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Powell's Staff:
Five Book Friday: In Memoriam
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Every year, the booksellers at Powell’s submit their Top Fives: their five favorite books that were released in 2023. It’s a list that, when put together, shows just how varied and interesting the book tastes of Powell’s booksellers are. I highly recommend digging into the recommendations — we would never lead you astray — but today...
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Brontez Purnell:
Powell’s Q&A: Brontez Purnell, author of ‘Ten Bridges I’ve Burnt’
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Rachael P.:
Starter Pack: Where to Begin with Ursula K. Le Guin
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jlp7b has commented on (2) products
Midnight Salvage Poems 1995 1998
by
Adreinne Rich
jlp7b
, December 03, 2006
Reading Adrienne Rich?s Midnight Salvage is like trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle. When I started reading the book, I felt completely lost. I had no idea where to begin or focus first, as if I had just opened a box and dumped the puzzle pieces haphazardly onto the floor. Feeling overwhelmed, I turned to the additional material from Rich?s, What is Found There, in search of some guidance. Reading her essays, especially ?Dearest Arturo,? was like turning over the box lid to see the picture of the completed puzzle. This letter provided a bit of insight into Rich?s life, as it addressed her upbringing, physical handicap, sexual orientation, and political beliefs. Though these things do not completely define her as a person, they give an idea of her perspective and the issues she has faced in her life. Now that I could see the big picture, it was easier to dive back into the book and attempt to fit the other pieces into place. As I read, I noticed several recurring themes in Rich?s poems, as well as her effective use of imagery, but found myself continually fumbling with the unfamiliar vocabulary, like the oddly shaped puzzle pieces that never quite seem to belong. Adrienne Rich does not appear to be an unhappy person. Her poetry, though not particularly dark or angry, is not really optimistic or uplifting either. She writes not necessarily about being happy, but about finding and understanding happiness and hope. She does not try to quantify happiness, but to somehow define it. In ?Camino Real,? Rich references fellow poet Charles Olson?s view of happiness, then states her own interpretation in the lines, ?I take him to mean/ that happiness is in itself is a magical study? (51-52). This leads me to believe that, to Rich, happiness is ethereal. It is perhaps attainable, but also elusive and unpredictable, and thus difficult to classify. Later in ?Camino Real?, she writes, ?at the end of a day/ of great happiness if there be such a day? (63-64), which sounds slightly pessimistic, as if she believes such a day of happiness and perfection cannot exist. I would like to know the poet?s criteria for a day of great happiness. In addition to the theme of happiness, Rich?s poems often deal with feelings of loneliness and isolation. In ?Letters to a Young Poet,? Rich writes, ?I wanted not to be/ there so alone? (76-77). Although this statement is fairly straightforward, it did not mean much to me until I read ?Dearest Arturo,? and realized the poet?s reasons for feeling alone. It is not loneliness in the simple sense of wanting the company of another human being, but the loneliness of a unique and difficult situation, the loneliness of having no one who can truly share the pain of life. There is a sense of desperation in Rich?s writing, a yearning to overcome both the physical limitations of her disability, as well as the limitations imposed on women in modern society. In ?Seven Skins,? Rich captures this quest for self-improvement: What a girl I was then what a body ready for breaking open like a lobster what a little provincial village what a hermit crab seeking nobler shells (59-62). I like the image of the hermit crab because it perfectly illustrates the need for growth and change. Rich, like a hermit crab, does not want to be restricted, and the ?nobler shells? are her goals and aspirations. After reading this passage, I more fully understood the speaker?s desire to conquer obstacles and evolve, and I empathized with the idea of wanting more out of life. Whenever I had difficulty finding meaning in Rich?s poems, I turned to her vivid descriptions. In poems that span several pages, her use of imagery catches my attention and helps redirect my focus. For instance, I was quite startled by the gory scene in ?Shattered Head,? when Rich describes the ?(porridge of skull-splinters, brain tissue/ mouth and throat membrane, cranial fluid)? (14-15). This graphic detail is so arresting that it is impossible not to continue reading. I also like the image Rich uses at the end of ?Seven Skins.? Though most of the poem focuses on another person, Vic Greenberg, it ends with an intimate image involving both Vic and the speaker. Rich describes the moment as a ?heroic tremor/ released into pure moisture? (88-89), an image that artfully evokes the passion and intensity of the situation. The most challenging piece of Rich?s poetry puzzle is her extensive vocabulary. Because my use of context clues failed me as I encountered unknown words, I consulted a dictionary to avoid misinterpreting things. For instance, the third section of ?Midnight Salvage? made much more sense after learning the correct definition of ?soothsayers.? Some meanings, however, still elude me. Rich uses the word ?lozenge? twice in the poem ?Modotti,? but its definition seems inconsistent. At first, I thought it was a light, as in the ?streetlamp?s wet lozenge? (9), but I could not make sense of the ?bathtub?s lozenge? (18). Why would there be a light in the bathtub? Structurally speaking, I am confused as to why Rich punctuates certain lines with double colons, as she does in ?Midnight Salvage? and ?Camino Real.? This use of colons does not seem any more effective than the use of indentations or line breaks. However, one possible explanation might be that they serve as a replacement for a word, a sign something was deleted there, like an invitation to fill in the blank with a word of the reader?s choosing. Reading Adrienne Rich?s Midnight Salvage is challenging and requires more effort than one might expect. She does not neatly arrange things, allowing the reader to easily understand every word. I worked to find meaning in Rich?s poetry, questioning and changing as I tried to make the pieces fit. Completing Midnight Salvage, like finally finishing a good puzzle, left me feeling fulfilled, as if I had truly accomplished something.
