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Saudade

ebook
1 of 1 copy available
1 of 1 copy available

"[Brimhall] allows us brief visions, glimpses, of experiences more lush and raw than our own."—The Rumpus

"With a stunning mastery of metaphor, linguistic precision, and a soulful determined vision, Brimhall's work reveals an artist tuned to the significance of everyday experience."—Dorianne Laux

"Saudade" is a Portuguese word referring to a quality of longing that has no direct translation into English. Inspired by stories from her Brazilian-born mother, Traci Brimhall's third collection—a lush and startling "autobiomythography"—is reminiscent of the rich imaginative worlds of Latin American magical realists. Set in the Brazilian Amazon, Saudade is one part ghost story, one part revival, and is populated by a colorful cast of characters and a recurring chorus of irreverent Marias.

From "Incomplete Address to the Lord":

When I found that mass of scales and muscle,
saw one anaconda twist around another, watched
a split tongue flick the air, choosing me, black
as the devil's own and twice as thick, males coiled
around the female tickling her back with their spurs,
I knew I'd give anything to be her. I felt the pulse
in my eyelid, tasted the ants that paraded over
my plantains at night, drank all the darkness out
of my wife's breast. Lord, I'd rather be crazy
than broken . . .

Traci Brimhall is the author of two previous poetry collections. She earned her PhD from Western Michigan University and is Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Kansas State University. She lives in Manhattan, Kansas.

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    • Library Journal

      January 1, 2018

      In line with Brimhall's previous book, Our Lady of the Ruins, this latest collection is a generational fugue fixated on ecclesiastical imagery and the backward tracing of the folklore of a family that persisted through the historical shifts of a Brazilian plantation community. One is readily and repeatedly reminded of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's magical realism in Love in the Time of Cholera. In this loose novel-in-verse, each section centers on an individual from the family and acts as a movement, symphonic in mode and scope, exploring loss and the eroticism of the sacred. Each example of loss entails feverish ecstasy, an expectation for and suspicion of miracles. The most successful poems are a chorus series featuring various Marias in which Brimhall's lyricism is honed to its sharpest point. The chorus poems act as a backbone woven through the individually centered sections when the thread between those sections gets, occasionally, lost to miasmic religious image. These poems are a mirage, magical, and never quite fully forming into the story of water. VERDICT Some may crave back matter for context, but Brimhall's work is an unexpected and refreshing, though not essential, addition to contemporary poetry collections.--Trevor Ketner, Junior Library Guild

      Copyright 2018 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

    • Publisher's Weekly

      Starred review from October 16, 2017
      Heartache begets mysticism and mythmaking in this spellbinding collection of narrative verse from Brimhall (Our Lady of the Ruins) about miracles, curses, and the stories people tell to come to terms with their experiences. Brimhall’s amalgamation of poetry and theater tells a family’s mysterious past through a motley and impassioned cast of narrators—including a chorus of wandering girls all named Maria—possessed of contradictory feelings and stories about God, each other, and the truth of their history. Amid the chorus, one Maria assures that “Miracles arrive/ whether they are welcome or not,” while another counters that they “stop or they never happened/ at all.” Inspired by pastoral and scriptural styles, Brimhall utilizes baroque metaphors to emphasize the primal hunger that drives desire and destruction: “I’ll pull stingers from your chest if you’ll clean the blood/ from under my nails. If romance is a ballad, we are its authors/ and its victims and finished in four minutes.” Brimhall’s Amazonian landscape teems with flora and fauna, yet feels forlorn; she graciously enlivens the heady atmosphere with her wit: “Jesus makes it to the stage but forgets his lines,” she writes. Brimhall sums up her work in the title poem: “If only the past would have me now that I have/ its answers—its griefs and inheritances.”

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