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Capable Monsters
Poetry. LGBTQIA Studies. CAPABLE MONSTERS moves through entries of the pokémon encyclopedia--the Pokédex--as a way to navigate concerns of otherness, what it means to be considered a monster, how we fit into a larger societal ecosystem. To make space for the validity of oft-dismissed subject material, Marlin M. Jenkins asserts the symbolic, thematic, and narrative richness of worlds like the world of Poké his poems use pokémon as a way to explore cataloguing, childhood, race, queerness, violence, and the messiness of being a human in a world of humans.
36 pages, Paperback
First published February 18, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
May 8, 2020
A fucking stellar collection. I love poetry. I love pokémon. I love this book.
February 19, 2020
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review – thank you so much to Bull City Press for sending this to me from across the pond, I’m truly so grateful!
Watch my video review here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0utDV...
Capable Monsters is a chapbook which unites two of my great loves: poetry and Pokémon. As an avid Pokemon player, I was super excited to read this and to be immersed in what I thought would be a nostalgia trip, an exploration of Pokemon that would focus on the things I love most about it: escapism and companionship. The reality of this project is not what I expected at all, but something sadder and more introspective that explores the darker side of the Pokemon universe.
For the most part the book uses entries from the Pokedex as epigraphs, treating them as writing prompts. This meant that it was able to highlight something that I personally tend to overlook: the fact that when you really think about it, the world of Pokemon is a harsh one. A young child is let loose on the world alone, sent to battle wild beasts that rampage across the countryside unhindered. I didn’t realise how truly terrifying this concept is until the first time I got chased by an Onix in Pokemon Shield, at which point I realised that this large rock creature could easily crush my adult self, let alone the ten year old pixelated version. In the Pokemon world, your only protection is this wild animal that you have somehow managed to tame by trapping it inside a ball, unleashing it in order to bend it to your will. You’re often thwarted by threats of world domination, impending apocalypses, and fundamentalist organisations full of near-identical adults who attempt to defeat you at every opportunity. Aside from your Pokemon, you’re almost always alone. Which is to say that this chapbook made me realise that Pokemon is a far lonelier game than I had ever previously considered.
The poet draws attention to some of the more disconcerting Pokedex entries, and boy are there some terrifying options; Phantump, for example, is a tree stump possessed by the spirit of a dead child. The player carries these things around in their pocket, man. It’s creepy. The focus here, though, is less on the uncanny aspects of the Pokemon itself and more about how it relates to the human experience. Loneliness, isolation, racism, queerness, violence – all of these are explored through the lens of Pokemon, making the reader realise that there really is an undercurrent of sadness throughout the whole thing. As much as Pokemon bring people together, there is only so much a game can do.
To sum up my overall thoughts, this collection did the exact opposite of what I was expecting. I went in thinking I’d be taken on a nostalgia trip; instead, the book made me feel kind of sad, forcing me to contemplate aspects of the game that I’d never really considered. It’s not a totally desolate read, though, and there are definitely points of light, such as when the speaker recounts choosing his first Pokemon, a Bulbasaur, and the power and excitement unlocked in that moment. In essence, this chapbook forces you to re-examine Pokemon through an adult lens and think about what it really means to be thought of as a monster. It’s sad, poignant and powerful… especially if you’re a nerd.
Rating: 3.5/5
Watch my video review here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0utDV...
Capable Monsters is a chapbook which unites two of my great loves: poetry and Pokémon. As an avid Pokemon player, I was super excited to read this and to be immersed in what I thought would be a nostalgia trip, an exploration of Pokemon that would focus on the things I love most about it: escapism and companionship. The reality of this project is not what I expected at all, but something sadder and more introspective that explores the darker side of the Pokemon universe.
For the most part the book uses entries from the Pokedex as epigraphs, treating them as writing prompts. This meant that it was able to highlight something that I personally tend to overlook: the fact that when you really think about it, the world of Pokemon is a harsh one. A young child is let loose on the world alone, sent to battle wild beasts that rampage across the countryside unhindered. I didn’t realise how truly terrifying this concept is until the first time I got chased by an Onix in Pokemon Shield, at which point I realised that this large rock creature could easily crush my adult self, let alone the ten year old pixelated version. In the Pokemon world, your only protection is this wild animal that you have somehow managed to tame by trapping it inside a ball, unleashing it in order to bend it to your will. You’re often thwarted by threats of world domination, impending apocalypses, and fundamentalist organisations full of near-identical adults who attempt to defeat you at every opportunity. Aside from your Pokemon, you’re almost always alone. Which is to say that this chapbook made me realise that Pokemon is a far lonelier game than I had ever previously considered.
