Souffrant, an acclaimed poet, explores the complexities of life, history, and memory in this blend of memoir, commentary, and analysis.
Martha Graham, the mother of modern dance, once asked, “How does it all begin?” Her conclusion, that “It never begins. It just continues,” is an idea that the author ruminates on while writing in an airport. The writings collected here, influenced by Graham’s quote, are further inspired by the airport’s mise-en-scene, as Souffrant can’t help but hear the passing conversations of fellow travelers or smell fragrant cooking from nearby restaurants that contribute to her growing hunger pangs. Writers, artists, and even scientists, the book suggests, are entangled in a web of factors that influence what they produce, how they think, and what they choose to ignore (“Where are we not going, shaping the ideas?” she asks rhetorically). Describing her writing style as “a poetics of non-delimiting” that “recognizes the arbitrariness of limits, yet marks them anyway,” Souffrant offers readers her characteristically idiosyncratic perspective on a myriad of interrelated topics, from how knowledge is made to the role of myth-making in shaping narratives, as the book blends poetry with memoir, social commentary, and historical analysis. One chapter reflects on a trip to Salem, Massachusetts, connecting tchotchkes found in the local historical museum to the town’s infamous history: “We are held captive, too, by the narratives,” she writes, as “we feel for the sense of a thread between question and answer.” This chapter’s prose is interrupted by a poem, “1777 Primer,” which explores myth-making in a Revolutionary War–era textbook. Indeed, while mostly set in the relative present, including vignettes from Souffrant’s own life, the past maintains a constant presence in the text, as the author implores readers to recognize how “myths,” whether in our personal lives or in our collective memory of the past, “shape us even when we acknowledge them as fiction.” Like a cemetery (the book concludes with a poignant reminder of the poetry found on gravestones), our present, the author reminds readers, exists entangled with the past.
This is a gorgeous book with an eye-pleasing layout that matches the eclectic, genre-bending writing style. Each chapter features original artwork, poetry, and relevant epigraphs. The text even includes a nine-page list of works cited and end notes that signal a solid grounding in interdisciplinary scholarship surrounding history, feminist theory, literary criticism, and visual studies. A finalist for the National Poetry Award, Souffrant teaches writing at New York University, and has published her work (including excerpts from this book) in multiple anthology collections. While visually stunning, the book may not always prove accessible to readers unfamiliar with critical and feminist theory. Depending on the reader’s perspective, the writing may read as profound or rife with non-sequiturs. “Pain, too, comes,” one passage notes, concluding, “The sky is so beautiful. The ocean.” Like abstract art, the poignance and meaning of those lines are relative to each individual reader. At less than 170 pages in length, the book is deceptively dense and should not be read in a single reading. Each chapter, poem, reflective narrative, and piece of art offers new revelations upon subsequent readings.
A thought-provoking, if occasionally esoteric, reflection on life, history, and myth.