Using natural, biblical, and classical imagery, these poems explore the difficulties of faith and love—particularly the difficulties of their expression, their performance. Moving between dramatic and interior monologue, and moving through intersecting histories, the ambiguities of inwardness and the eros of wakeful existence, these poems search for relationships with self, others, the world and God that are authentic—however quirky or strange.
"This is poetry of a rare fine delicacy. Its very modesty testifies to a great ambition—to overcome by the quietest of means."—Donald Justice
In Tennessee I Found a Firefly Flashing in the grass; the mouth of a spider clung to the dark of it: the legs of the spider held the tucked wings close, held the abdomen still in the midst of calling with thrusts of phosphorescent light—
When I am tired of being human, I try to remember the two stuck together like burrs. I try to place them central in my mind where everything else must surround them, must see the burr and the barb of them. There is courtship, and there is hunger. I suppose there are grips from which even angels cannot fly. Even imagined ones. Luciferin, luciferase. When I am tired of only touching, I have my mouth to try to tell you what, in your arms, is not erased
"This is poetry of a rare fine delicacy. Its very modesty testifies to a great ambition—to overcome by the quietest of means."—Donald Justice
Mary Szybist is the author of a Granted, which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. She teaches at Lewis & Clark College and lives in Portland, Oregon.
Some of these are positively liturgical: "Sometimes it's too hard with words or dark or silence. Tonight I want a prayer of high-rouged cheekbones and light: a litany of back-lit figures, ... And the prayer will not be crowded. ... our goodness will not matter in a prayer so light, so empty it will float."
I think Granted was a slight come down for me because I read Incarnadine first and loved it so much. I was expecting more from this book, and while there are still poetic gems in it, thematically it doesn't feel like it holds together as tightly as Incarnadine does.
It is rare to have a poet so vividly, so unmistakeably, so symbolically go after some hard truths. Namely, what we long for in love, and how our lives of passion actually play out and what patterns we get trapped in. If one doesn't make early, naive mistakes - and we all do - then we are still left with relationships that don't always make us whole nor strong, independent people. Yet, there is longing, there are ideals...there are wonderings about the machinations of heaven. Here is "Monologue to Be Spoken by an Archangel":
Snow! & snow of Our Lady! Know the lamb
has dropped into sleep, numb, stiff as a courtier, the lamb
(Hands indicating the motions of waves)
is not with you.
(A long time passes)
...and Our Lady grows distressingly simple, caught beneath stones, her white bruises... Who has
(Indicating the eyes)
not been God's thief?
(disappears)
Our Lady! is dizzy, ill, among sparrows-She is stripped and salts herself. When she cries, she cries out to...
(Indicating absence)
...Who has not been God's wife?
I found Szybist's style to be daringly abstract/symbolic, making the language lush and colorful and the messages behind the words emotionally powerful. Her commentary is more about the world than her own efforts and responsibilities, but in her stories we find a call for higher existences here on earth, for expectations that love can mean more than it ever has. A creative, revealing voice.
Favorites: "What If I Could Look at You," "What the World Is For," "Long After the Donkey and the Desert," "Crylight," "Approaching Elegy," and "In Tennessee I Found a Firefly"
It feels strange rating this book, which was written by my high school English teacher, so I won't. I can only say I really enjoyed reading this collection and I think I'll read it again sometime.
Below the bridge, above the gray surface of the water, their heads upright as candles. They open and reopen at their mouths.
I meant not to hesitate: meant to feed them, but the way their mouths gape, almost whine--
Look: the carp can withstand fasting. Like the glass eyes of saints, their eyes have cooled into unfocus, their bodies have become sleep, their movements quick and agile, and I'm glad just to watch their mouths glisten, dumb as halos.
not my favorite, not at all my favorite. Incarnadine, also by Szybist is significantly greater, in Incarnadine there is a certain spirtualism, that I want Szybist to expand upon, some poems are great but still i think she should stick to that style of poetry, poetry written with a spiritual affectation, similar to Spanish poets, Fray Louis and St John of the Cross. Granted is an attempt on the sequence to writing better poetry, the thoughts are there, but the delivery falls short.
54pp. Szybist's poetry joins the sacred and the sensual. She uses scriptural stories to explore the physical, the body, something theology often treats as "profane". I love poetry that challenges established ways of seeing, explores new possibility and plays with language in surprising ways. I think good poetry is, most often, disruptive. Szybist hits that mark. Not quite as good as Incarnadine but still worth reading, probably several times.
I enjoyed this. I don't usually read a lot of poetry or fiction with biblical and classical imagery, and I think this was a good first book for me. I definitely want to read more from this author. "Mutatis Mutandis", "What the World is For", "Crylight", "The technique of the Lifelike", and "Approaching Elegy" were my favorites.