New Century Reading

This Day

Here's a thing about me: I start every day with a little focused reading, and that includes both classic and contemporary poetry. Over the past year or so, I've read several collections of contemporary poetry this way. But on Sundays, I turned from whatever collection I was currently reading to This Day by Wendell Berry. 

I don't think you have to be religious to appreciate Berry's work. Even to someone not religious like me, there was a lovely ritual about reading these Sabbath poems every Sunday. Berry is concerned with the state of the soul, but he's also very concerned with the state of the world. It's very accessible poetry, written in spare, thoughtful language. Much of its genius lies in its spareness. Just look how much is included in this short poem:

This is the flood road,
the broken way the water
passes when the sky bursts
and hell breaks loose
in this crease at the hills' feet
as the rain gathers and plunges
in its never-ending search
for the world's floor. And here
by night the spider weaves
her fragile work by touch
in the dark to shine by day.

There are so many gems like this in This Day. It's a collection I will return to again and again.

Shout

Shout is a young-adult memoir in poetry. That's, like, a category unto itself. When author Anderson was 13, she was raped by someone she knew and trusted. Obviously that had an enormous impact on her life, as did being part of a highly dysfunctional yet, in their own way, loving family. Through a series of short poems, she explores all those difficult landscapes that ultimately led her to become a renowned writer who travels the world, trying to get sexual abuse and assault out into the open--and not just women who have been assaulted. 

It's a brave, thoughtful book, covering not just the troubled childhood and teen years, but the aftermath of being a forthright speaker on these topics (cancelled appearances, schools skitterish about having her talk because "we don't have a problem with sexual assault here," even as she's talking to students at those schools who tell her heartbreaking stories that indicate the exact opposite).

There's no question Anderson can write. But I didn't feel like all of the poems worked. Some simply seemed like prose pieces with arbitrary line breaks. When they do work, they're often stunning:

"Poor kids get snatched by the real world
at seven, eight, nine years old, dragged
onto the front porch of adulthood, forced
to figure it out on their own
rarely making old bones,
a few will live to see their grandchildren chewed
up by the same machinery
then buried in cardboard boxes
I wanted a coffin made of wood
from trees not yet planted
my appetite for time was growing"

Wow. And then this, which I saw on a poster in a teen space at a local library, and which sent me looking for the book:

"too many grown-ups tell kids to follow
their dreams
like that's going to get them somewhere
Auntie Laurie says follow your nightmares instead
cuz when you figure out what's eating you alive
you can slay it"

Quibbles aside, overall this is powerful and moving, and really needs to reach the young adult audience wherever it can.

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude

This is what I spent Thanksgiving weekend reading, and it could not have been a better choice. I hadn't read Ross Gay's work before, but I'll definitely read more going forward. In this collection, he explores the theme of gratitude from various angles, including through the lens of loss, and the lens of having gotten through hard things. He often uses short lines with interesting, thought-provoking line breaks, inviting the reader to take their time and think--and feel--what he's talking about.

He's also not afraid of writing long poems, with several running multiple pages and often telling a story, or having a turning point midway that changes your perspective.

It's hard to choose a favorite, but if I had to, the title poem would probably be the one: Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude. It reminded me of the lovely Anne Sexton poem, Live. 

Good Bones

Everyone should read this book. Everyone.

I was introduced to Maggie Smith when the title poem of this collection went viral after the 2016 election. You can read it here: Poetry Foundation. Why it took me so long to finally read the entire collection, I have no idea. But definitely better late than never.

Smith writes movingly of the troubled times we live in and what it's like to parent and to even exist in them. Her language is deceptively simple, with clean, clear images that paint vivid pictures. The book opens with a poem called "Weep Up," a phrase her young daughter used to mean "wake up," and ends with a poem about rain on New Year's Eve, and in between are lifetimes. 

I went through this book several times, trying to find short quotes to show the beauty and truth in it, but honestly? Just read the book. That's the better approach.

Deaf Republic

Holy cow, this book. Even if you think you don't read poetry, try this one. Just try it. The poet, born in the former Soviet Union and now a US citizen, uses very straightforward, spare, prose-like poems, and he tells a story. In fact, it's almost like a script; he provides a cast of characters up front.

In this story, he tells of a fictional Eastern European town called Vasenka. The town is occupied at some unknown time. There's a protest, and during the protest, soldiers kill a deaf boy. As a result, the entire town becomes deaf. The townspeople communicate with their own form of sign language as some continue to fight back, while others accept the status quo. More and more people die; all the while, Momma Galya runs a subversive puppet show that frequently leads to the death of soldiers.

For all its spare, simple language, there's a lot going on here, and a lot that's all too relevant to life in the U.S. these days. As Kaminsky says in one of the later poems:

"Our country has surrendered.

Years later, some will say none of this happened; the shops were open, we were happy and went to see puppet shows in the park."

And, even more ominously,

"Inhabitant of earth for fortysomething years
I once found myself in a peaceful country. I watch neighbors open

their phones to watch
a cop demanding a man's driver's license. When the man reaches for his wallet, the cop
shoots. Into the car window. Shoots. 

It is a peaceful country."

Read this book.

 

American Journal: Fifty Poems for Our Time

If you don't read a lot of poetry and wonder how such an ancient form might be holding up in today's world, look no further than this stellar collection edited by current U.S. Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith. A slim little volume that could easily fit in a backpack or handbag, Smith has filled its pages with a diverse group of American poets, writing about so many different aspects of life in America today. 

Some of the poets included are long-time American icons, such as Ellen Bryant Voigt (whose poem here, The Field Trip, is just wonderful) and Mark Doty. But there is a strong representation from newer poets too, including remarkable work by Danez Smith, Layli Long Soldier, Natalie Diaz, and Ada Limon. The poems range from deceptively simple (and accessible) to more difficult, showing that poetry is so many things--if you don't like/understand one poem/poet, don't give up! Like any other form of writing--fiction, memoir--there are so many choices that it's worth continuing to seek out alternatives.

This is an excellent jumping-off point then: A great way to explore a wide range of voices and styles, and then follow up the ones that connect with you to explore more of that poet's work. I'm happy that I was familiar with several poets in here, but there are far more that I'm not familiar with. Yet.  

The Mother's Tongue

Poet Heid Erdrich's lovely slim volume, The Mother's Tongue, would be a wonderful gift for a mother-to-be, or, for that matter, a mother at any stage of maternal life. This is a sensuous book of poetry, full of all the senses, and through these senses we get all stages of motherhood: Not yet a mother, not sure how to be a mother, becoming pregnant, losing the pregnancy, maintaining the pregnancy, delivery, the hard weeks of new infant life, the simultaneous tedium and thrill of the long years of early childhood. Laced throughout are meditations on what it is to be a girl, a woman, and particularly a Native woman. There's beauty here, and tenderness, and exhaustion, and fear.

And solidly good pokes at the popular What To Expect When You're Expecting and Dr. Sears (major proponent of the attachment theory of parenting) books in a series of poems called Popular Parenting. This is from one is subtitled Again, People to Hate at 3 a.m.:

Dr. Ears.
Good and hard this time. 

And the singed outline of that simpering woman
who once rocked on the cover of What to Expect...

Your mother, every mother
you've ever met. Prevaricators.

I really loved this and wish it had existed when I was going through the early days of motherhood. I did have Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions, but this would have been an invaluable companion too.

 

 

The Poet X

Oh, man, did I ever love this book. A young adult novel written in the first person by a teenage poet--who writes the whole book in poems? Yes indeed. 

The timing was excellent, coming off of January's report that young people, including teens and Millennials, are returning to poetry in droves. It's exciting to think that they're turning to poetry too, and that an author thought to use poetry as a communication vehicle, and a publisher like HarperCollins saw the potential and brought it out.

The story is told by Xiomara, the twin daughter of Dominican Republic immigrants, who has poetry running through her veins. She keeps it a secret, not sure what she thinks about being a poet, and already aware that her mother thinks Xiomara's twin brother is the genius and special one in the family. But the poems she writes and memorizes look at all aspects of her life, from her awareness of what it's like to be a curvaceous female in high school, to wondering if God is real and whether her mother would even accept it if Xiomara doesn't believe in God, to feeling the difficulties of first love, especially when your super-strict mother is absolutely paranoid that you're going to end up pregnant and alone, and thus makes your life really hard when it comes to normal teen things like dating. And then there's that pesky teacher who keeps pushing you to come to Poetry Club.

These poems are fun, exhilarating, moving--I even teared up a couple of times. It's quite a feat--the author has created poems that are accessible and read as if they were written by a gifted teenager, but still hold up as poems. But the book also moves with the pacing of a well-written novel. I felt utterly satisfied by the end, and yet I can't say I'd be disappointed if Xiomara decided to write the next chapter of her life for a follow-on.

Savage Conversations

Yet another stellar writer I learned about from reading New Poets of Native Nations. First Tommy Pico, then Natalie Diaz, and now LeAnne Howe.

Savage Conversations is poetry set up as a script with just three characters: Mary Todd Lincoln, the widow of Abraham Lincoln who has admitted to a mental hospital in 1875 where, among other things, she claimed that an Indian spirit was coming to her at night and removing bones from her face; the Savage Indian; and the Rope. For those who remember Abraham Lincoln solely as the president who finally began the process of dismantling slavery, he also had a hand in the mass execution of 39 Dakota people (although Lincoln did commute the sentences of 264 more), the largest mass execution in U.S. history. The Rope represents the nooses used to hang those 39. 

The book raises questions of what Mary Todd Lincoln knew and/or believed about this execution. But in addition, poet Howe's extensive research about Mary led her to come to an unsubstantiated, but potentially realistic and troubling claim: that Mary may also have had Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. This is obviously something that can no longer be proved. But three of the Lincolns' four children died young, and Howe's research found troubling instances where the children were in other people's care and their health improved, but when they were returned to Mary, who had apparently had all kinds of concoctions and drafts for them, their health worsened. Who knows? But it's interesting to consider.

Regardless, this slim volume is incendiary. Howe creates a hallucinogenic portrait, one which I've combed through, looking for a quote, but I think it's better read in context. Mary's mental health, the traumas she lived through, her cavalier attitude about Native Americans--all portrayed here in thought-provoking manner.

What will I discover next from the aforementioned collection?

 

When My Brother Was an Aztec

Holy moley, people, this book. Wow. Wow wow wow. Once again, I have to say I'm indebted to Heid Erdrich and Graywolf Press for introducing me to her in New Poets of Native Nations. I keep trying to think of adjectives that aren't total cliches to describe this book, and failing miserably. So let's just go for it, shall we? Intense. Searing. Powerful. Gripping. Honest. Emotionally devastating.

How's that?

Or I could share a snippet, and you can figure out a non-cliched response. Here's the opening to the title poem, about her brother, a meth addict:

"he lived in our basement and sacrificed my parents
     every morning. It was awful. Unforgivable. But they kept coming 
            back for more. They loved him, was all they could say.

It started with him stumbling along la Avenida de los Muertos,
    my parents walking behind like effigies in a procession
            he might burn to the ground at any moment. They didn't know

what else to do except be there to pick him up when he died."

A book that will bear repeated rereadings.