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eggmama 's review for:
Plainwater
by Anne Carson
As a reader, I didn't love this book. But as a writer, I found it both oddly soothing and exciting.
My initial reaction to the book was, "Oh boy." The first few sections did not do it for me. I felt like I was reading Modernist poetry again - the works were filled with allusions, myths, artwork, and other references that went over my head. I didn't understand what she was talking about. I personally couldn't connect with it. There were some interesting lines here and there, but nothing that stuck with me.
However, I really enjoyed the biggest section of the book, "The Anthropology of Water." In these sections of prose, her writing shines. It has this quality of synesthesia - the connections she makes, the descriptions, the metaphors... they create dissonance, they often don't make logical sense, but they work. She mixes the senses in a delightful and surprising way. And a sentence would suddenly bring me to tears, like the stark nakedness of this one on page 139: "Afraid I don't love you enough to do this." Or her father simply saying, about her ability to chop down a tree, "I didn't think you could do that" and how that small, intimate moment takes on an immense weight and meaning.
This collection mainly discusses the relationship between men and women. It has this desire to move away from men and their desires, but to stand with them, too. I especially like the way she wove her father and his dementia throughout the narrative. And it is definitely a narrative, although the essay and travelogue format make the non-fiction label tempting.
I, too, am still thinking about that.
My initial reaction to the book was, "Oh boy." The first few sections did not do it for me. I felt like I was reading Modernist poetry again - the works were filled with allusions, myths, artwork, and other references that went over my head. I didn't understand what she was talking about. I personally couldn't connect with it. There were some interesting lines here and there, but nothing that stuck with me.
However, I really enjoyed the biggest section of the book, "The Anthropology of Water." In these sections of prose, her writing shines. It has this quality of synesthesia - the connections she makes, the descriptions, the metaphors... they create dissonance, they often don't make logical sense, but they work. She mixes the senses in a delightful and surprising way. And a sentence would suddenly bring me to tears, like the stark nakedness of this one on page 139: "Afraid I don't love you enough to do this." Or her father simply saying, about her ability to chop down a tree, "I didn't think you could do that" and how that small, intimate moment takes on an immense weight and meaning.
This collection mainly discusses the relationship between men and women. It has this desire to move away from men and their desires, but to stand with them, too. I especially like the way she wove her father and his dementia throughout the narrative. And it is definitely a narrative, although the essay and travelogue format make the non-fiction label tempting.
"I suppose you do love me, in your way,'" I said to him one night close to dawn when we lay on the narrow bed. "And how else should I love you - in your way?" he asked. I am still thinking about that.
I, too, am still thinking about that.