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This I Can Tell You
This I Can Tell You walks in through the front door and looks under the sofa. It measures the length of the wall, taps to find the beams. It removes the hammer and the nails from the toolbox, places them in a line to find the difference. This is a poetic narrative that examines structures within a home. It navigates Spering’s muffled timeline due to the fragility of memory as a result of trauma and the secrecy maintained within a family, like a well-groomed dog.
cover design by Isalina Chow
Perennial-Press.com
cover design by Isalina Chow
Perennial-Press.com
Paperback
Published March 1, 2020
2 people are currently reading
24 people want to read
About the author
Brandi Spering
1 book10 followersBrandi Spering resides in South Philadelphia where she writes, sews, and paints. Favoring non-fiction and poetry above else, her writing tends to sway between both, carrying a little over each time. Spering's first book, This I Can Tell You, is available to order with Perennial Press (perennial-press.com). Other works can be found Schuylkill Valley Journal, Forum Magazine, Artblog, and more.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
January 19, 2021
This memoir is told through the hazy blend of prose and poetry, narration and confession. The story and it's presentation from the start are enticing and entangle you in the emotions, uncertainty and blurred recollection of a life and an experience affectionately remembered and tragically told. You feel as if you are traveling down an all too real memory lane, not just nostalgic but foggy as memories can be, yet still moving to a designated destination. "This I Can Tell You" is intimately incomplete, full in its honesty, and absolutely worth the read.
January 22, 2021
I began reading Brandi Spering’s This I can Tell You a bit suspiciously. I have not read a full book in longer than I would care to admit, and I wouldn’t consider myself well-versed (ha) on poetry, either. Thus, the prospect of poetic prose basically amounted to two words I understand separately, but not together. I think one of my main issues is fallout from what I call the “Rupi Kaur” effect; self-professed millennial artists writing unstructured free-form poetry where pithy sentence fragments reign supreme.
I was wrong. This I can Tell You is brilliant writing, and beautiful poetry. The book is highly auto biographical, crafting a sparse yet vivid narrative following Spering’s life growing up in a very close albeit complicated family in South Philadelphia. She populates these chapters with scenes drawn from her own (limited) memories as well as conversations with friends and family which reveal just how little you know when you are a child. White lies for the sake of the family eventually become secrets, resentments. Everything Spering shares with the reader feels intimate and highly specific to her and to her experience. Spering’s strong voice and hauntingly honest (and sometimes quite funny) prose makes this book a practical page-turner. Turning these pages inevitably brings you to the halfway mark when an unthinkable tragedy strikes Spering’s family.
In recounting the aftermath of this event, This I can Tell You is at its most emotional and most poetic, painting a portrait of grief that might be bitterly familiar. As survivors of trauma know well, memory is a fickle thing. Sometimes our instincts choose to forget for us, sometimes we are misled or simply misunderstand. Moments where her memory fail her are some of the moments where a poem will suddenly emerge at the end of a block of prose text. Or perhaps it will be a single line. But Spering isn’t simply changing her kerning and calling it poetry, these choices are deliberate. This is related to her style, in general, which is refreshingly non-obscure. Her writing style is clean and sparse and punchy. She does not rely on an expansive vocabulary or dramatic flowery obscurity to dress up her prose or her poetry. Do not mistake that to mean that her work is simple. I found myself going back through many sections, identifying stylistic touches like allusions to previous chapters or picking apart a line of poetry because I wanted to get a sense the full breadth of the emotion buried therein.
In musical theater, characters talk until words are insufficient to carry the emotional weight they are feeling, at which point, they sing. Spering does this with poetry, not only for moments of intense emotion, but also for moments that are two blurry to just “say,” instead they are “sung.” Spering is constantly reminding us that she is an unreliable narrator, which somehow makes me trust her more. It is difficult to think of this book as a memoir because that word makes me think of dramatized autobiographies made to sell books and glamorize tragedy. This I can Tell You is too honest for that, because it is by nature, incomplete. The title may seem a bit pithy, but it is really apt; this is what Spering can tell us. This is all she can do to explain to herself and to others what she struggles to understand or remember. It is a story that needed to be told, and I hope that having done so will allow Spering to move on to a new chapter of her life where she will continue to write, if we are lucky.