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Body of the World
by
Sam Taylor
jlp7b
, December 03, 2006
Body of the World was not at all what I expected it to be. Actually, I was not quite sure what to expect. Having never previously read any of Sam Taylor?s poems or any entire collection of one poet?s work, I was initially unsure of how to approach the book. I did not know whether or not each poem would relate to the next, like a novel with a singular story line, or if I should focus on the pieces separately. Would I care about who this man is and what he has to say? Would I even understand it? With all of my questions and doubts, I was not at all prepared to actually enjoy the book as much as I did. At various points throughout the book, I felt compelled to stop reading, not because I did not like or understand it, but because I felt like an intruder. I am not sure whether it had to do with particular topics or perhaps just Taylor?s style and language, but I often felt as if I were eavesdropping on a conversation with his closest friend, or reading a letter he never intended to send. Perhaps it is just that I am not used to reading more contemporary styles of poetry, but these poems are so deeply personal it is startling at times. Many of his poems seem autobiographical, and Taylor writes a considerable amount about his parents. In the poem ?Matinee,? for instance, Taylor writes of an experience with his mother?s illness and with accepting her death. There have certainly been countless poems composed on the topic of death, loss, and grief, but there is just something about his honesty and frankness that gives extra depth and new perspective to the subject. Though I was taken aback by his candidness at first, I admire the straightforward approach Taylor adopts in his writing. Another aspect of Taylor?s style that appeals to me is the way in which he strings together seemingly random objects, ideas, and observations, making them relate to one another in a way I never imagined possible. In ?Surfacing,? for instance, Taylor manages to transition from filo dough to pipes in a basement, to shrimp in the Atlantic Ocean. How is he able to find the connection between these unrelated images, incorporate them all into one poem, and still have it all make sense? Though impressive, the constant shifting of thoughts can at times become overwhelming. Sometimes it seems that just as his words begin to conjure a certain image in my mind, he moves on, changes the scene, and introduces a new thought. In ?Wedding Song,? for instance, Taylor writes: As the pigeons store our weight in silver ink wells and the steel rafters who among us really knows, touches, tastes, grasps before we rail and leaf forward, before we flail and feel, unreal, (11-14). He jumps from image to image, leaving the reader little time to adjust, and his use of commas gives it a hurried, breathless feeling when read out loud. It is easy to get carried away in the frenetic pace of the poems. My favorite poem in this collection is ?The Lost World.? As I read it, I found myself agreeing entirely with what the poet says. I like that this poem captures the moments in life that are actually far more meaningful and memorable than people might think. I think the point Sam Taylor is trying to convey in this poem is that the little things in life that mean the most often defy explanation or classification. It made me stop and wonder just why it is that no one ever bothered to create a word for ?crying and laughing at the same time.? A phenomenon that occurs only at moments of extreme emotion or hilarity definitely deserves to be named. Perhaps no words exist to describe such instances because they are so much more than just a noun or verb. They are actions, thoughts, feelings, and emotions, dependent upon timing, personal experiences, and countless other factors. I like this particular poem because I find comfort in knowing that someone else recognizes the significance of the little moments in life that are worth remembering. Although I feel I understand the majority of Taylor?s poetry, I am still unsure about the way in which the book is divided. I cannot seem to find any distinctions between the poems in each chapter. Also, I am unsure as to how the title of each chapter relates to the subsequent works. Of all the poems, I definitely liked those in the last chapter the least. ?Shifting Ambiguities of Soil? was a bit tedious, not because of its length, but because it seemed aimless in a way. After the brief lines and quick pace of the earlier pieces, this poem just seemed to meander and circle around itself with no final destination or conclusion. After reading Body of the World, I feel that most of my initial questions have been answered. I was able to read and understand each poem individually, yet they seemed to lead into one another and connect, making me eager to read on. I now understand a little more about who Sam Taylor is, as I have glimpsed into his life through his open and honest words. I saw more than just Taylor?s life in these poems, though, as the themes he explores are pertinent to everyone. Body of the World is as much a personal reflection as it is an observation of the human experience in general.
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