The story of how I stumbled onto your journal is long and complicated and I'm not sure I remember it entirely. However, I read "I'd cheat on her for Dionne Brand" and I kind of flipped out. I love Dionne Brand's poetry deeply. Even if she hadn't given everyone a whole lot of awesome, she would still have achieved a special place in my heart for the phrase 'no language is neutral'.
hi! Dionne Brand fans are welcome here. I haven't read very much of her poetry, but I read In Another Place, Not Here all in a fever one weekend; it was really one of those lost-in-the-world-of-the-book, utter-absorption, can't-put-it-down experiences. Then I read What We All Long For, which is similarly amazing. And then a friend of mine lent me some of her nonfiction, No Burden to Carry and Blood out of Stone, and it was over, I was in love. :) Her prose is gorgeous, and she is - as you say - VERY smart about language. Is there a book of her poetry that you'd particularly recommend?
I would definitely recommend No Language is Neutral. I don't have my physical book with me, only my photocopy with all the ramblings, so I can't be sure, but I think that is the one that contains my favourite poem, Hard Against the Soul. I love that poem, all ten parts of it. It alternates between the deeply personal and the political, and the tension between the two things. Also, porn. ok, I said that glibly, but I really had this visceral reaction to seeing my own sexuality portrayed like that
( ... )
Definitely not running! Though I read this sitting in the library, and reading the excerpts you quoted from make me feel a lot more emotion than I'm used to in this quiet quiet space. :) god, but her language shakes me up. I don't know why I never sought out her poetry before, but I'll definitely pick up No Language is Neutral; I'm so grateful to you for recommending it and reminding me that there are still several books of hers that I haven't read.
. . . I keep staring at these two passages you've quoted . . . "I trace / the pearl of your sweat to morning," up against "icy veined and bloodless through city alleys of wet light," and the trenches and barricades that don't escape her - "do not think that things escape me," rather than "that I don't escape," rather than escaping the bullet, the bullet doesn't escape her, oh wow.
thank you again for the rec! I think I'm going to do a little recs post on Canadian authors of colour sometime soon, and will be sure to link back to your rec of this poetry, if that's okay.
please, link away. I would love for more people to read her poetry, especially. I'm so glad you liked it! My love for this collection is unholy.
I always got the feeling from 'do not think that things escape me', that the narrator was the self-appointed guardian of this memory. Everyone was forgetting the small pointless war, but she had made this promise that even though she would continue living--survivor's guilt--and would keep it. part 7 is dedicated 'for faith' and I was never sure if faith was a woman or was the concept.
So, Dark Side of the Moon came on shuffle when I was reading this, and the combined effect basically almost gave me a stroke. I'm going to pick up her work, thank you so much for the awesome rec.
I'm not so happy about the danger of stroke, but I am really glad you are going to pick something of hers up. I very much hope you get something out of it.
I just had to say that.
Reply
Reply
Reply
. . . I keep staring at these two passages you've quoted . . . "I trace / the pearl of your sweat to morning," up against "icy veined and bloodless through city alleys of wet light," and the trenches and barricades that don't escape her - "do not think that things escape me," rather than "that I don't escape," rather than escaping the bullet, the bullet doesn't escape her, oh wow.
thank you again for the rec! I think I'm going to do a little recs post on Canadian authors of colour sometime soon, and will be sure to link back to your rec of this poetry, if that's okay.
Reply
I always got the feeling from 'do not think that things escape me', that the narrator was the self-appointed guardian of this memory. Everyone was forgetting the small pointless war, but she had made this promise that even though she would continue living--survivor's guilt--and would keep it. part 7 is dedicated 'for faith' and I was never sure if faith was a woman or was the concept.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment