Boyish: Poems

by Brody Parrish Craig

The poems in Boyish reveal a reconciliation of southern and queer identities, following the poet from a Louisiana Baptist upbringing into transgender liberation. With a sense of rebellion and the revival of the hollered voice, this is an urgent narrative propelled by the necessity of upheaval, imagining what happens when we break through barriers of systemic violence and communal oppression to reconsider what could be. Boyish looks back at the status quo in order to move beyond, into a dream of a nonbinary utopia. A reckoning, this collection brings the reader along for revolution—a deep belief in possibility.

Each page builds tension that then shatters, bringing us into the interior of a story. Brody Parrish Craig invites us to carve out a space and to find ourselves carried over the gravel along the creek. Moving through the subconscious and embodied desire, these poems are rich with formal play, twisting language in dense sonnets. Landscapes of the city’s dystopia meet the queer pastoral, where conservation often means knowing what must be burned down.

Genres: Poetry

48 pages, Paperback

Published May 1, 2021

Reviews

[Ashur]

I FOUND IT! I lost (and paid for) this book in...December? January? I knew it was in my house, just not where, but it has been FOUND and this is a weight off of my chest.

Having FOUND IT, I read it. The best way I can describe this collection is that it reminds me a bit of lyrics by Beck, but filtered there through the lens of God-hauntedness (to wildly loosely paraphrase F. O'Connor) that one may experience when raised to be a Christian in the U.S. South and having marinated in that environment.

I laughed at several points because I recognized parts of my own childhood (Craig is also Louisianan). I should re-read it because I think there are technical and artistic things going on here that I feel I would appreciate more when read in a more thoughtful manner, paying closer attention to what the poet is doing.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of poetry as a form; I will return to this collection when I've become better-versed in analytical poetry appreciation.

[Sam Beal · Rating 4 out of 5]

At times it meandered a bit too much for my taste, but the rhythm and sound of this collection was delightful, even in the face of challenging topics. This is definitely a collection I’d recommend reading aloud—these poems have earned the right to be spoken.

[Emily Pérez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Boyish by Brody Parrish Craig rollicks, revels, and reveals; its pages are awash in the pleasure of wit and wordplay. Craig’s debut chapbook is a coming-of-age story whose queer protagonist—“born from the hick in hickory the switch & baited mirror”—grafts their Southern, religious upbringing with an immutable sense of self.

Craig upends the narrative in which the church is a site of queer suffering. By mapping queer experience onto the lexicon and rituals of Christianity, Craig creates a kind of religious syncretism. “Closet Music,” describes a group of youths learning an alternate religion at church. Opening in loosely iambic quatrains, the piece uses rhymes to tie the lines together. “Who pulled the devil’s music out my closet / note by note by note. who held a hymnal / to my throat.” While at first, the church feels vaguely threatening—hymnal like a knife to the throat—it becomes a place the speaker and friends learn the songs of Madonna and Bikini Kill.

Read more at RHINO: https://rhinopoetry.org/reviews/boyis...

[willowdog · Rating 3 out of 5]

Poems trancing the youth growing up gay in the South and dealing with the oppression of family, the church, the community. The breaking through these barriers is hard fought. The poems work much better spoken.

[Queer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Is that Hank Williams in the distance? Did you drive right through your memories?

[Courtney LeBlanc · Rating 4 out of 5]

A chapbook of poems about identity, religion, sexuality, being queer, and finding yourself.

from Every Grrrl has a Verion of Hir Ward-Robe: "My hobby: dress I kill & later tell it sorry, / sorry, sorry, sorry this my neckline con- / fessional why don't you scoop out every / inch of fabric of my being"

from Untrimmed Sonnet w Excess Sugar: "Another verse we reckon'd no one'd sing—/ we'd leave unseen—& then we burnt the sugar / or scalded milk, we locked somthin' inside / the oven—If I scraped the black bits off // my heart for presentation, Lord forgive me for / not knowing what's too hot to taste to touch"