Poetry. Hybrid Genre. LGBTQIA Studies. Jewish Studies. "My dog died today." So begins ORANGE, the first book by Seattle poet E. Briskin. With playful digressions into anecdote, the philosophy of consciousness, literature, and animal behavioral science, ORANGE approaches grief at once tangentially and directly. Its narrator--disconnected, mournful, comic, angry, irreverent, overwrought, and seemingly always in a coffee shop--wants to understand the lost dog and to memorialize it, or maybe, in grieving, to regain what is lost. ORANGE is a book that resists genre, gendering, and chronology. Written in a furrowed numbering scheme that can be read vertically or horizontally, its form reflects the way our psyche is fragmented and unified by loss. Like all book from Entre Ríos Books, ORANGE includes a generous selection of easy-to-download audio of the author reading.
This is another book I read for my hybrid memoir class. This book is a non-conformist memoir. It messes with your head in every aspect - intentionally. The book starts "My dog died today." and then makes you question if the dog was even real, even giving conflicting information on the dog's gender. The narrator is unreliable, which makes the book frustrating to read at times. The book also challenges how to actually read a book, you could go page by page, as is customary - as I initially did - or you can follow the fragments in chronological order, which takes you front to back, back to front, and front to back again. It's so interesting, and so effective as it almost mimics the process of grief, how it's not linear and you go back in forth in your healing process. It's such a fascinating and unique book. Truly one of a kind. The only reason why I took a star off my rating is because I felt as though it was a little too repetitive and that there were fragments that could've been combined or just taken out completely. I understand this repetition is probably intentional to, again, mimic grief in a way and how it can be all-consuming, all you think about. But at times, the repetition almost felt tedious to read.
Briskin grieves a dog. Briskin researches dogness, personhood, and how minds delve into these and other subjects--and has readers doing the same by arranging this book in numbered paragraphs that may be read in multiple ways, as if to mimic the multiple routes our thinking may take. Briskin plays with form. Briskin is brilliant. I loved the experience of being plunged into the middle of this cleverness--and grief, and kindness. Briskin writes with heart and mind and soul.
Strange and lovely. Lyrical and pristine prose full of mischief. My copy of this book has a million mini bookmarks sticking out of it. I've never read it the same way twice... I like to pick places in the middle and then jump around at random. It's many books in one. Delightful and new reading experience.
Huge fan of everything about this experience- when the last time a you described a book as an experience? Immediately had to send to a book loving friend who I knew would appreciate as much as I did.
This book is astonishing. I couldn’t believe the humor, the emotion, and the attention to detail. An experience if ever there was one to have reading a book. Sometimes I would gasp at how things lined up page by page. I wish I could read it for the first time again.