Tag Archives: poetry

The Aftermath of Gay Conversion Camp: Tell the Rest by Lucy Jane Bledsoe

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the cover of Tell the Rest

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In 2014, I read The Big Bang Symphony by Lucy Jane Bledsoe based solely on the fact that it was included on a book list called “Lesbians In Cold Places.” And you know what? That was a great decision, because I really enjoyed it. It was a slow-building character study set in Antarctica, with a queer main character, of course. So when I saw that she had a new sapphic book out today, I had to pick it up.

I have to start this with some heavy content warnings, because this is a book about conversion therapy and its aftermath. This review will discuss conversion camp and homophobia, and the book includes homophobia, abuse, rape, religious trauma, and suicide.

The book starts with two kids, a thirteen-year-old white girl and a sixteen-year-old Black teenage boy, running through the woods, trying to escape conversion camp. Then we flash forward to 25 years later.

Delia is fresh from a divorce and has just gotten fired as a college basketball coach. She’s also struggling with uncontrollable attacks of anger. She’s never felt so lost or out of control. So reluctantly, unbelievably, she drives across the country to her hometown in rural Oregon to move in with her brother and coach her old high school’s girls’ basketball team.

Her coach in high school was her hero. She gave Delia a path to follow, skills to develop, and a passion to nurture. Since then, basketball and the discipline she has around it has been her guiding light in her life. Maybe she’s hoping that by confronting her past, she can address the anger issues she’s having. Maybe she wants to step into her old coach’s shoes and inspire a new generation of kids. Maybe she just has nowhere else to go. Whatever the reason, she’s determined to take this team to victory, and she demands the best.

While I think this is Delia’s story, we do also get some point of view chapters from Earnest—the boy she escaped with. They never saw each other again after that night, but they both are still grappling with it and their experience at Celebration Camp. While Delia is at a difficult time in her life, though, grappling with her past, her personality, her anger, her family, her career, and more, Earnest seems more settled.
He has a job teaching poetry and a boyfriend he loves. The central tension in his story is struggling to write a poem about his experience at camp and their escape—something he’s been trying and failing to do for years.

As both of them find themselves needing to confront the past, it seems inevitable they will meet again. As we follow along with Delia and Earnest now, we also get chapters of their time at Celebration Camp, revealing more about the experience that had such an impact on them. Still, this is more about the ongoing effects of that experience than the camp itself.

Unsurprisingly, this isn’t a light read. It feels like an open wound: Delia especially is still hurting so much and hasn’t gotten closure on it. Eventually, though, we do see her begin to work through it, accompanied by the glimpses of the lives of the teenage girls she’s coaching.

If you like to read character studies and quiet stories about working through trauma—and trying to lead a high school girls’ basketball team to glory, because that really is a big focus—I highly recommend this one. It’s a thoughtful, sometimes painful, but effective narrative, and it’s one that’s interesting to read after books like The Miseducation of Cameron Post, because this looks at not just the immediate horror, but the aftermath of being taught to hate yourself as a young person.

Maggie reviews Queer Little Nightmares edited by David Ly and Daniel Zomparelli 

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Queer Little Nightmares, an anthology edited by David Ly and Daniel Zomparelli is a fun and sometimes terrifying collection of queer horror writing. The Lesbrary was provided with a review copy, and I was more than happy to spend time with this collection. Queer Little Nightmares let writers experiment with queerness and horror in a variety of ways. I highly recommend getting your hands on this one if you want some innovative horror writing.

As with any anthology, some stories caught my attention more than others, with my favorites being “Wooly Bully” by Amber Dawn and “Glamour-Us” by Andrew Wilmont. 

“Wooly Bully” is a story about coming of age, queer awakenings in a small town, and werewolves. I absolutely loved all the sensory details, the limits of the narrator’s community, and how deeply she feels within that setting. The enforced gender roles as they learn agricultural skills, the way she is put off by the boys but is fascinated by Brenda, the slow realization that the feelings are real and reciprocated—it is a delightful story of teenage growth and queer desire, and the setting was filled in to perfection. The sort of story where the 4-H fair culture of my youth is turned slightly on its head. 

“Glamour-Us” is at the other end of the spectrum, about a future where it is possible, for enough money, to purchase either a synthetic body or a self-projection that can be customized, with the rich of course using it as a form of eternal youth. Within the LGBT community though, there is immediate debate as to whether that sort of glamour is a brilliant way for people to transition without struggle or for people to experiment or for people who don’t see themselves as one particular gender and want to flip between projections, and whether such technological assistance is exploitive and something the community doesn’t need. I think the story does a great job of bringing into a short story both an echo of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde but make it trans,” the sort of inner community debate that would absolutely happen in these circumstances, and how the threat of bigotry is still a horror that always lurks, no matter the technology.

But I enjoyed much of this anthology, and it’s the sort of collection where everyone will have immediate favorites but those favorites will be wildly different. This plays to the biggest strength of this collection which, in my opinion, is the whole range of horror presented, in both prose and poetry format. Horror and monster standards such as werewolves, devils, and creepy carnivals make appearances, but authors also explore how horror interacts with queerness in novel ways, from body horror to love and desire. The editors put together a stunningly broad collection that doesn’t leave you bored. I never knew what sort of story was coming next, and it was a very fun read. I also appreciated that they included both short stories and poetry. I think it presented a varied picture of the complex themes and manner queerness interacts with horror.

In conclusion, if you’re a horror fan you could certainly do worse than picking up Queer Little Nightmares. The range of material gives full scope to queer imagination, and perhaps you will discover new fav authors to follow in the future.

Content warnings: It’s hard in an anthology, particularly a horror anthology, to be comprehensive with warnings but you will find gore, bigotry, body horror, cannibalism, sexual assault, and death at various points within this collection.

Meagan Kimberly reviews Crossfire: A Litany for Survival by Staceyann Chin

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I had the privilege to see Staceyann Chin do a live reading at Miami Book Fair a few years ago, which is where and why I picked up this collection. Her performance was electric and captivating, and that strong voice translates well on the page.

Every piece is propulsive and rhythmic, feeling like there’s a drum beat underlying each one. A lack of punctuation in most pieces creates this movement, forcing you to read line after line after line, all in one breath until you reach the end of the poem, like in “Catalogue the Insanity,” written from start to finish without any punctuation marks, not even a period at the end.

But there are also quieter moments that slow down the rhythm, giving you a chance to breathe. Chin creates this with the use of white space around lines and stanzas, such as in the poem, Love:

“I’ve bought the bloody myth
swallowed that sucker
hairy legs and all
crawled careless into bed with a fantasy
and now I’m hopping antsy with expectation
having drawn these crooked lines
in what looked to me like sand
my uncertain frame stands
hooked
on what I have been promised by the TV
by that saccharine ache Anita Baker
moans from a mass-produced CD…”

The speaker’s language packs a punch, bringing forth fire and anger. Chin is unapologetic in her feminist rage and it energizes the reader, making you feel like burning it all down. Covering themes of sex and sexuality, rape and assault, it can be overwhelming at times. But that’s the point. Her purpose is to be loud and in your face and make it hard for you to look away.

She combines poetic imagery and metaphors with straightforward phrases that don’t mince words to create both art and rant, like in the poem Speech Delivered in Chicago at 2006 Gay Games:

“…even in friendly conversation
I have to rein in the bell hooks-ian urge
to kill motherfuckers who say stupid shit to me
all day, bitter branches of things I cannot say out loud
sprout deviant from my neck…”

Overall, this is a loud and empowering collection of poetry that is accessible to readers who often feel like they don’t understand poetry. It’s an outstanding example of how much we need more diversity and representation to give space for voices that often get drowned out by the mainstream and literary canon.

Content warnings: rape, homophobia, violence

Rachel reviews The Lost Time Accidents by Síle Englert

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An incredibly complex and stunning poetic debut, Síle Englert’s collection The Lost Time Accidents (Icehouse Poetry 2021) is a must-read.

This collection of poems, divided into three distinct parts, unpacks a number of central themes such as gender, sexuality, objectification, fantasy, reality, motherhood, childhood, and many more. Icehouse writes that this collection moves “through time and memory — from childhood to motherhood, from historical figures and events to the precarious environment of the Anthropocene” and “Englert’s voice brims with grief while still holding space for whimsy.” Indeed, the focus on stages of life and stark dichotomies such as whimsy and grief is a hallmark of Englert’s collection.

A wonderful aspect of Englert’s writing is the way in which she interprets the significance of everyday objects. Using children’s toys, household items, and everyday experiences, Englert reframes them in order to craft a metaphorical narrative that addresses the larger and more complex issues dealt with in the collection. While Englert’s poetry is not easy reading—indeed, it is complex and intensely sophisticated in its language—The Lost Time Accidents demonstrates an obvious mastery of language, imagery, and literary devices. Gorgeously executed and obviously queer, each poem in the collection is a triumph.

In this collection, Englert’s writing includes something for everyone. I was particularly taken with the second section’s outward focus on famous figures and events that Englert adapts to suit her own thematic needs. However, I had undeniable favourite from across the collection, including “The Reason for Tiger Lilies”; “Functional Interpretation of the Knee”; “Summers at the Lake”; “Rabbit”; “Body of Nude Woman Found at Life Drawing Exhibit”; “Insomnia”; “Blackout Lullaby”; “Beetroot”; “Unearthing”; “Bullhorn”; “Denouement”; and “Petrified.”

I highly recommend The Lost Time Accidents for anyone interested in queer poetry and Canadian writers.

Please visit Síle Englert on Twitter.

Rachel Friars is a writer and academic living in Canada, dividing her time between Ontario and New Brunswick. When she’s not writing short fiction, she’s reading every lesbian novel she can find. Rachel holds two degrees in English literature and is currently pursuing a PhD in nineteenth-century lesbian literature and history.

You can find Rachel on Twitter @RachelMFriars or on Goodreads @Rachel Friars.

Rachel reviews Myself a Paperclip by Triny Finlay

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Incredibly personal, startlingly reflective, and refreshingly inventive, Triny Finlay’s new poetry collection from Icehouse Poetry (an imprint of Gooselane Editions) is an immersive and beautifully crafted account of a Finlay’s struggle and experience with mental illness.

Myself a Paperclip oscillates between the thoughts and experiences of the speaker and the world of the psychiatric ward. Icehouse writes that, in this collection, “memories, musings, echoes, and meditations on stigma coalesce: quarters dispensed into a payphone to listen to the stunned silence of a partner; Splenda packets and rice pudding hoarded in dresser drawers; counting back from ten as electrodes connect with the temple.” Finlay herself writes at the end of the collection that the text “focuses on my experiences with debilitating mental illnesses and some of their treatments, including hospitalizations in psychiatric wards, psychotropic medications, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behavioural Therapy (DBT), and Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT)” (77).

It is difficult to succinctly review or sum up a poetry collection like Finlay’s, but suffice it to say that the poems here are poignant, imaginative, and heart-wrenching. Finlay demonstrates a mastery of language here that I have only encountered in some of the strongest poetry collections. Her experiences, while harrowing at times, are also deeply familiar. The core themes of this book—alternately trusting/being trapped in your own mind, distrusting those around you, questioning the limits of the body and the self—resonate with readers of this collection. The form of the collection—built around long and short poems, fragmentation, and back-and-forth dialogue structures, was also an innovative way to formulate the collection.

While the collection as a whole clearly works to form a unified whole, I had a handful of standout favourites that I felt exemplified the collection’s themes and resonated with me personally. Additionally, however, these poems are simply beautiful and Finlay’s work with imagery and metaphor is truly commendable. Favourites for me included “Adjusting the Psychotropics”; “#MeToo, and You, and You, and You, Too”; “Advice to the Mentally Ill from the Queen Bee”; and “Rejected Embroidery Projects.”

I highly recommend Myself a Paperclip for anyone interested in queer poetry and Canadian writers.

Please visit Triny Finlay on Twitter and put Myself a Paperclip on your TBR on Goodreads.

Content Warnings: Trauma, rape, sexual abuse, mental illness.

Rachel Friars is a writer and academic living in Canada, dividing her time between Ontario and New Brunswick. When she’s not writing short fiction, she’s reading every lesbian novel she can find. Rachel holds two degrees in English literature and is currently pursuing a PhD in nineteenth-century lesbian literature and history.

You can find Rachel on Twitter @RachelMFriars or on Goodreads @Rachel Friars. 

Kayla Bell reviews Radiant Days by Elizabeth Hand

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There aren’t many stories that can truly say they’ve done time travel in a unique way. Going back to the past or ahead to the future have already been done dozens of times. A fish out of water, or out of time, is going to make for an interesting story. But Radiant Days does time travel differently, and in a way that felt very compelling to me. 

Radiant Days takes place in two different time periods. The 1870s storyline follows French poet Arthur Rimbaud through the trials and tribulations of his youth. The other storyline takes place in the 1970s, and follows Virginia art student Merle as she develops her craft and explores the street art scene. Merle is exploring her sexuality and Arthur is trying to survive as an artist in an oppressive time. One night, somehow, they meet and connect over their shared love of art. In terms of plot, there isn’t anything too major beyond that. 

Still, I found this book really compelling. Merle’s voice feels very authentic, and I wanted to see her make it out okay despite being in a bit of a toxic relationship. I also appreciated the unique perspective of a queer woman from Appalachia. Merle’s sexuality wasn’t at the forefront of the novel, and I think that was quite refreshing. She was also trying to deal with her complex family dynamics, recovering from the abuse she grew up around, and trying to make it in the art world. At the same time, the storyline following Arthur was also entertaining and kept me reading. Hand mixes historical events with humor and fun in a way that clearly showed how much respect and admiration she had for Arthur Rimbaud. As a Young Adult book, I thought this story structure was a clever way to get young readers interested in what from another writer might be a drier historical story. 

That being said, I would have liked to have seen a bit more plot in this novel. Merle exploring the graffiti subculture of the 1970s was very interesting, but I think the story could have used a little more of a driver. Similarly, I wish that Arthur had been given a chance to develop more as a character, I found myself wanting to read more of his inner thoughts and feelings and connecting more with Merle than Arthur. It was clear that both protagonists were impacted by their meeting out of time, but I think the story could have benefitted from spending a bit more time describing the impacts on both of them. With that being said, I thought that this was an excellently paced novel that is fantastic for younger readers. 

If you know a young person that is looking for a book about the power of art and what it means to break the rules, and is interested in historical fiction, this is a great option. I found myself feeling genuinely connected to both characters by the end of the book, and I can only imagine that it would be even more powerful for a younger reader. More queer historical fiction, especially about artists, is something I definitely want to see. 

10 Poetry Collections by Black Queer Women

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Poetry has always been an artistic expression. From declarations of love to contemplating the meaning of life, poetry has a way of putting the human experience into words. It’s also an effective way to take a political stance or spark compassion for others’ cultures and ways of life. Here are 10 poetry collections that delve into the experience of Black bisexual, lesbian, and queer writers.

How to Get Over by T'ai Freedom FordHow to Get Over by T’ai Freedom Ford

Ford’s debut collection of poems reads like a lyrical train of thought. Jumping from one piece to the next, each poem holds a life of its own but remains connected to the collection’s overall narrative. Ford’s writing has a melodic sense that will make you stop and listen, not just read the words on the page.

 

 

Crossfire by Staceyann ChinCrossfire: A Litany for Survival by Staceyann Chin

Full of feminist rage, Chin’s collection of poetry Crossfire is aptly named. It brings forth the activist’s voice, full of power, anger, and sass, the very qualities for which the white patriarchy condemns black women. Chin and her work are the definition of noncompliance. Her poetry raises her voice with no apologies for justified anger.

 

 

The Works of Alice Dunbar Nelson by Alice Dunbar NelsonThe Works of Alice Dunbar Nelson by Alice Dunbar Nelson

Nelson was among the first generation born free in the South after the Civil War. Born in New Orleans, Nelson became a prolific poet that influenced the blossoming of the Harlem Renaissance. The Works of Alice Dunbar combine poetry, novellas, and autobiographical stories, giving one point of view of Black women’s lives during her time.

 

June Jordan's Poetry for the People: A Revolutionary Blueprint by June JordanJune Jordan’s Poetry for the People: A Revolutionary Blueprint by June Jordan

The Caribbean-American Jordan inspires poets and readers far and wide to this day. Her program Poetry for the People was highly innovative and successful, inspired by her work as a teacher. This poetry collection is a combination of poems for the people who took her class and by the people who participated.

 

American Dreams by SapphireAmerican Dreams by Sapphire

Mixing poetry and prose, Sapphire creates a collection of poems that are at once a lesson on sensuality and allusions to prophecy. No matter what topic she takes on in her work, she does so with brutal honesty. Born to the name Ramona Lofton, Sapphire took on her pen name after becoming entrenched in poetry in New York City in the late 70s.

 

 

Inventory by Dionne BrandInventory by Dionne Brand

Inventory isn’t so much a collection of poems as it is one long story written as a poem. This long-form poem turned story takes stock of the ongoing violence that comes from upheavals and wars within a community’s own streets. It makes an account of the horror that has become commonplace and no longer holds the sensation it once did.

 

 

Living as a Lesbian by Cheryl ClarkeLiving as a Lesbian: Poetry by Cheryl Clarke

Clark’s work pays tribute to the very subject in the title. Her work ranges from jazz music to her childhood in Washington, D.C. to singing the blues. This collection of poems is filled with rhythmic and lyrical lines that convey Clark’s adept hand at poetry. It’s intimate and personal and yet universal in its themes.

 

 

The Complete Works of Pat ParkerThe Complete Works of Pat Parker by Pat Parker

This poetry collection compiles all of Parker’s pieces from two complete books of poetry and three chapbooks, plus other previously unpublished work. Parker’s work as a Black lesbian feminist poet has influenced and inspired others across generations. Her poems have had such a lasting influence, that even artist Solange has paid homage to her in her music.

 

Proxy by R. Erica DoyleProxy by R. Erica Doyle

This collection tells the story of an unrequited love through prose poetry. Doyle’s poems tell the story of love as landscape. It traverses the likes of New York City, the Caribbean, and North Africa. In a collection of poems that tells all by proxy, nothing is as it seems. There are always countless layers to each piece.

 

 

Head Off & Split by Nikky FinneyHead Off & Split by Nikky Finney

Finney’s work examines Black life through various lenses, including the real and surreal. Her work focuses on studies on Rosa Parks and civil rights marches to a closer look at former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Political and personal, Finney’s work is intimate and exacting.

Meagan Kimberly reviews Gender Flytrap by Zoe Estelle Hitzel

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Gender Flytrap by Zoe Estelle Hitzel

For National Poetry Month I chose to read this collection I’d picked up from Sundress Publications, an independent press. It’s a fascinating collection of poems about the interconnected nature of gender, sexuality, sex, and identity.

The poems’ forms start as stanzas and lines written in fragments, but as the speaker gains a greater sense of clarity of who they are, the images and statements become more solid. A few in between bolly back and forth between this fragmented style and coherent thoughts.

It seems as though the purpose of this structure is to literally indicate the speaker’s growing anxieties and uncertainness about their gender, sex, and identity. Hitzel shows an adept hand in using and creating structure that works perfectly in conjunction with the language and emotions of each individual poem.

While the poems’ structures vary between fragmented and complete, the word choice always creates a precise and purposeful rhythm and sound. It gives the feeling that even in the most turbulent of moments of doubt, the speaker knows for certain who they are and where they stand, somewhere beneath the insecurity and anxiety.

Hitzel delivers heartbreaking lines in the simplest language, like this one:

“the television showed what it was capable of showing
and my father heard what he was capable of hearing…”

Lines like the two above depict the common way discussions and discourse about transitioning and transgender individuals are often perceived and treated. The speaker throughout the poems often analyzes and talks about others’ perceptions about their identity, and how those perceptions affect their perceptions of themselves.

In another poem, “Dial-up Internet — Diagnosis” Hitzel delivers a gut punch of emotion that anyone who’s ever questioned their identity has felt. The speaker’s tone approaches the subject from an analytical perspective but still manages to send a shock of pain to the heart.

Hitzel excels at this juxtaposition of using a neutral tone of rationale to describe the turmoil of feelings on the subject matter. The poem “Math Problem” is another standout piece that takes an analytical eye to the topic of transitioning.

The titular poem is another standout piece in the collection as the speaker delineates all the different labels and names she’s been given. Its ending line packs so much in such a matter-of-fact statement: “I appreciate how the silence calls me nothing.”

There are so many poems to choose from with powerful lines and emotional messages. It’s easy to keep flipping from one piece to the next and savoring each word. Sometimes a second and third read is necessary to fully appreciate Hitzel’s brilliant use of language and lyricism.

Sheila reviews Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist

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Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist

I wanted to read something shorter, that I could put down and come back to as my attention comes and goes these days. I was very happy to pick up (or download, whatever) this work of poetry, Disintegrate/Dissociate by Arielle Twist.

This isn’t to say that these poems are of a lighter subject manner. Many of the poems deal with sexual trauma and the ramifications of racism, so readers should be aware of that. But Arielle’s words are so impactful that there doesn’t need to be many of them to be moving. I also don’t mind reading about the hardships of others, especially when I myself am going through a harder time. It was comforting to read these poems, which reflected upon themes of grief, trauma, identity and metamorphosis. I understand that many readers won’t find these appealing during a global pandemic, and ultimately what is happening in the world right now is probably shaping the way that I am reading Arielle’s writing as well.

Particularly, her poems “The Girls,” “In Dying I Become” and “Who Will Save You Now?” really stood out to me as gripping and emotional. Of course, “Who will save you now?” is a question that may have crossed many of our minds since the current pandemic started. That piece really got me to thinking about how our interpretations of events and art can change depending on where and who we are at the time. This collection of poetry has many themes of changing and rebirth, which I found very meaningful. If you can, I encourage you to not only read this work but to also consider purchasing her book, especially during this time.

Sheila Laroque reviews Holy Wild by Gwen Benaway

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Holy Wild by Gwen Benaway

As I’ve said in previous reviews; I haven’t widely read a great deal of poetry. Nor do I have the lived experience of a trans person. However, reading this collection of poetry by Gwen Benaway I felt drawn into her world and stories, and I felt like I could understand a little bit better. The stories that are told within these poems are powerful and raw, and I felt like I was being taken on a journey with the author. Gwen is able to take her readers along for a ride, as she narrates her experiences as being both trans and Anishinaabe in these poems. The poems are at times grappling with difficult subject matters, but we are also left with the feeling of how difficult it must have been to live through these experiences from Gwen’s perspective.

There is an honesty within these poems that immediately draws in the reader, and while this is a relatively short book I found myself reading these quite quickly. Her discussions of the complexities that can arise when dating in a transphobic world; as well as what it is like to navigate the health care systems while being Indigenous gave me some more insight and understanding. I say ‘gave’ intentionally, because her writing is so illuminating and full of her own personal experiences and trauma that it is a gift to the reader.