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kallistoi's review
challenging
dark
reflective
3.0
cw for discussions of sexual violence and its gendered dynamics
i stalled quite a bit in the middle of this one because i found the eponymous centerpiece poem so frustrating for its halting approach to ovidian violence. rekdal gets there quite convincingly in some other poems in this book, especially "horn of plenty" and "marsyas." i loved the ambiguities and excesses of these two poems and how they entangled myth and art and violence and desire in a self-consciously ambivalent way that strikes me as very typically ovidian. but, as is my standard and probably unpopular complaint about a lot of feminist reckonings with myths from the metamorphoses, i found that when rekdal stopped to most explicitly connect the dots of ovid, gender, poetry, and sexual violence in "nightingale: a gloss," she was too ready to settle at the conclusion that ovid's philomela narrative must have been ultimately misogynist because of some ineluctable male perspective (arising both from poet and roman readership) that taints any otherwise potentially compelling representation of womanhood. "to make his (literate, male) audience understand [her] powerlessness," she writes, "ovid frames the rape from philomela's point of view. he centers male agency within a silent female consciousness." even if the story is told from a woman's point of view, for rekdal, the patriarchal context in which it was written occludes the possibility that ovid, a man, could offer any worthwhile insight into a woman's experience of violence -- or, "positioning an implicitly male audience in the consciousness of a raving, raped woman tilts the myth from one of identification to one of rejection." set aside for now the historical question of whether women were not part of the literary audience at rome -- we know many women were literate, at least elite women, and ovid is one of multiple roman poets who textually figure women to be among their readership. mostly, i find this tautology of gender and representation infuriating for the ways it arises from a flattened, heterosexually enmeshed binary way of thinking about gender. this collection does have a quite few poems in which rekdal thinks about gender, myth, and trauma outside of heterosexual and cisnormative matrices ("io," "tiresias," "the olive tree at vouves"), but they're lacking in their treatment of queerness as an experience, rather than a literary thought experiment -- particularly the first two in that list. i'm still chewing on the portrait in "gokstadt/ganymede" of a man who is a survivor of childhood sexual violence, but i'm not entirely convinced either. that said, it's all so particularly enraging because elsewhere rekdal really does get it. as i said, some of these poems take a fascinating angle on the ethics and aesthetics of artistic representation of violence, and i think i prefer the pieces that eschew straightforward answers. even the title poem that i've given such grief has its moments in this regard, asking "what if it is the form, not the content, of the metamorphoses that is the terror? each story unfolding into another, perpetually disrupting, thus delaying the ending? what if, because we came to listen, we are the reason the story keeps not ending?" and this question builds as rekdal theorizes the power of silence with regards to her own experiences of sexual violence, what she is able to accomplish by strategically not naming, by refusing to disclose. her address to the reader (not, i think, implicitly male) toward the end of the poem takes aim at the idea that an audience for one's trauma is necessarily desirable, with a piercing accusation, "this act [of reading] is done for yourself. it is not, though you may believe it is, at all useful to me."
i stalled quite a bit in the middle of this one because i found the eponymous centerpiece poem so frustrating for its halting approach to ovidian violence. rekdal gets there quite convincingly in some other poems in this book, especially "horn of plenty" and "marsyas." i loved the ambiguities and excesses of these two poems and how they entangled myth and art and violence and desire in a self-consciously ambivalent way that strikes me as very typically ovidian. but, as is my standard and probably unpopular complaint about a lot of feminist reckonings with myths from the metamorphoses, i found that when rekdal stopped to most explicitly connect the dots of ovid, gender, poetry, and sexual violence in "nightingale: a gloss," she was too ready to settle at the conclusion that ovid's philomela narrative must have been ultimately misogynist because of some ineluctable male perspective (arising both from poet and roman readership) that taints any otherwise potentially compelling representation of womanhood. "to make his (literate, male) audience understand [her] powerlessness," she writes, "ovid frames the rape from philomela's point of view. he centers male agency within a silent female consciousness." even if the story is told from a woman's point of view, for rekdal, the patriarchal context in which it was written occludes the possibility that ovid, a man, could offer any worthwhile insight into a woman's experience of violence -- or, "positioning an implicitly male audience in the consciousness of a raving, raped woman tilts the myth from one of identification to one of rejection." set aside for now the historical question of whether women were not part of the literary audience at rome -- we know many women were literate, at least elite women, and ovid is one of multiple roman poets who textually figure women to be among their readership. mostly, i find this tautology of gender and representation infuriating for the ways it arises from a flattened, heterosexually enmeshed binary way of thinking about gender. this collection does have a quite few poems in which rekdal thinks about gender, myth, and trauma outside of heterosexual and cisnormative matrices ("io," "tiresias," "the olive tree at vouves"), but they're lacking in their treatment of queerness as an experience, rather than a literary thought experiment -- particularly the first two in that list. i'm still chewing on the portrait in "gokstadt/ganymede" of a man who is a survivor of childhood sexual violence, but i'm not entirely convinced either. that said, it's all so particularly enraging because elsewhere rekdal really does get it. as i said, some of these poems take a fascinating angle on the ethics and aesthetics of artistic representation of violence, and i think i prefer the pieces that eschew straightforward answers. even the title poem that i've given such grief has its moments in this regard, asking "what if it is the form, not the content, of the metamorphoses that is the terror? each story unfolding into another, perpetually disrupting, thus delaying the ending? what if, because we came to listen, we are the reason the story keeps not ending?" and this question builds as rekdal theorizes the power of silence with regards to her own experiences of sexual violence, what she is able to accomplish by strategically not naming, by refusing to disclose. her address to the reader (not, i think, implicitly male) toward the end of the poem takes aim at the idea that an audience for one's trauma is necessarily desirable, with a piercing accusation, "this act [of reading] is done for yourself. it is not, though you may believe it is, at all useful to me."
cfaus's review against another edition
5.0
Important and beautiful.
However, TRIGGER WARNING this deals heavily with the topic of rape.
However, TRIGGER WARNING this deals heavily with the topic of rape.
wildgurl's review against another edition
5.0
Cooper Canyon Press is an independent, non-profit small press located in Port Townsend, Washington. Since 1972 they have specialized in poetry.
Although they have been around since 1972, they are new to me and I'm so excited I found them. I have always loved poetry, and so far have read two of their many many titles.
I highly recommend you check out any of their many titles. Amazing minds!
Nightingale by Paisley Rekdal. 2019.
Rekdal has taken the myths central to Ovids 'Metamorphoses' and connects it to our lives today. These poems are intense and thought provoking. It encompasses how the human spirit and character can overcome terrible human events.
A mother begins her treatment for cancer as her daughter begins transitioning into a son.
A woman falls in love with her ex-husdands dog.
A quadriplegic woman ponders her changed sex life.
These poems feature transformation, overcoming huge odds and finding the beauty of life in every situation.
Although they have been around since 1972, they are new to me and I'm so excited I found them. I have always loved poetry, and so far have read two of their many many titles.
I highly recommend you check out any of their many titles. Amazing minds!
Nightingale by Paisley Rekdal. 2019.
Rekdal has taken the myths central to Ovids 'Metamorphoses' and connects it to our lives today. These poems are intense and thought provoking. It encompasses how the human spirit and character can overcome terrible human events.
A mother begins her treatment for cancer as her daughter begins transitioning into a son.
A woman falls in love with her ex-husdands dog.
A quadriplegic woman ponders her changed sex life.
These poems feature transformation, overcoming huge odds and finding the beauty of life in every situation.
cheydaytaysaway's review against another edition
3.0
3.5/5, sometimes a bit too narrative in nature for me, but still captivating when the language leans more into its rhythm and image. Some stunning moments throughout and lovely, fresh plays with myth.
lets_book's review against another edition
challenging
hopeful
informative
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.75
jillian_mon's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
3.0
These poems are written fantastically, my only trifle, which is more personal than anything, is the fact that the poems are too sad for me. I am not triggered by a lot but these are actually really hard for me to get through. Perhaps they’re just very personally that they reach out to me.
Other than that, I do find myself a bit irritated that each of these poems has an underlying reference which I keep having to look up and then connect. Just a little annoying but i understand it’s usages.
Other than that, I do find myself a bit irritated that each of these poems has an underlying reference which I keep having to look up and then connect. Just a little annoying but i understand it’s usages.
courtneyfalling's review against another edition
dark
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
I really liked this. Angry in the ways I needed it to be, reflective in the ways I wanted it to be. Absolutely will reread.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual violence
kygpub's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
disquieting and at times discomforting, with a clever, measured style. certain turns of phrase and perspectives left a bad taste (see: tiresias), but otherwise a slow-building force of resonance.
favs: psalm, four marys, nightingale: a gloss, gokstadt/ganymede, marsyas
favs: psalm, four marys, nightingale: a gloss, gokstadt/ganymede, marsyas
update: this post summarises some of my thoughts on cis people writing cis people writing trans people nicely https://nitter.net/JohannesTEvans/status/1741133012769591647
madlymerc's review against another edition
5.0
TW: Sexaul Assualt
So, I confess - I've never read Ovid's Metamorphoses. However, I don't feel like that fact greatly hampered my enjoyment of this collection. Being unfamiliar with some of the myths and relationships at play in over-arching metaphors meant I had to look them up, which gave me time to linger over these poems more than I probably would have done if I knew what was what.
This collection is a stunner. Individual retellings of Ovid's myths are tied together with an unwinding reflection on the concept/metaphor/linguistic/literary implications of the nightingale that peaks in the poem "Nightingale: A Gloss". This stand-out prose poem takes up a staggering 17 pages at the center of the book and puts every page to good use. Rekdal uses this poem to reflect on other writings in the collection, her own writing process, the aftermath of sexual assault, and the poet's perpetual desire to parse the flesh of language and find its stone heart. My experience with Rekdal's writing in this collection exists in a chasm of resisting opposites - never has a writer made me feel such a potent cocktail of intimacy and alienation. Rekdal is here to tell you that language, a tool universally employed to bring order to concepts and express those concepts to others, falls short when addressing some of the most pivotal acts of violence and transcendence we experience as human beings. Our language is a failure in recounting the act, leaving us instead with negatives of our own experiences.
Nevertheless, Rekdal does provide the reader with some sense of justice in pieces like "Philomela", which sprouts discomfort between its lines like a garden and then blooms to a soothing/seething finish with the gift of a sewing machine and time. In "Gokstadt/Ganymede", Rekdal admits uncomfortable truths about trauma with a nakedness that is embarrassing and unequivocal: "When you sensed, what I hated:/some part of me loved you, not in spite of,/but because you had been raped.", that brings the reader into the darkness of loving while hurting and loving while healing.
Perhaps the most easily overlooked thing about this collection is the steady, elegant language that wraps itself around each piece, sometimes comforting, sometimes suffocating. This gift for the subtle image is apparent in many of Rekdal's pieces, but I enjoyed it most in "Telling the Wasps":
And so I fell among the wasps, whispering
your name into the hole I scooped
beside the marshy winter creek, where wind
now scours the freezing water. Where reed
on broken reed hums its numb refrain,
and love turns in its mud home, and sleeps.
So, I confess - I've never read Ovid's Metamorphoses. However, I don't feel like that fact greatly hampered my enjoyment of this collection. Being unfamiliar with some of the myths and relationships at play in over-arching metaphors meant I had to look them up, which gave me time to linger over these poems more than I probably would have done if I knew what was what.
This collection is a stunner. Individual retellings of Ovid's myths are tied together with an unwinding reflection on the concept/metaphor/linguistic/literary implications of the nightingale that peaks in the poem "Nightingale: A Gloss". This stand-out prose poem takes up a staggering 17 pages at the center of the book and puts every page to good use. Rekdal uses this poem to reflect on other writings in the collection, her own writing process, the aftermath of sexual assault, and the poet's perpetual desire to parse the flesh of language and find its stone heart. My experience with Rekdal's writing in this collection exists in a chasm of resisting opposites - never has a writer made me feel such a potent cocktail of intimacy and alienation. Rekdal is here to tell you that language, a tool universally employed to bring order to concepts and express those concepts to others, falls short when addressing some of the most pivotal acts of violence and transcendence we experience as human beings. Our language is a failure in recounting the act, leaving us instead with negatives of our own experiences.
Nevertheless, Rekdal does provide the reader with some sense of justice in pieces like "Philomela", which sprouts discomfort between its lines like a garden and then blooms to a soothing/seething finish with the gift of a sewing machine and time. In "Gokstadt/Ganymede", Rekdal admits uncomfortable truths about trauma with a nakedness that is embarrassing and unequivocal: "When you sensed, what I hated:/some part of me loved you, not in spite of,/but because you had been raped.", that brings the reader into the darkness of loving while hurting and loving while healing.
Perhaps the most easily overlooked thing about this collection is the steady, elegant language that wraps itself around each piece, sometimes comforting, sometimes suffocating. This gift for the subtle image is apparent in many of Rekdal's pieces, but I enjoyed it most in "Telling the Wasps":
And so I fell among the wasps, whispering
your name into the hole I scooped
beside the marshy winter creek, where wind
now scours the freezing water. Where reed
on broken reed hums its numb refrain,
and love turns in its mud home, and sleeps.