Stranger, Baby

by Emily Berry

The powerful new collection from award-winning poet Emily Berry.

Emily Berry's Dear Boy was described as a 'blazing debut', winning the Forward Prize for Best First Collection in 2013. Stranger, Baby, its follow-up, is marked by the same sense of fantasy and play, estrangement and edgy humour for which she has become known. But these poems delve deeper again, in their off-kilter and often painful encounter with childhood loss. This is a book of mourning, recrimination, exhilaration and 'oceanic feeling': 'A meditation on a want that can never be answered.'

Genres: Poetry, Grief, Fiction, Contemporary, Death, Ebooks, Love

72 pages, Paperback

First published January 31, 2017

About the author

Emily Berry is a poet, writer and editor. She grew up in London and studied English Literature at Leeds University and Creative Writing at Goldsmiths College. Her debut poetry collection Dear Boy won the Forward Prize for Best First Collection and the Hawthornden Prize. She is a contributor to The Breakfast Bible, a compendium of breakfasts, and is currently working towards a PhD in Creative and Critical Writing at the University of East Anglia.

Reviews

[Jen Campbell · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's only January but I'm sure this will be one of my favourite books of the year. It's phenomenal.

[emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘The wind called to the trees/ And then it happened/ And they said, How do you feel?/ And I said, Like a fountain/ Night falls from my neck like silver arrows—’

Needless to say, I’ve read this collection countless times, but the most recent ‘visit’ hits a little different/harder. ‘Canopy’ (the one directly below) is one I used to be able to remember by heart — and have teared up twice reading it. The first time was at a mate’s birthday — and her twin brother got me to ‘recite’ a few lines from it. And/but my eyes were extremely tired and got watery — and we joked/laughed about how I didn’t have to be so ‘dramatic’ and/or emotional about it.

‘And the trees shook everything off until they were bare and clean. They held onto the ground with their long feet and leant into the gale and back again./This was their way with the wind./They flung us down and flailed above us with their visions and their pale tree light./ I think they were telling us to survive. That’s what a leaf feels like anyway. We lay under their great awry display and they tattooed us with light./They got inside us and made us speak; I said my first word in their language: ‘canopy’.’ — from ‘Canopy’.

The last time I read it, experiencing a blurry eye moment was more recent. It reminds me of someone dear to me and how we used to go visiting ‘gardens’ together. And he would bring his mum (later/after) to the one(s) we thought were rather nice (or at least that was what he had claimed happened), which was at the very least, very endearing. Nothing particularly ‘exciting’, but still and surely, quietly comforting — perfectly so. Adding another layer to that ‘memory’, I was with his mum earlier in the week, and I’m now reminded of how just before I left, she was casually pointing at and talking about the water lilies for some time. While I can’t say he was there with us, I thought he would have appreciated/loved the beauty of all that. In any case, I felt ‘Stranger, Baby’, Berry’s collection carried ‘the right poems, at/for the right time’.

‘Stop, language is crawling all over me/ Sometimes if you stay still long enough you can make it go/ If a person standing still watched another person minutely moving would it seem after a while as if they were watching the sea?/ I remember just one thing my mother said to me:/ Never look at yourself in the mirror when you’re crying/ I did not follow her advice’ — from ‘Picnic’.

Lots of other lovely ones in this collection. Perhaps I’m a little biased, but I don’t think it makes it all any less true. Berry is truly brilliant, at least I think so. But, confessedly, I think I prefer the Swedish title (for her/this collection of poems), ‘Picknick, blixt’ much more than ‘Stranger, Baby’.

‘In this spirit of affliction I beheld two things,/ that shame is also revelry, and a body is a spillage, or an addiction. I do not know/ if this thing belongs to me, tipped-up set of weights/ that promises, but never delivers, equilibrium./ I cannot make manifest this collection of feelings,/ but look at me: I want to be loved for the wrong reasons./ I mean I want to be hated for the right reasons.’ — from ‘Drunken Bellarmine’.

‘I wrote, Nothing in the outside world is changed,/ to ward off the catastrophe. I am in a beautiful place/ with birdsong and which smells of flowers; yet,/ everything is very skewed.’ — from ‘Girl on a Liner’.

[Maddie]

3/10 Contemporary Poetry module

[Bee]

4/10 'Hatred of Poetry' module.

[Tommi · Rating 4 out of 5]

In irregular, shapeshifting verse, Emily Berry navigates the death of a mother in this ostensibly autobiographical second collection Stranger, Baby. A lot of it went over my head on first reading, but I assume it’s thematically intentional as there are no straightforward ways to come to terms with death. Hugely enjoyable despite the complexity. Had the privilege to hear the author at an event in the London Review Bookshop last week and briefly met her afterwards, which enhanced my opinion of the already fine collection.

[Ruxandra (4fără15) · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a great book to read in one sitting! Emily Berry really gives me inspiration and makes me want to write more poetry of my own.

I have been theatrical, entropic, parting
with myself for company. This heartsore will not
stop weeping and look, the sky is sick, knitted too
tightly; my face is up your sleeve like a card trick.
DON’T LOVE ME: I am guilty, fatalistic and sticky
round the mouth like a dirty baby.

[Jonfaith · Rating 2 out of 5]

Maybe it is me? I read each of these poems twice, found myself taut to embrace them when Freud appeared and then the fog of indifference returned, this time--to stay. The collection is one of mourning and yet I felt myself distracted by the peculiar tricks and the resilient density. I don't think I am going to donate this just yet. Somehow I think the fog just might lift if I approach it from the proper angle.

[Eric Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve been taking time with the poems in this collection for a couple of months. This is such a short book, but I often find I need to be in the right headspace to really hear what a poet is saying. Since I read so much fiction I find it difficult not to read a narrative into a collection of poems. Not that there’s anything wrong with doing this, but it feels to me like the primary aim of poetry isn’t to tell a story that can be easily summarized. It’s more like an artistic arrangement of language that should wash over you. Nevertheless, if I had to describe an overarching theme to the moving poems in this collection I’d say it’s about dealing with a mother’s death. The collection is prefaced by a quote from Freud: “The loss of a mother must be something very strange.” The poems frequently delve into the complex psychology of trying to understand this sometimes embattled relationship, especially after death. A cluster of the poems at the centre of the book give nods to Freud. Just how or why the mother died isn’t entirely clear although there are indications of self-harm or suicide: “People you love can be removed from the world (They can remove themselves).” But the overarching impression of these poems is of someone dealing with that grief, reflecting on the condition of loss and the way she still carries the presence of this lost mother.

Read my full review of Stranger, Baby by Emily Berry on LonesomeReader

[Pascale Petit · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my favourite collections of 2017 - original, inventive approaches to writing about grief, gets to the heart of the daughter-mother dynamic and the wound that can be found at its core. Every poem surprises with fresh language and technical flair, while also moving me with its emotional depth.

[Bogdan · Rating 4 out of 5]

every face was luminous
as if they knew something about
the dark

[Lulufrances · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mh oh well.
I didn't manage to grasp too much of these poems, probably my fault, not the poems', but hey!
They didn't stir familiar notions, luckily - when you think about the topic, yet I would have wished for a little more to come across.
Certain sentences were beautiful though and I loved the "Tidal Wave Speaks" poem!
Read in one sitting, travelling in the car and waiting in a parkingspot at a Tesco's, while my mother and sister shopped away all the good food.
There - hope you enjoyed this irrelevant lil fact.

[Ansh · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars
Not all the poems resonated with me, but some of them (particularly towards the end) really hit home.
I can see myself reading this over and over and taking away something different from it each time.

[Elinor · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 ? Some poems I loved, some I enjoyed, some didn't resonate with me as much. Solid collection overall, and im curious to pick up more poetry by Emily Berry.

[ocelia]

think that overall i found more for me in her debut collection (likely due to my mom is alive) but still appreciated lots of these. emily berry is good at food and water. favorites: Picnic, Summer, Song, and especially especially especially Freud's Loss

[Nickey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Devoured in one sitting, Emily Berry's second poetry collection is just as spectacular as the first one. This time centering around a theme of loss, the writing is no less lush and eerie, with the motive of rain recurring, changing, and tying all the pieces together.

Absolutely beautiful.

[Lena]

Dag är ingen picknick.

Natt är ingen picknick.

Kylan föll från fönstret och ner på sängen och

jag var där, lämnad kvar under

månen.

[Prince Mendax · Rating 3 out of 5]

courtesy of leksands biblioteks gallrade böcker :)

[Eilidh Fyfe · Rating 4 out of 5]

Emily and i can hold hands walking into therapy together <3

[ink · Rating 3 out of 5]

(Picnic, Summer, Now all my poems are about death I feel as though I’m really living, Freud’s Loss)

[grace · Rating 3 out of 5]

i didn't understand most of this tbh. there were poems that stood out to me that i liked but generally most of it went over my head.
- now all my poems are about death i feel as though i'm really living
- so
- once
- freud's war
- sleeping

[Seb · Rating 3 out of 5]

a solid 3.5

[Nathan James]

Although I can appreciate the beauty of some of the poems, I think most of the writing went over my amateur poetry reading head.

[Syd James · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I strode through town with
my insides on the outside but they said my open wound was not
apparent."

[andreea. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Everything Bad Is Permanent
Their eyes are grey. My eyes are grey
My wishes are the colour of the dead in numbers

My dying, undelivered wishes. Ours
Would somebody come running. Would they

Prototypes of human sorrow
Protest, despair and detachment

Blank, tearful retreat from mother
Mother, Baby. Stranger, Baby. Baby Alone

I was completing a form that said rate my unhealthy emotions
It was some kind of duty, or project

Some people don’t put question marks at the ends of questions any more
In case anyone should think they’d be so idealistic as to expect an answer

Then, looking reproachfully at her mother, she demanded
‘Where was you, Mummy? Where was you?’

Where was you, Mummy
As when from a stable place you come unbalanced

I did it once by accident, now I do it deliberately, in plain sight
In decorated sight

Is hate a viable form of activism
The place where hate of the self meets hate of the other (for example), who claims that land

I wrote: The sea! The sea! as if that might be a solution
Didn’t we always suspect the pain of intelligent people was truly the most painful

Forgive me quickly/forget me quickly
I know that I must forget you

The sea is somewhere anything can happen
You know when two seas come together there is deep pain and pleasure at the border

Tremor of conjoined hopes. Agony of separation after mixing. Let it flow
I sat down. Wrote: GUILT 90% SHAME 90% RAGE 90% FEAR 90% LOVE—

(I never once dreamed of you
Why did I never

And now I have a question for you, will you answer?
And there you were all this time, in the dead ground)

[Hannah · Rating 4 out of 5]

some books make you want to immediately give your mum a hug, this is one of them.

[Reem · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was looking for something that can get me back to reading. I found the collection to be very much lighter than I thought. Too much Freud references though, there are some good verses.

[andi · Rating 4 out of 5]

i loved the way Emily Berry shows her colours in this book. such a beautiful journey through loss and grief to find peace and accept the past.

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful, touching, profound - devoured it and loved it

[hannah · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5.

I feel like this is a collection I'll want to come back to someday. There were poems that I really connected with in here, but others that I don't think I fully understood.

[Jack · Rating 4 out of 5]

The long penultimate poem is a highlight in this emotive and fine-tuned collection.