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The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands: Poems
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Poetry (2011)New poetry by the acclaimed writer Nick Flynn, author of Another Bullshit Night in Suck City and The Ticking Is the Bomb
electrocution, no—the boy stood in the hot-hot room
stammering I did stammering I did stammering I
did stammering I did stammering everything you say I did
I did.
—from “Fire”
The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands is Nick Flynn’s first new poetry collection in nearly a decade. What begins as a meditation on love and the body soon breaks down into a collage of voices culled from media reports, childhood memories, testimonies from Abu Ghraib detainees, passages from documentary films, overheard conversations, and scraps of poems and song, only to reassemble with a gathering sonic force. It’s as if all the noise that fills our days were a storm, yet at the center is a quiet place, but to get there you must first pass through the storm, with eyes wide open, singing. Each poem becomes a hallucinatory, shifting experience, through jump cut, lyric persuasion, and deadpan utterance. This is an emotional, resilient response to some of the essential issues of our day by one of America’s riskiest and most innovative writers.
electrocution, no—the boy stood in the hot-hot room
stammering I did stammering I did stammering I
did stammering I did stammering everything you say I did
I did.
—from “Fire”
The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands is Nick Flynn’s first new poetry collection in nearly a decade. What begins as a meditation on love and the body soon breaks down into a collage of voices culled from media reports, childhood memories, testimonies from Abu Ghraib detainees, passages from documentary films, overheard conversations, and scraps of poems and song, only to reassemble with a gathering sonic force. It’s as if all the noise that fills our days were a storm, yet at the center is a quiet place, but to get there you must first pass through the storm, with eyes wide open, singing. Each poem becomes a hallucinatory, shifting experience, through jump cut, lyric persuasion, and deadpan utterance. This is an emotional, resilient response to some of the essential issues of our day by one of America’s riskiest and most innovative writers.
- GenresPoetry21st Century
80 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 2011
11 people are currently reading
435 people want to read
About the author
Nick Flynn
53 books386 followersNick Flynn is an American writer, playwright, and poet.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 59 reviews
February 17, 2011
Nick Flynn is now one more author I used to enjoy.
I could say my malaise began with 2002’s Blind Huber, where the only bad poems were the ones about bees (and they were all about bees), but with enjoying his first poetry collection, Some Ether, so much, and Another Bullshit Night in Suck City still being the best memoir I ever read, I merely considered it a miss in the middle. Now that his 2010 memoir, The Ticking is the Bomb, and this latest poetry collection, The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, have come and gone, I wish I’d stepped out on Flynn years ago.
I expected some rehash with The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands. Flynn often repeats himself in both his poetry and memoirs—his early work focusing on his mother’s suicide and meeting his estranged father at a Boston homeless shelter, his later works on torture at Abu Ghraib—but it’s worse than rehash now. It’s repeating the same mistakes. Where the poetry of Some Ether was relatable despite being so personal, the work in The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands isn’t just missing parts, it’s the type of unrelatable where you assume the poet knows what he’s talking about, but you sure don’t. There’s a series of longer poems addressing a capt’n (addressing what I assume is Flynn’s view on the military), but all of them fall flat.
What’s worse is that with the notes in the back, you can specifically see the way Flynn missed the mark. In “seven testimonies (redacted)” Flynn comments on seven testimonies of torture from Abu Ghraib. The poem is decent, but when you flick to the notes and read these powerful one-paragraph testimonies (sadly, the best thing in this collection), you see not just what Flynn missed, but what impact he nullified with his alterations. He spends the rest of the collection butchering other works or touting (soon to be dated) hipster lines (though I’d still cite “self-exam [my body is a cage]” as the pick of the collection). I could sit here and debate which collection is worse—Blind Huber or The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands—but either way, I’m done with Nick Flynn. One (very disgruntled) star.
I could say my malaise began with 2002’s Blind Huber, where the only bad poems were the ones about bees (and they were all about bees), but with enjoying his first poetry collection, Some Ether, so much, and Another Bullshit Night in Suck City still being the best memoir I ever read, I merely considered it a miss in the middle. Now that his 2010 memoir, The Ticking is the Bomb, and this latest poetry collection, The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, have come and gone, I wish I’d stepped out on Flynn years ago.
I expected some rehash with The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands. Flynn often repeats himself in both his poetry and memoirs—his early work focusing on his mother’s suicide and meeting his estranged father at a Boston homeless shelter, his later works on torture at Abu Ghraib—but it’s worse than rehash now. It’s repeating the same mistakes. Where the poetry of Some Ether was relatable despite being so personal, the work in The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands isn’t just missing parts, it’s the type of unrelatable where you assume the poet knows what he’s talking about, but you sure don’t. There’s a series of longer poems addressing a capt’n (addressing what I assume is Flynn’s view on the military), but all of them fall flat.
