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Wideawake Field: Poems
The chairs have come in
and the crisp yellow thwock
of the ball being hit
says somehow, now that it's fall,
I'm a memory of myself.
My whole old life--
I mourn you sometimes
in places you would have been .
-- October
The poems in this fierce debut are an attempt to record what matters. As a reporter's dispatches, they concern themselves with different forms of what it means to feel at home in wrecked places and then to experience loneliness and dislocation in the familiar. The collection arcs between internal and external worlds--the disappointment of returning, the guilt and thrill of departure, unexpected encounters in blighted places-- and, with ruthless observations etched in the sparest lines, the poems in Wideawake Field sharply and movingly navigate the poles of home and away.
and the crisp yellow thwock
of the ball being hit
says somehow, now that it's fall,
I'm a memory of myself.
My whole old life--
I mourn you sometimes
in places you would have been .
-- October
The poems in this fierce debut are an attempt to record what matters. As a reporter's dispatches, they concern themselves with different forms of what it means to feel at home in wrecked places and then to experience loneliness and dislocation in the familiar. The collection arcs between internal and external worlds--the disappointment of returning, the guilt and thrill of departure, unexpected encounters in blighted places-- and, with ruthless observations etched in the sparest lines, the poems in Wideawake Field sharply and movingly navigate the poles of home and away.
- GenresPoetry
88 pages, Hardcover
First published May 15, 2007
About the author
Eliza Griswold
20 books124 followersEliza Griswold is an American journalist and poet. She was a fellow at the New America Foundation from 2008 to 2010 and won a 2010 Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
(wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
February 13, 2012
I'm not a huge poetry reader but since I got free copy and was able to speak briefly with the author and found her quite engaging, I gave it a read--also the individual poems and collection were both quite short. And...I enjoyed it reading by the fire on a cool early summer evening out in my backyard.
Favorite lines:
From "What Went Wrong": "We handle each other/ with too much gentleness,/ like eggs,/ to be born elsewhere and later."
From "Arrest": "...How human we are,/ the tender, puncturing skin,/ the illusion we can save ourselves/ if we find the right words/ and try with all our might."
An easier to understand/literal though almost SF poem; reminds me of Greg Bear's short story, "Blood Music":
Bedbugs
In the Bedouin's foam mattress,
a bedbug mother tips back her baby's chin
and pours my blood down his throat. You wrote
in all my wandering I risk my chance
to give birth. That's hardly true. All over
the earth, I've fed my flesh to bugs.
That's some kind of mother for you.
A bit more ambiguous favorite:
Sadness
When the power went off at the hotel bar
loneliness hung between us,
not shared exactly.
The lights come on. Back then
one could smoke. I held
my drink with both hands.
I was okay. On the way home,
I bought my husband a seascape:
smudged bluffs and a boy's red
trunks doubled in the water.
No sadness in it anywhere.
Favorite lines:
From "What Went Wrong": "We handle each other/ with too much gentleness,/ like eggs,/ to be born elsewhere and later."
From "Arrest": "...How human we are,/ the tender, puncturing skin,/ the illusion we can save ourselves/ if we find the right words/ and try with all our might."
An easier to understand/literal though almost SF poem; reminds me of Greg Bear's short story, "Blood Music":
Bedbugs
In the Bedouin's foam mattress,
a bedbug mother tips back her baby's chin
and pours my blood down his throat. You wrote
in all my wandering I risk my chance
to give birth. That's hardly true. All over
the earth, I've fed my flesh to bugs.
That's some kind of mother for you.
A bit more ambiguous favorite:
Sadness
When the power went off at the hotel bar
loneliness hung between us,
not shared exactly.
The lights come on. Back then
one could smoke. I held
my drink with both hands.
I was okay. On the way home,
I bought my husband a seascape:
smudged bluffs and a boy's red
trunks doubled in the water.
No sadness in it anywhere.
August 23, 2018
I fell into "Ruins" a few months back, one of the poems not in this anthology, and it clung to me until I tracked down more of Griswold's work. "Wideawake Field" added a few more stanzas to follow after. Highly recommended! Griswold's collection is half emotional deconstruction and half "observed horror"; as a wartime journalist AND a poet, her subject matter is unusual (at least to me), and she brings unsettling, uplifting insight to fury, healing, separation, and purposeful work.
Two quick, favorite excepts:
My best friend grows kumquats
and something deadly on a vine.
I am in love with a man who believes
he’s a minefield.
Rage has more velocity than pain.
To think of you again,
how good it could have been
had we been slightly different
at a slightly different angle of the day.
It doesn’t work this way.
(Librarian-style warnings: )
Two quick, favorite excepts:
My best friend grows kumquats
and something deadly on a vine.
I am in love with a man who believes
he’s a minefield.
Rage has more velocity than pain.
To think of you again,
how good it could have been
had we been slightly different
at a slightly different angle of the day.
It doesn’t work this way.
(Librarian-style warnings: )
August 9, 2024
"Across the world, a bomb goes off and you say,/ See what happens in the city you dream of?/ I nod through the stripped line/ and don't say, No, this is what I dream."
July 1, 2009
Wideawake Filed was good, but not great. Eliza introduces a handful of moments that are striking and unexpected; she's able to relate internal feelings with external places and has a strong sense of the worlds around her. While many of these poems are crafted carefully, others lack solidity. Some are alive and breathing but others seem to be sleeping, or trying too hard. This was not a horrible collection of poetry- before judging I think it's best to read it for yourself. Personally I was expecting more from such a hearty title.
January 23, 2008
These succinct poems by a journalist show a concern with world politics but mostly because of how those politics reflect or impact the personal. The tight, profound pieces remind me of Kay Ryan, with a bit more narrative material/context attached. The way Griswold moves through a poem (or the sudden epiphany line at the end) can start to feel repetitive, but I had the urge to reread many of these poems once I'd finished them, and I intend to reread the entire book.
January 28, 2013
I was at a reading with the author last week and am still drunk on her poems. The poems and stories behind them stick with you. Eliza is an amazing writer with such purpose. I felt transported to the time and space she writes about. I can't wait until her upcoming article & book on Afghan landay comes out!
July 19, 2007
it was good, but not great. She had some interesting turns of phrase and some good metaphors, but I expected it to be more coherent.
July 26, 2008
I wasn't impressed with this book, I just thought it was kinda safe and boring.
Read
January 21, 2009Not my cup of tea, I guess, although I appreciate how this poet focuses on the external more than the internal. I picked the book on a lark at Strand Books because of the title and cover pic.
May 11, 2012
Very powerful poems, some about tragic things, others more light. Well written. A good read-aloud book.
November 2, 2019
I learned about Eliza Griswold after reading an article she wrote for the New Yorker. It turns out that in addition to an internationally recognized reporter and author, she's also a poet. I read Wideawake Field while listening to Amity and Prosperity on audiobook. In her poems, I see language as delivering more about her experiences - traveling, reporting, being away from home, and back again - than language could in other forms. It surprises me now that more journalists don't write poetry. How much isn't captured in the stories we read?
March 9, 2020
I am not sure how I managed to select this poetry book, but it flowed so perfectly following my reading of Apeirogon! This work of poems was written by a journalist and it is a fascinating (but at times harsh) look at life in war zones... in refugee camps...
Some of the poems that spoke to me: Epithalamion, Pure, Leisurama, Occupation, and Beyond the solace of a Devastated Landscape.
By itself, I am not sure how I would feel about these poems... but coupled with the reading of Apeirogon, they are timely and so perfect.
Some of the poems that spoke to me: Epithalamion, Pure, Leisurama, Occupation, and Beyond the solace of a Devastated Landscape.
By itself, I am not sure how I would feel about these poems... but coupled with the reading of Apeirogon, they are timely and so perfect.
August 29, 2020
A debut collection of poems brought out by a stellar publisher. The author was heretofore known for her prose writing. On topics of war and romantic love (journalist's background, being out in the field). These poems are short and lack rich imagery that I myself seek. Do they end too abruptly to transcend their own large margins?