I was wrong. This I can Tell You is brilliant writing, and beautiful poetry. The book is highly auto biographical, crafting a sparse yet vivid narrative following Spering’s life growing up in a very close albeit complicated family in South Philadelphia. She populates these chapters with scenes drawn from her own (limited) memories as well as conversations with friends and family which reveal just how little you know when you are a child. White lies for the sake of the family eventually become secrets, resentments. Everything Spering shares with the reader feels intimate and highly specific to her and to her experience. Spering’s strong voice and hauntingly honest (and sometimes quite funny) prose makes this book a practical page-turner. Turning these pages inevitably brings you to the halfway mark when an unthinkable tragedy strikes Spering’s family.
In recounting the aftermath of this event, This I can Tell You is at its most emotional and most poetic, painting a portrait of grief that might be bitterly familiar. As survivors of trauma know well, memory is a fickle thing. Sometimes our instincts choose to forget for us, sometimes we are misled or simply misunderstand. Moments where her memory fail her are some of the moments where a poem will suddenly emerge at the end of a block of prose text. Or perhaps it will be a single line. But Spering isn’t simply changing her kerning and calling it poetry, these choices are deliberate. This is related to her style, in general, which is refreshingly non-obscure. Her writing style is clean and sparse and punchy. She does not rely on an expansive vocabulary or dramatic flowery obscurity to dress up her prose or her poetry. Do not mistake that to mean that her work is simple. I found myself going back through many sections, identifying stylistic touches like allusions to previous chapters or picking apart a line of poetry because I wanted to get a sense the full breadth of the emotion buried therein.
In musical theater, characters talk until words are insufficient to carry the emotional weight they are feeling, at which point, they sing. Spering does this with poetry, not only for moments of intense emotion, but also for moments that are two blurry to just “say,” instead they are “sung.” Spering is constantly reminding us that she is an unreliable narrator, which somehow makes me trust her more. It is difficult to think of this book as a memoir because that word makes me think of dramatized autobiographies made to sell books and glamorize tragedy. This I can Tell You is too honest for that, because it is by nature, incomplete. The title may seem a bit pithy, but it is really apt; this is what Spering can tell us. This is all she can do to explain to herself and to others what she struggles to understand or remember. It is a story that needed to be told, and I hope that having done so will allow Spering to move on to a new chapter of her life where she will continue to write, if we are lucky.
December 17, 2020
It’s been a while since I’ve read any poetry and I definitely feel like I’ve picked up the best book here to get me back into it! I say this is poetry, but it’s equally a memoir, focusing on the author’s fascinating story in such a powerful way. I’m so happy to be able to share my review for this unforgettable journey ahead of its release next year, a book I’ll be returning to again and again.
Spering combines poetry and memoir immaculately, and creates an unforgettable journey with a unique sense of elegance and poignancy. Even if you aren’t a huge fan of poetry, this book gives you the best of both worlds and takes you on an emotional ride you’ll be dying to experience again and again. I was completely blown away by the author’s talent and also her bravery for writing about something so tragic and something so close to home. I don’t think I’ll get over this one for a while! Beautifully written until the very end, I’ll be recommending this one far and wide. I feel so grateful to have experienced something so brilliant!
You can read my full review over on my blog: https://aquintillionwords.com/2020/12...
Spering combines poetry and memoir immaculately, and creates an unforgettable journey with a unique sense of elegance and poignancy. Even if you aren’t a huge fan of poetry, this book gives you the best of both worlds and takes you on an emotional ride you’ll be dying to experience again and again. I was completely blown away by the author’s talent and also her bravery for writing about something so tragic and something so close to home. I don’t think I’ll get over this one for a while! Beautifully written until the very end, I’ll be recommending this one far and wide. I feel so grateful to have experienced something so brilliant!
You can read my full review over on my blog: https://aquintillionwords.com/2020/12...
April 2, 2021
This I Can Tell You is a stunning work of examining childhood, the complexity of memory, and the echoing well of grief, painted jointly through prose and poetry. Brandi Spering invites us into her childhood home, which serves as the epicenter of the book, where we not only sit with her cross-legged on the floor as she explains the history of every room, but we are there with her as it’s built. Every new doorway, a forking branch on the family line, a thread in the placeholder of our hands as she does the work, “where I sew myself together.”
This is storytelling as I’ve missed it. It holds both honesty and enough mystery in either hand. Brandi highlights an integral truth, “the recalling of an event is the making of a memory.” It is clear that each point, each story snippet is thoughtfully paced, so that every event unfolds in its own graceful timing. A welcome factor is added as Brandi allows space to question herself and our reliance on memory, so we receive as genuine of a portrait as the writer can provide. This can be such a difficult recognition to make when memory acts as the conditional thread of a story, but Brandi does so with careful introspection. Reflective of the natural momentum in life of shifting phases, spanning genres, as does This I Can Tell You. It serves as a long glance in the mirror, a scrapbook, a letter of longing, a pointing to a bruise; a eulogy. In a beautiful construction of writing, Brandi offers an opportunity for the reader to be as active in this uncovering of a history as she writes it. It’s been a while since I have guessed the many outcomes of an ending only to be left at the end of a book, still feeling shock in my fingers.
This is storytelling as I’ve missed it. It holds both honesty and enough mystery in either hand. Brandi highlights an integral truth, “the recalling of an event is the making of a memory.” It is clear that each point, each story snippet is thoughtfully paced, so that every event unfolds in its own graceful timing. A welcome factor is added as Brandi allows space to question herself and our reliance on memory, so we receive as genuine of a portrait as the writer can provide. This can be such a difficult recognition to make when memory acts as the conditional thread of a story, but Brandi does so with careful introspection. Reflective of the natural momentum in life of shifting phases, spanning genres, as does This I Can Tell You. It serves as a long glance in the mirror, a scrapbook, a letter of longing, a pointing to a bruise; a eulogy. In a beautiful construction of writing, Brandi offers an opportunity for the reader to be as active in this uncovering of a history as she writes it. It’s been a while since I have guessed the many outcomes of an ending only to be left at the end of a book, still feeling shock in my fingers.
December 30, 2020
Brandi Spering’s chapbook “This I Can Tell You” paints like an abstract portrait of family; the fight for the impossible preservation of a child’s innocence, the same fight fought by the children for their parents, the unspoken stories of the past, the stories that won’t stay in the past, and stringing together one’s own identity through it all. Spering’s memories feel as real as sifting alongside her through the snapshots. They’re brief and striking in capturing the complex, almost taboo moments; a child sitting on an ironing board for who knows how long, playing with dolls in a car while mom is at work, mattress-sledding down the stairs. There is stark, pungent authenticity in Spering’s poetry as it unfolds with heart-aching cloudiness and honesty. It is a beautiful telling of how infallible and fragile the love of family is through incredible hardship.
January 10, 2021
Riveting and haunting, This I Can Tell You chronicles an intimate recollection of familial history, and a reconstruction of self in the aftermath of homicide. Part elegy, part memoir, part true crime story, this book surges from a house of mystery. The door opens, and with This I Can Tell You, Brandi Spering emerges as a writer who breaks form to find form that encapsulates the complexities of trauma and triumph. Through a series of fragmented recalls, Spering reveals the pulsating force memory has with narrative. Or as Spering says, ‘the recalling of an event is the making of a memory.’ She invites us all to revere resiliency marked by remembrance.
January 11, 2021
Brandi Spering weaves red string across a bulletin board of her own life in This I Can Tell You. With masterful objectivity and fragmented mimesis, the poet pieces together memories of family and trauma. I found myself entranced by Spering’s associations as each, often hybrid, poem wove in and out of home videos, fishing trips, hospital visits, murder, and loss. These poems ache and bend and yearn for a past where the truth came easier. The poet writes:“I tend to point my finger a lot in my stories but I’m trying to stray away from that”. Compassionate and unflinchingly authentic this poetic memoir will devour you whole.
December 1, 2020
Ok, so I didn't read the blurb here on Goodreads before I started reading this and I picked it up totally randomly so I didn't know what to expect. Of course you expect that anything when you start with a quote about the line between dreams and reality and you also expect that it's going to take a minute or two to get in and get situated. Much to my surprise, I found myself drawn immediately into the events of the story. Maybe it was the wealth of description, I tend to be a sucker for that. Yes, this story doesn't hand you things on a platter, and if you aren't used to it the layout might be intimidating, but I found the story absolutely inviting, and I really enjoyed going along for the ride. This is totally not the kind of stuff that I would pick up at the store and read, but now I want more. That's a pretty good sign, isn't it?
