Tamara truly is a poet baptized in rhythm. I liked it.
It was a good decision to read her book. Sometimes when I travel I see a lake with a million wrinkles on its surface, still, not breathing, waiting in patience for something and then I see the evening sun making love to it. Some things in life are beautiful in their own way and this is one of those.
As I read the stories what came into my mind was a poem I read in high school,years ago- “Aunts Jennifer’s Tigers”. Aunt Jennifer was a woman who in the poem was knitting a sweater and on the wall lay a portrait of Tigers that Jennifer had painted herself. Jennifer’s life had been one where she dutifully went about doing her chores and in the process lost herself. The weight of the marriage ring hung heavily on her. The painting of the Tiger was in the opinion of the poet a way to express her long lost freedom. Bold, free, creatures of the wild they were and what Jennifer was not, could not.
One of her stories Misplaced came as a slap across the face for I thought of the women close to me, my aunts, my mother who were lost in their chores forever. An endless chain of monotony. There are no tears that can heal them.
A recurring theme of suffering, of women lost in pain, under situations which were not in their control was found in her stories and yet they were not vague. I thought for a brief moment that all stories would be like “ Misplaced” but thankfully they were not.
It is amazing to see her thought process the way you write her thoughts when she made love, the way you conceived your stories.
And the sack of chittlin's-well mind blowing, if you read that you will know what I mean!