Lifestyle
New poetry stresses that our stories are more precious and urgent than ever
Editor’s Note: This review discusses suicide.
How can poetry help us now, when practically every morning brings a fresh assault on knowledge, wisdom and safety? Amid the cruel political discourse horrifying headlines that seem to envelop everything, where is there a place for poetry? What can a bunch of artfully arranged words do?
A lot, I’d argue.
Words are among the many things under attack. Our stories, the ways that we fill our words with our own meanings, are more precious and urgent than ever, as three new books this fall by poets in – or entering – mid-career make clear. They lay claim to stories of identity, suffering and hope, to a kind of collective subjectivity, to the inner life of a country in the throes of deep pain and uncertainty. Here’s a look:
Blue Opening by Chet’la Sebree
Chet’la Sebree’s third book begins with the thwarted wish to have a child: “Many in my family have been plagued/ by menorrhagia in early middle age–/ fibrinous weeds causing their bodies to bleed streams,/ flooding lands no longer suitable for plants.”
What follows is a rapidly paced, heart-stricken coming to terms with a body and a future suddenly altered by autoimmune disease, with the meanings of motherhood and daughterhood, and with the stunned language required to describe it all when there is “no one to know/ my body’s vernacular, that it would mistake me for foreigner.”
Blindingly clear and unornamented, these poems have all their cards on the table, “pregnant with grief—/ it’s bloated, black, a matted thatch.” If the body is in revolt — “I am not the owner of this vessel I thought I owned, implies the man trying to sell it to me” — then it is through language that Sebree can lay claim to herself, to her story, and take it back.
The lexicons of motherhood and illness (“I accept this list of words:// necrotizing lymphadenitis and swell-scrambled nerves”) become a vocabulary of grief and profound disappointment with what may and may not be possible. Sebree searches for language to carry the grief and to promise some kind of hope and inner rebirth; she finds a surprising kind of peace and power “when a centrifuge spins/ my blood 3,000 revolutions per minute/ to render me perhaps anew to me again.” A new kind of creation becomes possible, as well, through poetry.
The Seeds by Cecily Parks
With The Seeds, her third book, Cecily Parks comes into her full powers. These poems are dark, lavish, far-reaching and subtly layered, making a harsh and rich mirror of the pastoral and the domestic. Parks reckons with the compromises that every life demands, that motherhood and art demand, that a country where violence and cruelty are suddenly triumphant require: “now I think of hope// as a swing chained to a branch./ it can be used until/ the branch sweeps the ground/ with a shush shush because/ it cannot bear/ so much weight and still loft through/ the dream-trafficked air.”
Parks’ powers of description are breathtaking, not only because one feels transported but also because, as in the poems of Elizabeth Bishop, the emotion, the domestic or personal story, is interwoven into – always an undercurrent of, a reason for – the description. But somehow, the world as described also feels like the world, not a projection. In these poems, Parks feels with her eyes.
The writing is simply beautiful: “the grackles plummet down to pierce the lawn/ for seeds and fat brown live oak acorns.” The words dart in and out of the rhythm like the grackles’ dark beaks, making gentle animals of a mother and her “ravenous daughters.” This book is a delight, a feast of grief and determined celebration. A fallen world this lovingly observed must be at least somewhat redeemed.
The New Economy by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
Hopelessness is a beloved enemy in these poems, a necessary muse. So are grief and fear. “The days I don’t want to kill myself/ are extraordinary,” begins the most affirming poem about suicide I’ve ever read. But these are not merely affirming poems (though one of them is titled “Affirmation Cistern When I Let Go of My Fear Life Becomes Magical”). Calvocoressi is at home in the dark, they live there, even if light is their element. They’re wise because they’re wary: “every being will slaughter/ their neighbor if they’re hungry,/ and enough.”
All of our violence, they assert – with a compassion so pure it feels out of step with the times – is born of fear: “when I was little I wanted/ to be tough to beat people up to own a gun./ wanted the boy body that would keep my body/ from being so scared.” Violence begins in each of us, is always inflicted first upon ourselves. And yet, we persist, try to do better – we must.
A series of “Miss You” poems, high-energy elegies for loved ones who have died, celebrate life emphatically by not quite letting go of the past: “miss you in your puffy blue jacket./ They’re hip now. I can bring you a new one/ if only you’ll come by. Know I told you /it was okay to go. Know I told you it was okay/ to leave me./ Why’d you believe me?” Why let the past go? Where else do we live but our stories? Where else can we rest from the terrors of the present? Where else can we remind ourselves of the beauty of the world?
If you or someone you know may be considering suicide or is in crisis, call or text 9 8 8 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
Promo image with Phil Pritchard, Alzo Slade, and Peter Sagal
Bruce Bennett, Arnold Turner, NPR/Getty Images, NPR
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Bruce Bennett, Arnold Turner, NPR/Getty Images, NPR
This week, Phil Pritchard, NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup, joins us to about taking the cup jet-skiing and panelists Alonzo Bodden, Adam Burke, and Dulcé Sloan beef with the Pope and get misdiagnosed.
I have a “big” birthday coming up. It’s the big 70 (gulp!). I’d like to throw myself a party, but one that might seem more fit for a 7-year-old than a 70-year-old (except when it comes to the food). I would like for there to be activities or games such as scavenger hunts, escape rooms, billiards, pinball, karaoke, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey — you name it. But my friends and I also appreciate gourmet-quality food like the stuff that’s served at Providence, Crustacean and Mélisse. Is there any way to combine all of that into a party for 20-30 people? — Marla Levine
Looking for things to do in L.A.? Ask us your questions and our expert guides will share highly specific recommendations.
Here’s what we suggest:
Marla, I love that you want to celebrate your milestone birthday in a playful way that sparks your inner child. Who says you can’t run around and play games with your friends just because you’re a “grown-up”?
Similar to you, I prefer fun activities over stuffy, formal parties. I’ve celebrated my birthday at a go-kart racing track and a bowling alley. One year, I hosted an adult field day at the park with sack races, water balloons and snow cones, so I have some fun ideas for you. While many of these spots don’t offer gourmet-level cuisine — unless you consider chicken tenders and fries fancy — I’ve paired them with nearby restaurants that you can walk to. Depending on your vibe, you can do the activity first then walk to dinner, or vice versa.
One of my favorite adult-only barcades in Los Angeles is EightyTwo in the Arts District. Not only is it nestled between an array of bars, shops and restaurants, it is home to more than 50 vintage pinball and arcade machines. They have all of the classics like “Donkey Kong,” “Galaga,” “Mario Bros.,” “Ms. Pac-Man” and “Mortal Kombat.” On certain nights, you can catch live DJ sets as well. For a meal, consider the Michelin-recommended restaurant Manuela, which received a stamp of approval from the late Times restaurant critic Jonathan Gold. Tucked inside of the Hauser & Wirth complex, Manuela is a farm-to-table establishment with a variety of modern American bites to choose from. Whatever you do, be sure to order cream biscuits for the table.
An activity that instantly makes me feel like a kid again is singing — OK, more like belting — my favorite song into a microphone while surrounded by loved ones. One of the coolest karaoke spots in L.A. is Break Room 86, a nostalgic speakeasy hidden inside Koreatown’s Line hotel, which has private karaoke rooms, live DJs (and sometimes dancers, including a Michael Jackson impersonator) and an ice cream truck that serves boozy ice cream and Jell-O shots. Times senior food editor Danielle Dorsey says, “Entering the bar feels like you’ve stepped through an ’80s time machine with vintage arcade games, stacks of box TVs with static-fuzzy screens and tape cassettes decorating the walls.” Break Room 86 doesn’t open until 9 p.m., so check out Openaire for a sunset dinner. Led by Michelin-starred chef Josiah Citrin (the same guy behind one of your favorites, Mélisse), the rooftop restaurant offers elevated American fare such as a brick-pressed jidori chicken and grilled branzino — and it’s inside a glorious light-filled greenhouse.
Another spot that would make for an enjoyable birthday celebration is Highland Park Bowl, the oldest functioning bowling alley in L.A. Built in 1927 during the Prohibition era, the venue still has that vintage aesthetic with old pinsetters that serve as chandeliers, a revamped mural from the 1930s and eight refurbished bowling lanes. There’s also a billiards room and a full bar (with a tasty cocktail menu that rotates twice a year). When you get hungry, take a quick walk to Checker Hall, a neighborhood bar and restaurant that serves California-Mediterranean food such as skewers, turkish chicken and chicken schnitzel. Actor-comedian Hannah Pilkes told The Times it’s her “favorite bar in all of L.A.” How she described it: “It has the best cocktails and it almost feels like you’re in New Orleans when you step inside. It has a beautiful patio overlooking Highland Park. The decor is funky and kitschy yet classy; it’s magical.” Afterward, you can take another short walk to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams for a sweet treat (if you don’t have a cake).
My colleague Todd Martens, who writes about theme parks and immersive experiences, says it’s difficult to find escape rooms that can accommodate 20 to 30 people, but if you don’t mind splitting up and staggering your start times, check out Hatch Escapes near Koreatown. The venue can accommodate about 10 people at a time. Martens wrote about their room called “the Ladder,” which he describes as a “90-minute interactive movie with puzzles, taking guests through five decades, beginning in the 1950s, in which they will play an exaggerated game of corporate life.” The room “incorporates a wide variety of games, puzzles, as well as film and animation,” he adds. If this theme doesn’t spark your interest, there are three other options, including “Lab Rat,” which can accommodate 12 people.
You sound like a fun person, so I have a feeling that anything you do will be a good time. I hope that these suggestions are helpful in planning your special day. If you end up visiting any of these spots, please send us a photo. We’d love to see it. Happy birthday!
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