Love, an Index

by Rebecca Lindenberg

A man disappears. The woman who loves him is left scarred and haunted. In her fierce, one-of-a-kind debut, Rebecca Lindenberg tells the story—in verse—of her passionate relationship with Craig Arnold, a much-respected poet who disappeared in 2009 while hiking a volcano in Japan. Lindenberg’s billowing, I-contain-multitudes style lays bare the poet’s sadnesses, joys, and longings in poems that are lyric and narrative, at once plainspoken and musically elaborate.

Regarding her role in Arnold’s story, Lindenberg writes with clear-eyed humility and endearing dignity: “The girl with the ink-stained teeth / knows she’s famous / in a tiny, tragic way. / She’s not / daft, after all.” And then later, playfully, of her travels in Italy with the poet, her lover: “The carabinieri / wanted to know if there were bears / in our part of America. Yes, we said, / many bears. Man-eating bears? Yes, of course, / many man-eating bears.” Every poem in this collection bursts with humor, pathos, verve—and an utterly unique, soulful voice.

This widely anticipated debut, already selected as a finalist for several prominent book awards, marks the first collection in the newly minted McSweeney’s Poetry Series. MPS is an imprint which seeks to publish a broad range of excellent new poetry collections in exquisitely designed hardcovers—poetry that’s useful and meaningful to anyone in any walk of life.

Genres: Poetry, Romance, Fiction, Love, Grief

96 pages, Hardcover

First published March 13, 2012

About the author

Rebecca Lindenberg earned a BA from the College of William & Mary and a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Utah. Her essays and criticism have appeared widely, and she has been a guest blogger for the Best American Poetry Blog. Her collection of poetry, Love, An Index (2012), focuses on her relationship with her partner, the poet Craig Arnold; Terrance Hayes described the poems as a “litany of losses and retrievals” that “remake the elegy form.” Her second book, The Logan Notebooks (Center for Literary Publishing, 2014) won the 2015 Utah Book Award.

Lindenberg’s honors include an Amy Lowell Traveling Poetry Fellowship, a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, a MacDowell Colony Residency, and a fellowship at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center.

Reviews

[Shinji Moon · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was on the train home from Manhattan earlier today and read this once over in the 50 minutes that I had. The entire book is genius. The poetry is seamless, and by the end I was so touched that I started to cry, quietly, in the little train carriage. I haven't been moved this much by something in a very long time. This book found me at such a perfect time. I was just starting to forget why I loved poetry so much.

[Courtney Johnston · Rating 5 out of 5]

(knows she's famous / in a tiny, tragic way. / She's not / daft, / after all. - 'The Girl With The Ink-Stained Teeth'.)

It is impossible for me to tell if this is a 'good' book or not. All I know is that it often feels like Lindenberg is writing my own poems.

There's reading people's lips as they speak to you, standing slightly outside your body and wondering at these flesh-and-blood beings and the things they want to share with you.

'Losing Language: A Phrasebook'

....
He'll always be with you You don't have to try so hard
You're so brave I wonder what it's like when you're alone
You're so strong I can see you've showered
You've handled it with such grace You've done nothing that can't be repaired
Let me know if you need anything I won't come round again
....

There's working out what happens now, watching time stretch and shrink, watching things change, watching yourself change.

'Still Life With Movement'

Fruit ripens in
the argent bowl.
The pear's slow
blush comes
as the burnished
salmon spoils,
woolly eyes forget-
ful. The rabbit's
trapped soul swells,
fur amplified
in the convex
silver dish. On this
cedar table all
the quiet volition
of the world underway,
becoming, then
becoming anew.

And there are things that I feel, and things that I don't feel - things that make me curious about this woman, envious of her, sorry for her - things that I recognise, things that I don't understand, things that I want and things I am glad I do not have to have. Above all, there is observing and documenting, cataloguing and archiving. The difference between us, perhaps, is that I feel and then set free: Lindenberg feels and then memorialises.

'Catalogue of Ephemera'

You give me flowers resembling Chinese lanterns.

You give me hale, for yellow. You give me vex.

You give me lemons softened in brine and you give me cuttlefish ink.
You give me all 463 stairs of Brunelleschi’s dome.

