Salms navigates the ancient, vexed lyric landscape of the biblical psalm, where gratitude is arrived at through complaint and yearning is smuggled in alongside tribute. Formally restless and diverse, Aaron McCollough’s style moves from flinty Anglo-Norman terseness through folktale to long-lined, journal-like confessional. The poems’ sounds and forms bind to the divine histories of the Western lyric tradition at points of fragility and potential disintegration.
Aaron McCollough's books of poetry include Welkin, Double Venus, Little Ease, No Grave Can Hold My Body Down, Underlight, Rank, and Salms. He was raised in Tennessee. He holds a PhD in English Language and Literature from the University of Michigan as well as an MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop.
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Iowa Press for the ARC!
Aaron McCollough’s Salms is a confounding collection that invokes biblical psalms without truly evoking them.
I think some poets show their strengths through careful brevity, placing so much weight on each word, whereas others are better-suited for crafting dense, knotty landscapes. While Salms contains both, the poet’s voice feels far more distinctive in the latter form. In particular, I think the majority of “A Mirror,” a chapter of several interrelated poems, is mesmerizing and richly textured. McCollough buries several mystical aphorisms within each piece, and it reads well.
The trouble with Salms is that it’s difficult to feel a thematic core across each of its chapters. Each one is wildly different, and while they might work on their own, they feel like they are competing for the poet’s attention because their constituent poems seem underdeveloped and draft-like. Whenever it feels like McCollough is beginning to explore an interesting idea, he quickly dismisses it with a poem comprised largely of tropes. Even the titular chapter, which is arguably the book at its strongest, treats its source material as a gimmick instead of a form, using religious iconography for little more than the vibes.
It’s disappointment because it feels like there could be a great book in here if more time had been spent on any one idea. Thankfully, poetry is subjective, so don’t put too much stock in my personal tastes here. If the description of the book sounds appealing, it’s worth a read.
Publishing date: 17.10.2024 Thank you to NetGalley and University of Iowa Press for the ARC. My opinions are my own.
Features: 32 Poems 10 Salms 5 Parts 8 Lyrical short stories/snippets
This collection was middle of the road for me. There are a lot of themes and iconography in the collection. Main withdrawal is the fact that none of them stay consistent or on track for long enough. Each poem starts touching on the subject, then moves on to a different one. I wanted the poems to go a little deeper than what I got.
I think I would enjoy this a lot more if it had stayed consistent. Sticking to a single theme or at least one overarching across smaller subplots would benefit this collection greatly. As it is, it feels like an identity crisis and struggling to find out who you truly are. Maybe that is part of or the intention of the collection.
Final ranking and star rating? 2 stars, D tier. This was fine, nothing groundbreaking. I had higher expectations as it seemed the collection would have strong religious themes and visuals (I am not religious, but enjoy the themes and raw emotion that often follow it). Alas, that was not what I got.
I am not really sure who the collection is for in the end. Sadly, it was not for me and won't be sticking in my mind for long
El problema con Salms es que es difícil sentir un núcleo temático a lo largo de cada uno de sus capítulos. Cada uno es muy diferente, y aunque pueden funcionar por sí solos, parecen competir por la atención del poeta, ya que sus poemas constitutivos parecen subdesarrollados y en forma de borrador. Siempre que parece que McCollough está comenzando a explorar una idea interesante, rápidamente la desestima con un poema compuesto en gran parte por tropos. Incluso el capítulo titular, que es posiblemente el más fuerte del libro, trata su material fuente como un truco en lugar de una forma, utilizando iconografía religiosa para poco más que la estética.