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A review by readrunsea
Words Like Thunder: New and Used Anishinaabe Prayers by Lois Beardslee
5.0
I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. Opinions are my own.
WOW. I am left breathless by this poetry collection, by a new-to-me author whose other work I will be seeking out ASAP. This book is so layered in terms of its language, themes, and structure. It spirals around recurring imagery and specific words, and skillfully shows the inherent entwinement of modern Ojibwe life with pre-colonial, ancient Ojibwe life. The collection is thick with imagery, and as a white settler I struggled to grasp some of it; it asked for my careful attention, or rather I asked myself to give it, so this was a slow read for me despite its short length. But I’m so glad I slowed down with it, because it was a very rich reading experience that shored up my respect for Ojibwe and Anishinaabe linguistic forms, which are different from imposed white settler forms. However, it is absolutely readable to those of us steeped in settler language rules, and is written in English.
My favorite poems in this collection are Odatagaagomiinike (Blackberry Picking), A Song for Anny, I Left a Map Through the Diaspora, Harvest Me, Painted Dancers, and Cold Woman. But they are all wonderful and also work together as a whole; reading it feels like being led through many rooms in a spiral, some of them beautiful and calming, some of them cold and hard, and all of them necessary.
I feel like I’m doing a bad job with this review so, with apologies to the publisher, I’m going to quote a few poems from the ARC so that the writing can speak for itself re: how Beardslee crafts her sentences, lines, and imagery, and for how acutely and skillfully she renders inequality, oppression, and Indigenous resilience and power:
Cranberry-Picking Season: ‘She breathed heavy and dry, coughing up mountaintops and / snowmelt, / While health care and opportunity flushed through her treetops, / Swept past her chilled arteries and internal bedrock, / Gushed past her like transport trucks on a hardened highway to never.’
Hurricane Katrina: ‘They are sitting in a warm September, those Indians... Knowing about the lack of food and water and shelter / Knowing about the lack of opportunities and the lack of jobs used to / justify letting nature / Kill the ‘weak and useless’ / Outlined in a Charles Darwin textbook about banking and finance.’
Ogitchidaakwewag: ‘I will translate our name for you. / It means we are women who do big things. / We have given birth to the future from writing rocks, swirling / currents, snowstorms, and clouds of mosquitos... I will translate our name for you. / It means we have been here forever.’
If it’s not clear, I *highly* recommend this book.
WOW. I am left breathless by this poetry collection, by a new-to-me author whose other work I will be seeking out ASAP. This book is so layered in terms of its language, themes, and structure. It spirals around recurring imagery and specific words, and skillfully shows the inherent entwinement of modern Ojibwe life with pre-colonial, ancient Ojibwe life. The collection is thick with imagery, and as a white settler I struggled to grasp some of it; it asked for my careful attention, or rather I asked myself to give it, so this was a slow read for me despite its short length. But I’m so glad I slowed down with it, because it was a very rich reading experience that shored up my respect for Ojibwe and Anishinaabe linguistic forms, which are different from imposed white settler forms. However, it is absolutely readable to those of us steeped in settler language rules, and is written in English.
My favorite poems in this collection are Odatagaagomiinike (Blackberry Picking), A Song for Anny, I Left a Map Through the Diaspora, Harvest Me, Painted Dancers, and Cold Woman. But they are all wonderful and also work together as a whole; reading it feels like being led through many rooms in a spiral, some of them beautiful and calming, some of them cold and hard, and all of them necessary.
I feel like I’m doing a bad job with this review so, with apologies to the publisher, I’m going to quote a few poems from the ARC so that the writing can speak for itself re: how Beardslee crafts her sentences, lines, and imagery, and for how acutely and skillfully she renders inequality, oppression, and Indigenous resilience and power:
Cranberry-Picking Season: ‘She breathed heavy and dry, coughing up mountaintops and / snowmelt, / While health care and opportunity flushed through her treetops, / Swept past her chilled arteries and internal bedrock, / Gushed past her like transport trucks on a hardened highway to never.’
Hurricane Katrina: ‘They are sitting in a warm September, those Indians... Knowing about the lack of food and water and shelter / Knowing about the lack of opportunities and the lack of jobs used to / justify letting nature / Kill the ‘weak and useless’ / Outlined in a Charles Darwin textbook about banking and finance.’
Ogitchidaakwewag: ‘I will translate our name for you. / It means we are women who do big things. / We have given birth to the future from writing rocks, swirling / currents, snowstorms, and clouds of mosquitos... I will translate our name for you. / It means we have been here forever.’
If it’s not clear, I *highly* recommend this book.