Thousand-Cricket Song

annette — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 10:00:00 +0000

Thousand-Cricket Song is a compelling collection of poetry. My copy is smudged with fingerprints, creases, and other signs of wear from the use I've given it in only one month. I often read one poem at a time, and found myself needing time to consider new ideas or read up on history. The subject matter is heavy; poet Catherine Strisik spent time in Cambodia. She wrote her poetry based on her observations there.

Usually, her writing style is simple, straight-forward, and speaks for itself. These are the poems I love the most. At other times, she gets a bit too enthusiastic for details, offering long, sometimes muddled, prose. I say this with some restriction, though. It's difficult to blame someone for needing to paint a perfect picture from memory.

There's so much good in this book, that I need to restrict myself from naming too many titles. "The Woman At Pol Pot's Grave" is possibly the best of the best. "The New Holy Medicine" is so perfect that I want to hear it spoken over a musical background. Her poems concerning genocide, suicide, miscarriage, prostitution, and rape make me want to heal the entire human race. I was often surprised by and unprepared for these details. Words hit us hardest when they are based on truth.

Though Catherine covers the trauma and tragedy of Cambodia's history, she also embraces its beauty and relationships. Women, children, residents, and friends are sometimes weaved into parties and temples. Her poem "Seeing Hands," written about her intimate experience with a blind masseuse, is now counted with some of my most favorite poems of all time. Most importantly, she openly admits to being a complete outsider and awkward observer in "In The Nail Salon, Siem Reap." The author is obviously humbled in the company of genocide survivors.

Pick up a copy of this collection if you want to learn, grieve, and be blown away.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, September 24th 2010

Saints & Cannibals

admin — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Christine Hamm

Plain View Press

If I were to list my favorite poets, the count would be long and span a modest range of styles, but several rise clearly to the top. These poets—Sharon Olds, Carolyn Forché, Sylvia Plath, and Audre Lorde, to name a few—in no way shy away from subject matter women are traditionally taught to suppress or deny: the shocking, shadowy, and infinitely juicy reality of our lives. These poets instead dive face first into the truth—especially when it hurts—and in doing so shed light on the beauty to be found glimmering quietly in the fertile mud of actual experience.

Christine Hamm is one such poet and needless to say, my list of favorites has grown after having (repeatedly) read Saints & Cannibals, Hamm’s second full-length collection. According to the poet’s website, “this book follows the story of three generations of women in America” and is told from the point of view of “historical and mythical saints and cannibals, including the Donner party, Hansel and Gretel, and a whole host of medieval female saints.”

Among the historical and mythical are more contemporary voices, all of whose stories are told in clean, vibrant free-verse. Fertility, corn, straw, cats, horses, and other animals figure prominently in the landscape of this collection. After reading each poem I was compelled to set the book down and let the precise and novel imagery sink in.

Beginning with “Up From the Root Cellar”: “Ruby plucks up a tomato, jams it against her teeth, tasting snow and rust” before shaking out her skirt, rinsing her hands and going to assist her mother as she “sprawls in the furrows... stockings dark with a wet rush” in labor with yet another baby. Ruby is dutiful but seems defined more by her internal experience than by her station or obligation in life.

Another character, whose story is told throughout the collection, is Claire, who in the poem “The Family Practice” doesn’t want to disappoint and so undergoes dentistry without Novocain. Yet “Claire was turning thirteen the way milk turns, becomes thicker, more complicated, fragrant;” will she continue to submit to what is expected of her?

We also find Joan of Arc working at the Gap, Oliver with his “urchin shirt/ rusty shoes, hat full/ of night and spiders,” and a suburban angel “with wings made of safety pins/ used tampons and bottlecaps.”

I found Saints & Cannibals to be deeply feminist as it speaks with an authentic and unapologetic honesty, telling stories that have the power to provoke an embrace of and ultimately sovereignty in our own experience.

Written by: Matsya Siosal, June 26th 2010