December 2, 2020
To be able to reach into the soul of your audience & evoke emotions is a powerful gift which this writer has! She allows you to glimpse into her life & see it through her mind. Her writing has an easy almost peaceful (despite certain events) flow to it which allows you to move gracefully through the story. She doesn't add too much fluff when creating she simply tells it as true to her as possible which I greatly appreciate!
October 14, 2025
A dynamic read which lures us in with the feeling, at times, as if we are viewing VHS tapes of a time past. It’s hard to put this book down once you’ve started it.
This I Can Tell You is a touching insight into tragedy and dysfunctional family dynamics. Spering’s telling of this memoir through poetic prose captures the intricacies, the sombre rhythm of grief and growth and attempting to understand the people around you through intentional line breaks and near empty pages. We are transported and immersed into pieced together, fragmented memories which, in their candour as subjective and real to a fault, haunt the reader long after the books completion. Weaving together a lifetime of moments, Spering draws you in and, without heavy prose or obscure poetic form, allows the reader to make what they will of the complex emotions and extraordinary tale which is her story so far.
An excellent read for lovers of poetry, prose, and stories that will stick with you for a long time to come.
This I Can Tell You is a touching insight into tragedy and dysfunctional family dynamics. Spering’s telling of this memoir through poetic prose captures the intricacies, the sombre rhythm of grief and growth and attempting to understand the people around you through intentional line breaks and near empty pages. We are transported and immersed into pieced together, fragmented memories which, in their candour as subjective and real to a fault, haunt the reader long after the books completion. Weaving together a lifetime of moments, Spering draws you in and, without heavy prose or obscure poetic form, allows the reader to make what they will of the complex emotions and extraordinary tale which is her story so far.
An excellent read for lovers of poetry, prose, and stories that will stick with you for a long time to come.
November 10, 2021
How unique a journey Brandi Spering has presented for the reader in This I Can Tell You, a fragmented investigation into memory that travels from childhood to early adulthood.
Perhaps poetry, perhaps prose, perhaps remembered, perhaps envisioned; This I Can Tell You builds a story much like a private detective gathering facts long after the case has gone cold. Each memory is scrabbled onto the page through irregular spacing and line breaks, symbolizing the disjointed and jarring pacing of the act of recollection. Memory isn’t linear, so contorting memory to become linear will corrupt and distort it, and This I can Tell You uses this distortion to create a world where the reader must work in tandem with the author to see the journey to the end.
While Brandi Spering lays out the memories of her life as an investigation – growing up in Philadelphia, examining the stretching of her parents’ relationship through the eyes of a child and the context of an adult – the explicit nature of what is being investigated and why it is important is purposefully withheld from the reader until late in the text. The reader is not a juror; the reader is a listener, a confidante, a kind stranger who the author invites along her deeply personal journey.
Brandi Spering’s journey, chronicled as an investigation, arrives at a point where (without revealing the author’s story) the subject matter mirrors the form. Investigation as form merges with investigation as subject matter, and the reader suddenly understands the purpose behind the chronicling of distorted, linear memory. This I Can Tell You is quite clever in this narrative construction; it causes the reader to recontextualize their memory of reading, distorting their own memories as the author has her own.
The last few chapters of This I Can Tell You distance themselves from the text’s linearity. Instead, they serve as meditations on faith and morals – questions the author has discovered and wishes to share with the reader. One poignant mediation reads, “how do we recall what’s real without destroying the realities of others”
I certainly am unsure. But the beauty of This I Can Tell You is that through going on this journey with the author, the reader is able to approach these questions of faith with memories that the author has used to arrive at these questions.
This I Can Tell You is a beautiful, intricate, and devastating examination of memories that the author has chosen to present. I am grateful for the chance to be present for the journey.
Perhaps poetry, perhaps prose, perhaps remembered, perhaps envisioned; This I Can Tell You builds a story much like a private detective gathering facts long after the case has gone cold. Each memory is scrabbled onto the page through irregular spacing and line breaks, symbolizing the disjointed and jarring pacing of the act of recollection. Memory isn’t linear, so contorting memory to become linear will corrupt and distort it, and This I can Tell You uses this distortion to create a world where the reader must work in tandem with the author to see the journey to the end.
