A hybrid collection blending historical research and contemporary essays to consider the nature of oppressive marriage and gender inequity.
Composed as a lab notebook recording various surgeries, autopsies, and experiments, Identifying the Pathogen tells the story of a scientist on an obsessive quest to document an ailment that resists classification. The book considers the body in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, woven through with the story of Anna Morandi Manzolini—an eighteenth-century Italian anatomist and artist who struggled to support a husband suffering from depression—as well as several essays detailing accounts of a ruptured appendix, a splintered cello, and an ill-fated rock climbing excursion.
A brilliant mixture of scientific biography, poetry, and story telling. Militello's gift for lyric and music carries you along, and you feel the flavor of the authors obsession with a woman scientific assistant and of this long ago woman's obsession with the body and its pathogens. And all of this is woven into an account of what it means to have a fragile and aging body and what it means to be a writer piecing together an identity and a story in this precarious world.
From the back cover: “A lone scientist seeks to classify a mysterious illness through a series of experiments, dissections, and autopsies, only to find the inquiry’s results present more of a threat than the ailment itself… Jennifer Militello’s striking new hybrid collection investigates the mind-body split as part of a collective search to renegotiate our relationship with a sense of security in a post-pandemic world.”
I was intrigued. This is a fascinating, multi-layered adventure that truly embraces the concept of hybrid. Throughout I admired the precision and elegance that Militello displayed in word choice, structure, and imagery. So many striking images juxtaposed in unexpected ways. Rhymes within and between lines that pulled everything taut.
My favorite pieces were the flash fiction (prose poems? I won’t judge). There were a few times I stopped reading just to stare for a spell. For example, the first Autopsy Report in section 1 (titles repeat within and across sections) ends with this: A man comes in and his name is Doctor So-and-so and he says your appendix ruptured and the poison would have filled your body and you would have died, it is that certain, it is that sure, and you realize you are looking at a man who has saved your life, and while you are old enough to make that realization, you are young enough to not be entirely sure what you should feel as a result (p. 21)
The second Autopsy Report, same section, ends with: You think of the child who received the heart of a baboon when born. You saw it on TV when you were young. To have one’s very center be an animal and foreign: how had that felt? What had that heart said to the child in the language that can only happen beneath the skin? (p.39)
Wax Portrait of a Marriage. identifying the pathogen. I’ll be thinking of this book for some time. If Jennifer Militello has any flash fiction collections, they are definitely going on my Want to Read shelf. Thanks to Tupelo Press for providing a copy ahead of release in exchange for an honest review.