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A review by johnreinhartpoet
A Collection of Nightmares by Christina Sng
5.0
My work has often appeared in publications with Christina Sng’s poetry. We each realized this at some point, and then realized that we had emerged into the speculative poetry scene at roughly the same time. In Christina’s case, this came after a decade long hiatus. That span seems to have been geminating time because she has burst out with oodles of topnotch poetry. It has been an honor to share tables of contents with her.
This publication is no exception. I am a layout nut, so one of my first concerns when opening a book is how it looks. I do judge books by their covers. And, yikes, this is a fitting one. The image of an almost submerged face, by Steven Archer, sets the tone well. The cover is beautiful and colorful, but all the more chilling because of that.
These 73 pages of poetry differ from much of what I have come to expect from Sng. Her collection, Astropoetry, from earlier this year focuses on the stars from hard science to speculative, and her fantastic sci-fi work appears regularly in Star*Line, Scifaikuest, and other publications that feature my poetry too.
This collection is dark. Beautifully dark.
Take the first lines from the first two poems, Exquisite and Seasonal Creatures
You’re exquisite
Stony-white and frozen
and
We swim in the rivers of blood
There are fairy tale references that go dark (as if the originals weren’t already dark), dismemberment, confusion, fear, the apocalypse, and, of course, death. The darkness is sometimes more effective because of Sng’s gentle touch, like a kiss of death that sends our boat drifting into Lethe, quietly forgetting it all.
The Path
We walk the path alone,
My child and I in this dark night
Where the only light
Emanates from stars we will not
Visit in our lifetime…
This quiet scene is emblematic of Sng’s ability to conjure compelling stories, reflecting the beauty in darkness – darkness because we maintain illusions that transience is our primary constant. We will ultimately lose everything. This is the skull in a monk’s cell. This is why we get up in the morning filled with purpose. This is why we find life meaningless. Or the battle between these feelings is what makes life to frustratingly awesome.
Elsewhere, the poems are grisly, still with a graceful touch, but then with a bump – heads rolling, limbs flying, knives, suicide, blood. Toward the end of the book the poems shift toward visions of the apocalypse, with two of my familiar favorites – Twenty Years and The Dissection. The final poem, The World’s Edge is a poignant finale. I won’t give away the end of the poem, but these lines are characteristic of the last portion of the book.
…At dusk, the seas whisper to me,
The end of days has come.
But I ignore them.
We live outside of time,
Far beyond society’s reach.
It was my choice: my family.
Alice is reading an ancient novel,
Jack playing with a ball of wool,
Ava and Jade are curled up by the window,
Dreaming of prey they’d caught
In their yesteryear while I stand
On the porch watching the world go by…
These little touches on parenthood really hit home for me because of my own role as a parent, but under Sng’s direction they are more than reflections on parenthood, but commentary on human relationships and valuing the connections between us.
A Collection of Nightmares is a book that left me bloodthirsty for more.
This publication is no exception. I am a layout nut, so one of my first concerns when opening a book is how it looks. I do judge books by their covers. And, yikes, this is a fitting one. The image of an almost submerged face, by Steven Archer, sets the tone well. The cover is beautiful and colorful, but all the more chilling because of that.
These 73 pages of poetry differ from much of what I have come to expect from Sng. Her collection, Astropoetry, from earlier this year focuses on the stars from hard science to speculative, and her fantastic sci-fi work appears regularly in Star*Line, Scifaikuest, and other publications that feature my poetry too.
This collection is dark. Beautifully dark.
Take the first lines from the first two poems, Exquisite and Seasonal Creatures
You’re exquisite
Stony-white and frozen
and
We swim in the rivers of blood
There are fairy tale references that go dark (as if the originals weren’t already dark), dismemberment, confusion, fear, the apocalypse, and, of course, death. The darkness is sometimes more effective because of Sng’s gentle touch, like a kiss of death that sends our boat drifting into Lethe, quietly forgetting it all.
The Path
We walk the path alone,
My child and I in this dark night
Where the only light
Emanates from stars we will not
Visit in our lifetime…
This quiet scene is emblematic of Sng’s ability to conjure compelling stories, reflecting the beauty in darkness – darkness because we maintain illusions that transience is our primary constant. We will ultimately lose everything. This is the skull in a monk’s cell. This is why we get up in the morning filled with purpose. This is why we find life meaningless. Or the battle between these feelings is what makes life to frustratingly awesome.
Elsewhere, the poems are grisly, still with a graceful touch, but then with a bump – heads rolling, limbs flying, knives, suicide, blood. Toward the end of the book the poems shift toward visions of the apocalypse, with two of my familiar favorites – Twenty Years and The Dissection. The final poem, The World’s Edge is a poignant finale. I won’t give away the end of the poem, but these lines are characteristic of the last portion of the book.
…At dusk, the seas whisper to me,
The end of days has come.
But I ignore them.
We live outside of time,
Far beyond society’s reach.
It was my choice: my family.
Alice is reading an ancient novel,
Jack playing with a ball of wool,
Ava and Jade are curled up by the window,
Dreaming of prey they’d caught
In their yesteryear while I stand
On the porch watching the world go by…
These little touches on parenthood really hit home for me because of my own role as a parent, but under Sng’s direction they are more than reflections on parenthood, but commentary on human relationships and valuing the connections between us.
A Collection of Nightmares is a book that left me bloodthirsty for more.