Erin Belieu

Modern poetry can be challenging - I probably miss a lot of the subtlety in it but I usually need it to either paint a picture for me or to evoke an emotion. And for some reason, none of the 14 poems by Belieu in this volume did.

Some were incomprehensible to the point where I had to reread them a few times to make sure I am not misplacing words and lines (or worse). Some (the opening "Instructions for the Hostage" and the closing "She Returns to the Water") came close to actually working but something was still off.

I am not sure if I was in the wrong mood for the book or if Erin Belieu's style just does not work for me. I probably will try another one of her books before I give up on her completely but I doubt that it will be anytime soon.… (mere)

This book makes me think of my college class on Multiculturalism, which I didn't get, not really, not until years later. Standing there with a copy of Margaret Atwood's Good Bones, proclaiming "this is my culture," the professor asking me "what culture is that?' but I don't know I don't know I don't know. Patiently, she starts giving me words, "white, middle-class, college educated..."

Now I have more words, but still, mostly, I clutch this book in my hands and say "this is my culture." Recognizing myself in "Poem of Philosophical and Parenting Conundrums Written in an Election Year," bracing myself against feeling exactly like "When at a Certain Party in NYC" this fall, and then, of course, "Someone Asks, What Makes This Poem American?" which seems itself to be an answer to that question all those years ago in class, "what culture is that?"

These are poems of everyday life and familiarity and mine.… (mere)