This book consists of a mix of 42 poems, short stories, and what seem like journal entries printed across 98 pages. This is after subtracting various title and blank pages.
It is difficult for me to decide between "did not like it" (one star) and "it was ok" (two stars). I know for certain that it doesn't rise up to "liked it" (three stars). I might lean more toward two stars because some of the pieces I liked, I really liked, such as "Billy Jack" on pg 113 and "Song" on pg 107 (the latter half especially). I suppose I felt drawn to the former because I could relate to its portrayal of being treated differently, despite my being white. I've always been an odd, awkward, animistic white guy who doesn't fit in anywhere and who can't be boxed into any stereotype--even the various "white" stereotypes. "Song" spoke to me because it was one of the few pieces I've read from Alexie that didn't seem to wallow in anger and bitterness, emitting a sense of empathy and hope.
The majority of pieces in this book left me a little flat. For the most part, I don't mind predictable, but having already read Black Widows and One Stick Song, I found myself being able to guess the gist of a lot of content after reading the title. Though I don't personally subscribe to the whole surrealist, "shock and awe" approach to poetry, I think I would have liked to be surprised a little more. For instance, in "Blankets," I saw the "giveaway," "tattered," and "smallpox" references coming from a mile away. Also, the form and approach has become entirely predictable for me. Though this is an earlier book than either of the other two I've read, the interchange between free verse lines, prose vignette and prose paragraphs is a theme that continues throughout all three books. As someone who has been reading poetry from all schools and eras for over 30 years, I find it disheartening when a collection of poetry begins to feel repetitive in terms of its content, style and execution. I want to be surprised with a strong Shakespearean sonnet that delivers a powerful closing, some ballad verse that tells a vivid story, some tight, well executed structure amid the free verse and prose vignette.
As with Black Widows and One Stick Song, what I find I can enjoy the most from reading this book is gaining insight into the heart and mind of a Native American man, or I guess he'd prefer to be called Indian. I prefer to call people what they prefer to be called, so I'm happy to go with Indian. I think what surprises me most is how worldly, down to earth, and dysfunctional Indian culture is made to seem to my mind as I read. If this book were sold as memoirs instead of poetry, I'd probably give it 4 stars. But I found his books as I hunted for poetry to read, so I find myself organizing my thoughts here around this book as a book of "poetry," so I feel I must review it as a book of poetry. This leaves me at no more than two stars.
Another detractor for me are the use of cuss words in several of the pieces. I'm not a prude, but I feel that use of "Fuck you" and the like somehow takes away from the strength of the words, imagery, and presentation. Again, if this were sold as memoirs or even as a published personal journal, I'd feel differently--even positively--about the cussing.
In One Stick Song, Alexie wrote, "Poetry = Anger x Imagination." I actually don't agree with this. To my mind, "Esoteric Rants = Anger x Imagination." For me, poetry is the product of empathy, understanding, openness, creativity and in the end a sense of hope. Anger kills the poem, turns it into a tirade, a barrage of arrows shot at anything that moves. I will return to Alexie again at some point, especially if he really tackles and puts his Indian heart into a few formal structures. I think I would really enjoy seeing that unfold.