What is the best Love you've ever had in this world? Be quiet while thinking about that Love. If someone comes along and starts talking, quietly shoo them away, you're busy, you're a poet with a penny in your mouth. . . . Now get your pen and paper and write about POVERTY, write line after line about starvation and deprivation from the voice of one who has been Loved in this world.
CAConrad's (Soma)tic exercises desire to literally crack open existence as we know it. A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon is an essential how-to book for anyone interested in breaking through their perceived limitations to become a more politically and physically engaged writer. Incorporating unorthodox steps in the writing process, these twenty-seven exercises and their corresponding poems confirm Conrad's unwavering belief in poetry as a necessary practice for being.
CAConrad, a 2011 PEW Fellow in the Arts, is the author of five books of poetry, including The Book of Frank (Wave Books, 2010/Chax Press, 2009). He lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
CAConrad’s childhood included selling cut flowers along the highway for his mother and helping her shoplift. He is the author of 9 books of poetry and essays the latest While Standing In Line For Death is forthcoming from Wave Books in September 2017. He is a Pew Fellow and has also received fellowships from Lannan Foundation, MacDowell Colony, Headlands Center for the Arts, Banff, RADAR, Flying Ojbect and Ucross. For his books, essays, and details on the documentary The Book of Conrad (Delinquent Films, 2016), please visit http://CAConrad.blogspot.com
HIGHJACKING THIS REVIEW TO SAY THEIR NEW WORK IS EXCEPTIONAL LIKE ACTUALLY STELLAR go read it even if this one isn’t the best :)
anyway…
if you’re going to write a book about how slathering your forehead with your boyfriend’s spunk makes you write better poetry, the poetry should (probably) be good.
it is so aggressively and aggravatingly average. all that…for this? idk. i’m disappointed. doesn’t ever warrant the extremes to which CAConrad wants you to go, even when the philosophical core here is something worth talking about and interacting with. yes, we should find the divine or be reborn (soma) in our flesh (somatic). we should activate in our bodies a recognition of all the little miracles that make life what it is.
this book is a manual of unconventional rituals they want you to practice to write through them. but then their lines are just mashed up and beaten and strained through this practice to such an extent that they lose any meaningful heartbeat or recognizable life, even when trying to accent both, when it’s trying so hard to be unique and intemperate and insurgent against the status quo. there is no mission here other than the somatic exercises — for one example, sitting naked on a chair coated with whipped cream — which simply come across as ignorant to the constraints of reality, despite conrad’s self-proclaimed “third eye” to all manners of horror in the world. it’s laughably incongruent in that way.
the most common criticism of this book and of CAConrad more generally is the “nastiness,” the strangeness, and i want to make it clear that’s not my stance at all. i didn’t mind its interest in depravity, i’d even say it might be the quality of the book i loved the most. more literature should be gross — it’s INTERESTING. but grossness falls so flat here because nothing generative is done with it. it’s for shock value. that’s where the problem sits, in whipped cream or not.
i have finished reading this book but i don't want to take it off my currently-reading shelf. it's one of those books that when you finish, it's still not finished with you. more than any other book i've read, it is about process. it contains photocopies of CAConrad's notes, the germs of exercises he poses for finding new ways into poetry. the base matter has always been there, but Conrad draws new maps to access them. he shows us what the poetry landscape looked like when he was there but that doesn't mean it will look the same for you. and he does expect you to take part. it's interactive. there is a need for poetry in an aching and cruel world full of war and pain. he wants everyone to join him and he teaches us how to make our own way into poetry, not pedagogically, but by example. if you are lucky enough to begin this book, you will never finish it. it is ongoing and will live inside of you like something refreshing and inspiring, constantly renewing hope that war and pain are only one aspect to a life full of wonder and discovery.
Bless the book designer for publishing this with vanilla bean covers and big, porous tracts of pages: this book is built to collect stains. For a compilation of somatic challenges meant excise concerns of respectability from a writing practice--how we engage "the muscle that bends language" (yes!)--it only seems right for the body of this text to show scars and fluids, too. I have to shout while reading CA Conrad or else I'm wasting my time. When I read CA Conrad, I feel a little less afraid of the caps lock, of any demonstration of emphasis.
This book is a good one to have sex on top of. It's a good reminder to be brave. It's a good reminder of how much body we're lucky to forget and return to.
"Alice Notley was/not married to/Ted Hughes stop/talking like/that around me"
"what I really want/is to scatter/my own/ashes"
We can become poetry and CAConrad offers procedures to wear poems as skin. Much of the book expands beyond the poems into descriptions of exercises that generated the poems, such as cooking and eating a Jim Brody poem or rubbing dirt from outside Emily Dickinson's house all over your body. The poems, socially activated and wisely enraged, constantly find joy in language and friends as engagements in and around a life immersed in acts of creating poetry. His send ups to Jim Brody, Frank O'Hara, and a boyfriend who died of AIDs are especially fantastic.
As a natural contrarian to general consensus, I should probably slam this book. But fuck no. It's a thunderclap that lives up to the exceptional treatment WAVE has given it and which announces CA as someone we need to listen to in ways that his previous two books just couldn't.
Reading and evaluating this book just by the lineated poems is an insanity as the book puts forward so many times in the poems themselves, the exercise descriptions and larger, generous syntax of the book itself the idea that the poetic act is complex aesthetic-social-political gesture that occurs on AND off the page, between sensory experience and cognition, between the individual and the community. It's not a book of poetry, it's not a bunch of creative writing exercises, it's not a manifesto, it's alive between these things.
