Ginsberg saw the best minds of his generation destroyed by madness -- but what is madness? In a world that has traded Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs for Prozac and where zombies masquerade as the living, who is really mad? Through the eyes of an artist boxed in by tradtition, Kristian Enright's debut poetry collection Sonar wrestles with language, mental health and identity. With the echoed voices of the beat generation, postmodernism and prairie poetics at his side, the narrator, Colin Verbanofsky, confronts a world steeped in melancholy. Between his dreams and the reflected impressions of medical staff and fellow patients, Colin struggles to find a place for himself in the brilliance and sadness he sees around him. Like his poetic forebears, Enright deftly uses poetry to express his own profound and epic Howl.
My favourite lines are on page 39: “You might want to know I wrote a poem about suffering in a bureaucratic style. Giving suffering a dignity and meaning is something that is going to be difficult. Why not, when science is like a Prozac commercial? It distills our tears backwards.”