The family response to the sudden deaths of the speaker's two young nieces is at the center of Catherine Barnett's award-winning first collection. This series of elegies records the transit of grief, observing with an unflinching eye how a singular traumatic event can permanently alter our understanding of time, danger, the material world and family. Marked by clarity and restraint, these lyric poems narrate a suspenseful, wrenching story that explores the depths and limits of empathy. “Living Room Altar”
Except for the shirt pulled from the ocean, except for her hands, which keep folding the shirt, except for her body, which once held their bodies,
my sister wants everything back now—
If there were a god who could out of empty shells carried by waves to shore make amends—
If the ocean saved in a jar could keep from turning to salt—
She’s hearing
bird calling to bird, cat outside the door, thorn of the blackberry against the trellis. "These heart-breaking poems of an all-too-human life stay as absolute as the determined craft which made them. There is finally neither irony nor simple despair in what they record. Rather, it is the far deeper response of witness, of recognizing what must be acknowledged and of having the courage and the care to say so." —Robert Creeley
Catherine Barnett is the author of four poetry collections, including Solutions for the Problem of Bodies in Space, Human Hours, winner of the Believer Book Award, and The Game of Boxes, winner of the James Laughlin Award of the Academy of American Poets. She lives in New York City.
i feel pretty lukewarm about this collection's execution, probably because it's so minimalist in nature. regardless, this is a great place to look for meditations on grief/time/longing, if those are subjects that call to you.
There is a grief reserved for those who mourn the loss of a loved one who died too young. Dying without the seminal adventure, the chance to vie for the penultimate trophy, the experience of the many-splendored thing. Catherine Barnett investigates this grief in INTO PERFECT SPHERES SUCH HOLES ARE PIERCED. Poems about the deaths of the author's nieces. Such grief wends into an afternoon at Dinosaur Park and while picking sea glass for every day of the week. Grief is the companion. While a child learns to write and, of course, the contemplation of an indifferent God. Sometimes it's wanting what can't be had. Sometimes it's never having what was wanted so dearly.
Beautiful meditations on grief and longing, what it does to the human heart. Barnett's craft is refined and clean; her words are honest. The control and pacing of her lines/stanzas/words is flawless. These poems are ones to be read aloud, to savor, to sit down with when a quiet reminder that the transient human life can be graspable, if only for a moment, is needed. Barnett's metaphors are natural and yet astounding. Barnett uses things to ground her poems in a way that opens them up as the "perfect spheres" with "such [empty, beautiful] holes" they are, astonishments we get to hold. One of my new-favorite collections.
This book is a gem! I've never been a fan of poetry but I had the privilege to listen to these elegies read by the author herself and I was blown away. Her use of language, symbolism, expressions and the like convey deep and profound emotions that you experience along with her. I related to it because it's a book written from an experience of grief and it's so beautifully written. I highly recommend everyone read it. Whether you're a poetry aficionado or not I think you'll agree that it's an excellent read.
Subdued yet incredibly moving poems about the narrator's loss of her young nieces and how the family pieces together their grief. The subject matter was incredibly heavy, yet the poet neither loses herself in the mire, nor provides some sort of short-cut to healing.
I came to this book via some of the author's more current work and picked it up on a whim. Although the poems are good, they are very far in tone and subject from what originally sparked my interest.
That said, personally it felt good to pick up a good of poems and to be able to read in these intense little spurts. There was so much sadness and yet an eye forward to the future in these poems. Looking forward to reading more of the author's more current works.
This little volume of poetry blindsided me with it's raw channeling of grief into simple (but not simplistic) poems of bewilderment, longing, and the excruciating act of continuing to breathe after loved ones are no longer present. I found it at a secondhand shop for 50¢. Great gifts sometimes arrive in unexpected packages.
A sequence of narrative anecdotes sharply scaled into details, drawn into a single image, often, intensifying the grief-alteration to a single family tragedy such that they seem ur-poems, the persons both in this world, and not.
I read this collection, after I'd encountered, the author's later works. And, although the precision is there, and the clever alliteration, dips in and out, it is clear that, as she wrote more, lived more, learned more - she became, a better poet.
I've ready very few perfect books of poetry in my life and this is one of them. It's like glass - beautiful and delicate, but the poems cut you deep. This is an incredible book of elegies.
My brother thinks it's best to distract my sister, not ask her about longing and its dirty tricks, its flirty tricks, her girls
oh, hiding under the sheet waiting to be found, digging ditches in the dirt, blowing out the candles -
He holds her up, his arm over her shoulders so she won't see the eyelashes they leave there, for luck, like she taught them, for making wishes that can't be spoken aloud
but I know he hears them, as she does, asking the same thing again -