Steering through Provinces

Baumgartner continuedfrom previous page grief . Divided by men, by the demands of family, by distance, they are often torn apart in such a way that they never recover. Hangings is a rich, rich read, ripe with associations . As the title suggests, "hangings" can invoke execution at the end of a rope, art like Miro's moBBVKW biles, the threads oflives spun out and clipped short word—something inevitable, beyond grief, beyond by the Three Fates—and all are fitting connections. "Experimental" is a highly contested designation, but make no mistake: this is haunting writing, saturated with a beauty drawn from tragedy. Shope has written tragedy in the ancient Greek sense of the poignancy, with Medea-sized impact. Holly L. Baumgartner is Associate Professor of English at Mercy College and a Visiting Lecturer for Oxford University 's Summer Programme. Steering through Provinces Selah Saterstrom Requiem Teresa Carmody Les Figues Press http://www.lesfigues.com 72 pages; paper, $13.00 I was sitting in a coffee shop when I began page 35 ofTeresa Carmody's Requiem. Outside, the weather was miserable. Inside, glum shoppers taking a break from commercial visions of holiday joy and the reality of securing such joy for loved ones. A father and his teenaged daughter sat down at the table next to mine. The father said, "If you had to choose one of your children to die, who would you choose?" He wasn't asking her the question directly, but using it as a way to conclude some point he'd been making en route to the table where they now sat. "Easy," the girl said. "I'd choose the oldest." "No, you would not," the father said, clearly annoyed that she was taking on the question instead of anchoring his point. The girl slammed her mug of coffee on the table. "You're right," said the girl, "I'd choose the whole family. It's unjust to choose just one." I include this event as part of my review of Requiem because one of the implications of the text itself is that we would do well to notice how human exchanges cut across or otherwise interrupt our readings of life. Carmody activates plain language as a transcendent liturgy that reveals existential dilemmas not limited to the Midwest, even as it celebrates how a culture within the margins contributes to a larger, national language. As the title implies, Requiem orbits the subject of death—in particular, how death reveals tangled, living relations, especially those between fathers and their children. Much like our human capacity for simultaneously interacting yet remaining isolated, Requiem is a collection of stories that interconnect , but also stand alone. Through both its formal construction and its content, Requiem asks how we internalize and claim connection when we stand outside of one another's solitude and death. On page 35, a woman reflecting on life through the lens of her father's death says: I don't think it has to be so difficult: just be honest with yourselfand anybody who asks.... It's like with Dad, he was the way he was, and I don't believe I began seeing him until I accepted the fact ofhis opinions. While in the coffee shop I am reminded of myself as a teenage girl. I wonder if the girl sitting next to me will one day find herself electing to see her father as he actually was instead of dwelling on the need to be right. It is a question I also ask myself while reading Requiem: when does the act of witness become the act of unconditional love? In this book, anything that can be seen is seen through language itself. The characters populating these stories make visible their culture and relations through the provincial nuances that structure their speech. Carmody activates plain language as a transcendent liturgy that reveals existential dilemmas not limited to the rural Midwest, even as it celebrates how a culture within the margins contributes to a larger, national language—the language of outlet malls and shag-carpeted, smoky lounges. It is through this same language that we have the opportunity to view and consider very human—both endearing and tragic— strategies...