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breathwords's review against another edition
5.0
Christine Ray’s first solo book is packed full of powerful lines. I loved the way it allowed her to develop a personal connection with her readers. She wove her story throughout five sections perfectly named, and I found pieces of myself in every one.
In Nerve, she touches on the physical, delving into the comparison of living with and without illness. It’s almost stream of consciousness. I found myself relating to every line and admiring the way she faces adversity with courage.
In Brain, I fell in love with the moody madness and the shadows. She describes the mental and emotional toil with heartbreaking ease.
In Breast, we see desire. Love, lust, longing reaching out for company. Page 68-9 evokes exquisite imagery of wanting and hunger.
In Rib, I found myself channeling her pain. These lines reminded me of the void that occurs when we lose something. I loved the piece on page 93, the pinpricks, because it ties back to earlier pieces.
Lastly, in Blood, Christine shows us her superpower: strength. On pages 112-3, she encourages us to rise up, stand tall, be proud, that we have got this, and she has got our backs.
If you’re looking for a book that understands you, that empathizes with you, that inspires you — look no further. I look forward to reading more by this talented poet.
In Nerve, she touches on the physical, delving into the comparison of living with and without illness. It’s almost stream of consciousness. I found myself relating to every line and admiring the way she faces adversity with courage.
In Brain, I fell in love with the moody madness and the shadows. She describes the mental and emotional toil with heartbreaking ease.
In Breast, we see desire. Love, lust, longing reaching out for company. Page 68-9 evokes exquisite imagery of wanting and hunger.
In Rib, I found myself channeling her pain. These lines reminded me of the void that occurs when we lose something. I loved the piece on page 93, the pinpricks, because it ties back to earlier pieces.
Lastly, in Blood, Christine shows us her superpower: strength. On pages 112-3, she encourages us to rise up, stand tall, be proud, that we have got this, and she has got our backs.
If you’re looking for a book that understands you, that empathizes with you, that inspires you — look no further. I look forward to reading more by this talented poet.
kristianamr's review against another edition
5.0
Since beginning Brave and Reckless in 2016, becoming a member of several collectives, a founder member of Indie Blu(e) and establishing herself as an editor, Christine E. Ray's presence on Wordpress and online has been keenly felt. It comes as a surprise then that Composition of a Woman is her debut poetry release. However, every single page proves it was worth the wait.
Ray's patience, passion and growth are revealed the further she pulls you into this book. Her approach to a structure which resembles her anatomy is ingenious and comes to reflect the woman, writer, editor and powerhouse she is.
Nerve is a hilarious and moving ode, if you will, to invisible illness. For me, it meant this book was personal too. I've watched my own mother struggle with a spinal condition which isn't obvious to a stranger. Therefore, my first thought when I heard Ray's experience with pain and mis-diagnosis was 'I need to give this book to Mum', so she knows she isn't alone.
Brain, no doubt deliberately, made me think. Safekeeping felt all too familiar and the final lines of Brilliant Madness made me consider the peril of an artist and their pain. Often art and pain feel mutually exclusive. At times we wonder where we begin and end.
'jagged little pharma sitting on the kitchen table that may save my life but steal this brilliant madness'
Ray continues to speak to the soul in Breast, with absolutely beautiful pieces like The Attic Room, Amen and Saturday Afternoon Poetry. From hilarity and darkness, we are given sensual and love sick. We begin to understand the myriad of experiences which shape a woman.
One of those experiences is heartache and heartbreak as Ray shares the pain behind her Rib. Chasing Sandcastles, Memento and the forlorn sigh inducing I Say That I Lost You.
'I say that I lost you as though you were an umbrella that I carelessly left on the bus after the summer rain had stopped.'
Ray does what every excellent poet must. She writes from experience and yet writes your story as well. That said, it is the closing section of this book which left me breathless. Blood is a testament to all that has gone before. Each body part and experience led to this denouement; this showcase of a woman. I know her now - her pain, suffering, love and loss - which is why Wonder Woman is filled with clarity. Ray is a woman conducting an orchestra while openly admitting she isn't perfect. There is dazzling beauty in her ability to lift your spirit and reach beyond the book, calling for your blood and belly fire.
Needless to say, I read this in one sitting and finished it smiling. The final two poems resonate with every writer and reveal how much this book means to Ray; how it truly was, worth the wait.
Ray's patience, passion and growth are revealed the further she pulls you into this book. Her approach to a structure which resembles her anatomy is ingenious and comes to reflect the woman, writer, editor and powerhouse she is.
Nerve is a hilarious and moving ode, if you will, to invisible illness. For me, it meant this book was personal too. I've watched my own mother struggle with a spinal condition which isn't obvious to a stranger. Therefore, my first thought when I heard Ray's experience with pain and mis-diagnosis was 'I need to give this book to Mum', so she knows she isn't alone.
Brain, no doubt deliberately, made me think. Safekeeping felt all too familiar and the final lines of Brilliant Madness made me consider the peril of an artist and their pain. Often art and pain feel mutually exclusive. At times we wonder where we begin and end.
'jagged little pharma sitting on the kitchen table that may save my life but steal this brilliant madness'
Ray continues to speak to the soul in Breast, with absolutely beautiful pieces like The Attic Room, Amen and Saturday Afternoon Poetry. From hilarity and darkness, we are given sensual and love sick. We begin to understand the myriad of experiences which shape a woman.
One of those experiences is heartache and heartbreak as Ray shares the pain behind her Rib. Chasing Sandcastles, Memento and the forlorn sigh inducing I Say That I Lost You.
'I say that I lost you as though you were an umbrella that I carelessly left on the bus after the summer rain had stopped.'
Ray does what every excellent poet must. She writes from experience and yet writes your story as well. That said, it is the closing section of this book which left me breathless. Blood is a testament to all that has gone before. Each body part and experience led to this denouement; this showcase of a woman. I know her now - her pain, suffering, love and loss - which is why Wonder Woman is filled with clarity. Ray is a woman conducting an orchestra while openly admitting she isn't perfect. There is dazzling beauty in her ability to lift your spirit and reach beyond the book, calling for your blood and belly fire.
Needless to say, I read this in one sitting and finished it smiling. The final two poems resonate with every writer and reveal how much this book means to Ray; how it truly was, worth the wait.
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