Review by Allison D'Arienzo The biggest question we as humans can ask is: “Why?” The contemplation of our mortality frequents art in many forms, and GrReview by Allison D'Arienzo The biggest question we as humans can ask is: “Why?” The contemplation of our mortality frequents art in many forms, and Grzedorz Wróblewski’s poetry not only contemplates the human experience, but also discusses what it means to exist in our current society. His writing sheds light on topics like capitalism, heteronormativity, and the normalization of violence in a way that is new and abstract. The reader must want to actively seek out what the meaning of each poem is and, by doing so, they become closer to the topic that Wróblewski selected to discuss. Grzedorz Wróblewski’s Dear Beloved Humans, is a collection of poems spanning multiple decades of authorship. Born in Warsaw in 1962, Wróblewski grew up in the creative communities and culture of Poland where he began his career as a poet and artist. In 1985, Wróblewski emigrated to Denmark, prompting a shift in perspective and a new form of inspiration for his poetry. As I read through this collection, I found myself understanding the turmoil that Wróblewski felt over the course of his life and the humorously analytical and at times nihilistic way in which he portrayed his surroundings in his writing. This deep connection to societal issues and political statements is interwoven in almost all of Wróblewski’s work. One of the poems that stands out most is his work titled “Metamorphosis,” in which the speaker relates himself to that of a carrier pigeon. The poem dives into the animalistic behavior humans have in a capitalistic society and the general formatting of the lines mixed with the lack of punctuation adds a sense of urgency and chaos to the language. The middle of the poem demonstrates this best: holy shit what's going on why yes of course sir right away I'm as everyone knows I'm broadly speaking a SOMEBODY says the carrier pigeon so I run and jump carry baskets bags containers cartons withdraw money so much to do so much to do (lines 21-27) As I read, I found myself pushing forward to get to the next line, much like the speaker who is pushing forward and trying to succeed in a system meant to destroy them. The abstractness of the language also adds to the chaos and doubles down on the sense of fear and confusion the speaker has. Capitalism, commodification, and the structure of society are some of the main themes in Wróblewski’s writing. They surface in other poems like “The Moon,” “Ostrich Farm,” and “BEVERLY SMILE.” Yet Wróblewski also delves into other, more nuanced ideas. His poem “Decline” is written in all capital letters and discusses the destruction of God and loss of faith in society through the repetition of lines like, “HAS ANYONE SEEN GOD?” (line 4) or “I WANT MY GOD!” (line 15). Wróblewski’s expression of this deviation from face is exemplified by his subversion of typical poetic formatting with his use of all capital letters. In many ways, this pattern of transformation, whether it be content or format, is a signature for Wróblewski and he uses it to expand on topics like grief and loss to give them a new twist. To expand, poetry itself feels very much at home next to modernist style poetry. The writings of T.S. Eliot is comparable to the melancholic feel and subject matter of Wróblewski’s work, while the abstraction and absurdity in format and style are similar to that of e.e. cummings. I found myself apprehensive at first because of these characteristics, but grew to enjoy the extra level of analysis and interaction each poem required. For example, in his poem “A Quiet Evening After a Long Day’s Work,” Wróblewski depicts a speaker eating dinner while watching television. The beginning is mundane and then shifts to violence by saying “a street protest/ on channel one, they killed a man/ who knew too much, why did he know so much?” (lines 3-5). This movement to violence is mentioned very casually and the poem quickly shifts back to the speaker changing channels and eating his dinner. I enjoyed how this poem allowed me to analyze the normalization of violence in our society and its effects. Even the last lines which read, “I may have a hole in my tooth, a badminton match/ on channel two, they’re playing well/ but it’s getting late for me!” (lines 9-11) could be interpreted as having another meaning. The toothache, a nagging and subconscious pain, could stand in for the underlying pain of what the speaker is witnessing. The time of the evening and the speaker thinking of sleep could be his way of removing himself from the situation or even saying it is too late for him to understand what he is seeing. As I read, I felt that not only Grzedorz Wróblewski, but also his translator Piotr Gwiazda, created an interactive reading experience in which the reader could identify with at least one of the plights mentioned in the collection. All of Wróblewski’s poetry was originally crafted in Polish. The translator for this collection, Piotr Gwiazda, discusses the challenges of finding commonalities in the Polish and English language and how to properly convey Wróblewski’s original texts to English readers. In his preface, Gwiazda writes, “it is possible to view the version included in this volume as a collaborative work of the poet, his friend behind the camera, and his English translator,” (pp. XX) as it works as an almost conceit that the translation is transforming the poetry, even if unintentionally. This collaborative nature is also well displayed in the actual content layout of the book. The poetry in this book is displayed on the right pages in English and in their original Polish language on the left page. This mirror image of the poetry allowed me to still feel connected to Wróblewski’s original words and, though I don’t speak Polish, at least visually see the origins of his writing. Overall, Dear Beloved Humans, brings the reader closer to topics many of us try to avoid and does so through speculative and conceptual uses of language and form. With pen and highlighter in hand, I paged through this collection eagerly annotating and dissecting Wróblewski’s words to find the deeper messages and would implore potential readers to do the same....more
