Author: gr4c5

I write. I read. I cook. I run. That's me, in a nutshell.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

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Owen, Wilfred. “Dulce Et Decorum Est.” The Collected Poems of Wilfred Owen. London: Chatto & Windus, 1964. 55.

I think this has to be one of the most famous poems of all times. It is certainly the most famous poem about World War I that I can think of. It’s imagery is so vivid I often recoil from the words as I try to read them. I only think I can imagine the horror of what the soldiers experienced on the battlefields. I can only pretend to feel the pain of their mental and physical traumas. Wilfred Owen has you standing in the trenches with stench of blood and mud in your nose. He has you hearing the bombs whistle and explode in your ears. He has your eyes tearing as they burn from the green gasses and the death of friends.

Lines that killed me:
“As under a green sea, I saw him drowning”
“His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin…”

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p 188).

Edited to add: Some people prefer their poetry in a more lyrical manner. Check out “The Latin One” (10,000 Maniacs, Hope Chest – 1990) for their interpretation.

Love, Loss, and What I Wore

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Mr. StylishBeckerman, Ilene. Love, Loss, and What I Wore. Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books, 1995.

This is on the list in honor of National Fashion Month. Someone told me it really does exists (this fashion month), so I’ve added a bunch of books to the April List. Go Figure.
Anyway, back to Love, Loss, and What I Wore. What a freakin’ cute book. At first I was a cynic and thought, geeze, if this is writing then anyone can do it! Basically Beckerman’s book is small, 139 page, 50% illustrated, all about what she wore throughout major moments of her life. We’re only talking about 65 pages of text which only took me 25 minutes to read (twice). But, in all actuality I loved it. Here are a few reasons why:
I have a lot in common with Beckerman despite the fact she grew up in New York City in the 1940’s and 50’s. For example:

  • Her sister had a significant other who didn’t like her name and insisted on calling her something completely different (ahem)
  • She sometimes wore clothing backwards because it suited her better that way ( 🙂 )
  • She went to Simmon College (yup)
  • She has a fur coat from Bonwit Teller (don’t hate me)
  • She has shopped at the Short Hills Mall (you have too, RT!)
  • She prefers black (duh)

Quotes that caused me to think:
“After I went to love with my grandparents, I never saw my father again” (p 40).
“In another drawer she kept a long, thick, auburn braid of hair that my mother had saved from when she was young and had cut her hair. It was about fourteen inches in length, and sometimes I wore it as a chignon” (p 86). Does anyone else find this a little funky?

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust in the chapter “Do Clothes Make the Man (or Woman)?” (p 75).

Search for Baby Combover

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Kirby, David. “The Search for Baby Combover.” The Ha-Ha. Baton Rouge: Louisiana Univeristy Press, 2003. 41.

This is my third (and final) poem from The Ha-Ha that I had to read for the BookLust challenge. Later on, I will read a different book of poetry from David Kirby. But, for now “The Search for Baby Combover” is it. (see yesterday’s post for another Kirby.)
I couldn’t have asked to end Kirby’s collection on a better poem. “Baby Combover” is beyond delightful. It’s not a flowery prosey-prissy kind of thing. Instead, it’s inventive, sarcastic and wildly funny. It’s the story of a man who gets a knock on his door one night. His downstairs neighbor stands before him and proceeds to ask him to please refrain from (whoops wrong story) not move furniture around so late at night…because it wakes the baby. What baby? As far as our man is concerned he’s never seen a baby. Never heard a baby. So, he goes on to think the guy has invented a baby…It’s hysterical.

Here are a few of the best lines (and there are more so you might as well read the whole thing):
“…and I see he’s got something on his head, like strands of oily seaweed, something you’d expect to find on a rock after one of those big tanker spills in the Channel…”
“Baby Combover: the world’s first silent baby.”

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p 189).

Ha-Ha Part II

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David Kirby poetry
Kirby, David. “The Ha-Ha, Part II: I Cry My Heart, Antonio” The Ha-Ha Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University, 2003. 53.

Clever. This poem is so very clever. I like the story within a story concept. Like Shakespeare only a play on words. Here’s the quick and dirty premise: a man is having dinner with a companion. He is loving the meal and makes a comment about it. The comment reminds him of something horrible, so horrible that when his companion asks about his tragic face, he makes up another sad story to compensate for something too horrible to be discuss. The story he makes up becomes his ha-ha, his “structure against chaos”, as Kirby says.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p 188).