The poet draws attention to some of the more disconcerting Pokedex entries, and boy are there some terrifying options; Phantump, for example, is a tree stump possessed by the spirit of a dead child. The player carries these things around in their pocket, man. It’s creepy. The focus here, though, is less on the uncanny aspects of the Pokemon itself and more about how it relates to the human experience. Loneliness, isolation, racism, queerness, violence – all of these are explored through the lens of Pokemon, making the reader realise that there really is an undercurrent of sadness throughout the whole thing. As much as Pokemon bring people together, there is only so much a game can do.
To sum up my overall thoughts, this collection did the exact opposite of what I was expecting. I went in thinking I’d be taken on a nostalgia trip; instead, the book made me feel kind of sad, forcing me to contemplate aspects of the game that I’d never really considered. It’s not a totally desolate read, though, and there are definitely points of light, such as when the speaker recounts choosing his first Pokemon, a Bulbasaur, and the power and excitement unlocked in that moment. In essence, this chapbook forces you to re-examine Pokemon through an adult lens and think about what it really means to be thought of as a monster. It’s sad, poignant and powerful… especially if you’re a nerd.
Rating: 3.5/5
March 17, 2021
I'm a sucker for concept books, especially ones that rework another archive/record/document as a way to appropriate and maybe pay homage to that knowledge. So I thought even though I only know the shallowest things about pokemon from my students' avid card playing, I'm curious.
This collection uses monstrosity as a metaphor and political reality for queer black embodiment. The pokemon monsters use their monstrosity as power -- cool ways to defeat their enemies. Sometimes, the speaker identifies with this as power and possibility, like in referencing Cloyster (a version of an oyster): "i dream my fingers/sharpened and stone on the ends of spears." This poem finds beauty in closed, forbidden spaces, in parallel to finding beauty in queer sex. Other times, the monstrosity is alienating and threatening and must be compensated for, as in Mimkyu: "look/ i don't mean to be this way/ i was born and/ that's when the problem started." This pokemon, like the speaker, must disguise themselves in order to gain trust, reminding me of "masking" in psychology or code switching.
Gradually, these personas find community with each other, by seeking out spaces like basements and caves, and rather than correcting some fundamental misunderstanding, they revel in their differences. One of my favorite poems (that anticipates the closing poem) is "Self Portrait As Fear of the Dark." As a reader, I felt primed to understand the multiple levels of this fantasy as about the speaker's human life, pokemon life, and unconscious pool of creative force. Triumphantly, "I have made friends/ with the monsters here." I love how we move from an ordinary basement full of "Christmas ornaments, game/ cartridges that stopped working" and the basement as the psychological space of erotic energy and repressed fears, the "Assemblages of/ fragments of body." What ties together this disparate forces is fear. The collective is both "the dark" tied "with thread and the threat/of leaving" and his "capable monsters/ my fear held together by a button." Even the button could be a fastener or a game machine button. I guess it's obvious that this poem is so good because it has the title!
Grateful to spend time considering how the escapism of fantasy worlds designed for children can truly prepare adults to develop compassion for themselves.
This collection uses monstrosity as a metaphor and political reality for queer black embodiment. The pokemon monsters use their monstrosity as power -- cool ways to defeat their enemies. Sometimes, the speaker identifies with this as power and possibility, like in referencing Cloyster (a version of an oyster): "i dream my fingers/sharpened and stone on the ends of spears." This poem finds beauty in closed, forbidden spaces, in parallel to finding beauty in queer sex. Other times, the monstrosity is alienating and threatening and must be compensated for, as in Mimkyu: "look/ i don't mean to be this way/ i was born and/ that's when the problem started." This pokemon, like the speaker, must disguise themselves in order to gain trust, reminding me of "masking" in psychology or code switching.
