Tea is a series of poems about survival. "To survive is an astonishing gift," D. A. Powell writes. "The price of that gift is memory." Visually arresting, Tea is an experimental poem-cycle with traditional formal techniques built into its "wild" surface.
The first section consists of portraits of young men, friends or former lovers, who have contracted or have died of AIDS. Pushing into the margins of culture as well as of the page, Powell combines all manner of subject and tone to create a work part memory play, part episodic novel, part funny pages -- even part dance.
Poems sing from the mouths of actor Sal Mineo, Batman's sidekick Robin, and the little girl from The Exorcist. A fugue for a disco singer, a letter to the poet's dog, an ode to the 1980s and a confession of love to a public toilet vibrate between the comic and the tragic. Like its central metaphor, Tea is gossipy, swirling, steamy, and sober.
D. A. Powell is the author of Tea, Lunch, Cocktails, Chronic and Useless Landscape, or A Guide for Boys, which received the National Book Critics Circle Award in Poetry in 2013.
Repast, Powell's latest, collects his three early books in a handsome volume introduced by novelist David Leavitt.
A recipient of fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts, Powell lives in the San Francisco Bay Area.
“To survive is an astonishing gift. The price of that gift is memory.”
These words quite literally stopped me in my tracks while I was reading the author’s preface to this book (enthralled by how he named the preface “the tea on tea”), the way you do when you encounter a certain truth that hits like a bolt. It is dedicated to those the writer knew and who lost their lives during the AIDS epidemic, though he insists that it is not about AIDS (and it, indeed, isn’t) but instead adds that AIDS moves through the poems (and it, indeed, does). It’s an incredible testament to life during turbulence and pestilence; it’s difficult, it’s specific in its subject and doesn’t seek to broaden its audience through watering down, and most surprisingly remains so full of life despite AIDS moving all round this work, as Powell says in the tea on tea: “This is not about being queer and dying. It’s about being human and living.”
I also made a YouTube playlist of the songs mentioned (and which I enjoyed) in the Tea Dance section of the book:
Came back to this book again after having read some of it before. The intro is great, too; this passage blew me away:
"As memory required me to revisit the deaths of many of these men, I realized that I ran the danger of writing a collection in which death was a consequence of my "lifestyle." (I use quotes here, because I do not really understand the difference between a life and a lifestyle, aside from the fingerpointing. I am nevertheless happy to be accused of style.) Some who read or do not read this book will hold that opinion. But the truth was--is--that my life is a consequence of those deaths. My relationship with Scott was in part a failure of our understanding of the times. Our fear of knowing our own HIV status was one of the powerful forces that held us together and drove us apart: we saw each other alternately as the possibility of salvation and as the possible instrument of destruction. Because of this, we simultaneously loved and hated each other with a kind of emotional violence."
DA Powell is one of the most remarkable contemporary poets. Another poet, Rachel Zucker, told me to read this--absolutely superb. Poets always know who's good. Strong and tender and dead on, each line is a poem in itself. Evidently, he wrote it longways on legal paper to examine the tensile strength of the line, how long it could go before it crashed and burned. The arrival of a star.
I just finished Tea from the library, I definitely want my own copy. I love his intro, how he says this is not an AIDS book. Good for him to differentiate. I love the concept of tea and it's use by the gay community. I remember Tea Dances when I lived in NY and would go for the occasional weekend to Fire Island. The Tea Dances on Sunday afternoons were bitter sweet because the weekend was nearly over.
This book is an amazing weave of culture. It is rich in literary and myth references, in fact he has a long list of notes at the back of the book that give reference to many of the more arcane ones. He sites music from Donna Summers, Sylvester and other disco divas. There is an amazing tale of life in his fragmented snippets. Some of his full poems take my breath away, some singular lines stun me. And between that at times bafflement, but in a good way.
His poetry is probably not for everyone, it is not linear or narrative, but as he says in his intro, "I began Tea as a chronicle of a relationship. Having not written for a year following the relationship's terminus, I was compelled to begin writing again, and I took my failed relationship as subject. Because I was unable to contain the first lines I wrote, I turned my notebook sideways, pushing into what would traditionally be the margins of the page. These lines, with their peculiar leaps and awkward silences, became the strangely apt, vessel into which I could pour my thoughts. I took fragments and made new statements from them. just as I wished to reshape my life from its incomplete bits." He goes on and I love his intro. Fascinated with how poets conceptualize their work, I consider him a genus. This is definitely a view into gay culture in the time of AIDS by a schooled poet, not a book about AIDS.
I enjoyed this very much.... and I was blown away by some of the poems. Plus, it's the right size. To have a book with a fragmented, emotional core -- for me, I can only sustain engagement with such a rendering for a while. Powell's portraits of love, lust, the impact of AIDS on the queer community are passionate and unflinching.
This collection is not as experimental as some people suggested to me. Yes, it's experimental in the sense of some techniques like the spaced out line lengths, but the core of the collection deals with real human strife and emotion...sometimes, and there are sometimes the collection has humor and references which breaks away from the serious.
A really good collection I recommend to anyone.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
great poems about language that stumbles and folds sideways. i love the line throughout between disco & sex in that both are brief euphorias. the lines go just long enough that you think no more can fit--up until the point of bursting--and then the release
"and partly the wings insist. I am not of this world. I know others like me. oh birdsong"
Favorite pieces: most every poem in "Tea Dance"; "[she was not expecting another gentleman caller. a golden male had already been brought forth]"; "[the last dog of this boyishness is put to sleep. feckless fluffy pet: I am not saved fella]"
I particularly appreciated the nifty index in the back as a way of clarifying the gay inner circle/disco/comic book jargon peppered throughout. Also, the book looks great. Reads pretty well too.