Not Blessed

by Harold Abramowitz

In Not Blessed, a story is told not once, but twenty-eight times in twenty-eight shifting versions. Here, a story acts as a chosen narrative constraint, a constraint which, once chosen, becomes a compulsion within the text, a landing point the narrator must reach again and again. Not a brilliant twist of a tale, where narrative is spun like politics in the nightly news, deployed in a language that delights and distorts as it winds toward the trauma of non-truth and multiple non-originals. Not Blessed what is the what that makes who? Reviews and More“Set in a frightening and indeterminate present, this bitter and masterful parable demonstrates the somnambulant power of language. The recurrent memory track studded with Euro pre-modernist signifiers (grandmother – village – boy – policeman – prominent figure – meadow – field) moves incrementally backwards towards no particular end. Channeling the early plays of Peter Handke, Abramowitz draws us into the narrator’s suspect In the southern part of the country when the space was open, and when there were still people to share things with … —Chris Kraus“Runic, rhythmic, algorithmic, Not Blessed mesmerizes with a hidden logic. Through a series of finely calibrated repetitions, Abramowitz nimbly looses the old moorings—beginning, middle and end—setting us adrift on the sea of memory. —Janet Sarbanes

Genres: Poetry

First published January 1, 2010

Reviews

[jenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

I like eliptical motion around (through) images and memory. You feel (or at least I did) like every repetition, every piece of information is important and must be understood in its formal and narrative relationship to the overall "meaning" of the text (i.e: the ending). The structure itself made me obsessively patient while reading. I won't talk about the end, it doesn't seem right, but I will say that this book teaches the reader about reading, and also about the actual role of a narrator, as opposed to the desired (out of laziness, maybe) or generally accepted idea.

It is fun to read, and has sparked quite a few questions and lines for imaginary investigation. I think it needs a re-read because i can't tell if in my obsessive patience I was blinded to some important information, or if the text is really dealing with these larger questions about narration. I am open to it being both.

I was lucky to read this while reading the Bruise and the Impossibly, and I feel like the three were working hard to explain how to engage a reader and take them, happily, wherever you want. Narration where the end doesn't have to matter as much. And while I am pretty sure that the endings matter to these authors, the experience of reading their books, moment to moment seems to matter more.

I don't know if I explain myself well, basically these writers are excellent narrators, and all very different, but some interestingly similar threads exist in regard to memory and the withholding character's names.

[Eugene · Rating 4 out of 5]

a story told twenty-eight times (once each for all the days of february), harold abramowitz's project of memoir as only one memory infinitely repeating and retold is interesting... but even more interesting, more mysterious -- and certainly constructing a delicate and beautiful linguistic hermitage -- are each chapter's introductory flourishes of direct address. these seem to situate the text's ambitions but end up just dancing (which could amount to the same thing) and demonstrate a rare control somewhat reminiscent of blanchot. here are a few examples:

And it is high time I made myself more clear. Forgive me for having been, thus far, obscure. In fact, I did not mean to lie. In fact, I meant to do the opposite. I mean always to tell the truth. It's just that your line of questioning has been excellent and has allowed me an opportunity to reflect on the past, to remember that there are many different ways of viewing the past. Indeed, I have come to realize, yet again, that certain principles need constant restating in order to be understood. For instance, in violation of the law. Or how certain acts of indecency were, at first, construed. Hence, the page turns. The story continues. If even only in outline. Why, the mere mention of it causes me to shudder. But if one carefully studies the footnotes. And every word was an act, or rather, a movement towards persuasion. Rather put together, don't you think? But let me put it to you still more clearly... (p. 36)

And the question quickly came to haunt him. The color of his umbrella against the sky. Or, its outline, so to speak. Or even a potion, or a serum, or some other kind of cure. In fact, a fixation on creating something perfect. A perfect day. The memory of which was just out of reach. It was spring and it was raining. The mockingbird sang. A beautiful day, nonetheless. There was an electricity in the air that reminded him of the time before the war. Flags and banners. The platform. Trucks in the streets with loudspeakers. He had managed to get everything he'd wanted then. And there was a buzz in the air. One question remained, however. And things were very different from that point on... (p. 70).

Eventually every mystery is solved. But without narration. And without a specific voice to guide the reader. However, without noise, without air and sound, there is no one left. No one. Eventually he was able to repeat everything he knew. And every irrelevancy was recorded. And the point was that between irrelevancies various truths could be discovered. The mystery would be solved. He had to get back to his house at some point... (p. 76).

[J.A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was recommended to me by Molly Gaudry at AWP Chicago (2012) and I'm so glad that I picked up a copy. The approach to Not Blessed is super interesting and the writing beautifully recursive - a compound of a book to be sure. Check it out.

[Jared Joseph · Rating 3 out of 5]

And that's the way it is with a broken heart, he thought. He laughed. He laughed and laughed. He laughed himself good and silly. But that's the way it is with a broken heart, he thought. Still, there is nothing in it for people. Is there? There is nothing good there for people. Is there? And he had his hat in his hands.

[Keith · Rating 3 out of 5]

The best writers tell the same story over and over again. In his new book, Harold Abramowitz takes this idea to an extreme. Not Blessed consists of 28 chapters, each between two and three pages in length. Each chapter in this slim volume tells the same story: A boy wanders from his grandmother���s house, gets lost in the woods, and is rescued by a policeman.

[Sarah Cook · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book that has stuck with me intensely, eerily. Lots of notes, questions, thinking came out of this reading. Would recommend to anyone, but try to read it all in one sitting, and not in the dark.