Review of play dead by Francine J. Harris (Review by Clara B. Jones)

play dead

Francine J. Harris

Alice James Books

2016

pp 85

$15.95

Reviewed by Clara B. Jones*

I am rarely at a loss for words—particularly, the written word. However, this is the most difficult review of poetry I have ever attempted. My mind tends to work linearly; thus, when confronted with experimental or postmodern writing, I struggle to repress a search for meaning, coherence, and the tendency to classify based on orderly categories. One of my favorite critics, Tony Hoagland, a mainstream poet, prioritizes subject matter, sincerity, clarity, exactness, and concreteness—characteristics of canonical writing; however, in his analyses of contemporary, “compositional poetics,” Hoagland deftly deconstructs poetry of the moment as collage-like and fragmentary. In many of my conversations with poets, especially, younger poets, over the past three years, a theme that often arises is the need for detailed analysis of current styles—what Hoagland sometimes refers to as “tone.” While, in the final analysis, Hoagland rejects contemporary poetry in favor of canonical forms, language, and functions, I have not read more insightful and useful essays about contemporary poetry as those provided by that critic¹. I recommend beginning with Hoagland's essay, “Fear of narrative and the skittery poem of our moment” (p 173), in which he states, “Generally speaking, [poetry of the moment] could be characterized as one of great invention and playfulness. Simultaneously, it is also a moment of great aesthetic self-consciousness and emotional removal.”

Not all of Hoagland's characterizations of contemporary poetry apply to Francine J. Harris' work since her relationship to her writing is decidedly attached and present. She does not keep her subjects, her themes, or her own emotions at arm's length. Nonetheless, Harris' use of language is playful, collage-like, and fragmentary, and she, also, uses punctuation and forms creatively. I first encountered Harris' work when I read her poem, “Canvas” (reprinted in the volume under review) in Boston Review...

“You want to make a painting of a fat woman.

As if you could render the skin translucent you start at the

stomach. Inside its bag, you start to fill in hot-cross pastries

and sausage and hot dogs on a stick.

You stand her upright.

You brush out a background in vats of all-purpose flour and

Swiss milk chocolate bars near the belly button and figure

you may dot areas of ambiguity with gummy bears and

popcorn chicken. But instead you find yourself stenciling in

pigs.”

Harris, a young African-American poet who has won several prestigious awards and fellowships, represents a new wave of young poets of color who are not bound to situate Race front and center of their work. Nonetheless, racial effects are apparent in her occasional use of non-standard English (“What you taking so long.”; “Like ants; maybe she crawl in the dark.”; “Kara, you wild.andIdontknow” [sic]; “One day when we grown”). Rarely, but effectively, Harris references current events, as, “A woman/in Oklahoma holds up a two-year-old baby girl/to keep her lover from being tasered, which is also not/an act of God. Science won't disprove a cop/hanging from a man's neck in a choke hold. We doubt/footage of alien ships in the sky.” Speculatively, Harris' frequent use of “fat” and “pig” may be references to African-American stereotypes—obesity and lovers of pork.

The poet often refers to “mother,” possibly expiating rage and sadness. Some of her lines appear to be cries de coeur and are often heartbreaking (“I mom of you. I mom of you a lot.”). Even as a young poet, Harris has become a rock star because of the widespread attention paid to her poem, “Katherine with the Lazy Eye. Short. And Not a Good Poet,” published in Rattle in 2011. In some ways, Harris might be classified as a writer of the grotesque because she emphasizes “dark” themes (unpleasant sexual encounters, drug addiction, alienation, damaged personas), Indeed, reading some of Harris' poems left me with the feelings I have when listening to Billie Holliday sing “Strange Fruit,” “Summertime,” or “God Bless the Child.” Perhaps more significant from an academic perspective, however, Harris poetry might be constructively compared with the “elliptical” poet, Lucie Brock-Broido since both writers, in my opinion, play with words in a similar fashion, especially, their penchant for using neologisms and their use of adjectives and nouns as verbs, a convention that I have found infectious and that I have, sparingly, begun to incorporate into my own work. This type of play, however, can quickly become tedious as well as seeming arbitrary or contrived, and I found Harris' frequent use of periods to separate phrases and to segment sentences an unnecessary and distracting conceit.

Similar to her references to Race, Harris' treatment of Gender is mostly understated; however, her identification with feminism appears strong. In a recent interview at divedapper.com, the poet stated, “The word I'd use if I were being kind to myself would be 'confidence.' 'Entitlement would be the word I'd use if I were trying to rein myself in....I still have something to say, and I'm going to keep having something to say, and I'm just going to keep talking. You can either be on board or not, but I'm not done.” It is rare to encounter a young female poet whose voice is so certain and so mature. Given the well-deserved attention Harris has received to date, her future work is sure to expand her audience. Even if “collage” poetics is not your preference, I encourage you to acquaint yourself with Harris' strong, emotional, and moving poetry. I suspect that her next book is awaited eagerly by many, and I look forward to following her career.

¹Hoagland T (2006) real sofistikashun: Essays On Poetry and Craft. Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota

*Originally published in Yellow Chair Review, August 2016