While Brandi Spering lays out the memories of her life as an investigation – growing up in Philadelphia, examining the stretching of her parents’ relationship through the eyes of a child and the context of an adult – the explicit nature of what is being investigated and why it is important is purposefully withheld from the reader until late in the text. The reader is not a juror; the reader is a listener, a confidante, a kind stranger who the author invites along her deeply personal journey.
Brandi Spering’s journey, chronicled as an investigation, arrives at a point where (without revealing the author’s story) the subject matter mirrors the form. Investigation as form merges with investigation as subject matter, and the reader suddenly understands the purpose behind the chronicling of distorted, linear memory. This I Can Tell You is quite clever in this narrative construction; it causes the reader to recontextualize their memory of reading, distorting their own memories as the author has her own.
The last few chapters of This I Can Tell You distance themselves from the text’s linearity. Instead, they serve as meditations on faith and morals – questions the author has discovered and wishes to share with the reader. One poignant mediation reads, “how do we recall what’s real without destroying the realities of others”
I certainly am unsure. But the beauty of This I Can Tell You is that through going on this journey with the author, the reader is able to approach these questions of faith with memories that the author has used to arrive at these questions.
This I Can Tell You is a beautiful, intricate, and devastating examination of memories that the author has chosen to present. I am grateful for the chance to be present for the journey.
May 15, 2021
"So which birthday was it that I hung my head through the window like a decoration? I don't think it was on a whim; I think I was expecting him. Dad double parked across the street. I'm picturing his limp, but I don't know if I remember him enough before the accident. He crossed the street and slid a card through the mailbox of our door. I watched him come and go, popping my head in and out of the curtains. "~pg.54
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Thoughts ~
This I Can Tell You is an intimate and compelling memoir. Told in beautifully blended and fragmented poetry and prose. I was captivated by Spering's words. How she weaves us through her childhood in a troubled family, the confusion of a growing up without being told the whole story at times was expressed so honestly. When she speaks of her father and their relationship these were the most gutting parts for me. I loved her use of language, how she intentional used poetry at specific times, it was so appropriate and perfectly placed. A quick read but not one I will forget anytime soon. Definitely reccomend to all my fellow poetry and memoir lovers out there. Thanks @perennial_press for sending me this one opinions are my own.
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For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
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🌿
Thoughts ~
This I Can Tell You is an intimate and compelling memoir. Told in beautifully blended and fragmented poetry and prose. I was captivated by Spering's words. How she weaves us through her childhood in a troubled family, the confusion of a growing up without being told the whole story at times was expressed so honestly. When she speaks of her father and their relationship these were the most gutting parts for me. I loved her use of language, how she intentional used poetry at specific times, it was so appropriate and perfectly placed. A quick read but not one I will forget anytime soon. Definitely reccomend to all my fellow poetry and memoir lovers out there. Thanks @perennial_press for sending me this one opinions are my own.
•
For more of my book content check out instagram.com/bookalong
May 22, 2021
AD // gifted • digital copy gifted to me by publisher.
this book was unlike any book i have ever read. to quote the About the Author section, “her writing tends to sway between [poetry and nonfiction]”. the experimental nature of the book made it so some sections felt like a cross between poetry and prose, and others felt like pure poetry. overall, i really enjoyed reading it, and would definitely pick it up again.
this book was unlike any book i have ever read. to quote the About the Author section, “her writing tends to sway between [poetry and nonfiction]”. the experimental nature of the book made it so some sections felt like a cross between poetry and prose, and others felt like pure poetry. overall, i really enjoyed reading it, and would definitely pick it up again.
August 17, 2021
Read this to review it for a work-ish-related project. Did not expect to enjoy it as much as I did.
Spering's prose and poetry are so wonderful. It is a great memoir that outlines family and household issues like separation and divorce. It also brings up family relationships, specifically between a father and daughter, and how those relationships are changed based on unfortunate circumstances.
Really good.
Spering's prose and poetry are so wonderful. It is a great memoir that outlines family and household issues like separation and divorce. It also brings up family relationships, specifically between a father and daughter, and how those relationships are changed based on unfortunate circumstances.
Really good.
January 12, 2022
Really enjoyed this book - not my usual genre, but I really enjoyed the spaces and pauses of the book which discusses, growing up, growing through a divorce, family, pain and grief, overcoming grief, and minor bits of true crime. Excellent.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews