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imiji's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
4.0
certain poems and lines in this book pinpointed very exact feelings of existential dread and horror and want and joy that i have felt very intensely before and it was weird and stunning to have those moments of recognition. otherwise though, weirdly even though i would characterize many of these poems as sparse, i actually thought many of their endings were in the middle. would have loved to see these poems lean further into what they were -- they sometimes feel so restrained as to be detached. but a very beautiful book!
annajoyreed93's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.0
Incorrect Merciful Impulses is for the tender-hearted, the romantic, those who carry around a heaviness and aren’t sure what to do with it. I loved it.
“I’m sure I’ve pitied you
all wrong. I don’t know how
it’s done. I never learned.
I engulf with an affection from a chasm
in my gut, a sweet trapdoor, a heart-shaped hole,
a pretty well that threatens to swallow me up.”
- from The Problem of Death within Life
“I can stop this anytime
or I can’t, I can’t
decide, do I
cup my hands to receive
some element of grace, or
brace my frame against the harsh
that I create.”
- from Wake
“The grief is a planet. A dust ring.
A small moon that’s been hidden
under my pillow, that’s been changing
the way my body moves this whole time.”
- from The Increasing Frequency of Black Swans
“I want to give you everything.
This is called a sickness.
By way of remedy, I am decorum
bound, swept
up and hushed. I forget myself.
I lay my goods down, lay my arms down
in the dust. Then it’s a heaviness
I borrow and am taught
to own. What’s mine is mine.”
- from Possession
“as is our way
we have come too far
to turn away from this
kernel that shapes
us into other
than animal or just
animal enough
to breed and break…”
- from Ex Machina
“I’ve given up
on sense, except
the patterns
of the morning
the way you sigh
and shield
your eyes from light.”
- from Still Life with Copernicus & Hypnophobia
“I’m sure I’ve pitied you
all wrong. I don’t know how
it’s done. I never learned.
I engulf with an affection from a chasm
in my gut, a sweet trapdoor, a heart-shaped hole,
a pretty well that threatens to swallow me up.”
- from The Problem of Death within Life
“I can stop this anytime
or I can’t, I can’t
decide, do I
cup my hands to receive
some element of grace, or
brace my frame against the harsh
that I create.”
- from Wake
“The grief is a planet. A dust ring.
A small moon that’s been hidden
under my pillow, that’s been changing
the way my body moves this whole time.”
- from The Increasing Frequency of Black Swans
“I want to give you everything.
This is called a sickness.
By way of remedy, I am decorum
bound, swept
up and hushed. I forget myself.
I lay my goods down, lay my arms down
in the dust. Then it’s a heaviness
I borrow and am taught
to own. What’s mine is mine.”
- from Possession
“as is our way
we have come too far
to turn away from this
kernel that shapes
us into other
than animal or just
animal enough
to breed and break…”
- from Ex Machina
“I’ve given up
on sense, except
the patterns
of the morning
the way you sigh
and shield
your eyes from light.”
- from Still Life with Copernicus & Hypnophobia
brice_mo's review against another edition
2.0
Like many other reviewers on this site, I think Rankine’s titles are incredible, and I wish the poems themselves maintained the same specificity of language. Instead, the individual poems often felt amorphous, and the language was so broad that it often undermined the content.
This may be a matter of personal taste, but at its best, poetry often communicates a memory, whether real or imagined—it’s a shared subjectivity. Within these poems, I never found that. Rankine is obscured by the language, but it rarely reveals anything else.
That said, there was one beautiful set of lines from “Symptoms of Doctrine,” and it felt revelatory of the book's shortcomings:
In all my memories, a story
keeps being rewritten. I am just trying
to be merciful. Is that honesty?
In the end, it feels like Rankine’s “Incorrect Merciful Impulses” protect both the reader and herself, and the result is an oddly detached body of work.
This may be a matter of personal taste, but at its best, poetry often communicates a memory, whether real or imagined—it’s a shared subjectivity. Within these poems, I never found that. Rankine is obscured by the language, but it rarely reveals anything else.
That said, there was one beautiful set of lines from “Symptoms of Doctrine,” and it felt revelatory of the book's shortcomings:
In all my memories, a story
keeps being rewritten. I am just trying
to be merciful. Is that honesty?
In the end, it feels like Rankine’s “Incorrect Merciful Impulses” protect both the reader and herself, and the result is an oddly detached body of work.
hc21's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars. I loved the lyrical flow of these poems. Some of them were beautiful, 5 star pieces. But some of them seemed to drift a bit, in a way I found more confusing than pretty or artistic. Definitely lots of promise, and would consider reading more of her work.
shiloniz's review against another edition
5.0
This was a rather poignant and timely collection to read during the middle of the pandemic.
jmarkwindy's review against another edition
3.0
"Systems of Prophecy" / "Dear Enemy:" / "History" / "Contact" / "The Current Isolationism" / "Wake" / "The Increasing Frequency of Black Swans" / "Symptoms of Doctrine" / "Instructions for the Forest"
jayisreading's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
I love a good poetry collection where the poet has a clear command of the language. Rankine writes beautifully and paints such vivid imagery that I found incredibly immersive. However, I can't deny that this was also a tough collection to get through. I admit that I couldn't quite figure out what the main themes or intentions were, which made these poems—beautiful as they were—come together a bit randomly. With that said, I do think this is a collection that asks to be reread and looked at from different angles, which is something I may have to do in the near future.
Some favorites: “Tender,” “Fireblight,” “On the Motion of Animals,” “Symptoms of Optimism,” “Wilt,” “Matter in Retreat,” “Instructions for the Forest,” and “We”
Content Warnings
Minor: Death
lelex's review against another edition
4.0
Sometimes in the morning your hand finds the dip in my side. For the moment we'll call it happiness.
You didn't want to hate the living, you just wanted it to snow
Dear night: It was so warm under you that I offered but you refused to endure. You won't remember me. (We danced. I was the one in the dark. I was wearing this face.)
Mercy, unpoison me and tell me what for. I'm only crabgrass green, after all, experiencing things.
I never knew where to put my hands when she laughed.
I engulf with an affection from a chasm in my gut, a sweet trapdoor, a heartshaped hole, a pretty well that threatens to swallow me up.
A flock of birds when touched, I scatter.
I am not good, I do not strive for it.
I see my escape. I walk into the water. The sky is blue like the ocean, which is blue like the sky.
You didn't want to hate the living, you just wanted it to snow
Dear night: It was so warm under you that I offered but you refused to endure. You won't remember me. (We danced. I was the one in the dark. I was wearing this face.)
Mercy, unpoison me and tell me what for. I'm only crabgrass green, after all, experiencing things.
I never knew where to put my hands when she laughed.
I engulf with an affection from a chasm in my gut, a sweet trapdoor, a heartshaped hole, a pretty well that threatens to swallow me up.
A flock of birds when touched, I scatter.
I am not good, I do not strive for it.
I see my escape. I walk into the water. The sky is blue like the ocean, which is blue like the sky.
seannflyn's review against another edition
2.0
Yes, these poems have to be read aloud. But I think that a book, or other piece of art, has to allow the reader their own interpretative capacity. So, I wouldn’t necessarily subscribe to the school that says I am not permitted to read poetry any way I like. And I think that robbed the enjoyment of the poetry from me. Not to mention that Rankine’s style is quite Plathian, with the added layer of deliberate obscureness, making reading her book a mountain. There were a few poems I did like that I felt didn’t give me this feeling, but not enough that would merit any redemption for me. 2 stars