You give me seduction and you let me give it back to you.
You give me you.

You give me an apartment full of morning smells—toasted bagel and black
coffee and the freckled lilies in the vase on the windowsill.
You give me 24-across.

You give me flowers resembling moths’ wings.

You give me the first bird of morning alighting on a wire.
You give me the sidewalk café with plastic furniture and the boys
with their feet on the chairs.
You give me the swoop of homemade kites in the park on Sunday.
You give me afternoon-colored beer with lemons in it.

You give me D.H. Lawrence,
and he gives me pomegranates and sorb-apples.

You give me the loose tooth of California, the broken jaw of New York City.
You give me the blue sky of Wyoming, and the blue wind through it.

You give me an ancient city where the language is a secret
everyone is keeping.

You give me a t-shirt that says all you gave me was this t-shirt.
You give me pictures with yourself cut out.

You give me lime blossoms, but not for what they symbolize.

You give me yes. You give me no.

You give me midnight apples in a car with the windows down.
You give me the flashbulbs of an electrical storm.
You give me thunder and the suddenly green underbellies of clouds.

You give me the careening of trains.
You give me the scent of bruised mint.

You give me the smell of black hair, of blond hair.

You give me Apollo and Daphne, Pan and Syrinx.
You give me Echo.

You give me hyacinths and narcissus. You give me foxgloves
and soft fists of peony.

You give me the filthy carpet of an East Village apartment.
You give me seeming not to notice.

You give me an unfinished argument, begun on the Manhattan-bound F train.

You give me paintings of women with their eyes closed.
You give me grief, and how to grieve.

So, I do not know if it is a good book. But it is a true book.

[Eva]

Not all poetry speaks to you and this one didn't speak to me, although I fully understand why it is so widely loved.

[Rachel · Rating 5 out of 5]

a quintessential modern poetry collection. could not recommend this book more!

I actually read this through twice this morning...and i genuinely might read it again this afternoon. SUCH beautiful prose and storytelling and done so in such a creative manner. also the cover is stunning. particularly, the storytelling and atmosphere setting in the titular poem ‘love, an index’ was so spectacular and gut-wrenching. ‘which, if i never thought to mention it before, i now feel compelled to address,’ ‘obsessional,’ ‘losing language: a phrasebook,’ and ‘marblehead’ were also standouts.

[Molly · Rating 5 out of 5]

The top of my head, it has come off!

sake is produced by multiple fermentations of rice. Sometimes it tastes like heavy moonlight, sometimes it tastes like a neon sign that's just been turned off (7)

galaxy of snow-stars (16)

the sounds of rain / ruining itself upon the ground (19)

the sky flaps like a sheet. // Shadows hurry back / into their objects. (24)

interview: http://believermag.tumblr.com/post/20...

[Lynn · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is hard for me to "review" because many of the poems are about someone I know. That said, I admire the poems & I appreciate their language. I admire the emotion in many of them. Many of them I just plain like, because they are amusing (such as the status update poems).
I think Rebecca is a good poet, and I look forward to reading more books by her in the future.

[Louisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh, this was beautiful. Lindenberg wrote this in honour of her partner Craig Arnold's disappearance after he was scouting a volcano. Her love for him shows so clearly, as does the agony of losing the other half of your soul. My heart almost broke progressing through the book. Anyone who appreciates modern American poetry should definitely pick this up, and savour the 90+ pages while it lasts.

[Kasia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was a little like being punched in the gut. Excuse me while I go cry into the neck of my beloved and implore him never to hike volcanoes alone.

[Zoë Marriott · Rating 5 out of 5]

Crackling with rage, passion, love, and black humour. I will re-read this. A lot.

[Luke · Rating 4 out of 5]

One day perhaps, we'll understand: It is true, I am less afraid to die now.

