The 21st Century Mind: Review of the Essay Collection,”The Word Pretty” by Elisa Gabbert

The Word Pretty by Elisa Gabbert (Black Ocean, 2018)

☆☆☆☆☆/ 5 stars

“The essay needn’t be faithful to the path of the thinking, but the form can reveal how thinking happens, like when a song gets stuck in your head and only later do you realize why you thought of it, that you had read or heard a word from the third verse. There’s magic there—the mind doesn’t always show its work. Why should prose?” -Elisa Gabbert, “The Art of the Paragraph,” The Word Pretty

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Elisa Gabbert’s work first appeared to me in the form of her first poetry collection, The French Exit (Birds, LLC., 2010) which I had to purchase as one of three collections for a poetry class earlier this semester. In the second week of classes we were asked to go home and read all three collections and bring back our favorites to read for the class the following week. I perused the pages of the other two required collections, relatively unmoved, but when I opened Gabbert’s collection I was taken aback; a storm of pages turning and pen marks flying ensued. The collection is filled with self-deprecating humor regarding sadness and life, a language I speak fluently and resonated with me. So, when I learned that Gabbert would be visiting my university in February, but for her creative nonfiction work in the essays of The Word Pretty, I immediately headed to the web to order one of the last two available on Amazon.

The Word Pretty is a brilliant collection, the style of which I can’t help but compare to my favorite book of essays ever, Too Much and Not the Mood by Durga Chew Bose. Gabbert, like Bose, has written essays for the modern world. She muses on the linguistic significance of the emoji, the variations on the catharsis of crying, the definition of poetry, why one reads novels, the word pretty, and more. Gabbert, though presenting essays full of research, fact and opinion alike, offers-up essays full literary mastery, images, and ideas that will resonate with the modern woman or man.

Gabbert’s structuring of her essays and the book as a whole is masterful. I must now then contend that Gabbert’s true brilliance is revealed in something in the collection which at first I was unsure of: her recycling of ideas and specific references in separate essays, highlighted by the chosen structure of the collection. For example, there are a several successive essays in the collection that reference the variations on translations of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, or toward the end of the collection she quotes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing two separate times. On a surface level I have to acknowledge that to some this may appear lazy, a recycling of ideas with little effort; however, I think this is where the genius lies. Gabbert has mimicked what it is like to think and learn—one gathers information and continuously returns to it, musing on it in different ways, seeing how it applies to the world around them. She revealed how thinking happens. She muses on the same ideas, but in fresh ways each time.

This week, I had the pleasure of meeting Gabbert and hearing her read from The Word Pretty(as well as The French Exit, and L’Heure Bleue Or The Judy Poemswhen she came to speak to my poetry class that has been studying her work). I must say hearing her read from the collection and explain some of it, only solidified my appreciation for what she does in this collection. Gabbert has revealed herself as a modern writer for a modern audience, musing on what it means to live and think in the 21stcentury.

 

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A Voice for You: A Review of “I Am Yours: A Shared Memoir” by Reema Zaman

(This book was sent to me courtesy of Amberjack Publishing…thank you!)

I Am Yours by Reema Zaman (Amberjack, 2019)

☆☆☆☆☆/ 5 stars

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“I Am Yours: A Shared Memoir” Reema Zaman, Amberjack, 2019; Photo by: Laci Durham

I Am Yours: A Shared Memoir follows Reema Zaman on her journey through the first thirty years of her life. Her journey begins in Bangladesh, but is then sent abroad to Hawaii, on to Thailand, and finally to the continental US. As the reader moves through the book, they are confronted with what it means to be a woman as the writer finds her voice quieted by societal expectations of women time and time again. She recognizes herself as an object of sexual prize in Thailand and the US and as a mere background character in her native country of Bangladesh. Zaman leads the reader through her trials with emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of others, and destructive behaviors bread from these circumstances at the hands of herself.

This, though, is a story of triumph as Zaman comes to find the powerful voice within herself and the courage to share it.

From the first line of this book I was hooked, eager to turn each new page which I found to be filled with both heartbreak and triumph. I found myself tearing up on more than one occasion, filled with amazement that someone could put into words what it feels like to be without them. Zaman poured herself into each piece of this memoir and it shows. Each word is masterfully selected, intentional, and moving. The structure is intelligent: told in four acts, with a guiding word for each chapter.

