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The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story
Poetry. Winner of the 2008 James Laughlin Award. In the aftermath of her father's death, the speaker of Rusty Morrison's exquisitely formed poems takes a step-by-step accounting of her transformation as she reconciles herself to loss. This book-length sequence is the silvery underside of elegy, a lyric of living acceptance paced with "the linen texture of right silences." "Rusty Morrison's THE TRUE KEEPS CALM BIDING ITS STORY brilliantly restores the energy of telegraphic communication, launching line after line toward a potentially infinite horizon of meaning. Her careful handling of form allows knowing to remain both openly discrete and discretely open. This is a joyous read and a remarkable book"--Peter Gizzi.
- GenresPoetry21st Century
75 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
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April 27, 2016All of the lines in this poem end with one of the following end words: please, advise, stop (and sometimes “please advise”). Stop appears with the most frequency—about 2/3rds of the time. After the first several pages, I stopped reading the end words, but I knew they were there—ghosted in my field of vision (like an anchor, or an apparition, or a lump in the throat you try to ignore). In his blurb on the back of the book, Peter Gizzi suggests that Morrison “launches line after line toward a potentially infinite horizon of meaning.” To me, the end words serve to stop or slow the motion of these lines, creating a distinct series of movements in the poem. For instance, the word STOP acts an anchor rooting the line in the present. The word PLEASE is more like an apparition,causing the line to slow and hang in the air. This seems appropriate for a poem exploring the death of the speaker’s father: the focus is on how the lines—potentially infinite—pass.
September 26, 2011
compelling and brilliant, Morrison uses language in ways uniquely her own. Disclosure: on a blind reading of manuscripts, I chose her next book--not yet published at the time I write this-- for Tupelo's Dorset prize. When I found out who the winning author was, I laughed out loud, remembering how this earlier book had won me over as I read it in ever-increasing amazement at the sheer versatility and intelligence of what Morrison builds. These are not standard-diction lyric poems, yet they function as lyric poems do. They stretch the reader's comprehension, but not to breaking. And, they move. The please/advise/stop end-words finally establish themselves as our never-ending negotiation with the un-negotiability of death itself, at least for me. This is a book that teaches the reader how to read it, by reading.
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January 26, 2009: i am completely fascinated with how rusty’s “endwords” function for me—at first they drew all my attention, then they began to cast a kind of spell; then they became almost a force to be resisted; then they seemed to disappear; and then the surged to the forefront again, with a kind of dazzling power of inevitability. or something. amazing.
June 23, 2019
[rating = B]
There are many many many fantastic, original, and beautifully smart lines and images in this collection. Although each line ends interestingly with "stop", "please", or "please advise", this seems more of a distraction and doesn't really work itself into the narrative entirely (I actually just ignored these little oddities). There are some wonderfully evoked images of death and grief, of the author trying to come to terms with her father's passing. However, they are mixed in with the everyday, and sometimes seemingly random, images, and this is, at first, intriguing and well-done. But when the end arrives and there is no big finish, no climax or coherent organization to this clustering of images and feelings, it is a bit disappointing...to say the least...
Read this for the brilliant phrases and lines, not so a deep/clear message or moral about getting over death. I read this through twice and still stanzas haunt me; the best is when they each line builds into the next or has a clear relevance to those before and after it. The lack of connectivity (and some find this the standout bit; the idea that so many interpretations can be formed) is what I disliked. But still, always read and continue to love language and the possibilities for innovation.
There are many many many fantastic, original, and beautifully smart lines and images in this collection. Although each line ends interestingly with "stop", "please", or "please advise", this seems more of a distraction and doesn't really work itself into the narrative entirely (I actually just ignored these little oddities). There are some wonderfully evoked images of death and grief, of the author trying to come to terms with her father's passing. However, they are mixed in with the everyday, and sometimes seemingly random, images, and this is, at first, intriguing and well-done. But when the end arrives and there is no big finish, no climax or coherent organization to this clustering of images and feelings, it is a bit disappointing...to say the least...
