“There is no lack of beauty and strangeness in Meghan Privitello's Notes on the End of the World, uncovering museums of dust, shadows, animals, ghosts—the Days of this book are filled with lush vocabulary and witchy diction. I feel totally awake and mystical in their presence.” —Bianca Stone, author of Someone Else’s Wedding Vows
Notes on the End of the World is a really exciting book. The language in this book is rich and resonant, and tackles an overwhelming topic like the apocalypse in a way that is both tender but dryly cynical. There are no happy endings for Privitello, but there need not be. Readers are sure to be moved.
This book is both beautiful and strange. Evocative imagery is juxtaposed with the mundane, making lines both surprise and sting. The theme is intriguing but some poems did seem less engaging to me whereas others knocked me out.
This is an author I'd want to see more from just perhaps without the specific end of the world theme.
Poetry is so weird, but this book led to great class conversations about voice and tone that I really enjoyed. Plus, Privitello has some baller poems that involve a lot of agricultural imagery and rural sentiment and anyone who knows me should know that I am incredibly game for both of those things. This is definitely worth a read if you want some solid end of the world perspectives.
The collection is organized as a poetic story taking place over 20 days as the world ends. The days are framed by two “Notes” poems, one an introduction and the other a conclusion.
Obviously, much is left to the imagination, including what the end of the world even means. A straightforward apocalyptic vision seems too simple for this collection but there is a sense of movement and the passage of time.
For example, on Day 17, the narrator converses with God. Then on Day 19, the narrator says, “Oh world, end already.” Day 20 opens with “As the end comes, I look for everything/ I’ve lost.”
My favorites at this time:
Day 3, in which the narrator converses with a coyote (“I’ve lost my hunting partner, he says/ I’ve lost my loving partner, I say”)
Day 12 (“If you have never believed in ghosts,/ start now”)
Day 17 (“God,/ I should have saved your phone number/ in my BlackBerry so I could prank call you.”)
However, when I went to look back at my favorites I read the whole collection again and found a lot of depth in each day. Each poem gives a lot to chew on, and I do feel it fits together also into a larger, mysterious story.
There are some devastating lines in the final set of notes: “Where this is smoke, there are circles./ where there are circles, there are drums./ where there are drums, there are bells./ where there are bells, there is loss.”
As is clear from what I’ve written, I especially loved how this book is structured. I like how the framing gives an extra layer to every poem - each of which has plenty of its own layers already.
When I tried to watch The Walking Dead, I found myself rooting for the zombies, then I rage-quit when the zombies couldn't kill the unlikable humans fast enough for my satisfaction. Reading this book was a similar experience.
There's not much narrative push at the beginning. This world is ending not with a bang but with disconnected whimpers. Although the narrator refers to a husband and a family, there is no sense of connection to fellow human beings. I found myself wondering if one can be selfish while one's self is blowing away like so much dandelion fluff. Had the narrator focused more on connections to animals or a specific environment, I might've warmed up to her...but probably not.
I felt brief hope when reading poems "Day 9" through "Day 15." These pieces felt solid, with complete thoughts and extended metaphors, but the center could not hold. The narrator lapsed back into disjointed alienation and her casual ableism cemented my dislike. When she asks her sister, "How heavy was your dead daughter?" I sorely wished this apocalypse came with zombies.
This was an interesting read. I really liked how the author wrote about the apocalypse and what becomes of humanity. The story takes place over 20 days as the world comes to an end, and each day the narrator talks about different things that they're saying goodbye? Or maybe remembering?
At the end, i love the idea that this so-called "end of the world" can mean anything. It can be literal or just a metaphorical way of explaining the end of something.
I’ll be keeping on my bedside shelf and slowly finding my way to Meghan Privitello’s other work. The words here shine like rusted antiques buried in the back of a shop (or what’s left of it) Bizarrely gorgeous gifts of forgotten dreams and survival.
Notes on the End of the World doesn't look like any specific apocalypse. At the end of the world time crumbles, carnivals never leave town, earthquakes hit, animals are where they don't belong, and "every barn has become a church / to worship storms in." But each day's note captures some moment of bravery or loneliness, regret or determination or sanity that speaks to even small world-falling-apart experiences. She asks: "with minutes until disaster / what do you gather? How do you / navigate your own useless fear?
And later: “Somehow we’ve all been given the same fate, / which means our lives are ordinary “