Broken Verses–Kamila Shamsie


This novel has a slow start, but the premise is lovely. Aasmani is a young woman struggling with loss.  Her mother was a feminist activist living “in sin” with Pakistan’s greatest poet, who was brutally murdered presumably by government agents.  One day she walked out to the sea and never returned, presumed dead by all by Aasmani, who by turns rages against her mother leaving her over and over as a child and then that final day, and who hopes and believes that she is still alive somewhere, perhaps looking for the Poet, whose body was beaten nearly beyond recognition, and whose identification was confirmed by a distant relative who had not seen him in years.  Aasmani struggles, also, against any expectation that she might follow in either of their footsteps, and she frustrates her family, her very stable father, stepmother, and sister, by underperforming in mediocre jobs at which she never stays long.

She is just started in one of these mediocre jobs for a television station when she is caught up in a mystery that gives her hope that the Poet, at least, may still be alive. Her mother’s friend, Shehnaz, has returned to acting and brings with her letters written in the code.  Aasmani’s mother and the Poet created the code to correspond during those times when one or both needed to leave the country for a time—and only they and Aasmani knew it.  The letters purport to be from the Poet, who has been kept prisoner for years.  Aasmani decodes the letters and begins to trust Shehnaz’s son, Ed, who delivers the letters to her and allows her to share her doubts and hopes about the letters.

Shamsie creates an intriguing portrait of Karachi and characters set in Pakistan who are like all of us in their griefs and hopes, but different in their political/personal realities. The fraught mother/daughter relationship takes center stage rather than the political oppression of women or the political corruption and turmoil in which they live.  Those items, so often given the spotlight, are context.  Broken Verses is a worthwhile read, if not a quick one.


The Road Not Taken: Finding American in the Poem Everyone Loves and Almost Everyone Gets Wrong–David Orr


I adore Robert Frost.  As salutatorian of my high school class, I chose “The Road Not Taken” as the jumping off point for my speech at graduation.  I was scholarly and deep.  And, according to David Orr, I was in a huge crowd of high school graduates who have used the poem for such an occasion and in a huge crowd of those who have misunderstood the poem.  Frost, Orr happily tells us, may come across as a straighforward poet due to his plain everyman language, but that language masks the complexity of his poetry.

Orr gives an overview of Frost’s biography, which concludes with his biographers’ treatment of him as a person and a poet.  Frost did not find success as a poet until middle age after he took a huge leap and moved to England, where he met Edward Thomas.  Thomas and Frost’s walks in the woods, and Thomas’ indecision about the path, led to “The Road Not Taken,” which even Thomas did not read as Frost intended.  The narrator is not making a bold individualist’s choice.  He is agonizing over two paths worn about the same.

Orr dives into the American psyche and our individualist culture.  He examines “the choice” and uses philosophy and neuroscience to challenge the American ideal of rugged individuals making choices that matter, that add up to success.  Orr questions whether we even have choices and dives into the way in which our brains fill in gaps in our reasoning to explain our choices.  This was my favorite chapter.

With “The Chooser,” what had been an interesting use of Frost to explore and critique American individualism becomes tortured and drawn out.  The arguments overlap and repeat and the chapters begin to seem like dissertation chapters or separate articles mashed together rather than book chapters that build carefully on one another.  Orr critiques self-help authors for pushing us to the brink of acknowledging there are no real choices and then pulling back at the last minute to empower us to change our lives through choice, but he himself follows this model.  Having argued that we misunderstood Frost, that our culture is built on a false assumption of individual choice, that we cannot even trust ourselves about our reasons for the choices we make, having taken us to the dark side, Orr concludes with a reflection on the Statue of Liberty and its poem and these lines:  “Those who pass through those doors will one day lift their own small light in a yellow wood, where two roads diverge.  And it will make all the difference.”  What?  Immigrants, who come from cultures which see society as playing a larger role in our choices, once in the United States suddenly gain the ability to make individual choices and make a difference?

Orr is a lawyer and poet who writes on poetry as a journalist.  This particular project might have been better served as a feature article for a publication like The Atlantic rather than stretched too far to become a short book.  That decision made a big difference.

Finished 1/25/16

American Poet-Jeff VandeZande

Maybe it’s because my husband and our oldest son have such a complicated relationship, as do my brothers and my father—-hell, maybe all father-son relationships are complicated.  Ask the great Russians.

Whatever it is, I love Jeff VandeZande‘s work, much of which explores in some way father-son relationships.  This might be due to hints in the “About the Author” of a complex relationship with his own father, which relates that Jeff started writing poetry as a form of rebellion against his father, who wrote fiction.

I’ve been reading VandeZande’s work for several years now and anxiously await each new volume.  American Poet is the best so far.  VandeZande takes us into the interior life of a University of Michigan graduate facing the rough Michigan economy that is particularly rough for someone who chose to major in poetry.

Denver Hoptner’s mother is dead of cancer and his father, a working-class man part of the Boomer generation, is still grieving.  Without her modulating influence, the two men move around each other uneasily in the quiet house.
The one unifying sound is the Tigers playing on the radio.

Denver wanders around his hometown, Saginaw, on foot and runs into the Theodore Roetke house.  He doesn’t even know how to pronounce his name, but he is drawn to the figure of a poet who came from Saginaw and did something great.  The city’s neglect of his childhood home, however, drags Denver down like his own misfortunes.  Until he decides to do something about it.  An open mic night.  Crashing an insurance company convention.  Climbing on the roof and screaming to the world to pay attention.

Along the way Denver encourages the poetry in others even as his own poetic voice refuses to speak.  Heywood, the young African-American man whose brother was gunned down in the street and whose mother labors at the local hospital to make ends meet.  Vance, his short-term boss at the hotel, who writes poems while he’s at deer camp each fall.  And Heather, his ex-girlfriend whose success in the academic world of poetry he so bitterly envies, but whose poetry eventually restores him.

American Poet is a love poem for fathers, for following your passion, and for your hometown, no matter its warts.

Read it.

Finished 4/15/12