What’s worse is that with the notes in the back, you can specifically see the way Flynn missed the mark. In “seven testimonies (redacted)” Flynn comments on seven testimonies of torture from Abu Ghraib. The poem is decent, but when you flick to the notes and read these powerful one-paragraph testimonies (sadly, the best thing in this collection), you see not just what Flynn missed, but what impact he nullified with his alterations. He spends the rest of the collection butchering other works or touting (soon to be dated) hipster lines (though I’d still cite “self-exam [my body is a cage]” as the pick of the collection). I could sit here and debate which collection is worse—Blind Huber or The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands—but either way, I’m done with Nick Flynn. One (very disgruntled) star.
May 26, 2011
There are maybe ten really strong poems in this book. The rest are fragments, riffs and echoes around the central topic of torture, specifically the U.S. torture of detainees in Abu Ghraib. I commend Flynn for taking on this timely, difficult project, and I was intrigued by Flynn's lyric poetic approach to it, but ultimately, this collection doesn't do it justice. In fact, the playful musicality, elliptical rhetoric and dense repetition of these poems seem at times to undercut or diffuse the brutal reality. The most powerful language in the book is in the "Notes" section, where Flynn has included the actual transcribed testimonies of seven Abu Ghraib detainees. Makes me wonder about the purpose of political lyric poetry, at least as Flynn practices it here-- when the primary documents are so powerful, what is the role of the poet, exactly?
March 5, 2011
after spending time in turkey interviewing former abu ghraib detainees, it is clear the experiences there have had a profound and lasting effect not only on nick flynn himself but also upon his writing. as was the case in his most recent memoir, the ticking is the bomb, his new collection of poetry, the captain asks for a show of hands, is predominantly informed by the subject of torture. flynn's poems, both engrossing and affecting, are possessed by a determined candor. a rhythmic devotion to the consideration and confrontation of dark truths compels the reader ever deeper.
the captain asks for a show of hands contains nearly two dozen poems organized into three parts. the collection, however, seems to work best as a whole, with each poem adding to the inertia of the others. that flynn musters the courage to continue on in his exploration of torture, as well as its implications beyond the individual, demonstrates a concern for morality absent in the works of many (most?) of his contemporaries. while writers and poets from other countries have long contemplated this abhorrent practice (as both the tortured and the torturer), few americans have sought to brave the subject, let alone denounce it. whether one cares for the cadence and style of flynn's poems or not, the fortitude it took to craft so unflinching a collection as this one should be readily apparent.
if I understand the memo right, capt'n, we can use
water, but we cannot use earth- that is,
we can simulate drowning, but not
burial- is that right, sir,
capt'n? I've read
the memos & I want to do
what's right
(excerpt from "earth")
the captain asks for a show of hands contains nearly two dozen poems organized into three parts. the collection, however, seems to work best as a whole, with each poem adding to the inertia of the others. that flynn musters the courage to continue on in his exploration of torture, as well as its implications beyond the individual, demonstrates a concern for morality absent in the works of many (most?) of his contemporaries. while writers and poets from other countries have long contemplated this abhorrent practice (as both the tortured and the torturer), few americans have sought to brave the subject, let alone denounce it. whether one cares for the cadence and style of flynn's poems or not, the fortitude it took to craft so unflinching a collection as this one should be readily apparent.
if I understand the memo right, capt'n, we can use
water, but we cannot use earth- that is,
we can simulate drowning, but not
burial- is that right, sir,
capt'n? I've read
the memos & I want to do
what's right
(excerpt from "earth")
November 7, 2013
There were poems I liked.
Imagination
Jesus Knew
Water
Foretting Something
Pulse (Hidden Bird)
I thought that "Fire" & "Air" would be more powerful if they were heard as opposed to being silently read. I could picture a performance art piece with many voices reciting these lines at once.
If it wasn't for the fact that the actual redacted testimonies of Abu Ghraib detanees wasn't included in the notes section I would not understand what "Seven Testimonies" were about. The testimonies themselves held much more power for me than the poems.
Imagination
Jesus Knew
Water
Foretting Something
Pulse (Hidden Bird)
I thought that "Fire" & "Air" would be more powerful if they were heard as opposed to being silently read. I could picture a performance art piece with many voices reciting these lines at once.
If it wasn't for the fact that the actual redacted testimonies of Abu Ghraib detanees wasn't included in the notes section I would not understand what "Seven Testimonies" were about. The testimonies themselves held much more power for me than the poems.
