Multiples

This book has moved me more than anything else I've read in recent years, and I highly recommend that othes read this outstanding work of art.

But this book isn't about Abraham Lincoln. It's about the trait that we will all, both saints and sinners, one day have in common: death. And it is about the small triumphs of life that the dead remember. Just as William Carlos Williams was a doctor, and his poetry was informed by his contact with everyday people, so too Masters. He was a lawyer and a keen observationist. He writes directly and frankly, especially about male-female relations, which earned this book a bit of a scandalous reputation in its time. Of course, it is mild enough today that the book is assigned reading in junior highs, even in the South.

I've read this book three times through, and often re-read individual favorites. And I have it in easy reach on my shelf because I plan to keep re-reading it. There is something about the people of Spoon River and their sentiments that keeps me coming back. As May Swenson says, in her introduction to this edition, Masters "bequeathed to us a world in microcosm." A world, in my opinion, worth exploring again and again.

"Spoon River Anthology" has perhaps the highest character-to-page ratio of any work in literature. Many of the narratives are interrelated in the sense that different people involved in a particular situation present their respective arguments which may be defensive apologies or rationalizations or vindictive taunts. The names of the characters are often indicative of their personalities; appellations like Isaiah Beethoven, Voltaire Johnson, and Percy Bysshe Shelley show that Spoon River is hardly a haven for subtlety.

The most commonly mentioned character is the wealthy Thomas Rhodes, the failure of whose bank had caused financial ruin to many of the town's residents, although we learn later that the culpability rests with his son Ralph's bad loans and speculations. George Reece, the innocent cashier, took the rap and was sent to prison; his wife in her narrative advises the reader of her epitaph to "memorize some bit of verse of truth or beauty." She did so herself, taking a line from Alexander Pope, which enabled her to raise her children "clean and strong" in the face of hardship.

In Spoon River, lives of quiet desperation result in a cemetery of yapping corpses, lamenting wasted youth and lost chances. Margaret Fuller Slack tells us that she aspired to be a novelist "as great as George Eliot" but marriage and motherhood cost her all of her time; her death from lockjaw is "ironical" because presumably she had so much to say. Searcy Foote confesses remorselessly that he murdered his invalid aunt for money and personal freedom. Zilpha Marsh, the ouija-board reader, was regarded as a fool when she would report to the townspeople that she had made contact with the spirit of a notorious figure from the past; the present tense of her narrative suggests that she is unaware that now she, too, is merely in the past.

Every single narrative in this fantastic collection is worthy of commentary; to mention just a few risks a skewed impression of the whole because the "Anthology" really must be read in its entirety to grasp its context. However, there is one more feature which must be noted: The "Anthology" ends with a fragment of an epic poem by Jonathan Swift Somers, one of the deceased. Apparently it is a parody of the Iliad, and naturally it is called the Spooniad, drawing a parallel between the fall of Troy and that of Rhodes's bank. Somers did not live to complete this ambitious project, which is just as well since in Spoon River death affords a distinction few living poets can hope to attain.

Poetry's not dead after all.

I would put the stories in four categories of excellence (well, three of excellence and one of crap).

Group One: The best

Walking Rain - Ian Keane's tale of supernatural beings in present day America, reminiscent (but not derivative) of American Gods, is compelling. The writing is lush, the characterizations beautiful. Hands down the best of the best. I can't say enough about this story. The book is worth buying for this story alone.

Into The Gardens of Sweet Night - Algis Budrys weaves a fairy tale-like tapestry of words as a boy takes a fantastic journey into the sky looking for the fabled gardens. Sometimes the discussions on freedom get a bit thick, but still great.

Blood and Horses - Myke Cole brings us a story of military sf where rebels riding horses seek the oil that gives life, losing their own blood fighting against a technically far superior opponent.

Group Two: The very excellent (in no particular order)

From All the Work Which He Had Made - Michael Churchman's style is strikingly odd at first, but within a page he had made me a convert with this interesting tale about the development of a humanoid robot exploring the questions of his soul.

Dark Harvest - Geoffrey Girard brings us a story about what happens when you find your worst nightmare dying in a field, and it becomes a tourist attraction. Excellent writing, and a wonderful story.

Beautiful Singer - Steve Bein's story of a haunted sword is elegant in its way of presenting feudal Japanese culture and characters. Every word of this story echoes with the culture of the samurai. The only thing holding back this most savory of writing from the top slot was the way the ending rushed together (a common difficulty in short-story writing).

A Few Days North of Vienna - Brandon Butler takes us along as a band of thieves join up with a group of vampire hunters to eradicate those evil creatures. The plot is nothing new or innovative, but the writing is top notch, and that's more important anyway.

Group Three: The still excellent (still in no particular order)

A Ship That Bends - whatever Butler lacked in innovation, Luc Reid makes up for in spades with his characters who live on a flat world and must build a bending ship if they wish to sail to the other side without falling off. The ending is its great weakness, suddenly ending the story before it really reaches its climax. Fun world, great writing, but it just stops cold.

A Silky Touch to No Man - a weak ending is also the problem with Robert J. Defendi's exploration of life in the near future where virtual reality has become the only reality. For a murder mystery, it was painfully apparent "whodunit" from the very beginning. But the writing is strong and the world well conceived (almost scary, actually) which makes it fun anyway.

Gossamer - Ken Liu offers a scenario where Earth finally makes contact with an alien species, and has no idea if they can even communicate. Art seems to be the only thing the Gossamers are interested in, but what does that mean? Interesting twist on the first contact plot.

Numbers - Joel Best brings us a stark account of a world where mathematicians can do almost anything, including make animals and people. In this world one woman seeks to create the perfect mate, but learns that perfection (and creation) are about more than doing everything flawlessly.

Group Four: The stories that really don't belong

Trust Is A Child - Matthew Candelaria's overly long story of negotiations with aliens is really just a painful rehash of about a thousand other identical stories, offering no new slants or anything. That alone wouldn't make it so horrible, but the main character is painfully stupid, and the plot has a hole in it the size of a small star system (it has to do with her being stopped by Marine guards while the aliens can just cruise on by and enter her private quarters without explanation). Also, her solution to being stopped is just horrible (apparently the guard is even dumber than she is). Still, with a good edit and re-write, I think it could have been decent, so I wouldn't write off the author.

A Boy and His Bicycle - Carl Frederick offers a story about just that: a boy and his bike. They don't do anything interesting, or go anywhere fun, or give us any reason not to hope that they just crash into a bus and die. The only saving grace is that it's short and over quickly. And to think this story got first place that quarter...

Bury My Heart At the Garrick - Steve Savile takes the prize for plodding, pointlessness. This story of Houdini was confusing, but not in that good way where you want to know what's going on, more in the way where you just don't care and want to skip to the next story. I kept reading to see if it would get better (imagine a short story that took me a week to read!). It didn't.

Pointing to vivid examples from her own case files as well as anecdotal accounts of nonprofessional acquaintances, Stout identifies the points along the dissociative spectrum. The most familiar and benign examples of detachment from self include daydreaming and losing oneself in a good book or movie. At the opposite end of the spectrum is full-fledged DID. In between lie such states as temporary phasing out, habitual dissociative reactions (phasing out whenever a remark or emotion suddenly triggers a trauma from early life), dissociation from feeling (feeling nothing during an event that should be emotional), intrusion of dissociated ego states (feeling strong, usually negative, emotions for no clearly discernible reason), demifugue (feeling adrift from both reality as well as your body), and fugue (losing significant periods of time wherein you unconsciously go about your daily life). In extreme cases, an individual may develop separate personalities of which he/she may or may not be consciously aware, as these separate personalities may or may not have identifiable names.

The source of all these dissociative states, Start argues, is childhood trauma. She is quick to point out that trauma does not necessarily result from a condition of personal harm, although it naturally does include physical abuse, incest, emotional abuse, and similar reprehensible acts. A child has a limited understanding of the world, so he/she may be traumatized in ways his/her parents never even discern; becoming lost, for example, even for a short period of time, can have a lasting, deleterious effect on a child. Years later, some word or sound or smell might trigger this buried trauma, thereby triggering a dissociative reaction in the individual; such root causes of dissociative behavior can be very hard to ferret out. The very process of remembering can be pure torture, but whatever dissociative behavior is negatively impacting the individual's life must be uncovered in order for that person to find healing and live as normal a life as possible. One cannot protect oneself (which is basically what dissociation consists of) and live life to the fullest at the same time. In the end, one's ability to withstand and/or recover from the dissociative effects of early traumas comes down to a conscious choice of personal responsibility.

I'm no psychologist, but Stout communicates her ideas in a way that makes very good sense to me; she even manages to sum up quite distinctly the difference between her techniques and those of psychoanalysis. Her case studies of dissociative identity disorder are of course fascinating, but the biggest thing I will take away from The Myth of Sanity is the insight I have gained into normal, everyday life.

Stylish, thought provoking, and above all informative, it's about time someone had the fortitude to write this. Thank you Martha Stout.