Review by Kelli Hughes Temptation, angst, and lunacy all rear their heads as Sheena Patel explores the obsession that comes with unrequited love in herReview by Kelli Hughes Temptation, angst, and lunacy all rear their heads as Sheena Patel explores the obsession that comes with unrequited love in her debut novel I’m a Fan. The fan in question is an unnamed narrator who has wrapped herself up in an affair with an aloof, womanizing older man. Patel, an established poet, chronicles the bad decisions of the unnamed narrator through blunt but enticing prose. Patel puts stock into the power of fan presence, linking political influence to the number of devoted followers one has. The narrator, a woman of color with little recognition, pales in comparison to the white female influencers with whom she must compete. She speaks to privilege packaged as #goals, to algorithms and whiteness discounting indigenous and black and brown creators, and to the universal immature desire to be liked. As the narrator vies for her lover’s attention, hoping to become his sole paramour, she develops an unhealthy obsession with his other lovers. From the very title, Patel creates a narrator who is a backdrop in her own story. The narrator is a self-proclaimed fan, stating, “I am not a main character in this ensemble romcom of betrayal, I am a supporting act” (12). This belittling assessment speaks to her self-awareness and to her lack of power in the larger world. Patel creates a sympathetic protagonist whose relatability itches uncomfortably as she reveals her ugly, innermost thoughts. The narrator knows how vulnerable she is, and how trivial she is in the eyes of the man she craves, which only fuels her desperation. That desperation clashes against reality when the narrator realizes the faults of superficial followings. Patel demonstrates in a chapter titled “high” that the “love” that fanbases offer is a one-sided endorsement which becomes a shield for the worshiped to protect themselves against criticism. In the age of cancel culture, a large, vocal following is the best defense against accountability. The narrator, having no fanbase of her own, is one of the complicit masses. In a condemnation of herself, she asserts, “Every single person is implicated when a small voice is hurt by a person we pedestalled and totemised. Every single fan” (177). It is a bold claim, coming from a self-titled fan, and a sentiment the narrator battles with as she oscillates between hating and pitying the other women hurt by her lover. Patel does not shy away from the paradoxical and temperamental nature of love, ego, and female solidarity. The narrator’s incongruities humanize her in a way that is in equal parts understandable and aggravating. Amplifying the whiplash felt by the narrator's conflicting emotions is the framing of the chapters in I’m a Fan. In a move that is simultaneously intriguing and narratively jarring, Patel sequences her chapters by related ideas rather than chronology. In one chapter titled “nepotism it girl,” the narrator hatescrolls through her romantic rival’s Instagram, dissolving into a spiteful, jealous-fueled wreck. The ensuing chapter, titled “a stranger in the city,” steps backwards in time to the very first night she had sex with her lover, long before she would discover her enemy. The audience learns details as they are relevant, slowly constructing a fuller picture of our narrator and the mucky situation in which she has mired herself. Further complicating I’m a Fan is how Patel peppers in mini-essays throughout, essays which tango with grander concepts like authenticity, exceptionalism, and neoliberalism. While some of these departures enhance the narrator’s characterization, such as a chapter where she reflects on the 1975 performance art piece “Rhythm 0” by Marina Abramović, other chapters feel inconsistent with the rest of Patel’s writing. Patel’s attempt to create a multifaceted narrator is commendable; however, the mini-essays often feel like unrelated tangents. I’m a Fan is a read quite unlike any other I’ve encountered. Through her unnamed narrator and her enticing prose, Patel portrays a very real—and very uncomfortable— expression of fandom. She exposes harmful attitudes and actions performed in fan spaces and how obsession causes us to lose ourselves. Yet, just like the unnamed narrator, readers will find themselves drawn back to the novel’s pages, diving right back into the mess of things....more
Review by Courtney R Hall As a fellow member of the Dead Parent Club™, Stephanie Austin’s Something I Might Say caught my attention because it made meReview by Courtney R Hall As a fellow member of the Dead Parent Club™, Stephanie Austin’s Something I Might Say caught my attention because it made me want to compare notes on grief. In this brief collection of nonfiction essays describing an even more brief portion of Austin’s life, she explores the many layers of grief that overwhelmed her in just a few months' time due to back to back losses in her family. If you have experienced significant loss in your life and yearn for someone who can genuinely empathize, not just sympathize, then this collection of bite sized essays is for you. The first half of the collection focuses on the decline and passing of Austin’s father, a man who left lasting scars on Austin starting in early childhood, and who gave half-hearted side hugs at best. His illness was a slow decline and not a surprise; he had been a heavy drinker, smoker, and unwilling participant in his own health journey. The candid retelling of this portion of Austin’s life correlates to the strained and difficult relationship she shared with her father. The syntax in this first half is rather direct and concise, with humor peppered in throughout—a subtle cue to the audience that humor is often more accessible than vulnerability. This tactful blending of comedy and tragedy is not only a testament to Austin’s skill as a writer, but also highlights her effortless ability to evoke a range of emotions from a single scene. After recalling a particular childhood memory that haunts her to this day, she says, “New drinking game: Every time your dad destroys your self-esteem, take a shot,” (3). The essays that speak to her father are written matter-of-factly, with a distant voice rather than one in emotional turmoil. While Austin can be direct in expressing her feelings, as evident when she states, “This is what I know. My father is dead. I am alive. He needed me at the end. I needed him my whole life,” (16), the true pulse of her emotions often lies between the lines, intertwined with the memories and reflections she calls upon. There is little emotion in the words about her father because they mirror the little emotion in the words they said to each other. While the passing of her father is undeniably a traumatic experience in her life, it seems that much of Austin’s grief lies in the things left unsaid and unchanged between them in the end. This is why Austin tells us all of the things she felt like she couldn’t tell him. “This is what I know. My father is dead. I am alive. He needed me at the end. I needed him my whole life.” It is in the second half of the collection where we see the flip side of Austin. As the family member who shared the closest bond with her grandmother (her mother’s mother), she believed it was her responsibility to have the same level of control over her grandmother’s end-of-life care as she did with her father's. But she wasn’t, and we see her once seemingly cool, calm, and collected facade start to crumble. The voice shifts in this portion of the collection. In the first half, there is an air to the curtness in Austin's words that can be attributed to a strained and concise relationship. In this portion pertaining to her grandmother, it seems that Austin's sentences become succinct when she is most emotional. The brevity in her words reminds me of someone being short because they will cry if they keep going. “My relationship with Grandma Sis had meaning. My dad was a person. My grandma was my person. The person I went to. Had gone to. I was hysterical, (45).” Austin was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions during this time of her life, and it’s evident in her words, especially when juxtaposed with the essays pertaining to her father. "My relationship with Grandma Sis had meaning. My dad was a person. My grandma was my person. The person I went to. Had gone to. I was hysterical." To no one’s surprise, I underlined and highlighted a considerable amount of lines in this collection. One that stood out to me in particular as I scanned through them once more, one that I feel is the heart and essence of this collection, is “I need to cry so hard I touch my own death and only then can I heal” (59). On its surface, this collection is the story of a woman who lost her emotionally unavailable father and her emotionally supportive grandmother just months apart from one another, all the while contending with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic during the progression of the latter. But for those that have been paid a visit by the abominable beast we call grief, we can tap into the emotional well that is this collection and explore what is written between the lines. Austin’s voice is one that is accessible and relatable because it is one that is seemingly struggling with the collapse of their personal world, all the while the world around them is shifting, and the floor is falling out from underneath them. Something I Might Say is a testament to sitting in your feelings and moving forward in a way that works best for you, in a culture that often encourages you to “suck it up” and hide your grief. ...more
Review by BriAnna Sankey Human beings are born to connect emotionally with one another, hardwired to feel a range of emotions which are dependent on ouReview by BriAnna Sankey Human beings are born to connect emotionally with one another, hardwired to feel a range of emotions which are dependent on our situation and surrounding environment. In his collection of poems, Now in Contest, Richard Levine explores what it means to be human when life seems to throw so much negativity into the world. How do we carry on when it feels like we’re drowning? Levine shows the heartbreaking nature of what mankind is capable of, but also the beauty in the little things that we as a society collectively enjoy; the shared emotional connection that we have not only with each other, but the world around us. Through emotional imagery, metaphor, and symbolism Levine is able to take the reader on a journey of self-reflection, as he juxtaposes the spectrum of human emotion. Levine structures this book into four parts that each focus on a different human emotion. Part one is titled, “The Law of Blood and Death” which focuses on evil and tragedy that has scarred the world including the Holocaust, school shootings, racism, police brutality, and war. Levine’s poem “For All Your Days” references the damage war inflicts: “So know this to be true: enforce the law of blood and death, / and for all your days it will enshroud you as its keeper” (lines 26-27). Soldiers may come home from war, but the memories will never let them rest. Grief is an emotion that we all process differently, and yet we all collectively know what it feels like. In the poem “All our Glass Faces” Levine references the serial numbers branded on Jewish people: But the numbers I saw were impressed on human flesh, flesh of my flesh, fellow jews who I knew by name, at home, at school, and at synagogue, where I soon after would abandon God." (lines 31-34) This haunting image is one that isn’t easy to forget, especially for those who have a constant reminder in permanent ink on their wrists. It is a symbol of the evil man is capable of, and the hate that is still very much alive in this world.
