At Your Feet
Ana Cristina César
Katrina Dodson, Ed.
Brenda Hillman, Helen Hillman, &
Sebastião Edson Macedo
(translators)
2018
Parlor Press
$14.00
103 pp
Reviewed by Clara B. Jones
experimenting with book review form...*
“In literature, it is only the wild
that attracts us.” Henry David Thoreau
Who is the author? Ana Cristina
César (1952-1983,
suicide*) was active in Brazil during the 1970s. Her work has been
categorized as avant garde, a term usually reserved for visual
artists and writers who are active politically, usually, in leftist
groups or movements. According to Brenda Hillman, César
was born and raised in Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro, in a religious,
middle-class family. Conducting research on “Ana C,” as the poet
was called in her circle and among her followers, I did not discover
that her formative years were marked by trauma or dysfunction.
However, in an academic paper, Lúcia
Villares (1997, Portuguese Studies 13, pp 108-123) reported
that the 1970s in Brazil were preceded by military coups (in 1964 &
1968), leading to the isolation, exclusion, and suppression of
radicals, activists, intellectuals, and the middle-class.
In response to these measures, strikes
and demonstrations were carried out against the military regime which
countered the actions with increased repression—especially of the
middle-class, including, censorship, seizure of books, attacks on
left-wing publishers, among other interventions. César
and her circle of poets formed a group, “geração
Marginal” (“the marginal generation”) that published and
sold chapbooks and books independent of commercial publishing houses
and distributors. The marginal (marginalized) poets advanced a view
of a fragmented world in which the power of language was reduced.
These oppositional writers expressed their sense of impotence, in
part, by emphasizing their communal efforts and by asserting
themselves as survivors in a hostile environment.
Through her writing, “Ana C”
identified with the “poesia feminina” movement in Brazil,
part of the opposition supporting women's search for identity and
voice. This group held that to be a woman was to be “desdobráve”—a
woman capable of transforming herself. Consistent with this
background, César's
poetry is in general, fragmented and written in collage style,
mostly, dispensing with meter, rhythm, music, and lyric, though her
pieces are infused with vivid image and color. The reader of At
Your Feet may find that poems seem to increase in complexity,
self-confidence, and clarity from beginning to end; though, according
to Hillman, there is no evidence that César's
poems were arranged chronologically. Though I am not qualified to
say, the translations appear to be excellent; at least, I found them
rich with artful language. After a tour of the continent, César
returned to Rio, jumping out of a window in her parents' home not
long after.
What is At Your Feet
about? The book is a collection of intense poems, mostly about
bad or failed relationships with men, as well as their associated
emotions and feelings. Also, the book's title suggests subservience.
Thus, for example, “I went on the attack: it's now, sweet-/heart,
in a car going up in flames,...in the early dawn, because of you and
furious: it's now, against this traffic....” (p 19). The author
seems driven to make sense of things—with men, with herself;
though, there is no mention of political unrest except in the sense
that the poems, themselves, may be viewed as oppositional—against
the military regime, against traditional mores, and against
conventional literary practices and criteria. The primary
subject-matter seems contradictory to her reputation as a feminist
and her documented identification with women and feminism. For
example, she relies upon many female stereotypes (e.g., lovestruck,
hysterical, silly) and expresses negative emotions toward other
females (e.g., they arouse jealousy or are viewed as intruders: “that
total bitch/of a woman”, p 77).
Nevertheless, one of César's
stated goals was to become assertive, authentic, and outspoken,
rather than, a passive and suppressed woman. Thus, her bold
expressions of emotional vulnerability may be viewed as attempts to
be radically, unabashedly honest (“Let's have afternoon tea and
I'll tell you my big passionate story, which I've kept under lock and
key, and my heart beats out of sync while we eat gaufrettes...I'm
touched by fire.” (p 11); “Call again tomorrow/no matter what.”
(p 17); “Without you, I'm really a lake, a mountain./I think of a
man named Herberto./...And without bravado, sweetheart, I raise the
price.” (p 33). On the other hand, a few of the poems demonstrate
moments of assertion and agency (see, for instance, “Final Fire,”
p 89), but the intention seems never to be sustained. Ultimately,
this collection is about a young woman searching for her own voice,
her own agency, and her own will, as well as, the ability to resist
socialization and circumstance.
Formal Structure: As mentioned,
the poems in At Your Feet, are fragmented, like the political
landscape within which César
found herself and like her own psychological makeup. Thus, her
classification with the avant garde is warranted by the
innovative nature of her forms, matching her content. As well, many
of her poems appear without titles (a type of erasure?; a silent,
“Untitled”?), a convention sometimes used by the L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E
poet, Susan Howe.
César's
work seems to align with the movement, Surrealism, since many of her
poems exhibit “automatism,” sometimes, by way of, impulsiveness
(but, “My boy. It's not automatism. I swear. It's jazz from the
heart.”, p 41) and the mining of unconscious processes (“Poetry
doesn't—telegraphic—occasional—/leave me solo—loose—/at the
mercy of the impossible—/—of the real.”, p 47). The collection
includes prose poems and an interesting list poem (“Onomastic
Index,” p 93) that includes the names of at least two famous
females who died tragically. Structurally, many of the poems might be
classified as “fragments”—a single or a few lines. In keeping
with a fragmented identity, voice, and form (Post-modernism?), most
of these poems are cynical, self-absorbed, emotional, or detached, or
are about “boredom” (p 85) or “illness” (81) or victimization
(p 83) or hysteria (p 19). Thus, as a whole, the poems' forms are
consistent with their meanings and themes—as defined and expressed
by the author.
Conclusion: In the final
analysis, César's
collection shows the work of a young poet without the ability to see
herself through an objective lens. As Marjorie Perloff has stated, a
mature poet has the ability to see the humor in themselves [sic],
something lacking from At Your Feet. It is a cliché
to point out that one would like to see how this writer might have
developed over a long, productive career. Without this option, one
must view the collection's value primarily in relation to the
socio-political atmosphere in which it was written. In addition, the
poet's work is interesting as an example of a “young adult”
sub-genre, and critics could mine the volume for what it tells us
about the challenges of early adulthood, particularly, about the
development and maturation of females who succumb to suicide when
relatively young. Hopefully, César's
complete body of work will become available in translation at a
future date. Combined with At Your Feet, the poet's writings
could become a valuable resource for those interested in avant
garde beyond the United States and Europe. I recommend this book
because it is a very interesting and enjoyable read. Indeed, despite
its limitations, I was unable to put the book down once I began to
read it because César
took me, and will take you, on an intense “joy- ride”—on an
emotional roller-coaster that you will enjoy (see Epigram).
*Note: César's
fate brings to mind two other young female artists who jumped out of
windows to end their lives: photographer, Francesca Woodman
(1958-1981) and poet, Elise Cowen (1933-1962), both Americans. One of
my motivations for writing this review is the hope that a reader who
is an academic or critic will conduct research on these cases—or,
pass the possible project on to someone. Based upon my own limited
knowledge, there appear to be some similarities among the women's
trajectories. For instance, both César
and Cowen jumped out of windows at the homes of their parents, and
César and Woodman both
traveled in Europe before they took their own lives. Further, all
three of these women may have experienced an increased measure of
popularity—as well as, disillusionment?—before they killed
themselves. I think, though I am not certain, that this apparently
contradictory pattern is common among suicides. (My contact:
foucault03@gmail.com)
*Published January 2019 in i am not a silent poet
No comments:
Post a Comment