The poems within Sacred Vows vary widely in quality depending on what you look for within a poem and your aesthetics.
But as one of the few poetic responses from an elder in the Cambodian language regarding the experiences of the nation during the 20th century, this is an important book whose importance will continue to grow.
This is a pretty hard read so far, given its subject matter of surviving the genocide of the Khmer Rouge. My basis for comparison is Sarith Peou's Corpse Watching, and his unabashed depictions of horror from beginning to end with little to no reprieve. In U Sam Oeur, this horror just kind of sneaks up on you and then you are fully in it. I have just finished the poem about the birth of his twins, how his wife was violated in while giving birth, how his twins were then murdered. He begins it relatively gently; there is his helplessness as the poetic speaker, the father, resigned to the fact that there is no one around to aid in the birth so that he must do it. Then, when the "two midwives" appear out of nowhere, we breathe a sigh of relief for him. Then we realize they are not midwives, and the acts they are committing upon the wife to hasten the birth are a violation. So this is where I currently am.
This text is distinct from Peou as Oeur's original poems are written in Khmer, and then translated as a collaborative effort between himself and his Iowa colleague Ken McCullough. As well, bear in mind Oeur is a formally trained poet, i.e. MFA'ed in Iowa. In the intro, McCullough discusses translating both rigorously faithful to the text, and then translating to capture the spirit of the poem/its meaning and message. He also discusses that Oeur writes in (or inspired by) traditional Khmer poetic form, which is apparent in the original.
I am halfway through this and I hope to finish this very soon.
PS:I picked up this book after reading Mark Nowak's post, "I Hear America Singing," at the Poetry Foundation blog. I haven't yet gotten to Oeur's America poems, but am so interested in another thing McCullough writes in the intro, about Oeur translating Whitman into Khmer, opening that access of American poetry to another population of readers, and actively staking a claim on American poetry.
This was an incredibly moving book. It tells one man's story, but bears witness to countless stories of lives terrorised, brutalised and stolen in the years of the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia, and beyond.
It was interesting seeing the Khmer poems laid out on the left page, the English rendering on the right page. The author was involved with the translation, but still, I am always conscious of missing out when I cannot read poetry in its original language. According to the introduction, traditional Cambodian poetry includes forty-six set forms and is chanted in a monotone. U Sam Oeur mostly uses the traditional forms, which is one of the aesthetics you miss as an English speaker. He also sometimes uses free verse style, having spent many years in the West and gaining his education in the U.S. When he chants his poetry, it is not in plain monotone, but is described as having an operatic quality, emotionally charged, and almost conversational with the listener. I found an example on YouTube of him reading his poem 'The Loss of my Twins', a harrowing piece about the violent birth of his twins and their immediate strangulation by Khmer Rouge 'midwives'.
The book has very helpful notes at the back to help the reader understand the cultural references and rich metaphor in the poems.
It felt a privilege reading this book. Each poem was a window looking in at moments generously shared, humanly expressed. Moments of horror and hope, drawn with lines from myth and history, trying to make sense of the unspeakable, and make visible those whose experience is lost in the mud of the killing fields.