Registers of Illuminated Villages is Tarfia Faizullah’s highly anticipated second collection, following her award-winning debut, Seam. Faizullah’s new work extends and transforms her powerful accounts of violence, war, and loss into poems of many forms and voices—elegies, outcries, self-portraits, and larger-scale confrontations with discrimination, family, and memory. One poem steps down the page like a Slinky; another poem responds to makeup homework completed in the summer of a childhood accident; other poems punctuate the collection with dark meditations on dissociation, discipline, defiance, and destiny; and the near-title poem, “Register of Eliminated Villages,” suggests illuminated texts, one a Qur’an in which the speaker’s name might be found, and the other a register of 397 villages destroyed in northern Iraq. Faizullah is an essential new poet, whose work only grows more urgent, beautiful, and—even in its unsparing brutality—full of love.
Tarfia Faizullah is the author of Seam (SIU, 2014), winner of the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry First Book Award. Her poems appear in American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, The Missouri Review, The Southern Review, Massachusetts Review, Ninth Letter, New England Review, Washington Square, and elsewhere. A Kundiman fellow, she is the recipient of an AWP Intro Journals Project Award, a Ploughshares Cohen Award, a Fulbright Fellowship, a Copper Nickel Poetry Prize, a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prize, scholarships from Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and Sewanee Writers’ Conference, and fellowships from the Kenyon Review Writers’ Workshop and Vermont Studio Center. She lives in Detroit where she is a writer-in-residence for InsideOut and co-edits the Organic Weapon Arts Chapbook Press with Jamaal May. In Fall 2014, she will join the University of Michigan Helen Zell Writers’ Program as the Nicholas Delbanco Visiting Professor in Poetry.
Fierce! Favorite selections include: "TO THE LITTLEST BROTHER", "GREAT MATERIAL", "THE ERROR OF ECHO" & "BECAUSE THERE'S STILL A SKY, JUNEBUG." Recommended.
As I said to a friend, I wish I could give this one six stars! Such amazing writing--I always feel awed by poetry (or any writing actually) this amazing. It hardly seems possible that anyone could create such beauty. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous images and descriptions. I felt drunk on the writing (without any hangover)--filled with images and phrases, overflowing with intense feelings and heightened awareness and appreciation for life.
Faizullah writes of village life, of foods and family. She writes movingly of her little sister's death, of her brother. She also writes about war and violence. Such a range of topics, all dealt with deftly and powerfully.
Obviously, I strongly recommend this book to poetry readers!
4.5 stars. A phenomenally profound poetry collection in which each poem is cleverly crafted with bold, fresh and powerful imageries. The only reason I didn't give it five stars was because of a proofreading error that recurred throughout: the use of 'everyday' in contexts in which 'every day' would have been more appropriate. Having said that, this would still be the best collection of poems I read this year so far.
Faizullah does what so few poets do and achieve a universality with her lines. I joined the Rumpus poetry book club to try and get a feel for at least that poetic environment and so far, this has been far and away the best of the bunch.
My first book from MyTBR.co - I want more poetry, so I got more.
That being said, I am inexpert in this genre, so take my review with that grain of salt.
My only complaint is that it doesn’t feel accessible enough to me. I like the language & imagery, but something about almost every poem felt beyond my grasp. I surmise that Faizullah is writing about deeply personal moments. And I haven’t learned to unlock her language yet.
That being said, this volume is a keeper. I’ll revisit it as I read more poetry, and see if I can connect to it better at a later date.
The newest collection of poetry from Tarfia Faizullah follows up her 2014, Seam, a poetry collection that examines the brutality experienced by the Bengali people from the Pakistani army during the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971. Registers of Illuminated Villages maintains Faizullah’s ability to connect past to the present; the grief and pain experienced by her people and her experiences embodying this trauma growing up in Midland, Texas, but also of survival, courage, and celebration.
The title poem of this collection references a 2002 Frontline story highlighting “The Register of Elinimated Villages,” which recorded the destruction of 397 Kurdish villages in Northern Iraq, reducing this tragedy to a reported number. Faizullah writes, “the scholar on tonight’s / Frontline only counted each / town destroyed: three / hundred ninety-seven of them. / Who counts counts dolls, hand- / stitched, face down in the dirt? / Count to four. Five. Six. Count / cadaver, stone, belongings: pots.” These poems are complex and compact, with a clear mastery of syntax, and demand the reader’s careful consideration of their background.
Faizullah's Registers of Illuminated Villages masterfully contrasts Michigan and Iraq, Texas and Turkey--Faizullah seems at home with both personal and universal profundity, lyrically and vulnerability. Her willingness to dwell in trauma and historical atrocity pair them together in an experience humanizes her subjects. Definitely, a cross-cultural experience her title poem focuses the destruction 397 Kurdish villages in Northern Iraq, and then she is willing to weave in imaginary of the natural world as contrast and grounding. Faizullah's focus on injustice doesn't end in anger, but it in grief and overcoming. A surprisingly moving collection.
wonderfully written, compelling and thought-provoking poems. important work. I stopped at several and read them again and again, which is one way I know a poem is successful--it holds up again and again
An absolute poetry must-read. There wasn’t a single poem in here that didn’t strike me or make me pause or smile or need to sit down for a minute. A new favorite, for sure.
Seam is one of my all-time favorite collections of poetry. There’s always a fear that the next one can’t compare to the one that stole your heart and made you want to be a better writer. But Faizullah doesn’t disappoint. This is a gorgeous collection. I swooned.
There is so much to love about this collection of poetry. From love to war to religion to family, Faizullah examines the many facets of her life with absolutely beautiful language. I don't know how to review poetry, but I've shared poems out of this collection with people in my life who don't like poetry, and Faizullah is so good at expressing her experience through beautiful, accessible language, that even those people tend to love her work.