This is the sort of textual beauty that wears its wealth, as well as its heart, on its sleeve. In that sense, it reminded me of The Year of Magical Thinking, although I liked this better for its pushing the envelope more in terms of narratological construction, as well as in the comparatively profuse references to classical lit that I've been well trained to sit up and beg for in the realms of my literary tastes. I don't fault Lindenberg for the socioeconomic thumbprint that allowed her to build up such a cornucopia of cosmopolitan experience, but it's the same breed living that lead to her lover's/partner's/etc disappearance/assumed demise that is leading to the (white) corpse-ridden trash pile currently masquerading as Mt. Everest. I think this was beautiful, but it relies on external realities and references to the point that similarly genred Bough Down does not, and while it's probably a horrible thing to compare funeral dirges and associated lachrymosas, it's hard to ignore the sheer amount of education that went into Lindenberg's bouts. A backhanded compliment, then: a pleasure to read and even more so to understand the references within, but I wonder how much of my favorable reception is compassion, how much of it is appreciation, and how much of it is instinctual response to the upper class social mores of Neo-Europe that my literary journey has convinced me to uphold.

I can blame my picking this up on a combination of having taken on too many long tomes at the beginning of the month and a general desire to read all the 21st century work I can now that my classic reading challenges are (mostly) in my hindsight. I won't lie and say that I disliked the book, as I found many parts of it genuinely moving, and the edition itself is an aesthetic pleasure to behold, especially when lolling in bed after a hard day's work. There are references to works I've read and authors I haven't but intend to in the future and even names I don't plan on touching but could be persuaded to, and the bibliography is alluring to anyone who tends towards the more classical poetry side of literature and all those who seek to inherit that Euro-minded tradition. Still, I am uneasy about its existence as an obvious artifact of a way of living and dying that is enacted on plains not accessible to the average reader, exemplified by how the eulogized partner's death is still rather absurdly hilarious to me, as it feeds into the narrative of rich white people doing the stupidest stuff for pleasure in countries where the non-white populace acts as a faceless backdrop to death defying adventures and, as can be seen here, the odd tragic aftermath. So: beautiful little text, but indicative of a broader issue that, ultimately, is rather a problem in these neocolonial times of ours. A mixed bag, overall. Elegant to indulge in, but rather troubling once you start thinking of what sort of society produces such a work.

All in all, this is a beautiful, heartrending at places, work, but it really showcases the disparities between one lifestyle and the next when someone can afford to go off and die in a way far beyond the means of a good 30-50, maybe even 65% of the Us' population. As such, it's hard to sympathize without qualifying the situation, which isn't going to look consistent with my other reviews of memories, but whatever. The socioeconomic exorbitance usually isn't so overt in such an overwhelmingly positive manner as it is here, and it goes along with something pulled from my recently read The Man Who Loved Children: Poor good man, he thought that he had discovered a new principle...that the rich and powerful are human beings too. Not a completely useless statement, but all the quotes and references and globetrotting in both memory and demise become a lot less inspiring when one is hyper aware of the price tag for every sojourn and every moment spent that isn't involved in work, chores, or paid leave. Not the best thing for me to read in my housemates days, then. It's all very pretty emotional, but only when I forbid myself from thinking for very long.

[C. Varn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rebecca Lindenberg is an uncomfortable book as the unfolding and indexing of anyone's love and grief is uncomfortable. Craig Arnold's disappearance sent shockwaves through the poetry community and the community around University of Wyoming, but Lindenberg is ground zero for that lost. The fact she knitted her loss into these poems and that they are relatable, readable, and, at times, innovative make it all the more impressive. The analogous forms Lindenberg employs adds some ordering, distance, and craft to the images and fragments of grief, joy, and remembrance. For what is essentially a raw, elegiac collection, the fact that there is any sense of play at all is amazing in-and-of-itself.

[JHM]

I didn't rate this book because I felt that to do so would be disrespectful of the complexity of the poems and the intensity of the relationship and the grief they commemorate.

Honestly, Lindenberg is probably not a poet whose work I will seek out -- but as someone who also suddenly lost a beloved I read this volume with the eyes and soul of a kindred mourner and found much to appreciate.

This book will have an honored place on my shelf and I will revisit it in the future.

[Caitlin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lindenberg's poetry is so beautifully and tenderly rendered that I found an immediate connection as a reader. Never have I felt so much from an entire collection of poems that I was brought to tears. This is a must read for anyone even slightly inclined towards poetry.

