talkstowolves: I speak with wolves and other wicked creatures. (Default)
 The Winter 2011 issue of Goblin Fruit is a spare feast, but one dense and complex: like all the best winter fruits, it lingers on the palate and tickles the tongue with bitter brightness. This latest edition of Goblin Fruit also lacks the artistry of its usual illustrator, Oliver Hunter, but we cannot be bereft: the stunningly haunting illustrations by Australian-based Japanese artist FAM more than slake our thirst for the fantastically strange.

We begin with Neile Graham’s “Nightfall on Orkney: A Glosa,” and what more perfect invocation could there be than a poem that slides between lines of established poetry, teasing forth a new language from the voice of another? Graham’s poetry captures a darkly-limned and yet cheerful picture of peasant life in the Orkneys, deep in winter, spinning the raucous winter storm away from George MacKay Brown’s heart-rending shipwreck and bringing it instead to beat against a protected communion: beauty and intimacy in the heart of the storm, instead of death. Her integration of Brown’s lines from “The Wreck of the Archangel” is seamless, and a gorgeous recycling of poetry.

From the tearing winter winds of the Orkneys, we shrug into a cloak of storms and slip into “Strong as Salt” by Rose Lemberg. Upon my first reading, I felt it wandered a bit – although that wandering was through some wonderfully evocative imagery, some of which sears our sensibilities and croons of abandonment or furious life. Yet, when I listened to the poem read by the author, the piece was transfigured into an intoxicating and wholly captivating poem: every word carefully weighed, and woven into a net to catch the listener.

“Callisto at the Corner Coffee Shop” by Michelle Muenzler seems like an abrupt departure from the inchoate cacophony and more intimate, natural settings of the first two poems: in this piece, there is a modern coffee shop, and Callisto declaring quite simply “I was a bear once.” But the shift in gears is perfect after all, spinning from the stars referenced at the close of “Strong as Salt” into those that once winked in Callisto’s star-strewn ursine form. Muenzler’s poem may not be one for the ages, but it’s absolutely a little gem of a coffee shop Greco-Roman mythology poem, and makes me want to snatch it away into my nest of words like a magpie of poetry. Just to make it easier to read, and read again. There is also a recording of this poem, which I found to be much in the same vein as the poem itself.

We’re waltzed from the light canapé of the coffeeshop poem into the dizzying edifice of a feast that is Mari Ness’ “Snowmelt.” My first reading rocked me back on my heels, rightly impressed: she’s crafted a chain poem, from an opening compliment — and such a haunting single line, “[t]he dark blood glittering on the grey snow” (colors so hot while also so muted) — through couplet, through triolet, through pantoum! It is a marvel, full of equally marvelous imagery and skillfully crafted mirror poems. I appreciate that the chain can be taken as one work together, as a hauntingly lovely interpretation of the Snow White fairy tale, or broken into tasty morsels for desultory sampling. For those who may be unsure about what exactly composes a poetry chain, Mari Ness has written a blog post about this one.

“Snowmelt” closes on echoes of flight and masking barriers: tropes which then reverberate though Rose Lemberg’s second poem of the issue, “Three bone masks.” I found the poem fascinating, but in a distant way at first blush: I appreciated the exploration of Inuit shamanism, the evocation of walrus and lemming totems, the references to material folklore. And then, once more, Lemberg’s reading transformed her poetry into something greater: the lines became more beautiful and evocative for me in a way they weren’t when I first read the words. Further, the reading actually transformed my grasp on the poem, and made subsequent readings into something more profound. My gaze sharpened on the ragged lines, saw how each parallel structure fell so carefully into place, and noted the clinging-to and rejection of the body.

The last lines of “Three bone masks” prick like ice on the wind, funneling into “Snow Bees” which howls with midwinter silence. I cannot be rational about this poem. It crawled inside me immediately, playing out in my mind’s eye: my spine straightened from that of a daisy-fed little girl into a Queen’s spine of rigid, latticed ice. Jeannine Hall Gailey's interpretation of Han Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen” and the way she painted the relationship between Gerdas and Snow Queens as two sides of the same coin were just masterful. She pushed all my buttons. There is also a reading of this poem available, but it does not match the timbre of the poem in my head.

The glitter and sharp glass of the Snow Queen become the glitter of diamonds emerging painfully with every word a young woman speaks: Christopher W. Clark has taken it upon himself to tell once more the tale of how precious stones are cruel and they cut the throat, while toads falling from the lips compose a relatively much easier curse. There is nothing new conceptually in this poem, but it is beautifully told and Clark’s reading of the poem serves to highlight the angles of the diamond stanza versus the rounded verse of the toads. There’s also a nice tip of the hat to the transmogrification of toads in other tales at the end of the poem.

Leah Bobet’s “Little Songs” carries forth the thread of transformation and development; this Petrarchan sonnet is much like an interlocking puzzle box of references to musical composition, poetic forms, and the cadence of courtship and lascivious union. This sonnet is a jewel that tickles the brain and invites multiple readings.