Strongly suggested.
These are a few of my favorite snippets:
Memory pours starfish into the sky for us to imagine 12
There’s a first day you learn how to kill yourself without dying. It isn’t new. It isn’t news. 16
The ache of a sister for a brother isn’t obvious or absent. 44
the books I left are secrets, underlined beside a summer-heavy pecan tree. 44
you have a big brain and a good heart, still, you don’t use either enough! 57
Faizullah grew up in Texas and now teaches writing at a Michigan university. Her family is originally from Bangladesh. She lost a young sister at some point in their childhood and this is included in several poems of loss that are very poignant.
The title refers to villages in Northern Iraq that were completely obliterated with every male killed, leaving behind devastated females to try and survive in disaster zones. Faizullah humanizes what otherwise becomes just a statistic in a record book.
She points to various forms of injustices, from well-meaning Americans who tell her she speaks English very well even though she grew up in Texas to crude Americans who shout for dark-skinned people to 'go home' to their own country.
These are not as angry as some poems on injustice. Rather they are reflective and telling, but with brief bursts of anger inserted.
The writing in this book is mostly luminescent, sometimes deliberately sparring or jarring, but always sure-footed. Faizullah manages to set a pace resembling everyday spoken language, but with room for flights of fantasy ("I wanted to be a reckoning, to tornado into each day's hard hands"). One has to accept her obsessive concern with a sister who died at age seven--one of her poems is even titled "You Ask Me Why Write about It Again." She also spends a lot of time on the terrible accident in which her sister died and she herself lost an arm, as well as on war, some sort of abuse she suffered as a child, and the tension between her family's Muslim faith and a Catholic school she apparently went to. But the sweep of the book is global and transcends any one topic.
Damn! Tarfia Faizullah goes IN in some of these poems. Hey, that poem Self-Portrait as Mango, and that other one, Djinn in Need of a Bitch are two of my favorite poems from this year! *gush gush*
I was impressed by the overall structure of the book—punctuated into sections with different Registers and Self-Portraits. It’s clear that Tarfia has an incredible grasp on form, and employs it differently to achieve different contextualization (ie: memory as vivid and living, vs memory as distant and blurry).
Really appreciated the urgency of the topics, or the urgency brought into these lived experiences.
Many of my favorite poems came in the first section of the book, though it was enjoyable all the way through.
This is the author's second book published this year from Gray Wolf Press. She is a Bangladeshi American poet and teacher who was born in Brooklyn and grew up in Midland, Texas. Her work focuses on all the split worlds she has inherited with its loss, grief, and violence. Her younger sister and her were in an accident when young and her sister was killed, while she sustained a grievous injury. Faizullah is also intent on trying to understand the land of her ancestors; its War of Liberation in 1971 and the terrible treatment of Bangla women by the Pakistani soldiers. These poems are nearly surreal at times with their harsh and conflicted realities. She is fierce and candid and opens the readers' eyes to what one small country can endure or not.
A lot of Register is potent, original, compelling, and complex. The imagery and verbs are so specific, lush, unique.... And the structure of the collection, with the veiled section and the secret poem at the end, are fantastic. However, there were also several poems that seemed a bit flat—like they operated primarily on one level, or like they were poems she needed to write for herself (which is totally valid) rather than for publication.
It must have been difficult to write a collection to follow Seam. In any case, Tarfia Faizullah is a brilliant, brilliant poet, and I'm looking forward to rereading this collection.
Pros: Faizullah has an amazing way with words and her playfulness with her line breaks forces the reader to slow down and appreciate what they are reading. Her poems on loss were the most moving for me as you could feel the emotions pouring through. Cons: I am personally not a fan of poems that move around the page. These are difficult for me to follow and end up being more frustrating than enjoyable. However, this is just my personal preference. Would I Recommend: Maybe. If you're already emersed in the world of poetry, this would be a beautiful collection to add. If you're only starting on your poetry journey, it may be a little too frustrating.
Adored this. Lovely verses—imagery rooted in place and the poet’s relationship to place (in this case, Iraq), how that relationship dictates the trajectory of their relationship with others. Though some felt kind of clunky—overly stylized, weak imagery or phrasing just to fit whatever conceit the poem was going for—overall it was a pretty spectacular collection. About borders, connection, language, especially grief—the way it manifests, the way it festers. There’s a lot of loneliness at the heart of this book. A lot of it stems from post-9/11 racism, especially the alienation the author feels as a result of their diasporic status.
This was the 2nd book (April, 2018) from the monthly Literati Insisto book subscription service at Literati Bookstore in Ann Arbor.
Though I have published haiku, I am not well-read in other forms of poetry. But I am branching out and giving books of poetry a chance, absorbing what I can.
That said, I've read through this collection and enjoyed some of the imagery and feelings invoked, but grasping little. That's on me. Maybe after a few more years of reading poetry I'd come back to this and discover more.
There is something very distinct and inviting in Faizullah's poetry and in its tone that I cannot place my finger on it still. It takes you on a journey through time and the self, personal and familiar at the same time. I haven't felt so overpowered by poetry in a while and Faizullah's work does this superbly, stopping me in my tracks yet never losing interest or veering away from her captivating work.
Tarfia is an outstanding writer/poet. She captures so many emotions in a single poem. Her diction is so strong. She writes on subjects of all matter. In this work, Tarfia truly gives us a piece of herself and shares herself with the world, upfront and center with no filter. This is truly a great read.
Faizullah made me want to write poetry again. Her unflinching manner of addressing personal trauma, sorrow, anger, and more is just incredible. Her poems are a pleasure to read. This book is wonderfully put together. I read her work for a course of mine and suspect I'll be coming back to this book over and over.