Interpretive Works (review)

I'm a little in love with Elizabeth Bradfield. I've read only her one book, Interpretive Works (2008). Of course, I'm prone to swooning, blushing. I've had similar moments of restless affection during, say, my first time with Maxine Kumin's Selected Poems: 1960-1990 and Alicia Ostriker's No Heaven. But to be less straight, I should better couple Bradfield's first collection with other texts I've laughed at, liked, and lain on my couch with, such as Elizabeth Bishop (same initials!), Audre Lorde, Chrystos, and Judy Grahn.

Be serious, Madeline.

Interpretive Works is a lovely, lyrical poetry collection published by Arktoi Books, a lesbian press edited by Eloise Klein Healy. Wait, let me write that again: lesbian. And again: lesbian. Is the word becoming visible? Is it appearing yet? Do you need help seeing lesbian in the text?

Don't worry. Bradfield's here to help.

In "Now You See Me" a young girl knocks on the door of the poet's home. Bradfield isn't sure if the girl is "speaking code" when she asks "Where's your friend? I haven't / seen her around lately." Bradfield notes her own "magic cloak" of coded terms:

…When I answer, friendwill mean lover. When I say partner,I mean lover. Girlfriend means lover …

But even so, the stewardess sees "sisters" and "cousins." Bradfield and her partner's name are both on the banking account, the house title, and the mail. And yet, all these clues, these strategic pairings, these linguistic signs might still be mistaken as something else. By the end of the poem Bradfield offers the neighbor girl glasses that, once donned, will allow her to see.

if you put on the glasses providedwith this poem, the neonover our garage will be hard to miss. Nowyou see us. And there are others,houses all around you lighting up.

*Cough.* If the glasses aren't on yet, reader, pick up Bradfield's glasses, slide them up your nose, hook them behind your ears, and blink a few times to let your eyes adjust. Now that you're beginning to see her poetry loud and queer, let me offer further insights into these poems.

How to pair Bradfield?

I listed a cadre of writers to open and would like to elaborate, expand. From one angle, Bradfield is novelistic and narrative, bringing to mind the world of the Nevada Barr series, in which park ranger Anna Pigeon tromps through pristine wilderness, meets the wild or almost wild animal kingdom, and manages tourists and other ruffians in her day job. So, then we have poems like "Succession" exploring magnolia and madronas trees, "The Shepard of Tourists on a $20 Sunset Cruise Speaks" recounting her work on whale tours, and "Whalefall" describing the natural death process of mammals. In these poems Bradfield is naturalist, eco-explorer, eco-lover, and frequently disgruntled at others who invade her own journey to and through the untainted natural world ("Pilgrimage Midsummer"). In "Multi-Use Area," Bradfield ignores the litter of humans but cannot ignore their noises when she's forced to set eyes on a hunter blasting his shotgun:

It stops when I walk into view. I stopand stare across the flats through mybinoculars, thinking asshole. And of coursesomeone's staring back at meover a truck bed, thinking asshole.

Yet even with all the assholes, Bradfield is not ready to look away from nature. She's "unwilling to miss anything" ("No More Nature"). In poem after poem in Interpretive Works the beauty of nature is luminous. It's hard not to envision Mary Oliver's poetry in Thirst (2006) or the poems by Elizabeth Bishop claimed by eco-lovers. For example, in Geography III (1976) in "The Moose," Bishop sees moose and wonders, "Why, why do we feel / (we all feel) this sweet / sensation of joy?". Or Maxine Kumin's moose in "My Elusive Guest" is the animal she wants and beckons to her farm in Selected Poems: 1960–1970 (1997). Bradfield's moose in...