There, I said it. His book is the epitome of arrogant spirituality gone wrong.

Housden's book is a mere outlet for his own revelation, and does very very little for a reader who thinks for himself. Housden claims that the book can change the life of the religious, and even those without religion. Yet he ends his introduction with prayer-like words. "May these poems set free your unlived dreams [...] may you wake up one morning in 'the new life.'" I expected to see an "Amen" after that. I wonder if "the new life" is so blatant an allegory to heaven that most readers will pick it up, or if people kept reading mindlessly? The quotes around "the new life" open it up for such an allegory, but my guesses are fans of the book weren't paying attention.

I do give Housden credit though. He picked some fine poems (poems he admits he picked out of "personal prejudice"). But while the poems are good (there are many better, too), his analyzations of the poems are half-way decent to laughable at best. He forms the analyzations, like a University Freshman English student, to his own theories, rather than taking into account other possible readings. Read another way, Machado's "Last Night as I Was Sleeping" could be an ironic blemish on Housden's book. "Marvelous error!" could easily be interpreted to mean that the dream is a marvelous escapist thought while wholly wrong (an error).

This book might change your life for a day or two, IF you are Christian (Housden talks about Jesus being the light of the world, despite his claiming that non-religious people can exsperience life change with this book), and IF you allow yourself to be guided step-by-step through Housden's biography and convoluted interpretations. If you think for yourself in regards to spirituality and have any sort of ability in literary analysis, the poems will be enjoyable at best, and Housden's interludes will be PAINFUL.

But hey, the cover is nice.

(2 stars for the poem selections. 0 for Housden.)

Housden (TEN POEMS TO OPEN YOUR HEART; RISKING EVERYTHING: 110 POEMS OF LOVE AND REVELATION) knows great poetry, the kind of poetry that "has the power to start a fire in your life" (p. 1). He has drawn the ten poems collected here from around the world and from different centuries, including accessible selections from Mary Oliver, Antonio Machado, Walt Whitman, Rumi, Kabir, Pablo Neruda, Galway Kinnell, W. S. Merwin, Derek Walcott, and St. John of the Cross. Each poem encourages us to "Wake up and Love," and to open our eyes "to the wonder of what is around us; to the wonder of what is deep inside the human heart; and above all, to be awake to the presence, the sensation, of our own being, in the midst of all of it" (p. 116). Housden annotates each poem with insightful commentary based on his own personal experience.

G. Merritt

The book came out in 1997. The phone number they have listed in the introduction is either wrong or changed, I called it twice and kept getting the voice mail to someone named "Kika." The poets in this book are: Penny Arcade, Tish Benson, Nicole Blackman, David Cameron, Xavier Cavazos, Todd Colby, Matthew Courtney, M. Doughty, Kathy Ebel, Anne Elliot, Janice Erlbaum, Allen Ginsberg, John Giorno, John S. Hall, Bob Holman, Christian X. Hunter, Shannon Ketch, Bobby Miller, Wanda Phipps, Lee Renaldo, Shut-Up Shelley, Hal Sirowitz, Sparrow, Spiro, Edwin Torres, and Emily XYZ. All the poets get at least three poems, and very good portraits by photographer Christian Lantry. The poems are short enough that you can probably get through this in one sitting, or read a poet a day.

Penny Arcade starts the book off with a bang, using some really incredible verse. Tish Benson is next with poems that read like lazy blues songs, but filled with so much detail and activity, you can almost hear Billie Holliday gruffly whispering this in your ear. Nicole Blackman and her section is also incredible as she seems to speak for so many women who cannot find their own voice except hers. David Cameron's writing, while readable, is a little bland, like a freshman creative writing class. Despite his obvious emotion, I felt he was holding back on his own writing. Xavier Cavazos's section is slightly better, except for an entire poem that slams Rush Limbaugh. It may have been very clever when written and read, but it just give conservatives like Limbaugh more ammunition to go after art that they do not believe in. Why not a poem about Parkay hawking corporate monkey Al Franken, who had so much success slamming Limbaugh? Or Dennis Miller, whose rants against everybody was quickly dashed by asinine long distance ads. Nothing worse than a sell out. Todd Colby does better work with paragraph poems than traditional verse poetry. Matthew Courtney reads like poorly written Allen Ginsberg, full of "shocking" imagery and without a point. M. Doughty's work is scary and involving, and not your traditional stuff. Kathy Ebel left me with no response. I read it, I was done, and I was not terribly moved. Anne Elliot reads like poorly written Matthew Courtney. Janice Erlbaum is wonderful, filling a sonnet and sestina with modern situations, turning antiquity on its ear. Ginsberg is Ginsberg. Being a little familiar with his work, I expected to see poems about gay sex, followed by verses about a frog. Ginsberg is so Ginsberg. John Giorno's two poems are shocking, about more gay sex, and taking drugs. He seems to be shocking without TRYING to be shocking. I guess you could say his shock is natural.

John S. Hall also seems to be writing without getting to the heart of his point. His verse is so much posturing. Bob Holman is a bit of a bore, with quite a few poems here. Again, none stuck with me. Christian X. Hunter takes me into his world and it was hard to get out. He is probably my favorite poet here. Shannon Ketch reads like John S. Hall. Bobby Miller's very personal poems made me nostalgic for a time I could never experience. He writes about his first homosexual experience, and protesting Vietnam, so vividly, you swear you are there. Wanda Phipps opens with an angry poem, and never lets up. She is not threatening, but she has a lot to say. Lee Ranaldo also did not do it for me, his listed words seemed glossy and packaged. Shut-Up Shelley is fun because she is so different. Her changing font size on the page just screams at you, yet her photograph by Lantry shows her so whimsically. She is my second favorite poet here. Hal Sirowitz is my third favorite poet here, writing deeply personal poems about everyday things that had an obvious effect on his life. He is a blast to read aloud. Sparrow is weird. His first poem, involving possible sex with a cow, is a hoot, and his possible middle names for Bill Gates is a riot. Spiro is also very funny, especially his opening poem about heroin addiction. Edwin Torres also had me scratching my head for a while after I read him. His poetry is not hard, just inaccessible, and I was not interested enough in what he was saying to dig deeper. Emily XYZ reads like good Edwin Torres.

The 26 poets here are quite a variety, and I recommend this tome to any poetry lovers. I also repeat my mantra to read more poetry and keep buying those little chapbooks you might see in used bookstores or at flea markets. There is always time in your day to smarten up.

This does contain a lot of profanity, drug references, and sexual content, so giving it to your five year old to practice reading may not be a good idea.

And am I glad I did.

Like any collection there are not so stellar works in here. That doesn't matter when there is writing like "(she's the one who fixes me when I'm falling apart / -stitches me back together with nicotine and tea) / she's the kind of girl who can make a dress / out of a garbage bag. / she always somehow looks better than I ever will / there's a lot of drag queen in her." (Nicole Blackman - "Iris")

This collection grew out of the phenomenon that is Poemfone...call a number and hear a new poem every day. What a way to inspire a flurry of creativity in a writer...give them thirty 1 day deadlines in a row. This book is the fruit of that labor...and I believe it can, should and will shape the way young writers view poetry & the creation of same. It certainly did that for me.

Raw, real, breaking the rules, creating new ones, this is poetry you can sink your teeth into. Most of the time the words beg you to do just that...tear into them and rip off a bloody chunk, swallow it whole and feel it inside you. Use this book as nutrition. It can sustain life.

Verses that Hurt begins with the hard-hitting words of Penny Arcade's "Manifesto." The moment I read this poem, I knew I would be hooked on this collection. Her poem begins with, "This is my personal message to all you careerist, slime-bucket, fame-seeking, psychofantic, weak-worded, same-voiced..." I could go on, but you get the idea. It really just screamed to me, "Poetry is POWER!"

Tish Benson's "U BE DOIN IT" is an amazing poetic representation of jazz and sound: "deBOOPde bEE bOPdeBoPdeBop da Bang bANG" - BRILLIANT!

Matthew Courtney's "A Dream Never Dreamed of Sonny Bono & Don Knotts" captures everything that wordplay has the potential to become.

Anne Elliott is perhaps my favorite poet in this book. She slams it all in your face, but does so with a subtle creepiness that is truly out of this world! DEFINATELY check out "something turned over" and "Trojan Love Poems." In fact, I dare you to read "Trojan Love Poems" out loud without crying. I super dog dare ya'!

Shut-Up Shelly does amazing things with word placement on the page. Also the content of "mantra" really speaks to the forlorn nature of our generations: "My life is ----/I hate my life/My life sucks/It's a mantra!"

Finally, Edwin Torres, who is always the craziest poet in just about any collection, does some very powerful work in this collection. Check out "Power Round" and "The Modern Phaullus."

In short, this is no grandmother's book of poetry. The plethora of poetic device used in this collection kicks any other anthology out of the water! BUY THIS BOOK TODAY, become a poet tomorrow.