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Unkindnesses
No one resonates with the corvid's singular beauty or its black, comic heart as she does. But let me be clear: Unkindnesses is not a book about birds. It is a big story, written in shifting scenarios, about a heart's journey. The voice is unmistakably female, unmistakably modern, full of conundra. And the unkindnesses are, as often as not, her own.-- Enid Osborn, author of When the Big Wind Comes and Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara, California 2017-2019
112 pages, Paperback
Published August 25, 2019
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September 4, 2019
Seldom do I read a book written by someone I know but I do not think my relationship with the author, through all her incarnations, changes my perception of the book.
Lacking the formal structure to which I am accustomed, I initially found the structure of her poems slightly distracting. Then, I realized they are a *really* a snapshot of her: untamed, perhaps a bit rebellious, conforming solely on her terms, if at all, earthy, funny, whimsical, occasionally startling, charmingly offensive and entirely, breathtakingly beautiful. My heart aches for the pain documented here and yet I can also elate in her triumphs. I hear the mockingbird, see the sun-dappled rooms, smell the flowers.
The images are sometimes subtle but always vivid. Much like the author, they are occasionally direct and occasionally conveyed more cunningly, perhaps to see if you are paying attention; a litmus test of sorts. (If you detect the subtle image, you detect the small, private part of herself reserved for those who know her well.) Even without “traditional” structure, though, the rhythm is perfect. Her alliteration is fantastic and oh-so-satisfying.
I’ll be rereading it shortly to absorb anything I may have missed. I suggest you read it, at least once.
Lacking the formal structure to which I am accustomed, I initially found the structure of her poems slightly distracting. Then, I realized they are a *really* a snapshot of her: untamed, perhaps a bit rebellious, conforming solely on her terms, if at all, earthy, funny, whimsical, occasionally startling, charmingly offensive and entirely, breathtakingly beautiful. My heart aches for the pain documented here and yet I can also elate in her triumphs. I hear the mockingbird, see the sun-dappled rooms, smell the flowers.
The images are sometimes subtle but always vivid. Much like the author, they are occasionally direct and occasionally conveyed more cunningly, perhaps to see if you are paying attention; a litmus test of sorts. (If you detect the subtle image, you detect the small, private part of herself reserved for those who know her well.) Even without “traditional” structure, though, the rhythm is perfect. Her alliteration is fantastic and oh-so-satisfying.
I’ll be rereading it shortly to absorb anything I may have missed. I suggest you read it, at least once.
Displaying 1 of 1 review