Dominic Hoey / Trudi Hewitt: The Dead Are Always Laughing At Us

A book review of the latest set of Dominic Hoey poems, this one a collaboration with designer Trudi Hewitt.

The Dead Are Always Laughing At Us

Dominic Hoey / Trudi Hewitt

Dead Bird Books

I’ve been a fan of Dominic Hoey’s writing since he was penning couplets to perform under his rap name, Tourettes. He’s long retired from the rap-game, and transitioned completely into being a poet, novelist, and writing teacher. He does all of this while boasting — in his writing — of his dyslexia, his anti-establishment approach, and his disdain for the ‘academic’ poets. So, really, there’s much to be be admired. I’ve liked his previous work but there’s an absolute immediacy to the poems in The Dead Are Always Laughing At Us that completely draws you in.

These were written over lockdown, largely. As a sanity project. And to grieve the death of a friend (Todd Williams aka rapper Louie Knuxx).

They appeared on Instagram, I read them first on Instagram, and in fact they were — for the most part — written entirely for that format, for that delivery model. Short, pithy pieces, posted as instant-quotes, presumably, in a lot of cases, written on the fly, or via some notes-fuction of a phone, and sent almost immediately out into the world.

I like that kind of a thing.

To reframe them as a book, Hoey has called on his friend, designer Trudi Hewitt. She gives each poem its own look and feel upon the page, taking Instagram words and reworking them as mini artworks in a book. He calls the book a collaboration and gives her equal billing.

It’s a testament to the humour and slogans that Hoey can create that I was happy to read this all over again, finding much to love and seeing a deeper meaning in some of the pieces I simply scrolled through and chuckled. The title poem is the epic outpouring of grief for his pal Todd. And it’s important to see and hear people grieving their friends. I think, particularly, it’s encouraging and heartening to read males grieving other males.

Elsewhere, Hoey is mocking the establishment, laughing at himself, feeling sorry for himself — but usually to assist in a punchline of sorts — and just generally owning his ‘bum’-status. It’s a crafted bum status now, of course. But that doesn’t make it any less real.

The Dead Are Always Laughing At Us does what Dominic’s best work always does: It wears its heart on torn, grubby sleeves. Look at the tattoos, look past the spelling eras and lack of proper punctuation. There beats the real heart. It’s there. Impossible to ignore.