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“I Am Yours: A Shared Memoir” Reema Zaman, Amberjack, 2019; Photo by: Laci Durham

There is a line from the book that reads: “Language births art, literature, dance, theater, and bedtime stories.” This simple line I found to be a metaphor for what Zaman does in this book: she crafts a narrative that is deeply personal like bedtime stories, but universal like the art language breeds. This is Zaman’s greatest accomplishment: she has made a memoir of herself for others; she has poured out her soul and dedicated it to those who cannot do the same.

This is a book that deserves to be read if only for Zaman’s masterful literary technique, but if you choose to peruse its pages and go on one woman’s journey to find her voice, you will find something far larger and more powerful than you could ever expect.

Mermen, Sappho, & Diabetic Dogs: A Review of “The Pisces” by Melissa Broder

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REVIEW: The Pisces by Melissa Broder (Hogarth, 2018)

☆☆☆☆/5 stars

In Melissa Broder’s first work of fiction, we are introduced to Lucy, a PhD student from Phoenix, AZ writing about the gaps in Sappho, who finds herself at the end of her

long-term relationship with Jamie, a scientist who has transformed from chiseled jaw to neck fat before her eyes over the years. After Lucy ends it with Jamie, she finds herself in a deep depression that much like Jamie’s body changes seems to appear without her realizing, but culminates in a depressive episode of disembodied stupor, sleeping pills, and jelly donuts. After an outburst of emotion in a moment of lucidity involving her ex, she finds herself between being arrested and therapy for love addiction. Lucy chooses therapy and ends up in Venice Beach, taking care of her yogi sister’s diabetic dog Dominic in a beach side mansion. Early in her stay she wanders out to rocks on the shore in the middle of the night where she meets a strange swimmer who refuses to exit the water. The reader is taken through Lucy’s attempts to come to terms with her reliance on men and her desire to be autonomous despite them. Enter merman infatuation, Sappho, and the universe.

I found this book daring. Broder does something in this novel unlike anything I’ve seen before. She somehow manages to develop an erotic psychoanalytical, almost mythical, story of a late-thirties woman into a work of modern literary fiction that leaves the reader questioning if it is the most brilliant thing they’ve ever read, the craziest thing they’ve ever read, or perhaps both.

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Despite its achievements, there were a few places I found this book falling short—or perhaps, doing too much. I found the psychoanalytical portions of the novel brilliant, as well as the contemplation of Sappho in the process of Lucy analyzing her own feelings; however, when it came to other characters it was as if they were just dumped there and left underdeveloped and ridiculous for no apparent reason. I also found the eroticism too much. I think had the moments been better developed it would have been more excusable, but a few of the moments seemed unnecessary.

Though it lacks in areas, what Broder does in this book, is an achievement. The author seems to be shepherding the world into a new kind of literary fiction filled with feminine desire and myth that belongs in the modern world.

 

Review: How to Find Love in a Bookshop

How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry (Pamela Dorman Books/ Viking, 2016)

☆☆☆/5  (3/5 stars)

How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry
How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry || Published by Viking/ Pamela Dorman Books, 2016

“After all, a town without a bookshop was a town without a heart.” Veronica Henry, How to Find Love in a Bookshop

Emilia Nightingale is brought home from teaching English abroad by her father Julius’s death. Julius was the proprietor of Nightingale Books, a bookshop in Peasebrook–an idyllic country village in the Cotswolds. Emilia decides to take his place in running the shop and in so doing uncovers just how many lives Julius had touched. While Emilia finds herself overwhelmed with attempts to fill his shoes, several stories of grief and love all connected to the bookshop begin to unfold around her.

The book was a darling concept: simple and sweet through and through. The way Henry approached the story, which on the surfaces seems to be no more than a love story was unique. As the reader begins to traverse Emilia’s grief, they are taken into her backstory, then they are shown through the numerous lives of those in the community who her father touched over the years, all culminating in several love stories taking shape around the bookshop and their connections with it.

Overall, I found the book just okay. Due to there being so many stories happening at once, I never got to actually sink my teeth into any one of them or get to know the characters. It was overall surface level and rather boring. I also found the marketing of it as “perfect for bibliophiles” a gimmick as books took a total backseat throughout. I so badly wanted this to be one of those books I return to as a fun read from time to time, but it won’t be.

I think one can take the book for what it is at face value: a cute read that skims the surface and one that a person picks up once and says “okay, that was nice, moving on.”