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Waters (Stakes Is High), an African American pastor and civil rights activist, delivers a blistering critique of white supremacy and racial injustice in this trenchant collection of sermons, poems, and commentaries. Waters quotes extensively from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches to argue little has changed regarding American racial equality in more than half a century. Noting the silence of many church communities in the face of racial injustice, he proclaims that King’s mission has failed and suggests white supremacy is growing stronger in America, as “the waters that define the social, political, theological, and economic landscapes of our nation are contaminated with the pollution of racism.” He seamlessly connects historical lessons, like African Americans’ mistrust of authorities stemming from the “elected officials, judges, policemen, ministers, and businessmen” who aided in the formation of the KKK, to contemporary police brutality, mass shootings, and income disparities. He ends with an urgent and persuasive call to action for people of all backgrounds to come together and reform society into something resembling Dr. King’s dream through collective action and legislation that would act “as a corrective to historic harms and oppressive systems.” This concise, incisive work should be a wake-up call to Americans in general and the church in particular. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

“I am not in a hurry to live, am not in a hurry to die, but just talking to you,” Adnan (Seasons) admits in her musing and reflective collection about life at 95. Her conversation with the reader covers history, personal recollections, philosophy, mythology, love, and war, with the breadth and generosity of a period in her life in which she claims she has “more memories than yearnings.” Here, sorrow is illuminated by a buoyant honesty. “The pain of dying,” Adnan writes, “is going to be the impossibility of visiting.” Life is revisited again and again in these pages; old friends are named, places from Mount Shasta to Paris are explored, and final hopes are offered (“I dream of a room with no furniture, of a past with very few friends, of a country with no weapons”). Each paragraph in these prose poems pushes against the idea that there is “no resolution to somebody’s final absence.” “I’m telling you:” she writes, “we’re carried by tornadoes we barely notice, whirlwinds we barely feel, aggressions we barely acknowledge, because we’re half awake.” This memorable collection continues Adnan’s legacy as a poet of the personal, political, and cosmic. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

The ruminative debut from Daddona considers the role of departures in shaping the arc of a life. In three sections—“House of Sound,” “Last Night, the Caterwaul,” and “Human Touch”—Daddona investigates the roles of family and loss in personal identity, as well as that of time’s relentless proceeding. “House of Sound,” the opening poem, illustrates this concern: “Because a shadow/ wants to leave you/ but doesn’t know how—/ it takes light/ years to grow dark/ away from itself.” Elsewhere, in “The White Dog,” the speaker declares, “I watched snow dissolve/ on heels of impenetrable flowers.// These are only symbols of time.” Many poems contemplate the domestic sphere, and several are about or addressed to the speaker’s dog. Anticipating the creature’s departure from the family, the speaker says, “lie down dog lie/ down land where dogs/ roam divot to fence/ sun-spotted,” to which he draws a parallel to selfhood: “we have the same back/ we are the same/ man is an image in himself.” Occasionally, these sorts of metaphorical connections feel overstated, though they are in keeping with the collection’s restlessly probing quality. The 28 carefully crafted poems in this debut offer a glimpse into a mind on the search for answers. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Hayes’s restless and searching debut addresses the pain and disorientation of assimilation alongside the comforts of family. In three sections, these poems jump between locations in Europe and the United States, as if unable to settle too long in any place: “I was invaded/ by dry sickly heat of either Utah or Arizona./ The desert held in its teeth, like a lizard/ or a mountain mouse.” In the ghazal “Don’t Tell the Women,” she repeats the word unrequited, building a collage of one-sided imaginings: “I am lost to distance, quietly weaving a carpet./ Loom with me a fugue made of love threads, unrequited.// Don’t tell the women, the moon & sun will be hushed./ Put into place, for an uncertain life, unrequited.” Meditations about Hayes’s displaced mother and poems on her sister (a painter) are emotionally resonant and insightful: “To your discomfort she paints without artifice/ Her small knife cutting in the parts/ Of you she believes conceal.” This debut provides an honest and moving tribute to the immigrant experience. (Nov.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Modernist slice-of-life vignettes abound in this atmospheric collection from Kleinzahler (Before Dawn on Bluff Road). Eclectic points of interest converge, from the novelties of high society to the lives of prominent figures and strangers. Kleinzahler is adept at creating images that express the emotional qualities of environments: “Passenger ferries emerge from the mist/ river and sky, seamless, as one—/ watered ink on silk// then disappear again, crossing back over/ to the other shore, the World of Forms.” He particularly excels at animating strangers; in an empathetic and humanizing portrait, he describes a homeless man that shares the same park: “Shadow Man is out there now, always out there./ I can tell you where by the hour on the clock,/ under which tree, what corner of the park, almost as if he’s waiting for someone,/ someone who, when ready, will know to come find him there.” At times his tempo, plethora of references, and meagerly contextualized dialogue can alienate the reader. Nevertheless, Kleinzahler’s collection is akin to a bountiful meal—substantially pleasing and worth the investment if consumed at a leisurely pace. (Nov.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

