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xterminal's review
3.0
Diana M. Raab, The Guilt Gene (Plain View Press, 2009)
I am always willing to give shelf space to small books of poetry published by small presses, and in general, when a press release pops up in my inbox offering free review copies of a book like this, I'll jump at it. As the majority of such press releases are put out by authors publishing through vanity presses, the median quality of such books is, how shall I say, less than standard. Plain View Press, on the other hand, are simply a small press who are taking advantage of a new method of publicity, and also as expected, the quality of the Plain View Press books I've had the chance to spend time with is markedly higher. The Guilt Gene, while still an amateur production, is no exception to this rule.
When I say that this is amateur work, I don't mean that in any derogatory way. Professional-level work in poetry is, in my estimation, more difficult to achieve than in any other artistic medium, and the difference between the highest level of amateur work and the professional level is often razor-thin. (It's kind of like becoming a professional poker player; you can be as good as the big guys 99% of the time. It's the mistakes you make the other 1% that will keep you from being able to do it full time.) Diana Raab is writing at almost that level. There are, however, still a few things holding her back:
“Buying eyeglasses seems to be
as big a chore as purchasing
the dreaded bathing suit
although a lot more fun.
You wander into
the neighborhood store,
spot the salesperson
with the hippest pair of glasses
and ask to try his on,
only to learn that your nose
is the wrong size and shape and
your eyebrows slant the wrong way.”
(“Eyeglass Madness”)
Most of the mistakes in this passage are minor enough that the casual reader wouldn't notice them, or consider them as errors (ending lines with prepositions, the grammatical awkwardness of the first sentence, etc.), but those are the poetic equivalent of calling a raise from an early-position player with king-queen offsuit; it occasionally works, but in the long run, it'll kill you. When they add up, the difference between this and a piece by a poet like Debra Allbery or Kelly Cherry or someone else of that stature. Still, there is a good deal to be enjoyed here, and it's never a bad thing to support a small press, especially one that's actually been around for thirty-odd years. Worth checking out. ** ½
I am always willing to give shelf space to small books of poetry published by small presses, and in general, when a press release pops up in my inbox offering free review copies of a book like this, I'll jump at it. As the majority of such press releases are put out by authors publishing through vanity presses, the median quality of such books is, how shall I say, less than standard. Plain View Press, on the other hand, are simply a small press who are taking advantage of a new method of publicity, and also as expected, the quality of the Plain View Press books I've had the chance to spend time with is markedly higher. The Guilt Gene, while still an amateur production, is no exception to this rule.
When I say that this is amateur work, I don't mean that in any derogatory way. Professional-level work in poetry is, in my estimation, more difficult to achieve than in any other artistic medium, and the difference between the highest level of amateur work and the professional level is often razor-thin. (It's kind of like becoming a professional poker player; you can be as good as the big guys 99% of the time. It's the mistakes you make the other 1% that will keep you from being able to do it full time.) Diana Raab is writing at almost that level. There are, however, still a few things holding her back:
“Buying eyeglasses seems to be
as big a chore as purchasing
the dreaded bathing suit
although a lot more fun.
You wander into
the neighborhood store,
spot the salesperson
with the hippest pair of glasses
and ask to try his on,
only to learn that your nose
is the wrong size and shape and
your eyebrows slant the wrong way.”
(“Eyeglass Madness”)
Most of the mistakes in this passage are minor enough that the casual reader wouldn't notice them, or consider them as errors (ending lines with prepositions, the grammatical awkwardness of the first sentence, etc.), but those are the poetic equivalent of calling a raise from an early-position player with king-queen offsuit; it occasionally works, but in the long run, it'll kill you. When they add up, the difference between this and a piece by a poet like Debra Allbery or Kelly Cherry or someone else of that stature. Still, there is a good deal to be enjoyed here, and it's never a bad thing to support a small press, especially one that's actually been around for thirty-odd years. Worth checking out. ** ½
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