Gradually, these personas find community with each other, by seeking out spaces like basements and caves, and rather than correcting some fundamental misunderstanding, they revel in their differences. One of my favorite poems (that anticipates the closing poem) is "Self Portrait As Fear of the Dark." As a reader, I felt primed to understand the multiple levels of this fantasy as about the speaker's human life, pokemon life, and unconscious pool of creative force. Triumphantly, "I have made friends/ with the monsters here." I love how we move from an ordinary basement full of "Christmas ornaments, game/ cartridges that stopped working" and the basement as the psychological space of erotic energy and repressed fears, the "Assemblages of/ fragments of body." What ties together this disparate forces is fear. The collective is both "the dark" tied "with thread and the threat/of leaving" and his "capable monsters/ my fear held together by a button." Even the button could be a fastener or a game machine button. I guess it's obvious that this poem is so good because it has the title!
Grateful to spend time considering how the escapism of fantasy worlds designed for children can truly prepare adults to develop compassion for themselves.
December 16, 2021
Pokemon. Poetry. Talks about racism and being queer and mental health and the darker side of pokemon. I mean think about it, a small child is let loose in the world by themselves to battle beasts and just read some of the pokedex entries about the pokemon, some of them are really dark! I loved this book.
January 30, 2021
Truly incredible poems that grow from the fertile ground of using Pokémon as metaphors. Amazing.
5/5
5/5
June 25, 2021
Wow I love poetry.
April 21, 2021
5 stars
Okay, this chapbook might be my favorite thing I've read this year so far (though in very close competition with The Magic Fish). And it clocks in at just 36 pages. 36 very powerful, daring pages of poetry.
You could call the concept of this chapbook audacious but that might still be underselling it, especially in regards to how successfully it is executed. Jenkins crafts 20 poems around the foundation of Pokémon. Yes, you heard me: Pokémon! When I first heard about this chapbook I was certainly intrigued, but also a little wary. There was so much potential for it to go wrong, to just be plain silly and too needlessly pop-culture-obsessed without the emotional heft to make it worthwhile. Well, Jenkins definitely pulls it off. I was in awe of the magic he creates by using Pokémon to question just who is monstrous, and who is deserving of empathy.
One of the recurring tools he uses is titling a poem with the name of a Pokémon and sharing a snippet of their Pokédex entry (the in-universe encyclopedia of Pokémon seen in both the show and game versions) as an epigraph to the poem. Jenkins uses the unique personalities (if I may call them that) and histories of the creatures to evoke his key themes of loneliness, societal violence, queer identity, childhood, and memory. In other poems, the Pokémon are sprinkled in as references but not the stars of the show. Amazingly, the Pokémon framing never feels like a constraint or starts to become tiresome. These poems are unbounded and brimming with vitality.
While I think that you could definitely appreciate these poems on a pure craft level if you didn't know the reference source material (I will assume you are not a child of the 90s/early 2000s), if you do have a working knowledge of Pokémon, the deep meaning that Jenkins is able to draw out of them is so fascinating to experience. I'm sitting here getting misty-eyed about Mimikyu and Lapras and reconsidering Mewtwo as a Winter Soldier-like figure, or the anime version of Frankenstein. The levels! And if you'll allow me another pun, this really evolved my appreciation of the immense detail put into the Pokémon franchise, which I took for granted as a kid.
I'm writing this review on the day that the guilty verdict was handed down in the case of Derek Chauvin, the policeman who killed George Floyd, and on the same day that a teenage girl was killed by police in Columbus, Ohio after calling for help. These lines from the end of the poem "Pokédex Entry #260: Swampert" felt significant as I read them late last night, but tonight they have even more significance:
I cannot recommend this chapbook enough. I'm glad I took a chance on ordering it with only the briefest idea of what I was about to read. What a pleasant discovery. Jenkins is such a talent and I look forward to reading his future work.
Okay, this chapbook might be my favorite thing I've read this year so far (though in very close competition with The Magic Fish). And it clocks in at just 36 pages. 36 very powerful, daring pages of poetry.
You could call the concept of this chapbook audacious but that might still be underselling it, especially in regards to how successfully it is executed. Jenkins crafts 20 poems around the foundation of Pokémon. Yes, you heard me: Pokémon! When I first heard about this chapbook I was certainly intrigued, but also a little wary. There was so much potential for it to go wrong, to just be plain silly and too needlessly pop-culture-obsessed without the emotional heft to make it worthwhile. Well, Jenkins definitely pulls it off. I was in awe of the magic he creates by using Pokémon to question just who is monstrous, and who is deserving of empathy.
One of the recurring tools he uses is titling a poem with the name of a Pokémon and sharing a snippet of their Pokédex entry (the in-universe encyclopedia of Pokémon seen in both the show and game versions) as an epigraph to the poem. Jenkins uses the unique personalities (if I may call them that) and histories of the creatures to evoke his key themes of loneliness, societal violence, queer identity, childhood, and memory. In other poems, the Pokémon are sprinkled in as references but not the stars of the show. Amazingly, the Pokémon framing never feels like a constraint or starts to become tiresome. These poems are unbounded and brimming with vitality.
While I think that you could definitely appreciate these poems on a pure craft level if you didn't know the reference source material (I will assume you are not a child of the 90s/early 2000s), if you do have a working knowledge of Pokémon, the deep meaning that Jenkins is able to draw out of them is so fascinating to experience. I'm sitting here getting misty-eyed about Mimikyu and Lapras and reconsidering Mewtwo as a Winter Soldier-like figure, or the anime version of Frankenstein. The levels! And if you'll allow me another pun, this really evolved my appreciation of the immense detail put into the Pokémon franchise, which I took for granted as a kid.
I'm writing this review on the day that the guilty verdict was handed down in the case of Derek Chauvin, the policeman who killed George Floyd, and on the same day that a teenage girl was killed by police in Columbus, Ohio after calling for help. These lines from the end of the poem "Pokédex Entry #260: Swampert" felt significant as I read them late last night, but tonight they have even more significance:
This country has failed
us. If we must, let us
feel our collective weight
against stone--for protection,
but if we must push
let it be a rolling roar
as loud as the storm itself.
The storm is both approaching
and here. Tonight.
Pile the boulders.
I cannot recommend this chapbook enough. I'm glad I took a chance on ordering it with only the briefest idea of what I was about to read. What a pleasant discovery. Jenkins is such a talent and I look forward to reading his future work.
March 15, 2021
So much is packed into these lithe poems: explorations of queer and black identity, examinations of harm in boyhood and adulthood and the painful transitions in between, and yes, so many great Pokémon references.
The poems are crafted with sincere emotion and reflection, deft language, and creative parallels. I love Capable Monsters, have re-read it many times, and can't wait to read it again.
The poems are crafted with sincere emotion and reflection, deft language, and creative parallels. I love Capable Monsters, have re-read it many times, and can't wait to read it again.
December 24, 2020
You wouldn’t think a poetry collection bound together by stories of Pokémon would be so powerful, but you would be wrong! Such beautiful, tender, and heartbreaking moments punctuated by the artifacts of childhood that carry us through trauma.
January 25, 2021
Who knew Pokemon poems could be so deep, so hard, and so reflective of the hardships of life, especially queer, black, nerd life? I really love these poems. They are amazing, honestly, and I highly recommend this book.
July 10, 2020
A brilliant concept (poems inspired by Pokemon) with incredible execution. Using the Pokedex as a jumping off point, Jenkins artfully grapples with boyhood, belonging, Blackness, heteropatriarchy, and more. Loved this!!
August 5, 2020
Pokémon poems!
Lovely exploration of identity, loneliness, empathy.
Lovely exploration of identity, loneliness, empathy.
November 29, 2020
Beautiful world-building of both the interior and exterior. The extended metaphor of video games was fresh and a pleasure to learn from.
March 19, 2021
Amazing. Combining the dex entries with real, powerful ideas and feelings. Just wow.
Read
May 20, 2021beautiful
May 6, 2022
Knockout poems. I loved these so much.
April 8, 2023
In spite of my Pokémon ignorance, Jenkins' poetry shines, and the beautiful humanity explored via the monsters is wonderful.
June 30, 2024
"from the time i was born i was
ready to know useless knowledge
to overthink an olive pit to obsess
and obsess repeat repeat"
THIS MAN UNDERSTANDS ME!!!!
I WANT MORE POKÉMON POETRY!!!!!
ready to know useless knowledge
to overthink an olive pit to obsess
and obsess repeat repeat"
THIS MAN UNDERSTANDS ME!!!!
I WANT MORE POKÉMON POETRY!!!!!
September 7, 2024
I'm so glad i finally read this...it has a drifloon poem !!!!!
February 5, 2020
Beautiful from beginning to end.
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews