That This Review

That This by Susan Howe (112 pages)
My rating: 2.5 Stars
Date Read: 11 November 2016

Synopsis:

“What treasures of knowledge we cluster around.” That This is a collection in three pieces. “Disappearance Approach,” an essay about the sudden death of the author’s husband (“land of darkness or darkness itself you shadow mouth”), begins the book with paintings by Poussin, an autopsy, Sarah Edwards and her sister-in-law Hannah, phantoms, elusive remnants, and snakes. “Frolic Architecture,” the second section — inspired by visits to the vast 18th-century Jonathan Edwards archives at the Beinecke and accompanied by six black-and-white photograms by James Welling — presents hauntingly lovely, oblique text-collages that Howe (with scissors and “invisible” Scotch Tape and a Canon copier) has twisted, flattened, and snipped into “inscapes of force.” The final section, “That This,” delivers beautiful short squares of verse that might look at home in a hymnal, although their orderly appearance packs startling power:

That this book is a history of

a shadow that is a shadow of

Me mystically one in another

another another to subserve

“The still-new century’s finest metaphysical poet.”—The Village Voice

My  Review:

So I did not like this book of poetry as much as I have liked the previous ones I have read. Unfortunately, it fell a little flat and did not resonate the same way as the other ones have. While I found the poem and the form to be interesting at times, it was not as cohesive or connected as I typically enjoy. I realize that was probably  the design of the writer, but it did not work for me.

The first section was easily understandable. It was pretty straightforward, a woman's husband died and she was mourning for him, going through their memories together. But then the second section was almost unintelligible. Which, again, I understand was most likely what the author wanted to do, being that grief takes reason and understanding and throws them out the window, but still, it did not work for me.

I enjoy being able to actually read what is on the page, not have scraps of words thrown together without much cohesion. Obviously, this is not a poem that I enjoy and I am sorry if you feel the opposite, but these are my thoughts on the matter.