February 15, 2011
Nick Flynn’s awkward and mercifully brief new foray into poetry, The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, worried me from the start. The second poem, “fire”, begins, “more the idea of the flame than the flame / as in: the flame / of the rose petal, the flame of the thorn / the sun is a flame” and proceeds in that manner for a dozen more pages. Not content only to copy Gertrude Stein’s nonsense, Flynn also creates an unflattering homage to Galway Kinnell’s masterful “The Dead Shall be Raised Incorruptible” from The Book of Nightmares, stretching out that poet’s shuddering “Lieutenant! / This corpse will not stop burning!” into pages of meaningless psychoanalysis of an Iraq War soldier ordered to torture captured terror suspects.
one drunk night, even now I
wonder-sometimes still I
imagine-was I hit am I
daze, this
dream this confession, hey
little girl is your daddy home, hey capt’n hey
sir am I making any sense?
No. Although I suppose passages like these make too much sense as obvious attempts to illustrate the obvious horror of doing obviously horrible things. But on a universal scale, Flynn’s belief that his caffeinated rant gives us new perspective on these crimes makes no sense at all. Reading this book left me feeling guilty by default, as though I went to an open-mic poetry slam and watched a very bad rapper read a few verses about his tough childhood. How any of the five respected poets whose complimentary blurbs grace the book’s jacket fell for this nonsense, I do not know; I’m afraid I’ve permanently lost a little respect for Franz Wright for comparing The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands to Neruda, Whitman, and Yeats.
When lyrics to Modest Mouse’s “Float On” started showing up at the end of multiple poems, Flynn’s writing process becomes glaringly evident: get very stoned, put on some indie rock, and just write the words you feel, man. Perhaps the book should come shrinkwrapped with a mix CD and a dime bag, then you would at least be getting something for your money.
Although I could go through and find several dozen examples of nonsense to shake my head at, I want to share with you the most arrogant verses of the book, which also happen to be one of its most concrete images:
the tower towers above us
now, we can see it
from wherever it gives the impression
we will never get lost
Flynn has confidence: the strong tower one can never lose sight of. But that confidence is misplaced in a meaningless gesture. Only the person dreaming of this tower could actually be moved by it. Note that Flynn only gives one word that describes the tower: “towers,” the verb. Like so much of this book, the image is a closed loop, hoping to hide its pretension. Flynn is so set on congratulating himself for thinking of such a great idea that he believes it needs no praise beyond its existence. When a small child makes a totally indecipherable shape out of Play-doh, we praise him or her for their creativity, but only so the child is encouraged to continue. At his age, I’m wary about giving Flynn more of that type of ego-building.
As I said, Flynn attempts to justify all this angst by linking it to the Iraq War and, more specifically, the detainee abuse at Abu Ghraib prison. In “seven testimonies (redacted)”, he takes some very moving prisoner testimonials and transforms them to dull sense-poetry through a pointless dada exercise. Helpfully for the critic, the original passages are printed in the back of the book. “The broomstick was metal. I was hit in the face, back, legs at Abu Ghraib,” becomes, in Flynn’s translation, “broomstick was I was / you are we want—”. But why? Why torture us (gruesome pun intended) with the senseless beating of real horror into art school refuse? It comes across as an insult to those who suffered at our military’s hands, suggesting that we can’t see the real meaning of their words until some MFA student wins a prize with them.
Flynn is rightfully angered by the crimes committed at Abu Ghraib, but he has nothing new to say about them. His poetry lacks the intellectual might required to make any persuasive arguments. While reading The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, I was reminiscing about one of the most sophisticated works of art examining the Iraq War, the play “Stuff Happens,” a brilliant take on the subtle and viral fears that allow the creation of a place like Abu Ghraib. In a scene in the second act, George Bush’s advisors are debating what concessions they need to make to Tony Blair to entice England to join the war when Dick Cheney violently interrupts them, hissing, “We don’t need him!” We may be able to round up some polite applause for Nick Flynn’s puppy-dog political poetry, but we definitely don’t need it.
one drunk night, even now I
wonder-sometimes still I
imagine-was I hit am I
daze, this
dream this confession, hey
little girl is your daddy home, hey capt’n hey
sir am I making any sense?
No. Although I suppose passages like these make too much sense as obvious attempts to illustrate the obvious horror of doing obviously horrible things. But on a universal scale, Flynn’s belief that his caffeinated rant gives us new perspective on these crimes makes no sense at all. Reading this book left me feeling guilty by default, as though I went to an open-mic poetry slam and watched a very bad rapper read a few verses about his tough childhood. How any of the five respected poets whose complimentary blurbs grace the book’s jacket fell for this nonsense, I do not know; I’m afraid I’ve permanently lost a little respect for Franz Wright for comparing The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands to Neruda, Whitman, and Yeats.