Franklin And Lucy

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Persico, Joseph E. Franklin and Lucy: President Roosevelt, Mrs. Rutherfurd, and the Other Remarkable Women in His Life. New York: Random House, 2008.

Here’s what went on LibraryThing:
When I finally finished the last page of Franklin and Lucy I had two very different thoughts. The first was this was a well written, very thorough biography of the social side of the Roosevelts. It was written in an easy, conversational style that, at times, was hard to put down. The detail given to who, what, where, when, and why made you feel as though you were experiencing every aspect of the era. My second thought was it was an unfortunate title for a work comprised of so much more than just the relationships of Franklin D. Roosevelt. A more accurate title would have included Eleanor. A possible option could have been Franklin and Eleanor: Mrs Rutherfurd, and the Other Remarkable Women in their lives. Another option would be to remove any section dealing with Eleanor that didn’t include her husband’s involvement and focus solely on Franklin.
The other detraction from the book was Perisco’s almost obsessive need to repeatedly include Lucy Rutherfurd’s physical description in such flowery detail. While Franklin’s oft repeated “barrel chested” description was needed to stress his need to hide his disability (and to emphasize his physical decline before his death), and Eleanor’s lack of beauty was important in context to her character as being tragic and unlovable, they were not mentioned nearly as often as Lucy’s exquisiteness.

As an aside (something that didn’t go on LibraryThing), how awful is this? I kept comparing myself to Eleanor! Before you think I’ve gone crazy, hear me out: Perisco described Eleanor as:

  • when stressed Eleanor’s voice grew shrill
  • was insecure
  • was earnest instead of vivacious
  • “schoolmarm air about her”
  • Eleanor failed to recognize humor
  • oblivious to fashion, often choosing sensible over stylish
  • overwhelmed by children
  • suspicious about kindness
  • fought for the underdog

OKay, so I will never go onto greatness and my marriage is a thousand million trillion times better, but the other stuff fits. Kinda sorta maybe.

Everything is Wrong

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moo cow

I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to misplace focus, to break a promise. I got on the tread last night, intending to do a quiet 35 minute tune-up session. Everything was wrong. Wrong from the very start. Everything. First of all, you and your Saturday night phone call. I know in my heart of hearts you are right. Three and a half hours of heart to heart and yes, you are right. I know what I need to do, thanks to you. But. But, but I don’t like it. I don’t deserve this. Yeah, yeah, yeah – Harry met Sally and the moral of the story is they couldn’t be friends. I hear ya. I still don’t like it. Last night I went beyond ThatSpace and deleted the phone number. Removing temptation. Cutting things off before they can cut me. I can’t bleed anymore. You are right.
Anyway. So, I thought of you and your words before I ran and they didn’t make me angry. I didn’t find the fire. Instead, they made me sad. I can’t run blue. So, the mood was wrong, the music was wrong, everything was wrong. For the first time ever I skipped Paint It Black and Have Fun Go Mad. I couldn’t find a rhythm I liked. Thanks to a friend I found Fleetwood and tried that. After 25 minutes I admitted defeat and decided nothing would help. I stopped cold. I couldn’t even rock the Aerosmith shirt I bought while shopping with RT. I couldn’t rock anything beyond 2.26 miles.

I’ve never stopped a run before. Not like that – not stopped cold. I’ve had plenty of other I Don’t Feel Like It moments. But, in every other instance of tired I struck a deal with myself and moi – run slower but don’t quit. Lower the incline to nothing, but don’t quit. Don’t you dare quit.

When I got off the tread and paced in front of my husband he was quick to offer kindness. Not your night. You just cooked a huge meal. You are tired. Work is tressing you out. I heard excuse after excuse and headed for the fridge. Chocolate Moo Cow for this quitter. 
Maybe another glass of whine…from a box.

Elephant of the Sea

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elephant of the seaKirby, David. “Elephant of the Sea,” The Ha-Ha.Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2003. 46.

Crack me up. This poem is really funny. It’s one of those comments on culture and keeping up with what’s cool. It’s also about language. Words and meanings. A French man wants to buy an automobile just like his American friend’s. Right down to the manatee on the license plate – the “elephant of the sea.” The friend doesn’t get it. He’s imagining what the clerk at the DMV are going to say and how the whole incident will shape her future.
And this is just one poem. Everything David Kirby writes is great. He is like geek rock of poetry. He’s smart and too funny for words.