[André Habet · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was really moved by many of the poems in this collection. They show a vulnerability about romantic love that modern day cynicism writes off as absurd. There are brave, intelligent poems in here. Drink 'em up.

[Zachary Hertz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ouch!

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the joys of the collection was her inventiveness: she makes new genres out of manuscripts, indexes, phrasebooks. Her OED style definition of Love was fun as both homage and unsettling of love poetry. "Losing Language: A Phrasebook" insightful and apt and recognizable to anyone in that conversation. Another favorite "Illuminating." describes a trip to the Black Hills, flanked with comments and asides; one poignantly maybe describing what some of the poems do: "if you can recall how it felt at the time you can grasp that the end changes nothing."

[Angelina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rebecca Lindenberg is a poetic virtuoso; her explorations of form match her explorations of grief and love and seem to reinforce the message that these feelings come in so many different ways and moments. Her index poem that cross-references itself was brilliant.

[Ron Bernas · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you didn't know the story behind this collection (her lover disappeared while hiking in Japan exploring volcanoes) you might wonder what is happening here. But the title poem, a lengthy chronicle of their turbulent-sounding relationship organized like an index from A to Z by subject is pretty amazing.

[Mariel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Possibly the most perfect and clever cataloging of grief I have read. What a beautiful and heart wrenching world this book lives in.

[Felicia Zhang · Rating 5 out of 5]

The amount of emotion, grief, and intimacy in this book is so comforting….

[Lisa M. · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was attracted to this book because I, too, have lost someone that I loved and had a complex relationship with. The death was somewhat public.

One of the things I appreciated about this book was how Lindenberg did not cheapen her connection to Arnold; this felt like an honest reflection of a relationship--the highs and the lows. The book is extremely intimate and reviews memories and explores the intimacy/affection between Lindenberg & Arnold. It does so without becoming saccharine or trite. Lindenberg relies on form to explore these matters without entering those territories. Her forms are innovative and amazing. I love how she pulls outside sources into her work.

I am extremely biased, but this echoed my experiences to whatever extent someone can say that about someone else's life experiences.

[Insert name here · Rating 5 out of 5]

After Anne Carson, this might be the best book of poems by a living poet I've read. If you've seen my other poetry reviews, you know how big a deal it is for me to say that. Most contemporaries seem to focus either on form and technique but don't have anything to say, or focus on content while writing prose with line breaks. (And that latter group almost never has anything worth saying, which means they tend to be irredeemably insufferable, poets who manage to be both pretentious and boring.)

Lindenberg makes me sometimes think that the genre of poetry might be salvageable, that it might one day once again be something more than a bunch of pretentious, boring academics circle-jerking. But Lindenberg is definitely going against the tide here, so we'll see.

[Karstee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Best book of modern poetry I have ever read! Makes the old saying ring true "...better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." the poet lost her lover in 2009 in Japan when he went missing. This is her grieving process in the form of poetry... And it is so beautiful! This book isn't out quite yet, but is available on mcsweeney's website. So.... GOOD!

[Maida · Rating 2 out of 5]

I am so sorry to hear of the author's loss. It's wonderful that she wrote a novel in verse as a vehicle for expressing her grief & as a way to commemorate her late husband.... I really wanted to love her poetry, but I just didn't. *A regretful 2/5 stars*

[Jessica Piazza · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whether you like poetry or aren't so sure about it generally, I promise you want to read this book. Love poems like you never thought they could be. Grief poems that somehow still overjoy and inspire. Just, simply, amazing work.

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

27/31

I have been wanting to read this book by Rebecca Lindenberg for awhile. And now i am so glad I did. Her heartbreaking story of losing her partner stands on its own.

#SealeyChallenge #RebeccaLindenberg

[D'Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

I haven't been this engrossed in a book of poetry in a very long time. So, so good.

[Sandra Lambert · Rating 5 out of 5]

The poem Illuminations, with it's commentaries, left me in awe. Then the Versus poems left me flayed. Reading poetry lifts my prose writing to that other place.

[Kate Buechler]

The actual index part was my favorite. I'm a sucker for narrative details unfolding in alphabetical lists.

[Tara Larsen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I cry every time.