When lyrics to Modest Mouse’s “Float On” started showing up at the end of multiple poems, Flynn’s writing process becomes glaringly evident: get very stoned, put on some indie rock, and just write the words you feel, man. Perhaps the book should come shrinkwrapped with a mix CD and a dime bag, then you would at least be getting something for your money.
Although I could go through and find several dozen examples of nonsense to shake my head at, I want to share with you the most arrogant verses of the book, which also happen to be one of its most concrete images:
the tower towers above us
now, we can see it
from wherever it gives the impression
we will never get lost
Flynn has confidence: the strong tower one can never lose sight of. But that confidence is misplaced in a meaningless gesture. Only the person dreaming of this tower could actually be moved by it. Note that Flynn only gives one word that describes the tower: “towers,” the verb. Like so much of this book, the image is a closed loop, hoping to hide its pretension. Flynn is so set on congratulating himself for thinking of such a great idea that he believes it needs no praise beyond its existence. When a small child makes a totally indecipherable shape out of Play-doh, we praise him or her for their creativity, but only so the child is encouraged to continue. At his age, I’m wary about giving Flynn more of that type of ego-building.
As I said, Flynn attempts to justify all this angst by linking it to the Iraq War and, more specifically, the detainee abuse at Abu Ghraib prison. In “seven testimonies (redacted)”, he takes some very moving prisoner testimonials and transforms them to dull sense-poetry through a pointless dada exercise. Helpfully for the critic, the original passages are printed in the back of the book. “The broomstick was metal. I was hit in the face, back, legs at Abu Ghraib,” becomes, in Flynn’s translation, “broomstick was I was / you are we want—”. But why? Why torture us (gruesome pun intended) with the senseless beating of real horror into art school refuse? It comes across as an insult to those who suffered at our military’s hands, suggesting that we can’t see the real meaning of their words until some MFA student wins a prize with them.
Flynn is rightfully angered by the crimes committed at Abu Ghraib, but he has nothing new to say about them. His poetry lacks the intellectual might required to make any persuasive arguments. While reading The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, I was reminiscing about one of the most sophisticated works of art examining the Iraq War, the play “Stuff Happens,” a brilliant take on the subtle and viral fears that allow the creation of a place like Abu Ghraib. In a scene in the second act, George Bush’s advisors are debating what concessions they need to make to Tony Blair to entice England to join the war when Dick Cheney violently interrupts them, hissing, “We don’t need him!” We may be able to round up some polite applause for Nick Flynn’s puppy-dog political poetry, but we definitely don’t need it.
December 12, 2019
A series of poems by Nick Flynn, used as satire/political poetry against the use and abuse of detainees at Abu Ghraib.
I want to like this more than it should. The writing is just.... not good... not my style... hard to follow.. uninteresting... just a lot of things wrong with it. Granted, I'm not the most poetic and understanding of poetry person there is.... but still.
A lot of this is just bad, and the end notes don't inspire much other than the sympathy for the detainees. The end notes actually makes me feel more for the detainees than the poems themselves, and thats mainly because of the seven testimonies.
Also, on the end notes, I'm not a fan of 'cribbing' from one writer to the next, especially when you can't even definitively say where you cribbed it from. He says for the one poem the one line came from some poem that he can't remember where... ...if you can't even remember what you are using or how.... its probably best not to use it.
Another poem, he uses a one-line poem in its entirety for one of his lines.
Maybe thats done more than I know of in the poetry world, and maybe its just a pet-peeve of mine, but it just seems like bad form.
I want to like this more than it should. The writing is just.... not good... not my style... hard to follow.. uninteresting... just a lot of things wrong with it. Granted, I'm not the most poetic and understanding of poetry person there is.... but still.
A lot of this is just bad, and the end notes don't inspire much other than the sympathy for the detainees. The end notes actually makes me feel more for the detainees than the poems themselves, and thats mainly because of the seven testimonies.
Also, on the end notes, I'm not a fan of 'cribbing' from one writer to the next, especially when you can't even definitively say where you cribbed it from. He says for the one poem the one line came from some poem that he can't remember where... ...if you can't even remember what you are using or how.... its probably best not to use it.
Another poem, he uses a one-line poem in its entirety for one of his lines.
Maybe thats done more than I know of in the poetry world, and maybe its just a pet-peeve of mine, but it just seems like bad form.
