Syzygy, Beauty by T Fleischmann (review)

165 Book Notes Kelsey operates under the principle that language is a necessity , but not always a choice. We are all forced to enter into conversation with the world around us, and even in our intentional quiet, we enter into that conversation with our silence. This collection hinges on these moments: the ones not predicated on simple understandings and easy answers. It is not concerned with answering “the big questions” with absolute authority; instead , it seeks to join with readers to explore them through “the sought [moments] / broken into / the base of [our spines].” Syzygy, Beauty, by T Fleischmann Sarabande Books, 2012 reviewed by John James Syzygy, Beauty is T Fleischmann’s first book, and a promising one at that. Using language that is both formal and colloquial , Fleischmann offers a gorgeous and winding exploration into notions of love, faith, criticism, and sexuality. Though presented as “an essay,” the book challenges our traditional notions of that genre: It is organized into brief, lyric prose blocks (what we often call prose poems), and yet it maintains a distinct narrative. Could it be called memoir? The fragmented nature of Syzygy—observed formally, as well as in the speaker’s erratic focal shifts—reflects the anxiety of a mind riddled by grief. This lends an elegiac tone to the work, as Fleischmann laments a lost love. Most important, however, Syzygy functions in a dichotomy between surface and reality, through which the speaker pursues knowledge of an anonymous addressee. That “you,” whose evolving identity obscures his exact relationship to the narrator, hovers in the periphery, always a short distance beyond the speaker’s touch. The word “syzygy,” at its most basic level, refers to the pairing of two things, or the configuration of three, whether alike or disparate. Specifically, it may refer to the “alignment of celestial bodies in astronomy, repeating relationships in mathematics , and male/female pairings in Gnosticism.” Fleischmann pursues each of these couplings throughout the book—some to a greater extent than others—though barriers often persist between those paired things. In fact, Fleischmann seems more colorado review 166 concerned with borders than pairings. For the lovers in Syzygy, the most obvious of those borders is skin. As humans, we often mistake knowledge of an object’s topography for knowledge of the thing itself. For the speaker of Fleischmann’s Syzygy, not only is surface knowledge confused for actual knowledge, but appearance and texture distract the viewer from the possibility of genuine connection. Fleischmann, while considering a cage of glass at the Guggenheim, remarks, “To see an object, to consider its surface and texture, is to ignore all else,” then turns to his companion and asks, “What does your boyfriend say about me?” At first glance, the question seems funny. The abrupt shift from abstraction to colloquiality mirrors the spontaneity prevalent in contemporary humor. As the plainspoken nature of this query reminds us, however, these thoughts are not mere theory. This is love we’re talking about. Fleischmann’s change in tone betrays the underlying tragedy of this essay: His lover remains not only unattainable, but incomprehensible. Skin is by no means the only border in Syzygy. Lawns, paint, makeup, and even the earth’s atmosphere obstruct the union between discrete entities. As Fleischmann writes, “The atmosphere that protects the earth does not have an end point, but becomes thinner and thinner until it does not exist.” While Fleischmann explores the celestial definition of “syzygy,” the astronomical reference clearly substitutes for a discussion of the erotic relationship whose ubiquity pervades every facet of this book. If we are indeed to locate value in such observations, it’s that the barrier between the earth and space eventually dissipates and the entities blend; the same cannot be said for the barriers between people. Language also functions as an obstacle in Syzygy. Though the speaker struggles with words to make himself known, speech further isolates him from his object of desired communication. He states, “By describing something we place it at a distance.” Language itself creates expanse. Complicating matters, Fleischmann follows this statement by describing his own body. “My body is a fleshy thing,” he says. “My body is tall and filled with citrus...