Read this for the brilliant phrases and lines, not so a deep/clear message or moral about getting over death. I read this through twice and still stanzas haunt me; the best is when they each line builds into the next or has a clear relevance to those before and after it. The lack of connectivity (and some find this the standout bit; the idea that so many interpretations can be formed) is what I disliked. But still, always read and continue to love language and the possibilities for innovation.
March 11, 2018
For more reviews, check out my blog: Craft-Cycle
Not really my kind of poetry. I am always on the lookout for new poetry books. I found this in the Little Free Lending Library and was intrigued by Morrison's reconfiguring the use of telegraphic phrases (each line ends with "stop", "please", or "advise").
After reading the first page, I had a pretty good idea that this was not a good fit for me. The poems were okay, but seemed to lack a continuous theme or meaning. Various events come up multiple times, such as her father's death, but everything just felt disjointed. I had no idea what was going on and the poem seemed to change from line to line. Morrison creates some beautiful lines, but they weren't coherent for me. They didn't create any big picture.
I prefer straightforward poetry. This is very airy and vague. One line in the book is, "fill a page with words never letting a single phrase form stop" and that feels like a good summary of the book as a whole.
It was an okay read, but it just wasn't for me.
Not really my kind of poetry. I am always on the lookout for new poetry books. I found this in the Little Free Lending Library and was intrigued by Morrison's reconfiguring the use of telegraphic phrases (each line ends with "stop", "please", or "advise").
After reading the first page, I had a pretty good idea that this was not a good fit for me. The poems were okay, but seemed to lack a continuous theme or meaning. Various events come up multiple times, such as her father's death, but everything just felt disjointed. I had no idea what was going on and the poem seemed to change from line to line. Morrison creates some beautiful lines, but they weren't coherent for me. They didn't create any big picture.
I prefer straightforward poetry. This is very airy and vague. One line in the book is, "fill a page with words never letting a single phrase form stop" and that feels like a good summary of the book as a whole.
It was an okay read, but it just wasn't for me.
May 31, 2018
The structure: Each poem has the same title, “PLEASE ADVISE STOP” and consists of three tercets. Each line ends with one of the three words from the title, with each poem’s final line ending in “please stop.” There are no capital letters or major punctuation marks.
The effect: It’s a collection that floats in and out of directly addressing the death of the speaker’s father. The form echoes the disruption of a death; the lines are inherently chopped off a bit by the repeated final words and “stops.” The “pleases” plead for whatever we may plea for upon the death of a parent, including solace and advice (“advise”).
My take: There is much to love here simply in terms of figurative language and description, even apart from the elegiac moments. Here are just a few isolated lines:
“the dark is blue tonight a blue vein showing its pulse please advise”
“lizard fixed to a stone as though it were the stone’s lung stop”
“the seized revelation suddenly weak and lapping milk please advise”
The interruptions and opacity echo the difficulty accessing memory and emotion, or the desire to not fully plunge in. When the speaker acknowledges this very opacity, now we are let in more fully to the reasons for the fracturing and complexity. Here are a few examples:
“scraped surface but not deep enough to enter its changing maze please”
“fill a page with words never letting a single phrase form stop”
“my father’s dying makes stairs of every line of text seeming neither to go up or down stop”
In summary: An utterly unique take on elegy; let its language and message envelop you.
The effect: It’s a collection that floats in and out of directly addressing the death of the speaker’s father. The form echoes the disruption of a death; the lines are inherently chopped off a bit by the repeated final words and “stops.” The “pleases” plead for whatever we may plea for upon the death of a parent, including solace and advice (“advise”).
My take: There is much to love here simply in terms of figurative language and description, even apart from the elegiac moments. Here are just a few isolated lines:
“the dark is blue tonight a blue vein showing its pulse please advise”
“lizard fixed to a stone as though it were the stone’s lung stop”
“the seized revelation suddenly weak and lapping milk please advise”
The interruptions and opacity echo the difficulty accessing memory and emotion, or the desire to not fully plunge in. When the speaker acknowledges this very opacity, now we are let in more fully to the reasons for the fracturing and complexity. Here are a few examples:
“scraped surface but not deep enough to enter its changing maze please”
“fill a page with words never letting a single phrase form stop”
“my father’s dying makes stairs of every line of text seeming neither to go up or down stop”
In summary: An utterly unique take on elegy; let its language and message envelop you.