It's interesting to see people respond to this, like all books ahead/out of their times, by wondering if it is a joke.
This book is like seeing inside of Conrad's poetry, the guts, the inner workings, the immense luxury of being told where a poem began, how exactly its seed was birthed into lines, and then fast-forwarding to the fully realized version, the poem proper. If poetics had a womb with a translucent facade, and we could look in uninhibited, it would be this book.
"My religion is Poetry, not a religion of kindness and love but one of absolute permission. If Poetry doesn't strip me naked in front of my enemies then nothing will."
I was drawn to CA Conrad after watching them speak on YouTube and into this cantankerous activist mom persona that's going on. This book gave me a chance to engage with it properly and was a bit too much of an immersion. I mean that in more ways than in being reluctant to rub a banana all over my body in order to make a poem. Another friend of mine said they had to stop reading because CA's voice started echoing in their head after a while screaming MOTHER FED YOU or whatever it might be.
At first I was into the upfront politics, and I found the candidness of anger and despair refreshing. But after getting into this book I started feeling like (queer politics pitfall alert) it was becoming more about form than about content. Lamentations about seas of tombstones start to feel like imagic devices more than protestations after a little while, because CA treats the good things in life with the same ALL-CAPS incommensurability. There's also this neocolonial vibe in all the discussions of crystals and chakras and banana-smearing, tropical rainforest envisaging. It seems unchecked.
It seems to me that through these post-Dada (is that wank to make that connection?) exercises - (soma)tics, as they are called - CA's aim is to cast a poetic landscape that is both internal and external, and the biggest way of doing that is by breaking down numbings or conventions or habits or structures that come between them and the experience of that poetic landscape. But I'm like, if that's the goal, where is the criticality of settler colonialism using like these 'Aztec Tryptophan', eating dark choc while youre doing it?
Of course, some of the poems are really astounding. I'm thinking of the Yellow one from the food colour series (I remember 'our heavy metal roots are never resting plough blades'). But a lot of the poetry washed into itself for me. The (soma)tics are the main star, and even they plateau quite early: notes become notes become notes. I would expect more diverse ways of producing words for the length of this book, and the diversity of physical exercises it suggests. There are so many ways of writing a poem and like taking notes then shaping them is just one? Sometimes I do it in a breath that comes after unthought-of (soma)tics which just arise from my day. I would have appreciated more philosophy in this book. lol.
Now I'M a cantankerous mum, but ultimately this work became tonally jarring for me. I also hate ecosexualism HAH
exercises are often incoherent, many are excessively morbid or sexual. advocates some perhaps questionable behavior (masturbating in a museum? astral projecting during an MRI?) and wraps it all in a blanket of new age spirituality (ALL. THE. CRYSTAL. WATER.) perhaps i am just a cynic but many of these “exercises” felt more like fetish fantasy than poetic practice (given prominent motifs of sexual exhibitionism, feet, bodily fluids, and filth [dirt, garbage]). i also found the preoccupation with death exceptionally disturbing (predicting your death, imagining your death, simulating drowning in your own bathtub) and presented in a way that seemed poetically incoherent. to say this read was a displeasure would be an understatement. i want whatever the author was smoking/tripping on when they came up with some of this stuff.
A Beautiful Marsupial Afternoon extends CAConrad’s ongoing (Soma)tic project with clarity, urgency, and imaginative reach. The collection’s exercises are not mere prompts but embodied rituals, structured interventions designed to collapse the distance between lived experience and poetic utterance. Moving from the tactile immediacy of the everyday to expansive, cosmic registers, the work insists on poetry as a site of attention, connection, and radical presence.
What distinguishes this volume is its transparency of process: readers witness the generative mechanics alongside the resulting poems. The effect is both intimate and galvanizing. CAConrad reaffirms creativity as a disciplined yet ecstatic practice, concentrated, porous, and defiantly alive.
the book's composed of three parts: (1.)the (soma)tic exercises that Conrad uses to generate the (2.) poetry and (3.) errata that's scattered throughout (interviews, reproductions of notebook pages, etc.).
the poetry is imho not terribly interesting and, by itself, does little to vouch for the exercises, which are much livelier, not that I would, personally, sit in my apartment naked and stare at a weeks' worth of trash for hours to write a poem. given the powerful autobiographical material (the murder of Conrad's boyfriend), predictably the text that leaned in an autobiographical direction made much more of an impression, whereas the non- did not
i read excerpts from “the right to manifest manifesto” which explained c.a. conrads’ somatic poetry exercises (everything has creative viability, the most vital ingredient for change is creativity) and prompt-driven writing practice. interesting! quite odd! not 100% for me i think
sometimes tender (“kissing eliminates / fusion of / agitation and / dreams / folded in the / days these / surprising / moments / with you”) and often funny (“a beautiful poem should / help you rob a bank / that’s its job / everything has a job”).
"It's ALL collaboration. Anyone who ever fed you, loved you, anyone who ever made you feel unworthy, stupid, ugly, anyone who ever made you express doubt or assuredness, every one of these helped make you. Those who learn to speak with authority to mask their own self-loathing, those may be the deepest influences on us."
i have this feeling that i will read conrad’s poems again someday in the future when i’m out on my own & i will understand them just a little bit more & i will stain the pages with coffee & it will be wonderful.
I read this book for a class! CA Conrad has some crazy somatics in here but it really shows off their creativeness! Their poetry hit A LOT of the time! Worth the read and some uncomfortableness!
I found this to be an incredible book of exercises that is one of the few which generated a lot of poems that I'm really happy about. I love this book so much.