In his essay “A Report from Occupied Territory,” James Baldwin writes: “People are destroyed very easily. Where is the civilization and where, indeed, is the morality which can afford to destroy so many?” In his taut, lyrical book, Alexander (Booked) writes from that “occupied territory,” a world in which “we can’t see our home/ we can’t breathe our air.” Alexander explores and brings to life a world where so much exists in the negative: “we can’t be ourselves/ we can’t be at home/ we can’t be alone,” never shying away from the use of a collective “we” in his report of racial experience in America. There is sorrow here, as well as critique that develops toward hope. Channeling Gwendolyn Brooks, Alexander writes: “This is for the unbelievable./ The We Real Cool ones.” Throughout, he enters and calls upon a chorus of voices from past and present, pushing toward a future of liberation and equality. This serves as an apt and timely reminder of the ongoing inequities in America, as well as of the power of collective hope. (Nov.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

French blogger and women’s rights activist Harmange debuts with a provocative yet unconvincing argument that misandry, or the hatred of all men, is healthy, liberating, and even joyful for women. Calling on women to stop being afraid of accusations of emotionality and to embrace their rage at misogyny, sexual violence, and the patriarchy, Harmange characterizes feminism as “the interface between private anger... and public anger.” She proclaims her lack of sympathy for men’s concerns and calls on women to stop praising men for their “pathetically trivial” attempts toward gender equality. Declaring that “female solidarity is never frivolous,” Harmange celebrates the power of women-only communities, and vows to make “sisterhood [her] compass.” Unfortunately, a rather bland feminist critique of her own mostly happy straight marriage steals the thunder of her argument, making the issue more about men’s socialization rather than their essential nature, and her suggestion to reject compulsory heterosexuality in favor of single childlessness feels rather narrow-minded and out of touch with the reality of women’s lives. Ultimately, Harmange’s take feels more like a bloodless thought exercise than an authentic worldview. This manifesto packs a weak punch. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Two timid school teachers find love in this cozy lesbian contemporary from Vaun (The Sea Within). Garet Allen moves from Atlanta to the small town of Shadetree, Ga., to fill in for the high school art teacher while she’s away on maternity leave. The short-term gig offers freewheeling Garet a stable income without forcing her to put down roots and frees her up to work on her picture book project at night. On her first day in town, she meets Tess Hill when Tess tries to sell her a dulcimer at the local guitar shop. Though Garet is too shy to make a move, she’s instantly attracted to Tess and hopes they’ll meet again—only to discover that Tess is the music teacher who shares her classroom. Though Garet’s happy-go-lucky lifestyle may prove incompatible with Tess’s life as a single mother, their romance is largely conflict-free as they bond while working on the school play. Vaun ramps up the drama for an eventful finale, but the conflict feels contrived after the sweetness of the buildup. The result is a touching, if muddled, romance. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Barmash (Homicide in the Biblical World), director of Jewish, Islamic, and Near Eastern Studies at Washington University, takes an illuminating and original look at the Laws of Hammurabi, “the first documentation we have of law in human society, thousands of years earlier than Roman law.” Barmash offers a comprehensive history of these laws (composed in the 1700s BCE), examining their origins, the impact they had on biblical and Hittite law, and the role of justice in Mesopotamian culture. The Laws were first believed to be royal legislation, but other theories arose in the 20th century, including that they were actually propaganda intended to demonstrate that King Hammurabi had fulfilled his mandate to act justly. Barmash makes a convincing new argument—that the Laws were the work of an unnamed Babylonian scribe whose work copying other laws and studying cases gave him a sense of what was equitable, and enabled him to derive statutes from what he’d analyzed. Barmash argues that this pioneering scribe went further than his predecessors, including explanations for prescribed punishments and expanding reasoning in ways that anticipated Roman thought. Barmash’s persuasive scholarship puts the ancient code of law in an entirely new light. (Nov.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Towfighi, director of neurological services for the Los Angeles County Department of Health, and Stevens (Solving the Puzzle of Your ADD/ADHD Child) make the science of strokes accessible in this guide to stroke causes, prevention, and recovery. The authors break down how the brain receives oxygen via bloodflow, and describe the different types of strokes: ischemic (caused by “plaque in large arteries, or clots that originate in the heart”) and hemorrhagic (strokes in the brain). On what happens after having a stroke, readers are walked through what to expect in the first 24 hours at a hospital and potential treatment options, among them occupational and physical therapy. The authors also cover stroke prevention—recommendations include a diet of whole grains, fruits, and vegetables—as well as unexpected symptoms, such as anxiety and depression that one may experience after a stroke. Charts appear throughout to make technical explanations more accessible, as with a table called “Stroke Location and Its Associated Effects” that lays out the artery affected by a stroke and the common symptoms that go with it. Packed with information, this is a must-read for anyone with questions about strokes. (Oct.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink