Scan barcode
sunn_bleach's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
fast-paced
4.25
Oof ouch my heart. This selection of essays was a random pull from Boulder Bookstore, which once again does no disappoint. A beautiful, somber selection of prose, poetry, and prose-poetry of ruminations on religion, the body, death, and what it means to be Irish, a woman, and an Irish woman. Particular shout-out to heavy use of concrete words and imagery, as in the Pain Index poems, and the parable-esque writing of short paragraphs that make each collection/passage.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Abortion, Medical content, and Death
Minor: Rape and Dementia
yogarshi's review against another edition
4.0
I recently read two books of essays -- Upstream, by Mary Oliver, a stalwart of American poetry, and Constellations by debut Irish author and editor Sinéad Gleeson. The essays in these works tackle starkly different themes, but reading them one after the other made me realize how similar they are in certain aspects. This is an attempt at formulating some of those similarities (as well as differences).
Upstream gathers Mary Oliver's thoughts on nature and artistic work. In a series of essays, Oliver vividly paints a picture of the scenic beauty of New England with an admiring brush, all the while acknowledging the debt she owes her surroundings. In her own words she ".. could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple." In parallel, she also discusses her thoughts on writing, and the various influences that have shaped her --- Emerson, Wordsworth, Poe, and most importantly, Whitman. Her essay on Whitman's Leaves of Grass is the most singular piece of writing about that collection that I have had the fortune to read. The quote below summarizes her thoughts on the importance of Leaves of Grass
In contrast to Oliver's outward-facing focus, Gleeson's Constellations deals with all things internal. Illness, hospitals, bodies (especially those of women, and the myriad controversies surrounding them), childbirth, and the inevitability of death are the major themes she touches on. As such, this book has a more somber tone compared to the undercurrents of joy that pervade Oliver's book, but that does not make it any less beautiful.
The inner/outer dichotomy of the two books complement each other in ways that bring out the best of each other, and even serve to highlight the overlaps. Much as Oliver, Gleeson also talks about the nature of art and writing, although consistent with the rest of the work, this is grounded in the aforementioned themes. It is this reflection that also highlights the contrast between the schools of thoughts that prop these two writers. Oliver firmly believes that the best creative work stems from solitude.
On the other hand, Gleeson's conception of writing is firmly intertwined with the complexities of a more modern and grounded life, and feels more relatable (especially in forced quarantines amidst global pandemics)
Of course, neither solitude not the trappings of everyday life hold a monopoly over artistic genius and hard work and everyone charts their own paths to fulfilling work. The differences in the two takes above are ones shaped by lived experience. In total, both these books serve to highlight exactly that --- the beauty and challenges that come with living a life full of experiences.
"Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and the pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones—inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones—rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms. "
Upstream gathers Mary Oliver's thoughts on nature and artistic work. In a series of essays, Oliver vividly paints a picture of the scenic beauty of New England with an admiring brush, all the while acknowledging the debt she owes her surroundings. In her own words she ".. could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple." In parallel, she also discusses her thoughts on writing, and the various influences that have shaped her --- Emerson, Wordsworth, Poe, and most importantly, Whitman. Her essay on Whitman's Leaves of Grass is the most singular piece of writing about that collection that I have had the fortune to read. The quote below summarizes her thoughts on the importance of Leaves of Grass
"Of all American poems, the 1855 Leaves of Grass is the most probable of effect upon the individual sensibility. It wants no less. We study it as literature, but like all great literature it has a deeper design: it would be a book for men to live by. It is obsessively affirmative. It is foolishly, childishly obsessively affirmative. It offers a way to live, in the religious sense, that is intelligent and emotive and rich, and dependent only on the individual—no politics, no liturgy, no down payment. Just attention, sympathy, empathy. Neither does Whitman speak of hell or damnation; rather, he is parental and coaxing, tender and provocative in his drawing us toward him. Line by line, he amalgamates to the fact. Brawn and spirit, we are built of light, and God is within us. This is the message of his long, honeyed harangue. This is the absolute declaration, and this is the verifying experience of his poem. "
In contrast to Oliver's outward-facing focus, Gleeson's Constellations deals with all things internal. Illness, hospitals, bodies (especially those of women, and the myriad controversies surrounding them), childbirth, and the inevitability of death are the major themes she touches on. As such, this book has a more somber tone compared to the undercurrents of joy that pervade Oliver's book, but that does not make it any less beautiful.
"When someone dies suddenly, I always think of what they were doing at that exact time a week ago. What they would have done differently if they’d known. Declare their love for someone, take shamanic drugs, fulfil a fantasy, visit another country. An accidental death has no schedule: one Tuesday, you’re working, sleeping, laughing. The following Tuesday, laid in the ground, covered by three metres of soil."
The inner/outer dichotomy of the two books complement each other in ways that bring out the best of each other, and even serve to highlight the overlaps. Much as Oliver, Gleeson also talks about the nature of art and writing, although consistent with the rest of the work, this is grounded in the aforementioned themes. It is this reflection that also highlights the contrast between the schools of thoughts that prop these two writers. Oliver firmly believes that the best creative work stems from solitude.
"Creative work needs solitude. It needs concentration, without interruptions. It needs the whole sky to fly in, and no eye watching until it comes to that certainty which it aspires to, but does not necessarily have at once. Privacy, then. A place apart—to pace, to chew pencils, to scribble and erase and scribble again. But just as often, if not more often, the interruption comes not from another but from the self itself, or some other self within the self, that whistles and pounds upon the door panels and tosses itself, splashing, into the pond of meditation. And what does it have to say? That you must phone the dentist, that you are out of mustard, that your uncle Stanley’s birthday is two weeks hence. You react, of course. Then you return to your work, only to find that the imps of idea have fled back into the mist."
On the other hand, Gleeson's conception of writing is firmly intertwined with the complexities of a more modern and grounded life, and feels more relatable (especially in forced quarantines amidst global pandemics)
"Virginia Woolf, who was far removed from the work and grind of daily life, made generations of writers think that they’re entitled to a room of their own. At home, my desk is in a room full of books, read and unread, that sit next to Lego and other various toys. Our lives push up against each other. There are hundreds of sentences in this book written when my children wander in to chat, or tell tales on each other. Their voices echo all over the house and it’s impossible not to tune into it. I can focus, but my daughter’s songs carry, as do my son’s conversations with the dog, in that voice he saves just for this creature. But still I go back to finding words and fitting them together. I start to see the shape of what I’m trying to build, word by word."
Of course, neither solitude not the trappings of everyday life hold a monopoly over artistic genius and hard work and everyone charts their own paths to fulfilling work. The differences in the two takes above are ones shaped by lived experience. In total, both these books serve to highlight exactly that --- the beauty and challenges that come with living a life full of experiences.
ermamac's review against another edition
5.0
This is a beautiful collection of essays on so many things that are close to my heart. Illness and wellness are sides of the same coin. Pain is deeply personal, impossible to describe to others, wildly alienating and yet Gleeson manages to connect her experience to others. Gleeson's essays move further and further away from herself as the collection goes on and yet it all comes back in the end. She notes that if you take all the veins, arteries and capillaries in the human body and lay them out they would be 60,000 miles long. What a distance for our blood to travel every day. There is always movement, even when illness keeps us in our home or beds.
Also very cool to discover someone else who makes art inspired by McGill Pain Questionnaire.
Also very cool to discover someone else who makes art inspired by McGill Pain Questionnaire.
laurnir's review against another edition
dark
emotional
informative
slow-paced
3.0
This was tough to review because I love how Gleeson writes. Some essays are her own story and they’re so human and so engaging. But others are told through references to art or literature, or the experiences of people unknown to her and in those, the voice completely changes and it loses its authenticity. There’s nothing wrong with that type of writing either, I just found having the two types interspersed between chapters jarring to read like they were different books.
gracekeltner's review against another edition
3.0
Very reminiscent of I Am, I Am, I Am by Maggie O’Farrell (5 stars), but lacking in pizazz. I love reading about Ireland thanks to Derry Girls, Sally Rooney, and Paul Mescal, so it was fun in that way. It was sad and dreary (love), but missing the vitality of O’Farrell (I do not love). Chalk Bones and Blue Hills was my favorite one, and it was the first story, so it was a little down hill the whole time.
rosalind's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
3.25
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cancer, Chronic illness, Dementia, Terminal illness, and Medical content
Moderate: Death, Abortion, and Pregnancy
Minor: Misogyny, Miscarriage, Medical trauma, and Sexism
ameliasbooks's review against another edition
I have read quite a few memoirs and nonfiction books about chronical illnesses and every single one is important to be read and acknowledged. There are still not enough of them out there and a lot of voices stay unheard.
With this one I'm personally just not really enjoying the writing style and the layout of the story/reflections seems a bit arbitrary to me.
Still recommend.
With this one I'm personally just not really enjoying the writing style and the layout of the story/reflections seems a bit arbitrary to me.
Still recommend.