November 27, 2018
Quite possibly my favorite journalist. Is that even possible? I love the poems, the journalism...all of it.
November 21, 2023
Haunting. Especially to read at this moment in world conflict.
May 26, 2014
The is a collection of poems by an investigative journalist who has spent time in the Middle East. The title, “Wideawake” seems to be the anthem that calls us to her pieces as she insists we pay strict attention to what she wants to show us. She is focused on scenes from a world gone awry and is determined to document them and bring them to our attention, because although they are far away they still matter. But there are personal places that have been thrown asunder as well and these can house as much loneliness and desolation as those she sees abroad. Griswold moves between familiar places at home, and faraway places that she is secretly thrilled to investigate but which house jarring scenes and experiences.
The poetry in this collection is sparse and abrupt, including titles of a single word and poems that do not fill the entire page. It is what you might expect from a journalist--presenting vivid pictures in limited space and with a limited time frame. Although her poems are brief, they speak volumes and require a lot of thought.
The volume is divided into five separate sections in which she documents her life at home and away, failed relationships, her guilt at her desire to travel to areas of disaster and her dislocation when she arrives home. There are feelings of anger and anguish and some of the poems are difficult to get through. The images she creates are filled with tension and create distressing pictures in your mind’s eye, which is of course purposeful. She wants us to notice, to pay attention and to feel what she is trying to communicate about foreign scenes we may never encounter personally.
There are phrases and lines that will stay with you….among them visions of:
“The quince-colored smear
of first light”;
or
“How do they make a flute
out of a dead boy’s femur?”
and
“The hooded men run
through the daytime streets,
anonymous, wrecking
havoc—the hoods
designed to contain them
can be seen out of but not
into, like smoked glass.”
And documenting her personal relationships also includes some haunting words;
“Love surprises us.
It ends.”
or
“Rage has more velocity than pain”
or
“I mourn you sometimes
In places where you would have been”
and
“We handle each other
with too much gentleness,
like eggs,
to be born elsewhere and later”.
A thought provoking collection about suffering and loss both at home and away.
An interesting debut collection.
The poetry in this collection is sparse and abrupt, including titles of a single word and poems that do not fill the entire page. It is what you might expect from a journalist--presenting vivid pictures in limited space and with a limited time frame. Although her poems are brief, they speak volumes and require a lot of thought.
The volume is divided into five separate sections in which she documents her life at home and away, failed relationships, her guilt at her desire to travel to areas of disaster and her dislocation when she arrives home. There are feelings of anger and anguish and some of the poems are difficult to get through. The images she creates are filled with tension and create distressing pictures in your mind’s eye, which is of course purposeful. She wants us to notice, to pay attention and to feel what she is trying to communicate about foreign scenes we may never encounter personally.
There are phrases and lines that will stay with you….among them visions of:
“The quince-colored smear
of first light”;
or
“How do they make a flute
out of a dead boy’s femur?”
and
“The hooded men run
through the daytime streets,
anonymous, wrecking
havoc—the hoods
designed to contain them
can be seen out of but not
into, like smoked glass.”
And documenting her personal relationships also includes some haunting words;
“Love surprises us.
It ends.”
or
“Rage has more velocity than pain”
or
“I mourn you sometimes
In places where you would have been”
and
“We handle each other
with too much gentleness,
like eggs,
to be born elsewhere and later”.
A thought provoking collection about suffering and loss both at home and away.
An interesting debut collection.
January 2, 2011
Eliza shared so much of herself in this collection of poetry- some of it was quite hard to read, on an emotional level.
She has a relaxed and easy style, with an approachable use of language and vocabulary, but several of the poems require re-reading and they all require a lot of thought. Nothing to be taken lightly in this collection.
She has a relaxed and easy style, with an approachable use of language and vocabulary, but several of the poems require re-reading and they all require a lot of thought. Nothing to be taken lightly in this collection.
July 28, 2010
about 5 good poems very odd book
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews