Fortune*
Alaina Symanovich
2015
17 pages
Damaged Goods Press
$3.00 (ebook)
$6.00 (Print)
Reviewed by Clara B. Jones
How do we cope with and recover from
the insanity of infatuation? This is the question addressed by the
young poet, Alaina Symanovich, in her chapbook, Fortune,
edited by Caseyrenée
Lopez, publisher of Damaged Goods Press whose website describes it as
“a micro-press specializing in queer/trans poetry and flash fiction
chapbooks” celebrating the “beauty and terror of queer life.”
Queer and lesbian literature have, most commonly been expressed via
the genres, historical fiction, science fiction, fantasy, horror, and
romance, though queer and lesbian writers are among past and
contemporary high-profile poets (for example, Gertrude Stein, Audre
Lorde, Maggie Nelson, Eileen Myles, Nikki Giovanni, Mary Oliver). In
her fiction, Symanovich has described her early persona
as a “boyish girl,” perhaps a precursor to identification as a
lesbian, and, in one of her short stories, she mentions her father's
interest in the supernatural, possibly, explaining the author's
fascination with Tarot (Fortune-telling).
Indeed,
in attempting to come to terms with a failed relationship, Symanovich
organizes her series of poems as a game modeled on a deck of Taro
cards. The cover of Fortune represents
l'étoile
tarot, card CVII (#17) of a
deck, associated with Ganymede, a “divine hero” named for
Jupiter's 7th
moon. As one of her devices, the author's final poem appears on page
17, and many hours might be spent researching Tarot numerology in
relation to the positions and page numbers of Symanovich's poems. For
example, a Tarot deck comprises four suits and 4 face cards which sum
to 14, the number of poems in the author's book. Symanovich's text is
a verbal and numerical (quantitative?) game that can be analyzed as a
whole or in separate pieces. “The Fool” is the trump card in a
Tarot deck. The author's “fool”, a scarecrow described on page 7
in the poem, “Glitter”, is a figure with whom the poem's female
narrator (presumably, the author), identifies. Interestingly, by the
end of her text, the narrator appears to triumph over, to “trump,”
an abusive object of desire whose gender identification is ambiguous
(possibly, a transgender male, a bisexual, a lesbian, or a
hetero-normative female). In this poem, and, throughout the book, the
narrator's voice is passive, suggesting that she views herself as a
victim, as stated in the poem, “Relief,” on page 8: “I was
always in respect, deferential, stepping back/half-lit silhouette./.”
Reflecting a concern with inequality, Taro card #8 is “Power.” In
the poem, “Retrograde,” on page 9, the narrator acknowledges her
subordinance to the unattainable object (“Your reign is
stronger.”), another sign of her feelings of powerlessness.
On
pages 10 (“Winter”) and 11 (“Quarantine”), the desired object
is revealed to manifest a psycho-dermatological pathology, and the
infatuation is characterized as crazed. Indeed, the narrator is
metaphorically bleeding, possibly, a symbol of physical damage,
emotional and spiritual suffering, and/or menstruation (the word
“blood” occurs in several poems). On page 12, “Supernatural,”
the narrator states, “I dammed away the truth about you.”,
referencing the unconscious, a Freudianesque marker of Surrealism,
the apparent literary root of Symanovich's poems. Though a poem
should speak for itself, consistent with classical standards, the
author's contrivances seduce, even, require, the reader to play games
with her in a search for meaning. These highly lyrical poems threaten
to be overwhelmed by their complex structures. However, the
narratives in Fortune
can be understood as “innovations on the lyric,” as the critic,
Linda Russo, has stated about other female poets' work. Russo points
out that lyric allows a writer to examine gender, community, and/or
personal intimacies, a fitting concept for Symanovich's use of the
forms in her book. See, for example, the author's use of last lines
to reference first lines of subsequent poems, highlighting images and
language for the reader as well as linking poems to one
another—intimate acts.
I do
not know which female poets have influenced Symanovich's practice.
However, her narratives were reminiscent of Mary Oliver's, “The
Uses Of Sorrow” (Thirst,
2006). Oliver wrote: “(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)/Someone I
love once gave me/A box full of darkness./It took me years to
understand/That this, too, was a gift./” Similarly, in her final
poem, “Fantasy” (page 17), Symanovich “envisioned a new
freedom,” though she characterizes herself as being in a
dream-state. She, suggests, then, that she remains embedded in myth
rather than reality, and one wonders whether the narrator-author has
moved beyond victimization or powerlessness. Certainly, Symanovich's
narrator remains self-conscious and full of anxiety. Her poems are
personal narratives, and radical feminists and political queers would
suggest that her [homo-]normative (binary?) view of relationships
requires expansion to the political realm. In future work, for
example, Symanovich might consider viewing her themes through the
lens of Patriarchy, an institutional arrangement that radical
feminists hold accountable for female suffering (e.g., depression,
marginalization, power asymmetries). Notwithstanding these
reservations, Fortune
deserves a wide audience as testimony of one young poet's attempt to
understand intimacy, to recover from pain, and to achieve agency.
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