In ransack, essa may ranapiri addresses the difficulty of assembling and understanding a fractured, unwieldy self through an inherited language—a language whose assumptions and expectations ultimately make it inadequate for such a task. These poems seek richer, less hierarchical sets of words to describe ways of being. Punctuated by a sequence of letters to Virginia Woolf’s character Orlando, this immersive collection is about discovering, articulating, and defending—to oneself and to others—what it means to exist outside of the western gender binary, as takatapui. It describes an artist in a state of becoming, moving from Te Kore, through Te Po, and into the light.
Fifth poetry collection for August, and I wanted the excuse to read something I've read already but in one immediate hit (usually I dip in and out, slowly, take time).
It's a different experience read all at once, but just as powerful. Maybe you get to sink into it a little more. that way.
Absolutely gorgeous. I heard Essa’s interview on Standing Room Only and placed a hold at the library the next day. They have such an incredible way with words, so many lines in ransack felt like a punch directly to the heart in the best possible way. Really means a lot to read such gorgeous, specific, perfectly articulated poetry about non-binary identity.
Generally speaking I wouldn’t recommend reading poetry at a time when you’re motoring through books to meet your annual reading goal. And this collection in particular is nuanced and thought provoking- things that slow your reading significantly.
Worth it tho. Takatāpuhi writing about life in sometimes scientific terms, sometimes confronting realism (and by this I mean the way society normalises “binary” gender is confronting to those with privilege), sometimes sparse language and other times in more wordy ways is the basis for my five star review. It’s all good but I liked the letters to Orlando throughout and the poem “All the Eastern Side Behold” best.
I really enjoyed essa may ranapiri’s book of poetry, ransack, poems about gender and identity stitched together with some beautiful letters to Woolf’s Orlando, chief amongst them the letter about the Pulse nightclub shooting.