The last words of “Little Songs” are, appropriately enough, “[s]ing me a lullaby,” and pave the way for Loreen Heneghan’s “Drawn Like Silk.” And, oh, what a haunting lullaby it is: simply lovely in form and word, rustling across my skin with a susurrus of silk and leaving behind the most delicate spine-tingling chill. There’s winter life in this piece: spindly limbs moving in the breath of the coldest wind, making it a suiting coda to this winter bones issue.

Mirrored from Deborah J. Brannon.

talkstowolves: I speak with wolves and other wicked creatures. (Default)
The Spring issue of Goblin Fruit is live! I haven't had a chance to check it out yet, more's the pity: there's just no way any issue featuring Seanan McGuire, C.S.E. Cooney, Shweta Narayan, Nicole Kornher-Stace, and Jaime Lee Moyer could disappoint.

Also live in this edition are some icons I made for your use at Livejournal, Dreamwidth, and any other site that supports 100x100 pixel avatars. Here's a preview of my visual homage to this delightful poetry quarterly, using the excellent Oliver Hunter's art featured in each Goblin Fruit:



You can find these and others in the Mischief section of the site, along with some rather mischievous baked goods. Enjoy!


P.S. And this should have been said at the beginning, but allow me to append it here: Thank you so much to [personal profile] tithenai for asking me to create some icons for the promotion of Goblin Fruit! I am so honored to contribute.

This entry was originally posted at Livejournal. You can comment here or there.
talkstowolves: (all the poets know)
This should have been posted on Friday! Alas, a combination of work and TMJD-related issues kept me from getting it up here. Of course, that means you get a double dose of free fiction1 highlights! You get a look today at Goblin Fruit and a gander at The Edge of Propinquity on Friday.

At the tail-end of last week, I snuck a few minutes here and a few minutes there to read the Winter 2010 issue of Goblin Fruit. This edition is remarkable in that it's the first not edited by the excellent editrices Amal el-Mohtar and Jessica Paige Wick: for this edition, they called upon the dark and twisty Mike Allen, of Mythic Delirium fame. (They actually switched magazines for an issue, so we've all got an Amal and Jessica-edited Mythic Delirium to look forward to!)

In the fine tradition of Goblin Fruit, this guest-edited edition was, in a word, brilliant. Succulent. Intoxicating. Okay, that's three words. I can't really care that I'm effusing; give me the shears right now and I'll trade a curl of scarlet gold for more of this luscious fruit. (Lucky for me, I have a ridiculous number of issues I haven't yet read in their full glory.)

As I was making my notes for which poems to mention here, I realized that I wanted to talk about twelve out of sixteen pieces: that should be evidence enough right there that you ought to put a silver penny in your purse, kiss your fruit-fevered love, and hie yourself off in search of goblin men. Er, that means you should go read the issue. Now. I'll wait.

Actually, I totally won't. Instead, I'll give you my Top 10 of this issue and a couple of Honorable Mentions. However, I do hope you read the whole gorgeous issue and then return here to talk about your favorites (or your dislikes).

1. "Oracle" by Liz Bourke
2. "Recipe for a year of spring" by Shweta Narayan
3. "Transformation" by Mari Ness
4. "She Returns to the Floating World" by Jeannine Hall Gailey
5. "Frau Drosselmeyer Loves the Summer" by Virginia M. Mohlere
6. "Psyche, at Midnight, in the Dark" by Larry Hammer
7. "Phineas Gage blinks for eternity" by J. C. Runolfson
8. "What They Know" by Adrienne J. Odasso
9. "said the sea-witch" by Kirsty Logan
10. "Minotaur Noir" by Rachel Manija Brown

Honorable mentions: "September Song" by Sonya Taaffe and "Butterfly Woman" by Elissa Malcohn.

"Oracle" had that initial, blow my mind "YES!!!" that only accompanies excellent poetry. "Recipe for a year of spring" and "Transformation" got me right where I live in fairy tales and myth: raw, multi-faceted, wry, and price-laden. And "Transformation" is structured poetry, a vilanelle! Hats off to you, Ms. Ness! (As an aside to Ms. Narayan, I am a sucker for poetry that is recipe that is poetry. I've written one concerning Snow White's stepmother, but it still needs work.) "She Returns to the Floating World" is beautifully complex while being widely applicable, and the poems concerning Frau Drosselmeyer, Psyche, and Phineas Gage transfix me with their interpretations of those persons concerned. Adrienne's "What They Know" really works the repetition for a chilling effect. And, finally, "said the sea-witch" and "Minotaur Noir" are a fantastic step to the left of their source materials, absorbing anyone with an interest in the subversive in fairy tale and myth.

I wish I had a group of you and a table set for tea: this collection of poems is ripe for spirited discussion and dramatic readings. (Bonus: Goblin Fruit features recordings of the poems being read whenever possible! However, I haven't gotten to listen to any from this edition yet due to equipment constraints when reading.)

We'll just have to have our discussion here, my lovelies! So settle in with a cup of something steaming and fragrant, a platter of tasty tidbits, and let's begin! What did you think of this Goblin Fruit?





P.S. Mike, give my best to Anita: the section titles and ordering of the poems in this edition were inspired.

1. Yes, Goblin Fruit is actually poetry and not fiction. I need a better way to refer to my weekly highlights! Any ideas?

March 2017

S M T W T F S
   1 234
5 67891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Custom Text

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Styled By

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios