapers and magazines, these poems, which are divided
> into three sections of equal length, are refreshing as well as inspiring. A cursory
> glance at the table of contents may give a wrong impression: the poems’ titles
> may appear mundane, but, in fact, they offer a depth of insight into one’s
> modern experience. The angel motif serves as a backdrop to the whole,
> elevating the poems to the height they deserve. One can easily imagine the
> angels suggested by the book’s title as hovering and chatting above the author’s
> head as he sets down on paper all the impressions he has gathered to date: the
> books he’s read, the travels through Canada he’s made, the emotional
> relationships he’s shaped, and the conclusions he’s reached. Through his poems,
> the reader comes to a knowledge of life and its purpose rarely found elsewhere,
> except perhaps in the holy writings of religious founders.
> The author is, if anything, a very literate poet who is very much aware of his
> tradition. One can find here and there the seeds planted by the likes of Marvell,
> Blake, Yeats, and Eliot, as well as Rimbaud, Baudelaire, and the American Beat
> Generation. Add to these his own literary heritage to be found in the writings of
> Nelligan, Layton, Cohen, and Atwood, just to mention a few. Shaped within the
> bounds of his national identity, the poems are able to transcend these bounds
> and soar into the realm of eternal truths. What at first appears to be mundane
> becomes meaningful. Thanks to many “happy” phrases, the poems become
> memorable. Consider, for example:
> “This poem was not made for television. / It’s in black and white” (“Not
> Made for TV” 38). Or: “I follow my feet in a house of time. / This is how I
> sculpt my soul, / dream nakedly my trueness. / My spinning keeps getting
> frozen / like an explosion taken place” (“In my house of time” 24). Or again:
> “Winter’s wet prelude of melting snow / tumbles in off cue / surprising autumn
> trees’ auburn fandangling” (“Mid-October, Saskatoon” 16).
> Interestingly enough, late autumn/early winter seem to be the poet’s favorite
> times of the year. There are many allusions to snow, “peregrinations” and the
> like; even Côte des Neiges in Montréal is given a reference. As the poet writes,
> “Autumn, I surmise, is the most suitable / statement of being” (“Fall in Upper
> Canada” 29). And he has come to terms with his true self: “I have tried too long
> to say the right thing / when the honest thing would have done as well” (“Fall in
> Upper Canada” 29).
> 70         TH E J O U R N A L OF B A H Á ’ Í S T UDI E S             9.1 . 1 9 9 9
> 
> The poet ends his collection with a few poems alluding to Bahà’i subjects,
> with calm references, for example, to pilgrimage, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (the Master),
> images of the nightingale, and the Ridván Gardens.
> These poems, then, are in a way the poet’s songs of innocence and
> experience. One also suspects that they might best be digested in the stillness of
> a winter’s night, away from the exigencies of daily life and its cares. No doubt
> that he will leave his mark on the reader’s mind and heart, as Roger White once
> did and continues to do. And if one listens carefully enough, one can hear those
> angels above making a ruckus of things while the craftsperson below is busy
> forging his art. In short, Angel Ruckus by B. K. Filson deserves with
> justification to be on everyone’s bookshelf and within arm’s reach.
> 
> A l b e r t O u im e t
>
> — *Angel Ruckus, by B. K. Filson: Review (Used by permission of the curator)*