January 20, 2011
I'm going to let you know now, that I am simply uploading parts of a reflection I wrote about this book for a class. These are my opinions and it is my paper.
The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story has many layers of structure, and understanding. Firstly, all of the poems are entitled “please advise stop,” all of the lines end with one or two of these words, and each poem ends with “please advise.” Secondly, everything is in multiples of three, three lines a stanza, three stanza a poem, six poems a section, nine sections, I can even go so far as to say that “please advise stop” has fifteen letters in it. Continuing on the note of structure, the poems are all right justified and appear nearly identical on each page. Once we get past the structure, the imagery of the poems are the most important thing. They implant visuals into your brain, combined with other images you would have never put together.
The second time I read through the book, I made an effort to ignore the structure. I ignored every “stop” every “please” and every “please advise” and read as if they were not there. It was only then that the images connected to each other and began to make sense. From there I found that not only did the lines flow together, but the poems flowed together, to the point that I almost want to consider this a book with one very long poem (which would explain the title being the same for each) instead of a series of poems. Once I assumed that it was one long poem, with one overarching idea, the entire book made more sense to me, and I was much more willing to continue reading. I felt like I understood where Morrison was coming from a lot better than I did when I read every word on the page, and that I could feel her pain and her depression over the loss of her dad.
I think that the structure is there to force you to ignore it, and there by force you to pay attention to the book as a whole. As you read it at first you are plagued with structure questions, what does it all mean, why does the line stop here, why is everything in three’s? But all of these structure questions are there to make you think harder about the poems, and then ignore it. As you continue to read, or read it again, and the structure finally falls away, everything makes a lot more sense. We feel like we understand the poet and the book much better when we do not have the structure. It is as if the structure itself is telling us “please advise, stop reading the structure.” When you follow that advise, the poems make sense, the imagery is beautiful, and the pain of Morrison is truly expressed through poetry.
The True Keeps Calm Biding Its Story has many layers of structure, and understanding. Firstly, all of the poems are entitled “please advise stop,” all of the lines end with one or two of these words, and each poem ends with “please advise.” Secondly, everything is in multiples of three, three lines a stanza, three stanza a poem, six poems a section, nine sections, I can even go so far as to say that “please advise stop” has fifteen letters in it. Continuing on the note of structure, the poems are all right justified and appear nearly identical on each page. Once we get past the structure, the imagery of the poems are the most important thing. They implant visuals into your brain, combined with other images you would have never put together.
The second time I read through the book, I made an effort to ignore the structure. I ignored every “stop” every “please” and every “please advise” and read as if they were not there. It was only then that the images connected to each other and began to make sense. From there I found that not only did the lines flow together, but the poems flowed together, to the point that I almost want to consider this a book with one very long poem (which would explain the title being the same for each) instead of a series of poems. Once I assumed that it was one long poem, with one overarching idea, the entire book made more sense to me, and I was much more willing to continue reading. I felt like I understood where Morrison was coming from a lot better than I did when I read every word on the page, and that I could feel her pain and her depression over the loss of her dad.
I think that the structure is there to force you to ignore it, and there by force you to pay attention to the book as a whole. As you read it at first you are plagued with structure questions, what does it all mean, why does the line stop here, why is everything in three’s? But all of these structure questions are there to make you think harder about the poems, and then ignore it. As you continue to read, or read it again, and the structure finally falls away, everything makes a lot more sense. We feel like we understand the poet and the book much better when we do not have the structure. It is as if the structure itself is telling us “please advise, stop reading the structure.” When you follow that advise, the poems make sense, the imagery is beautiful, and the pain of Morrison is truly expressed through poetry.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 8, 2009
the true keeps calm biding its story is a pleasure, its subtle movements against the refrain and structure of the telegram’s insistence both holding and pushing outward. Following the poem’s grief, voicing itself in the repetitions of “please advise stop” moving from line to line and page to page, I found myself moving there, too, along that current or cry, that longing, seeking like the lines, some clarity, compassion, some certainty. The word “please” insistent and despairing all at once.
“a balancing of emotions would require fewer objects free-floating please”
The poem becomes a voice sending, sending, sending into the telegraphic ether – into silence, a silence which wraps itself about the reading “I”: and drawn into the poem’s circling – around, into, away from grief but inescapable, potent – a ceaseless pull like the moon’s.
“how am I to reappear without practice or premeditation please advise”
Walking in step with loss, the poem sustains an unremitting openness to the natural world, a permeable border crossed and recrossed from inner to outer world, wanting light, air, space, breath.
“how to hear the wind without developing an immunity please”
OR
“crows on the lawn their shine so black it staunches modification please”
The insistent “stop” pushes back against crowding memory, grief, loss, immersing the reading “I” in that doubled pressure, pinning her there, also.
“the rustle of a Sunday paper tucked under my father’s arm stop
“and no father walking toward me stop
“on the branch only oak leaves reddening as wind ripens their talent for exodus stop”
The poem’s images, suspended without net or line, but coalescing, accreting into a net of their own making, alliteration composing music’s line: “bright band of light”, “lost buttons and broken cups”, “suffocatingly red flowers” – “how” indeed “does a sequence continue to startle its way through clouds of concussions”.
“a balancing of emotions would require fewer objects free-floating please”
The poem becomes a voice sending, sending, sending into the telegraphic ether – into silence, a silence which wraps itself about the reading “I”: and drawn into the poem’s circling – around, into, away from grief but inescapable, potent – a ceaseless pull like the moon’s.
“how am I to reappear without practice or premeditation please advise”
Walking in step with loss, the poem sustains an unremitting openness to the natural world, a permeable border crossed and recrossed from inner to outer world, wanting light, air, space, breath.
“how to hear the wind without developing an immunity please”
OR
“crows on the lawn their shine so black it staunches modification please”
The insistent “stop” pushes back against crowding memory, grief, loss, immersing the reading “I” in that doubled pressure, pinning her there, also.
“the rustle of a Sunday paper tucked under my father’s arm stop
“and no father walking toward me stop
“on the branch only oak leaves reddening as wind ripens their talent for exodus stop”
The poem’s images, suspended without net or line, but coalescing, accreting into a net of their own making, alliteration composing music’s line: “bright band of light”, “lost buttons and broken cups”, “suffocatingly red flowers” – “how” indeed “does a sequence continue to startle its way through clouds of concussions”.
March 21, 2009
I found this alternately great and disappointing. The language and juxtaposition of images is GREAT. The subject matter is the speaker's grief over her father's death, which I didn't have enough patience for. Her pov is detached, dissociated, depresses, and more or less completely unable to deal with his loss, so *everything* becomes an aphorism to be telegraphed back to society/reality, of which the speaker has no part because she's isolated herself so completely. She's essentially catatonic. All she does is observe and refuse to feel and sleep.
But again, Morrison's language is gorgeous, clever, and quotable. I'd rate this book a 5 on its ability to make me read and reread lines for their imagery, music, and impact. But.
I've dealt with grief enough that I kind of want to slap the speaker until she lets the tears out and can tell the stories about her father that she considers to be only something to throw away.
Which, well, for a book of poetry, is arguably a success? She's getting an emotional response from me, even if it isn't what she may have hoped for.
I'd rather read Donald Hall's Without, which is his collection about his wife Jane Kenyon's slow death from cancer and his life in the aftermath of her death. It is gut-wrenching and devastating and guaranteed to make you cry, but it's also a catharsis from which Rusty Morrison flees far, far into the opposite direction.
But again, Morrison's language is gorgeous, clever, and quotable. I'd rate this book a 5 on its ability to make me read and reread lines for their imagery, music, and impact. But.
I've dealt with grief enough that I kind of want to slap the speaker until she lets the tears out and can tell the stories about her father that she considers to be only something to throw away.
Which, well, for a book of poetry, is arguably a success? She's getting an emotional response from me, even if it isn't what she may have hoped for.
I'd rather read Donald Hall's Without, which is his collection about his wife Jane Kenyon's slow death from cancer and his life in the aftermath of her death. It is gut-wrenching and devastating and guaranteed to make you cry, but it's also a catharsis from which Rusty Morrison flees far, far into the opposite direction.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 30, 2011
There are so many memorable lines that seem to get in the way of trying to be clever. What am I missing? The entire "please stop advise" series where every line ends in one of those words drove me nuts. When I re-read the entire book without the false enforced rhythm of the endings I really enjoyed some of the poems as incomprehensible as they were. This might have worked for one or two poems but for the theme that carries the 72 pages of the book it breached my well of patience. Again, a James Laughlin award winner from the Academy. It is books like these, where clever syntax and spacing don't require the intellectual and spiritual discipline that is in poetry that lasts through time. It is just the first slice of a Rimbaud and then becomes stale. A one hit wonder so to speak.
" I'm elongating the upward curve of my handwritten 'f' please
years of growth sanded away to make this beautifully varnished myth please
the stories so often describe the homecoming as some kind of relief stop"
On and on like this for the entire book. How can I inspire other poets with this work? I am open to suggestions. Did I mention there was also no punctuation? What hope is there for those of us that admire poets like Stephen Dunn or Rebecca Sieferle? Where one line can knock your socks off for weeks. Please advise stop.
" I'm elongating the upward curve of my handwritten 'f' please
years of growth sanded away to make this beautifully varnished myth please
the stories so often describe the homecoming as some kind of relief stop"
On and on like this for the entire book. How can I inspire other poets with this work? I am open to suggestions. Did I mention there was also no punctuation? What hope is there for those of us that admire poets like Stephen Dunn or Rebecca Sieferle? Where one line can knock your socks off for weeks. Please advise stop.
March 17, 2010
I'm working on this.
When it comes to poems, I'm a dummy. I like easy ones. Which is not to say I won't try hard ones, but I am lazy. So this is at first a little over my head. It might be impolite or sacrilegious to read them out of order but I'm looking for something to latch on to, and I find suddenly references to a father's death. And now I can start to be subjective about the poems and claim them a little as something I might be able to understand.
Reading others' reviews of the book here, it's interesting to see what they make of the device of please/advise/stop ending of each line. Some people stop seeing/reading the last word and I did too, at first.
When it comes to poems, I'm a dummy. I like easy ones. Which is not to say I won't try hard ones, but I am lazy. So this is at first a little over my head. It might be impolite or sacrilegious to read them out of order but I'm looking for something to latch on to, and I find suddenly references to a father's death. And now I can start to be subjective about the poems and claim them a little as something I might be able to understand.
Reading others' reviews of the book here, it's interesting to see what they make of the device of please/advise/stop ending of each line. Some people stop seeing/reading the last word and I did too, at first.
July 24, 2008
This is an incredible book, perhaps the best I've read this year so far.
In the first poem: "the water puddle sways like an earthbound kite stop". and a million other ways that she is held down while time, her father, her understanding all move away from her, in steep single-point perspective.
My enthusiasm lessened near the end of the collection, whether because of the writing or a lapse in my reading I don't know.
In the first poem: "the water puddle sways like an earthbound kite stop". and a million other ways that she is held down while time, her father, her understanding all move away from her, in steep single-point perspective.
My enthusiasm lessened near the end of the collection, whether because of the writing or a lapse in my reading I don't know.
July 15, 2011
Read this aloud, Esme bouncing around us repeating, "Please advise stop! Please advise stop!"
Much to love here. It amazes me especially that this form works, the repetition of those words at the ends of lines. Each line a marvel.
Much to love here. It amazes me especially that this form works, the repetition of those words at the ends of lines. Each line a marvel.
March 31, 2009
Some nice lines but no coherence. Ending every line with stop, please or please advise a moderately interesting failure in form.
April 15, 2009
This book was sent to me since I am a member of the Society of American poets. It is an interesting book of poetry. This book is the winner of the James Laughlin award for poetry,
November 21, 2012
A brilliant book I can't stop thinking about. Morrison's gift for translating loss is unlike anything I've ever read.
November 5, 2008
yeah didnt get it, maybe i should try a different book
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