June 13, 2021
I have read two of Nick's memoirs (THE TICKING... and ANOTHER SHIT NIGHT...) and the poetry collection I WILL DESTROY YOU all of which I enjoyed immensely. This one is not at all enjoyable. I don't think that it's just not my taste, I think it's actually not good writing. His poems in response to testimonials from abused detainees at Abu Ghraib are terrible in comparison to the actual stories that were told. Was there a point to writing minimalist poetry about each one and losing all the powerfulness of the words in their original form (which can be found in the "notes" section at the back of the book)? WTF were the multiple page after page "capt'n" poems? I read the whole thing in one sitting to get it over with, and then found myself reading through notes with hope for an explanation, but found it made the poems seem even more incomplete, sloppy, and poorly executed.
July 18, 2012
Takes on a whole new meaning if you read all reference to Captain or capt'n as referring to Captain Crunch.
August 19, 2025
“…i knew it would explode, somehow i knew, i’m / trying to be clear, sir— the flame / shot across the room, then it was gone.”
okay first of all let me acknowledge the first time i read this was probably ten years ago and i was 13 so my love is affected by space and time.
i really did not understand this collection at all the first time i read it because i was off put and didn’t read the end note that explains the incredibly, incredibly important context of this collection— and i think that’s it’s greatest limitation, that flynn’s poetic vagueness makes it so hard to follow. i think this could be greatly benefitted by a foreword in reprints, maybe even just a cut from “the ticking is the bomb,” to prep you for what’s incoming.
in any case, i’m still very fond of course, and i think the topic here is important. fire is an all time personal favorite <3
okay first of all let me acknowledge the first time i read this was probably ten years ago and i was 13 so my love is affected by space and time.
i really did not understand this collection at all the first time i read it because i was off put and didn’t read the end note that explains the incredibly, incredibly important context of this collection— and i think that’s it’s greatest limitation, that flynn’s poetic vagueness makes it so hard to follow. i think this could be greatly benefitted by a foreword in reprints, maybe even just a cut from “the ticking is the bomb,” to prep you for what’s incoming.
in any case, i’m still very fond of course, and i think the topic here is important. fire is an all time personal favorite <3
August 3, 2017
Nick Flynn's creative illustration may leave you feeling a little reluctant to persist on. It's not until the end in which you find the "Some Notes", where you begin to connect the dots. So you reread; although I reread reluctantly. The sparse couplet-esque format and sea-massive spacious line break made me feel a little empty. I didn't think it was captivating, as I assume it wasn't meant to captivate because the writing wasn't captivating. Without the Notes section in the book, I would be lost, dumbfounded in loose association and sparse metaphors. It's not my style but it won't stop me from reading his other work. Even the strongest piece which is the seven testimonies, redacted versions of seven Abu Ghraib, could have been done better...
Back to the library with this one.
Back to the library with this one.
October 25, 2018
As I read The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands by Nick Flynn, the word esoteric kept rising to the surface of my thoughts. Flynn's poems have a feel of peeking inside a world I'm unfamiliar with, maybe even a world I don't want to see but need to. There were moments I felt like the experiences Flynn shared in these poems lived outside a reality I could understand yet I felt compelled to keep reading, to explore the words, to see where each poem was going. The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands left me wanting to both raise my hands and sit on them to keep from raising them.
January 12, 2019
Unfortunately, I'll remember this book most by the seven, full testimonies in the notes section and how much more affecting they were than the "redacted" versions in the main body text.
I liked the elemental poems ("earth," "fire," "water," "air") more upon rereading. Interesting ideas in the book, with something to be desired in the execution.
I liked the elemental poems ("earth," "fire," "water," "air") more upon rereading. Interesting ideas in the book, with something to be desired in the execution.
February 4, 2022
The value of any type of literature is purely subjective, and poetry illustrates that principle most of all. I don't know exactly what it is that I like about Nick Flynn's prose, but it makes me feel, something , and it is clear that he writes from a place of pain and perspective, and that the emotionality in his work always rings true.
March 16, 2020
It's misleading that I have this in the school shelf bc the reality is I read a few bits of it for school like 5 months ago but u know what! I'm catching up on reading now since I got nothing else to do!!
October 21, 2017
3.5 stars. i wish I understood this book more than I do, because I really like nick flynn. it just seems like there's a lot going on in the book that isn't grounded, so it's a bit hard to decipher.
July 18, 2018
Like watching clips of gross and tragic YouTube videos while intoxicated, this collection of poems deals with difficult themes and is granted the urgency they deserve.
July 24, 2018
Some good stuff here - I've never read Flynn; always meant to check out his memoirs, but started here. Good place to start it turns out...
October 5, 2019
Not my favorite Flynn but still worthy of five yellow stars
March 10, 2021
I loved the cover of this book. The poems themselves, less so.