Part two is titled “The Law of Peace, Work, and Health,” which is a complete juxtaposition from part one as it focuses on joy and highlights the little things in life: a man holding his first grandchild on fathers day, or the feeling of a “perfect” day. Levine shows the audience the beauty of human connection in a world that seems socially and emotionally disconnected through powerful metaphors that make you immediately put down the book, and reflect on how you live your life.
In the poem, “The Law of Peace, Work, and Health” Levine offers the question, if a bird sings a beautiful song alone in the woods, yet no one is there to hear it, how does one share such a message of peace with the world? (lines 7-9). Little things go unnoticed because everyone is so focused on negativity in the world. When we take the time to appreciate what’s around us, we realize what we were previously blind to. The bird is a metaphor for humanity which shows how we ignore those around us, even when there is beauty in the simplicity of daily life. “School Days” discusses the beauty of language and how it will forever be the most powerful form of human connection: “I pack / language and inventions we shaped, / history we made. All our fingerprints are there” (lines 12-14). This sentimental image made me feel like I belonged to something bigger than myself; it’s a powerful example of how we are all interconnected. Language has changed and developed over time, and so has mankind. At some point we decided to create a language to communicate because we craved the feeling of connection. We are not so different from each other, everyone just wants to be understood in a world full of confusion. It’s a joyous sentiment that our influence will be ingrained in time, as Levine expresses our fingerprints will attest to.
Human beings crave emotional connection, but somewhere along the way there was a disconnect with the environment that surrounds us, and the neglect became catastrophic. In part three, “The Law of Endangered Environments, Viruses, and Hope,” Levine focuses on the anger in reference to the negative impact on the natural environment due to man. Our actions have consequences, and people go around on a daily basis oblivious to how many animals have become endangered due to human overconsumption, or the severity of global warming. In the poem “Our Turn,” Levine uses metaphor as a wake up call for society to open their eyes: Perhaps it is too damn late for us to see through the latte steam, the increasing number of missing pieces in the chain of life we're linked to, as sure as the drive thru queue we are waiting on, wondering how close it is to our turn." (lines 15-19) Using the metaphor of this ordinary scene, Levine compares humankind to the next species on the list of extinction. He plays on the ignorance of society who indulge primarily on trivial ordeals such as prioritizing coffee over the condition of the planet they live on and safeguarding the future of generations to come. Pretty soon mankind will be the one on the chopping block, facing extinction after selfishly using up all the resources Earth has to offer.
Part four, “Covid’s Metamorphosis,” focuses on the feeling of fear in reference to how outside forces can change society in an instant, and have damaging effects. A virus that no one saw coming united us in fear but divided us in solitude. Even years later, as we wash our hands we can’t wash away the “jellyfish sting of fear,” as Levine writes in his poem titled “Blessing Our Hands” (line 34). Using this metaphor, Levine channels the palpable fear that society collectively felt during the pandemic and emphasizes how unpredictable and everlasting the impact was. You can never predict when that fear will creep up on you, and though the emotional scars may fade, I think we can all agree that the memories linger.
Levine calls into question humanity's ability to move on from traumatic moments in history, and as the collection nears its conclusion, he’s calling out those of us who still let our hands linger a bit too long under the soap and running water. There is great evil, and fear in this world, but Levine offers a collection of poems that help remind us of the beauty and joy that is still out there if we just take the time to find it. After all, we are only human....more
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