So far I’ve read 13 out of 30. As I don’t like failing at things I set out for myself, I have thought about rearranging the things that I’ve read this year on the list so that I can use things that aren’t currently on the list so that I can satisfy categories I haven’t gotten yet. Like, if I moved Shonda Rhimes to “read a book by a woman of color” then I could put Caitlin Moran in at “read a book by a woman”. But, I read Shonda Rhimes book first, so it is staying where it is. The good news for me is that I have another six categories already picked out. The even better news is that I’m part way through two of those books. However, there’s still a lot of work that has to be done in 2016 and, I have to tell you, folks. I’m not feeling sanguine about meeting the challenge this year.
I never know what to say about poetry. I feel like, when you talk about poetry, you should say things about the poem’s anatomy. Its structure, the word choice, how those things contributed to the overall effect of what the author has presented. But, I never feel like I can do this. Or, maybe it’s that I don’t feel like I have the authority to do this. This is especially true with this chapbook. The author presents a series of poems that feature recurring references to a number of different people (Mother, Father, Rory, the cops). If you’ll excuse a little word play here, this book provides an arresting picture of how we are here for each other, how we fail to be here for each other and how the people who we love are the people who hurt us the most. And, I feel like I don’t have authority to tell you about the anatomy or word choice or structure of these poems because I feel like I was presented a snapshot of a time, some insight into someone else’s life, and the view was so radically different from my own life that the only thing I can do with it is listen and observe and feel grateful that this book was shared with the world.
This was a really intense read that had me in tears more than once. And, more than once I found myself shocked with the reality that with which I was being presented. For example, in the poem “Home [Chaos Theory]”, the author presents us with an image of a homeless woman and dialogue from colleagues and we are left with the disconnect between what someone has experienced and what we know about them. How many people in our lives carry invisible wounds? How often do we separate people from their experiences or help to build and support the idea of “other” in their lives. (“Oh, X is just like that. I mean, you’re X but I’m not talking about you. You’re not like that.”) And, I was left wondering how often am I complicit in creating the realities that put queer people, people of color, queer people of color out of their homes? Out of jobs? In these situations where the prison complex then sweeps them up and punishes them for doing what they have to do in order to survive?
I really enjoyed this book. I really liked how the words seemed to wander across the page in some poems. I liked the use of parentheses. I loved how that made it feel sometimes like you were reading dialogue and other times like you were being given secret insight into what was said or what someone was thinking. These poems were heartbreaking and beautiful and I am so, so glad that I got the chance to read this book.
This is my Diverse Stacks, Diverse Lives book for a book from a small press.