June 19, 2022
real good
February 3, 2025
One of the worst books I've read last year and one of the worst poetry collections I've ever read to date.
The only elements of this volume that I liked were the title, front cover, and blurb on the back cover.
The majority of the poems were forgettable at best and random at worst. Some even made me think I couldn't comprehend the English language. And it's not even because of the often dense or obscure aspects of poetry that, when executed well, hits hard.
At first, I thought I just wasn't smart enough to understand them, fair point. I would've believed and accepted this if not for the fact that I switched to a magical realism short story collection and its words flowed perfectly fine in my head despite it being incredibly strange. Conclusion: it's not a me problem.
I disliked this even more when I got to the notes section at the end which provided context for the poems. Without those notes, the pieces can't stand alone; with them, it emphasized the feeling that the poems were, sorry for the lack of a better term, pointless.
The only elements of this volume that I liked were the title, front cover, and blurb on the back cover.
The majority of the poems were forgettable at best and random at worst. Some even made me think I couldn't comprehend the English language. And it's not even because of the often dense or obscure aspects of poetry that, when executed well, hits hard.
At first, I thought I just wasn't smart enough to understand them, fair point. I would've believed and accepted this if not for the fact that I switched to a magical realism short story collection and its words flowed perfectly fine in my head despite it being incredibly strange. Conclusion: it's not a me problem.
I disliked this even more when I got to the notes section at the end which provided context for the poems. Without those notes, the pieces can't stand alone; with them, it emphasized the feeling that the poems were, sorry for the lack of a better term, pointless.
April 11, 2012
The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands is an underwhelming and surprisingly harmless response to the American war in Iraq and the Abu Gharib prison scandal. Filled with references to pop songs and lines lifted from other poets, Nick Flynn’s second collection of poems suggests that he isn’t confident enough to stand on his own work and feels like he has to bolster his image by associating himself with other successful artists, almost like a teenager attempting to gain credibility by getting a trendy tattoo or “liking” a certain band on facebook. It’s difficult for others to take you seriously if you define yourself by things made by other people.
The critical part of this collection is a series of poems Flynn created by “redacting” several testimonies given by inmates at the infamous Abu Gharib prison (the full testimonies are included in the notes for The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands). It is interesting how removing a few words can completely destroy the original message of the testimony, but because of their very nature and the intent of the author, these redacted poems cannot stand on their own, but each must be read alongside the original testimony for the message to come across. This exercise would have been more effective as a work of nonfiction on the American cover up of the Iraqi prisoner abuse scandal, or maybe even a broader topic such as censorship and denial during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (and I assume Flynn would have enough material for a full work of nonfiction, as he had traveled to Turkey to meet the former Abu Gharib inmates whose testimonies are used in this collection). As they are, the poems don’t adequately explore the concept of censorship, and they don’t add anything to the testimonies of the inmates.
Even so, these poems form the most powerful and immediate section of the entire book. I almost feel like all of the poems were somehow redacted and they would make more sense, or at least carry more weight, if I was allowed to read the original versions.
I’m still somewhat at a loss for what Flynn intended for The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, but whatever it was, it didn’t leave too much of an impact with me.
The critical part of this collection is a series of poems Flynn created by “redacting” several testimonies given by inmates at the infamous Abu Gharib prison (the full testimonies are included in the notes for The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands). It is interesting how removing a few words can completely destroy the original message of the testimony, but because of their very nature and the intent of the author, these redacted poems cannot stand on their own, but each must be read alongside the original testimony for the message to come across. This exercise would have been more effective as a work of nonfiction on the American cover up of the Iraqi prisoner abuse scandal, or maybe even a broader topic such as censorship and denial during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (and I assume Flynn would have enough material for a full work of nonfiction, as he had traveled to Turkey to meet the former Abu Gharib inmates whose testimonies are used in this collection). As they are, the poems don’t adequately explore the concept of censorship, and they don’t add anything to the testimonies of the inmates.
Even so, these poems form the most powerful and immediate section of the entire book. I almost feel like all of the poems were somehow redacted and they would make more sense, or at least carry more weight, if I was allowed to read the original versions.
I’m still somewhat at a loss for what Flynn intended for The Captain Asks for a Show of Hands, but whatever it was, it didn’t leave too much of an impact with me.
March 17, 2011
The poem Jesus Knew is my favorite. It breaks my heart (open) every time I read it. The thing is, the breaking is over something different with each reading. How does that happen? How does he manage that?
The words on the page remain the same, obediently anchored to their assigned seats. And yet, not. Because every time I visit this poem the words somehow morph and shift, lift off the stage of ivory paper, quick-change their costumes and voices, dance and contort like some kind of Cirque du Soleil magic and athleticism is at work.
