An ambitious, blustery debut that establishes a distinct and often arcane style.
Combining cosmic visions with earthy anecdotes, this hallucinogenic collection of poems tells of a moody man finding his place in the universe.
Much of Collins’ book is grounded in the physical world, where the first-person narrator smokes cigarettes, gets caught in the rain and struggles with love. But many of the poems are dreamy, combining nightmarish images with pop-culture references and political rants. Collins peppers epic phrases with complex and even made-up words: “America, America, / you soulavoric, luxaphobic pyrophile, / I will sing my dream until I am finished.” Some pieces read like stage monologues, direct and relatable, while others are broken up and surreal, alienating the reader with Collins’ wild expressions. His most enjoyable poems are also the easiest to follow, as with “To a Thief,” a haunting elegy to a late grandfather: “we / laughed like his body would never be ashes. This is just to say we / are still laughing in that remembrance, in that Cadillac I’ll never ride / in again, in that memory you will never take away.” In work thick with motifs—e.g., mysterious children, vivid dreams and the presence of supernatural beings—Collins uses such diverse references as “Waltzing Matilda” and Google searches in the same poem. He sometimes directly addresses the reader or other characters, as in the poem “Don’t get mad at me, Jesus.” The most interesting and frustrating aspect of Collins’ style is his use of fictional compounds, including “othertongues,” “enerdreadful” and “herenow’s allpulse,” among scores of others. The writing is free and inventive, building its own vocabulary, but the language is often so confusing and abstract that it struggles to make sense. Collins uses this lexicon to describe his relationship with big ideas and higher powers, as if more ineffable concepts require ever stranger words. His ponderous narrators struggle with fiery emotions, some flirting with violence. For readers of the New York School of poets, the avant-garde tone will likely sound familiar, even nostalgic.
An ambitious, blustery debut that establishes a distinct and often arcane style.Pub Date: Oct. 16, 2014
ISBN: 978-1942004066
Page Count: 84
Publisher: ELJ Publications
Review Posted Online: Dec. 22, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2015
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Therapeutic, moving verse from a promising new talent.
Keridan’s poetry testifies to the pain of love and loss—and to the possibility of healing in the aftermath.
The literary critic Geoffrey Hartman once wrote that literature—and poetry, in particular—can help us “read the wound” of trauma. That is, it can allow one to express and explain one’s deepest hurts when everyday language fails. Keridan appears to have a similar understanding of poetry. She writes in “Foreword,” the opening work of her debut collection, that “pain frequently uses words as an escape route / (oh, how I know).” Many words—and a great deal of pain—escape in this volume, but the result is healing: “the ending is happy / the beginning was horrific / so let’s start there.” The book, then, tracks the process of recovery in the wake of suffering, and often, this suffering is brought on by romantic relationships gone wrong. An early untitled poem opens, “I die a little / taking pieces of me to feed the fire / that keeps him warm / you don’t notice that it’s a slow death / when you’re disappearing little by little.” The author’s imagery here—of the self fueling the dying fire of love—is simultaneously subtle and wrenching. But the poem’s message, amplified elsewhere in the book, is clear: We go wrong if we destructively give ourselves over to others, and healing comes only when we turn our energies back to our own good. Later poems, therefore, reveal that self-definition often equals strength. The process is painful but salutary; when “you’re left unprotected / surrounded by chaos with nothing you / can depend on / except yourself / and that’s when you gather the pieces / of the life you lost / and use them to build the life you want.” The “life you want” is an elusive goal, and the author knows that the path to self-definition is fraught with peril—but her collection may give strength to those who walk it.
Therapeutic, moving verse from a promising new talent.Pub Date: Nov. 2, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-72770-538-6
Page Count: 196
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Jan. 9, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2019
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Downbeat but often engaging poems and stories.
A slim volume of largely gay-themed writings with pessimistic overtones.
Poe (Simple Simon, 2013, etc.) divides this collection of six short stories and 34 poems into five sections: “Art,” “Death,” “Relationship,” “Being,” and “Reflection.” Significantly, a figurative death at the age of 7 appears in two different poems, in which the author uses the phrase “a pretended life” to refer to the idea of hiding one’s true nature and performing socially enforced gender roles. This is a well-worn trope, but it will be powerful and resonant for many who have struggled with a stigmatized identity. In a similar vein, “Imaginary Tom” presents the remnants of a faded relationship: “Now we are imaginary friends, different in each other’s thoughts, / I the burden you seek to discard, / you the lover I created from the mist of longing.” Once in a while, short story passages practically leap off of the page, such as this evocative description of a seedy establishment in Lincoln, Nebraska: “It was a dimly lit bar that smelled of rodent piss, with barstools that danced on uneven legs and made the patrons wonder if they were drunker than they thought.” In “Valéry’s Ride,” Poe examines the familial duties that often fall to unmarried and childless people, keeping them from forming meaningful bonds with others. In this story, after the double whammy of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita hits Louisiana, Valéry’s extended family needs him more than ever; readers will likely root for the gay protagonist as he makes the difficult decision to strike out on his own. Not all of Poe’s main characters are gay; the heterosexual title character in “Mrs. Calumet’s Workspace,” for instance, pursues employment in order to escape the confines of her home and a passionless marriage. Working as a bookkeeper, she attempts to carve out a space for herself, symbolized by changes in her work area. Still, this story echoes the recurring theme of lives unlived due to forces often beyond one’s control.
Downbeat but often engaging poems and stories.Pub Date: Nov. 16, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-5168-3693-2
Page Count: 120
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: March 5, 2016
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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