A Loss for Words

Page 22 American Book Review Kaplan continued from previous page dark by referencing something to which they’re not immediately privy, as in “Rough Music, Edinburgh, 1829,” which, we find out later in the “Notes,” tells “[t]he story of prostitute Mary Paterson’s murder and sixteen others in Edinburgh by William Burke and Hare….” The story is alluded to only murkily in the poem, where we read that “Hare had turned / King’s evidence on Burke and the latter’s / convicted corpse was flayed and offered up”; we aren’t given background on who Burke and Hare are or what crime may have been committed. Similarly, “Madame du Coudray’s Woman Machine, 1756,” begins too immediately , referencing names the reader is assumed to be familiar with: After D’Agoty’s macabre écorchés and Rymsdyck’s tendency to coil his innards tight as bags of fists and then to paint a fatty sheen on every part, I gasp out loud when I find Le Boursier’s soft machine of linen and leather… Areader following the progress of The Resurrection Trade carefully, cross-referencing the poems to each other and to the notes at the end of the book, may have no problem in understanding the actions and importance of D’Agoty, Rymsdyck, and others. However, “Madame du Coudray’s Woman Machine, 1756” is incomplete on its own, and by making the content of some poems cryptic and exclusive, Miller is limiting her readership to an academic audience that wants to play an active part in deciphering the poem. Another obstacle to a reader’s enjoyment is that the notes are occasionally more vivid and interesting than the accompanying poem. For example, in her endnotes, Miller tells us that in a certain museum in Paris, “there are four…life-sized models representing normal childbirth, childbirth with the assistance of forceps, unsuccessful labor after which the fetus must be removed part by part with hooks, and a cesarean birth.” Unfortunately, in the associated poem “Venus Endormi,” Miller describes the models as “built to educate, all awake, / and equally demurely gowned.” By way of specifics, one figure “sports a spray of slotted spoons,” and the other models are similarly sparingly described. While the language is poetic and pleasant-sounding, a true understanding of the museum and its purpose is missing. I would rather know more about this museum and these models than read a brief, overtly poeticized recap of the author’s visit. Miller may be miscalculating her readers’desires in this poem. The author’s tendency to obscure inherently interesting facts and details instead of presenting them plainly is ultimately disappointing. Miller’s collection straddles the fine line between poems that at times can be overtly academic and off-putting and poems which are inviting and lyrical. There are many successful poems in The Resurrection Trade, often less concerned with European history and characters. These poems wed historical details with more personal, approachable narratives. For example, in “Mother and Son,” Miller has written a 9/11 poem that tows the lines between a personal and universal loss. The twin towers play a parallel but background role to the interaction between a mother recovering from breast cancer and her child, who has “seen it all.” Miller writes that “The child must have thought / towers come down more easily than mothers, but now // he sees how both bodies and buildings offer up their undefended / heights.” The poem is relevant, powerful, and accessible on its own—there are no accompanying endnotes or insider references.There are a variety of mother-child poems in the book, and these poems, along with those dealing with the detritus of popular culture, allow enjoyment for a more casual reader. In “Bridge Club,” the speaker reminisces about watching I Dream of Jeannie and Gunsmoke, experiences to which a reader unfamiliar with literary history and Romance languages can relate. The Resurrection Trade also includes personal, emotive poems like “Written on the Spine” and “Outliving the Lyric Moment,” which are accessibly written. In the former, Miller writes, clearly and pleasingly, “I’d cross the ChemLawn for sweet peas for you if you asked.” The inclusion of personal, inviting poems like these...