Perhaps, in this particular poem, anyway, it might have something to do with the dynamic element brought by those jump-cut spacings. But, in truth, much of Nick Flynn's writing - poetry and prose - is gifted with similar alchemy. Jesus Knew is just, for me, the brightest, most stunning example of Flynn's sleight-of-hand skill with words, the images his words create, and the multitude of meanings they come together to form, layering, rearranging, reframing.
When I was a kid I was lucky enough to have summer passes to Astroworld, Houston's local version of Disney Land or Six Flags. Nick Flynn's writing reminds me of that favorite childhood amusement park in many ways. Imagine that each time you show up and get your ticket punched, have the back of your hand anointed with that black-light-reflective stamp, you discover a new ride has been added. What's more, you return to the roller coaster you love best - but instead of always finding the same exact ride, you're treated to an experience that varies, markedly, each time. A new, hair-raising dive or a curve careening in a new direction from previous journeys, so that when you lean right in ritual anticipation it suddenly Alice in Wonderland-twists you up and left, instead.
The hands ask for a captain show, and Nick Flynn delivers performance after performance. Each one authentic; each one a jack in the box; every one worth the price of admission a thousand times over; every one deserving of a standing ovation.
The words on the page remain the same, obediently anchored to their assigned seats. And yet, not. Because every time I visit this poem the words somehow morph and shift, lift off the stage of ivory paper, quick-change their costumes and voices, dance and contort like some kind of Cirque du Soleil magic and athleticism is at work.
Perhaps, in this particular poem, anyway, it might have something to do with the dynamic element brought by those jump-cut spacings. But, in truth, much of Nick Flynn's writing - poetry and prose - is gifted with similar alchemy. Jesus Knew is just, for me, the brightest, most stunning example of Flynn's sleight-of-hand skill with words, the images his words create, and the multitude of meanings they come together to form, layering, rearranging, reframing.
When I was a kid I was lucky enough to have summer passes to Astroworld, Houston's local version of Disney Land or Six Flags. Nick Flynn's writing reminds me of that favorite childhood amusement park in many ways. Imagine that each time you show up and get your ticket punched, have the back of your hand anointed with that black-light-reflective stamp, you discover a new ride has been added. What's more, you return to the roller coaster you love best - but instead of always finding the same exact ride, you're treated to an experience that varies, markedly, each time. A new, hair-raising dive or a curve careening in a new direction from previous journeys, so that when you lean right in ritual anticipation it suddenly Alice in Wonderland-twists you up and left, instead.
The hands ask for a captain show, and Nick Flynn delivers performance after performance. Each one authentic; each one a jack in the box; every one worth the price of admission a thousand times over; every one deserving of a standing ovation.
December 29, 2014
In this poetry collection, Flynn continues his examination of torture, specifically Abu Ghraib prison, that he began in his memoir The Ticking is the Bomb. While he still explores violence in humanity, this work takes a more elliptical approach. Poems quote Walt Whitman and pop lyrics, often achieving a song-like rhythm themselves as they speak in the voice of a soldier ordered to violently interrogate a prisoner. Distortion and disorientation dominate the syntax as Flynn fractures lines with enjambed breaks and punctuates with slashes, parentheses and spaces and uses obsessive repetition and serial questioning. He also uses the language of official documents to compelling effect in one poem that reveals only excerpts of non-redacted lines of detainee testimonies. The book’s central concern is the immediate relevance of state-sanctioned torture and acts of war to ordinary citizenry, but the framework used to examine culpability shifts constantly. From the body, to the classical elements, to the radio, to detainee interviews, to the satirized but urgent voice of a soldier addressing his silent “capt’n”, the scope of these contexts suggests that such violence and the responsibility for its existence is inescapable. In both form and subject matter, this troubling collection confronts questions of war, truth and patriotism in an era when those three themes arise and transform daily.
February 7, 2015
this starts slow and don't think first section is very strong. second and third sections make up for that. strong poems in the second section: "the baffled king composing hallelujah" and "earth" and "oh here". strong poems in the third section: "seven testimonials (redacted)" and last two sections of "saudade". weak points: references and excerpts from contemporary alt. rock (mod mouse & arcade fire & pavement), early poems. Strong points: well-executed anti-war poetry, including some of the references in sec. 3 to words as fields on which bodies are strewn (pg. 73) and bodies (pg. 76) and the use of redaction in the front endpapers followed by the seven testimonials poem and then actual Abu Ghraib prisoner testimonials in the notes section and then a continuation of the physical redaction in the final endpapers...impactful. also this stanza from "earth"(pg. 40):
if I understand the memo right, capt'n, we can use
water, but we cannot use earth - that is,
we can simulate drowning, but not
burial - is that right, sir,
cpt'n? I've read
the memos & I want to do
what's right
if I understand the memo right, capt'n, we can use
water, but we cannot use earth - that is,
we can simulate drowning, but not
burial - is that right, sir,
cpt'n? I've read
the memos & I want to do
what's right
July 27, 2011
Many readers write that this collection doesn't stand on its own--the source material is more powerful, Flynn's memoir sheds more light on the topic, etc. But I disagree. Excuse the pun, but these are tortured poems--if you read them aloud, they HURT. They have problems with breath, interruption, repetition, and coherence that simulate the physical and mental pain of torture. Part of the power of Flynn's technique is the blur he creates between torturer and tortured--this became most apparent in his "seven testimonies (redacted)," where you read the original after and realize it takes effort to attribute the sides represented. This blur is deeply disturbing, and moves through witness to incrimination and culpability. I found the lyricism disturbing as well, especially in light of the highlighted fact that music was played during the torturing. This is a powerful and important book of poetry that actually engages with the contemporary world, with its culture, politics and atrocities.
August 28, 2011
Many of these poems were difficult to read. They confront the varieties of suffering inflicted by capricious people, most of them somehow just following orders, in a way that is more immediate and intimate than in any other poems I've encountered. Rarely is something so short and so spare this hard to swallow.
Probably my favorite bit is at the end of "Self Exam (My Body is a Cage)"
listen please, close
your eyes - can you hear it? We think our souls live
in boxes, we think someone sits behind our eyes,
lording from his little throne, steering the fork to
the mouth, the mouth to the tit, we think hungry
children live in our bellies, clutching their empty
bowls as the food rains
down, we sometimes think we are those
hungry children, we think
we can think anything & it won't
matter, we think we can think cut out her tongue,
then ask her to sing
Probably my favorite bit is at the end of "Self Exam (My Body is a Cage)"
listen please, close
your eyes - can you hear it? We think our souls live
in boxes, we think someone sits behind our eyes,
lording from his little throne, steering the fork to
the mouth, the mouth to the tit, we think hungry
children live in our bellies, clutching their empty
bowls as the food rains
down, we sometimes think we are those
hungry children, we think
we can think anything & it won't
matter, we think we can think cut out her tongue,
then ask her to sing
September 15, 2014
This collection was compelling, thoughtful, and original in its concept. I enjoyed Nick Flynn's other books, especially Blind Huber, and for the most part I enjoyed this book too.
But, again, it seems as if every poem lifts lines or phrases from other poets. And yes, they are acknowledged in the notes, and yes, for the most part, these lines are italicized within the poems. And I have no problem with the poems that use words and phrases from other things, such as the testimony of Abu Ghraib detainees, but that poem is entitled seven testimonies (redacted),so really, you know what you're getting. But to lift lines purposely crafted by other poets in other poems, that someone took time and effort to convey meaning just seems wrong. It cheapens what you yourself are trying to do. And especially for a poet as good as Nick Flynn, it just smacks of laziness.
Soap Box Off.
But, again, it seems as if every poem lifts lines or phrases from other poets. And yes, they are acknowledged in the notes, and yes, for the most part, these lines are italicized within the poems. And I have no problem with the poems that use words and phrases from other things, such as the testimony of Abu Ghraib detainees, but that poem is entitled seven testimonies (redacted),so really, you know what you're getting. But to lift lines purposely crafted by other poets in other poems, that someone took time and effort to convey meaning just seems wrong. It cheapens what you yourself are trying to do. And especially for a poet as good as Nick Flynn, it just smacks of laziness.
Soap Box Off.
December 30, 2012
I have read two previous books by Nick Flynn ("Another Bullshit Night in Suck City" and "The Ticking is the Bomb"). Both were fantastic - difficult stories, more so because they were real. This is a book of poetry, some of which I had heard him read at Book Court in Brooklyn. Like his prose, Flynn pulls no punches - his images are jarring and in many of these poems there is the theme of war and torture from multiple perspectives and voices. As a newcomer to poetry (I think the last time I read a full book of poems was college), I found this a great way to understand an under-appreciated and under-read genre.
June 26, 2015
This is a very controversial book of poems, both in the content and in the style. I think that the author really made me, as a reader, think and question the way that the media portrays the military and times of war. Flynn was also very provocative in the way that he wrote. He took original letters and censored them so that he was only using parts to make a picture of what was happening while at war. Overall, I really liked his work even though parts of it were disturbing since he was using real events that took place.
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