Friday Links: Good Books About Rough Stuff Edition

“Be literal. Be devoured by light.” – John Allen Taylor, “History of My Godlessness”

This poetry week, I am thinking about the power of literature to give voice to the unspeakable. Particularly poetry, but fiction does this, too. Admittedly, I am a weirdo, but processing big ideas through poetry or fiction has always made as much or more sense to me than reading nonfiction. I get into this idea a little bit on the new Lazy & Entitled Podcast, where I interview Lincoln Michel (Apple | Spotty). Both books this week deal with some heavy material, and sometimes all I can really say is that I’m grateful to have read something, to the writer for allowing me into that experience.

What I’ve Been Reading This Week:

Slowly working through all the books bought at AWP. Hey, a TBR pile is not a bad thing if you’re actively working through it. I usually try to grab poetry books with some thematic connection, I did not this time. I did, however, read both of them all the way through over the course of two Sundays (one day for each book). I never felt rushed, I never felt like time passed at all. There was just a poetry experience—two really moving poetry experiences, actually—and now I have to somehow translate that to blog. I’m talking, of course, about To Let The Sun by John Allen Taylor and The South Side Girl’s Guide To Love And Sex by Mayda Del Valle.

The South Side Girl's Guide To Love & Sex by Mayda Del Valle and To Let The Sun by John Allen Taylor
The South Side Girl’s Guide To Love & Sex by Mayda Del Valle and To Let The Sun by John Allen Taylor

To Let The Sun by John Allen Taylor: a poet has rarely come so highly recommended to me. Dear friend Stephen Furlong bought me John Allen Taylor’s chapbook, Unmonstrous, at KCAWP, telling me that he bought it for everybody. At LAAWP this year, my beloved Bob Sykora led me on a quest to catch John signing books at the University of Arkansas table. John was very nice in person, and his book deserves all the praise it’s been getting (from my friends and from Patricia Smith, who wrote an inspiring introduction that I read while drinking my morning coffee—both things had similar psychosomatic effects). There’s an incredible tenderness and resilience to these poems. Those words are often applied to liberal tearjerking Oscar bait movies, but the poetics of tenderness are more nuanced and complex than, idk, This Is Us or whatever. These are poems about surviving childhood sexual assault. What fallout comes when trying to build relationships as an adult, when trying to understand anything about your body and your place in the world becomes panic-inducing. Reading these poems was a necessary, sobering reminder of reality right now. Child sexual assault is all over the news because the white Christian nationalists who made eradicating CSA their whole personality, but like, in a wrongheaded and weird way, can’t decide if it is fine when the Savior Of White Christian Nationalism engages in frequent CSA. To read this book is to be reminded that there are victims on the other side of the news stories. Those victims who do grow to adulthood are real people, with real lives and real goals and real relationships and everything else that comes with living. For these poems to be as tender and resilient as they are is a miracle. 

The South Side Girl’s Guide To Love and Sex by Mayda Del Valle: another example of how you can randomly find people who are Kind Of A Big Deal at AWP. This was another book I picked up in that five-for-$20 deal at the Red Hen table, because I am not going to not buy a book written by a Puerto Rican woman from the south side of Chicago. The story of the south side so far this century has been how great it is at producing slam poets who also write some really kick-ass books (and make kick-ass albums, shoutout Noname). This book is another entry into that canon, the poems full of energy and love and pain and beauty and heartbreak. One thing different about Mayda’s book, though, is the distance from which these poems are written. Mayda left Chicago when she was 18, like her mother left Puerto Rico as a teenager, and the yearning for both Chicago and the island anchors these poems as the speaker moves through adulthood. The title, eye-catching as it is, for some reason made me think that this would be a less mature book than it is. But these poems have been places, have seen things, and the result is a powerful, well-crafted collection that is a lot of fun to read.

LINKS!

Something to listen to while you browse? We’re gonna do something different, because after I structured the links just the way I wanted (poetry bookends, a big Defector pull quote in the middle), I read a blog that I thought was perfect, and wanted to share it. Here’s Brandy Jensen at Defector on Why Real Dicks Are Throwing Fake Ones At WNBA Players. Here’s a pull quote: “Every misogynist joke poses a question to its female audience: Can you laugh along? Will you be chill or are you going to make a big deal out of this? Are you going to be a bitch about it? Arriving in the form of a dildo, the joke that is also the question becomes a double entendre: Can you take it?…the real joke is supposed to be: women playing basketball. The actual punchline is: women.” Most every news single depresses me for how evil and stupid it is, and this one is no different. Here’s Angel Reese highlights:

What’re you still doing here? Don’t you know that Micah and Brendan have a show?

If you work in the service industry, may you clean up in tips this weekend. Mayda dedicates her book “for all the south side girls,” and I think that here’s a good thing to remember: there’s someone out there who understands your struggle. If you’re lucky, someone’s writing some really great poetry that will be a balm for your soul. Even if that isn’t happening, your story is still complex, full, and deserving of poetry.

Sorry you got an email,

Chris

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