Model Disciple

by Michael Prior

A mesmerizing and moving first collection, Model Disciple gives us a poetry of two minds. Confounded by Japanese-Canadian legacies too painful to fully embrace, Michael Prior’s split speakers struggle to understand themselves as they submit to their “I am all that is wrong with the Old World, / and half of what troubles the New.” Prior emerges as a poet not of identity, but identities. Invented identities, double identities, provisional identities—his art always bearing witness to a sense of self held long enough to shed at a moment’s notice. Model Disciple ‘s Ovidean shape-shifting is driven by formal mastery and mot juste precision. It’s also one of the most commanding poetic debuts in years.

Genres: Poetry

78 pages, Paperback

Published September 1, 2016

Reviews

[Jennie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I always want to check out new Canadian talent and Michael is awesome.

Curious titles, emotional insights and a deep understanding of language won me over immediately.

My only disappointment? It wasn't long enough. Mr. Prior is here letting us know that the art of poetry is not dead living well between these pages.

I am now a fan. Highly recommended.

[Arielle Hebert · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful collection on heritage, on a complex and difficult history. Prior's images travel through generations, and some of the best slope toward the disturbing and grotesque : "Hear the wet slap of the first cod I caught off / the dock. We forgot the cudgel, so we killed it / with my sister's size four New Balance shoe" (from "Raymon Fernandez, you lie at the bottom"). Two of my Favorite poems include "Salmon" and "Lamprey," both personifications of animals, self portraits, essentially. 80s and 90s kids rejoice (!) for poems framed on obsolete technologies like "VCR" "Cassette," and "Tamagotchi" (yes, an ode to those ever-dying digital pocket pets). The poem "Onomastic" straddles the speaker's dual (multiple) identities via his name's meanings: his father's "mealy-mouthed English" and his mother's Kanji, "syllables bound by marriage." The last poem in the book, "Tashme," is a journey through the physical landscape of internment camps for Japanese-Canadians. The speaker and his grandfather are the heroes, witnesses to a history not many are willing to acknowledge, let alone confront head on. A bit of a Virgil and Dante epic documenting what has been abandoned, left behind, and Prior is brushing the dust off of the relics.

[Philip Kenner · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

This one took me a while to finish, but it was nice to revisit the book every few weeks. Some poems knocked the wind out of me.

“Necessary Omens” was my favorite. It opens with: “You’re accessible, she says, meaning / I bore her.” That’s one of many yummy lines. Michael Prior’s poems are melancholy and rhythmically challenging, but there’s something calming about them. Maybe lyrical would be the best way to do describe it, but that descriptor can feel overused. What am I trying to say? It’s gentle, yet icy. Grand yet intimate. Prior is a tonal shape shifter. It’s glorious to watch.