Favorite line: “‘I can have zuh elephant of the zuh sea on my matriculation?’ to a clerk who’s got this grin on her face like she’s either seeing God or having an aneurysm” (p 46). 

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lustin the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p 188). He’s also mentioned in Book Lust in the chapter “Kitchen-Sink Poetry” (p 138).

Musee des Beaux Arts

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Auden, W.H. “Musee des Beaux Arts.” The Oxford Book of American Poetry. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. 501.

What do you see when you look at art? Does a painting create question in your mind? W.H. Auden wrote “Musee des Beaux Arts” in response to seeing the painter Brueghel’s Icarus. A ploughman calmly going about his business as a boy falls from the sky. While he had clues to the tragedy (a splash or cry) he does nothing. Auden’s larger observation is about how human response to an event or tragedy can vary; how life goes on beyond that event or tragedy. “Human position” as Auden puts it.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p 188).

What He Thought

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McHugh, Heather. “What He Thought.” Hinge & Sign: Poems 1968-1993. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1994.

I loved the conversational tone of this poem. I can see them perfectly. Intellects sitting around after dinner discussing what makes poetry poetry. In the beginning there is a snobbishness to the language, an air of I Know Better. Yet at the end there is a hint of mistaken identity which peeks through – an apology, mea culpa, my bad. It’s almost like a weak joke with a killer punchline.
Not to spoil the poem, but here’s the line that got me: “poetry is what he thought, but did not say.” How crazy is that? While this poem is in Hinge & Sign you can also read “What He Thought” on Heather’s humorous site.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called “Poetry Pleasers” (p187).

Case for Three Detectives

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Case for Three Detectives
Bruce, Leo. Case For Three Detectives. Chicago: Academy Chicago, 1936.

First things first: Leo Bruce is actually a pseudonym for Rupert Croft-Cooke. Just had to get that out there. Second, I have to say how disappointed I am to not be up on my mysteries – or at least the detectives of pop culture! Nancy Pearl compares the three detectives in Case for Three Detectives with Peter Wimsley, Father Brown, and Hercule Peirot. I have only vaguely heard of Peirot so I had no idea what she was talking about! My loss, I guess.
Maybe it’s a generational thing (because this book was written over 70 years ago). Maybe it’s a cultural thing (because this book is decidedly British). Either way, I wasn’t able to get over the fact that, despite a murder (a woman’s throat was slashed), not only were people capable of carrying on as if nothing happened (washing cars and entertaining), but the guests were included to help solve the mystery. Now, I have to keep in mind in those days guests stayed overnight and became “house guests” and dinner parties consisted of four or five house guests, each with his or her own room. 
Pearl included this in her “humor” section but warned I probably wouldn’t laugh outloud, and she’s right. I didn’t. It’s the mystery of three off the wall detectives trying to solve a murder. Each comes up with a completely different yet plausible scenerio for what could have happened. You find yourself saying, “but, of course!” until you hear the final Who Really Did It story. 
A line that made me smile: “‘If you mean spiders,’ he said, ‘I know only two things about them. And those are the things which everyone knows. They kill flies. And they hang on threads.'” (p53).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Tickle Your Funny Bone” (p 218).

African Generosity George

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African GenerosityI was going to ask everyone I knew to play the music game again. This time with a twist: give me African music for my next 5k. Darfur. The rules would be simple: stay away from South Africa, get as close to Sudan as possible, and mention nothing that would put me to sleep. No zzzzs please. I thought it would be a fun challenge & had bets going that not many people would suggest anything.
But, before I could post anything, before I could put my musical dare in print, a guy named George blew the challenge away. I mentioned my run, mentioned my music, mentioned my need and before I knew it had more music than I knew what to do with. Well, I have a plan, now. Between now and next Saturday I’ll listen to as much as I possibly can and make a mix from what moves me. George knows music.

Workshop

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Collins, Billy. “Workshop.” The Oxford Book of American Poetry. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. 954.

I love poems that make me smile. The ones that seem like someone standing close, elbow to elbow, telling me something special. A conversation between pals. “Workshop” is such a poem. It’s the guy with the great sense of humor taking the time to tell me a joke (Billy was called the class clown of poetry somewhere). Read “Workshop” outloud and you will see what I mean. It’s a poet ranting about his own poem. A poem within a poem Shakespeare style…
Here are the phrases I loved:
“It gets me right away” (only because I identify with something getting me – an awesome drum fill, the right amount of Tabasco on my pizza, my husband’s voice when he’s tired…)
“the ancient mariner grabbing by the sleeve”
“the poem is blowing pipe smoke in my face”
“and maybe this is just me”
“a very powerful sense of something”
Before I quote the entire poem I’ll quit here. But, you see what I mean. It’s a conversational, easy going poem that’s really fun.

BookLust Twist: From where else? Of course it’s from More Book Lustin the chapter (you guessed it) “Poetry Pleasers” (p 188). 

Gain

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GainPowers, Richard. Gain.New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1998.

LibraryThing review (with a few edits): Gain reminds me of a fictional A Civil Action. Big company being implicated in a cancer case. Except it’s more complicated than that. In trying to describe Gain to my husband, here’s what I said, “There are two stories being told. In the here and now is Laura, real estate agent, mother of two, divorced, just found out she has cancer. Simultaneously, there is the historical story of these soap making brothers who create a chemical conglomerate. The historical story is like a train from the past rushing towards the future, each chapter brings the giant closer to Laura’s story until they collide disastrously. You switch back and forth between Laura (now) and the brothers (from the past)” My husband just cocked his head and replied, “huh.” Okay, so he didn’t get it. In truth, the historical side is more complicated, scientifically written; the voice more impersonal & dry. It should be because it’s recounting the rise of a company from its roots including the advances in science and the strategies of marketing, whereas Laura’s part of the story is more intimate, emotional, warm and telling.

Favorite lines: “They throw silence back and forth at each other until the gyny surgeon comes in” (p 74).
“Avoid meat and fat. Don’t smoke or drink. Limit the time you spend in the sun. Don’t expose yourself to toxic chemicals at home or at work. Do not indulge in multiple sexual partners. And send twenty-five dollars” (p 283). This last one cracked me up because Laura has just gotten a solicitation from a cancer charity looking for money. At first she thinks she’s being targeted as someone who would be more sympathetic because she has cancer. The above is her reaction to the mailing.
But, probably my favorite – favorite part isn’t a line I can quote but a whole section. Laura goes to the library and learns the value of research…from a librarian.

BookLust Twist: Gain is actually in More Book Lust twice. Once for the reason why I’m reading it in April: it’s included in the “Ecofiction” chapter (p 78), and again in “Richard Powers: Too Good To Miss” (p 192).

The End and the Beginning

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Wislawa Szymborska poetry

Szymborska, Wislawa. “The End and the Beginning.” Miracle Fair: Selected Poems of Wislawa Szymborska. New York: W.W. Norton, 2001.

This poem is so vivid that I pictured it as the scene behind the credits at the end of a war movie. Stay with me. Hear me out. In the poem, Szymborska gently, methodically runs through the list of what must be done at the end of a war: clean up debris, repair houses, rebuild bridges, carry on. Stay strong. So, imagine the credits rolling. The movie has ended, the war is over. Behind the steady stream of names, cast and crew, people survivors are shell shocked and sweeping, weeping and washing, hungry and hammering, biting their lips to continue life as best as they can; as they know how. Somehow, I see this as a stark black and white. More dramatic (or depressing) that way.
My favorite line: “From time to time someone must still dig up a rusted argument from underneath a bush and haul it to the garbage dump.” What does that mean? Maybe two someones can’t decide who really “won” the war. Maybe someone else is adament it rages still…just somewhere else. Arguments that have weathered and rusted from constant exposure.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the chapter “Poetry Pleasers” (p189).

Forgive Me

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Days End

I have been hiding behind book reviews and poetry for days on end. Two poems for every one book. Reading like a fiend seems to suit me. Sorry.
I’ve started to tell you about the weirdest things ~ Kisa murdering the ladybugs in the bathroom, the end of N&ZY, my heartbreak over a breakup, the amazing work I’ve done with MSR, the crap I’ve been handed at AIC, how homesick I am, how little I’ve run, the need to hear my music again (go where we haven’t I don’t dare), Natalie, Germany, Sin City, Taka Tak, being stood up, being letdown, sex in my city, Comic Book Tattoo, Darfur, Boston Celtics, wine, angry black man, gun to my heart, arthritis and friends too far away.

I’ve started to tell you about all these things. Yet, I can’t. Instead I tell you about what I’ve read and read and read.
Forgive me.