sick

by Jody Chan

Jody Chan writes, “have you ever found your specific wounds curled up in a song / written by someone else?” This striking debut—poems of history, of beauty, of violence, of grief—unearths tenderness. In sick, Jody Chan examines loss through brilliant and stunning lyric, each poem urgent with gentle ferocity.

Genres: Poetry, Queer, Grief, LGBT

85 pages, Paperback

First published August 14, 2020

Reviews

[Sarah Cavar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Chan's powerful collection delves into (literally) unimaginable loss, existential homelessness, and living a Mad life, whipped into an impossible shape by violent, unpredictable emotions. None of this is a metaphor, either: unlike many poets, Chan explicitly names the death of their mother in childbirth, their own existence inextricably linked to the "going away" of their mother. They detail the experiences of confusion, anger, and heartbreak in diaspora, twice-over, watching both their mother and their mother country disappear into inaccessible parts of their memory-history.

As we enter the latter half of the text, the e/affects of this loss, and of traumatic events explicitly stated and implied, lead to a highly stigmatized diagnosis, BPD, which they tie to their experiences as a closeted and then newly-out queer/trans person desperately seeing in their lovers both a partner and a replacement mom. The sheer complexity, open-heartedness, and fearless intervention into normally unspeakable desires and fears, combined with Chan's sheer poetic skill, makes this a highly impressive collection. You'll blow through "sick," despite its near 100-page count; then, you will return and linger on every poem.

[Iz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hands down THE best book of poetry I’ve read this year. Will also easily make one of the best books I’ve read of the year. The last time I felt this connected and touched by poems was Oculus by Sally Wen Mao (& I read that maybe 2 years ago).

As a queer non-binary asian poet, the poems rly hit different. The poems “about” Teresa Teng really got me in my feels and head as a taiwanese american. TBH i get tired of the “woe is me trapped between two words diaspora” type of poems and writing that is “common/mainstream” w Asian Am lit/narratives/writing, the way Jody Chan navigates their grief, family dynamics & trauma is just… CHEFS KISS… just the right amount of mixing descriptive specifics & abstract images.

my fav poems in no particular order:
• why teresa teng is my dream girl
• favorite person
• a study of vicks vaporub, ending with your heart in a freezer

& the poem i WISH i wrote bc it gutted me:
• not a woman, not not a woman

[Simón · Rating 5 out of 5]

I especially loved the series of poems "therapist's notes" where the therapist's questions remain fairly stable and the client's answers seem like they're answering askew or askance or associatively. It captures the work of self-reflection and healing, both the predictability of the therapist's straightforward invitation to somatic awareness, and the replier's creative ways of engaging with issues of embodiment, grief, and genealogy.

A long time overdue to find such poignant takes on being socialized as a girl and woman, be hooked into womanhood nonconsentually, from the perspective of a nonbinary person. This especially was evident in the poems "not a woman, not not a woman," "telling my mother i'm not her daughter," "allegations" and "showing up to Sunday dim sum with a fresh shave." The content of these most directly address gender identity but of course the entire collection is sensitive to queer desire.

[Courtney LeBlanc · Rating 4 out of 5]

A collection of poems about identity, family, being queer and Asian, grief, loss, death, and gender.

from ghost: "at the funeral we learn to substitute a stone for a mother / begrudge this stolen soil for swallowing our mother // there is an ocean between me & what I miss a constant / gravity tiding Hong Kong history homeland mother // every flight & phone call a clumsy stutter towards family / across static corridors foraged words my lost mother // tongue calls out for discipline bows beneath its fledgling / Cantonese as to the heft of a grave"

from the first spring we planted perennials: "it felt like an undeserved miracle, that four hours / of fingers kneading earth could lead to a lifetime's / flowers, that each year a different brood of blooms // would crown gingerly through the snow-drowned / soil, a knew cacophony declaring arrival, cautiously"

[Kaila Walton · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don’t normally read poetry but recently I am trying to branch out a little bit from my preferred genres.

I am not queer, and not non binary but a lot of these poems were beautiful. About growing up not knowing who you are, grief from a parental death and death of a friend. Being someone born in a female body.

All very good. I am not sure I could read poetry often. It’s weird formatting that gets me but overall I enjoyed this book.

[Morgan · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you’re looking to read poetry and cry, this is the one for you. Or if you’re looking for poetry that’ll dig into queerness and loss, then this is also the one for you. Beautifully written and I’m looking forward to reading Jody Chan’s other works.

[Faloni © · Rating 5 out of 5]

Almost ready.. How do I look?

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

"which parts of you did you kill so you could be loved?"

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Will write a review soon, but after a second reading felt completed to change my rating from four to five stars.