Review by Carole Mertz Why should a discussion of W.G. Sebald (think Austerlitz, 2001) arise between two British women seated in a Norfolk pub of an early afternoon? But the women, Fran and Annie, old friends, are interested in literature and this banter is typical of their literary exchanges. A third character, Rachel, enters on page 11. She’s a wealthy American who teaches the art of creative writing and makes “good money,” thinks Annie, who “judges from her clothes—unaware her new pal benefits from an ample family trust fund.” Then young Tamsin appears and soon Thomas, a passionate Shelley follower.…
Author: Mom Egg Review
Review by Jennifer Martelli The poems in Rebecca Hart Olander’s debut collection, Uncertain Acrobats, not only recollect a father’s life, but also navigate the landscape of grief, making all movement breathtaking and physical. Olander’s mastery in her construction of the book belies whatever uncertainty or hesitancy the daughter—the speaker—has as she travels a world without her father. The poems are arranged so well, and with such precision of imagery and language, I trusted and moved with the speaker. The poems reflect the gorgeous image on the cover of the book: three women (or are they the same woman?) dancing…
Review by Michelle Panik While the organization of Cammy Thomas’s latest poetry collection, Tremors, is simple—three parts that address each stage of the poet’s life—the material is not. Tucked within these pages are poems both humorous and sober, declarative and unsure, with the unifying theme being tremors—both physical and figurative. Part I concerns Thomas’s childhood growing up on rural Long Island. Here, the tremors are of strength, and a vulnerable child often finds herself at the mercy of unreliable caretakers. “Mum”—which is a reference to both moms and secrecy—tells of hiding from a father often armed with a whip…
Review by DeMisty D. Bellinger A Spell for Living is a visually striking collection of poetry from poet Keisha-Gaye Anderson. In her third collection, Anderson pairs her poems with original pen and ink drawings, adding movement and intimacy to the page. The conversational tone and the drawings create a document not unlike a personal journal where the writer has invited us to see her mind at work. But these are spells, too, or poems meant to foment magic for a people. Keisha-Gaye Anderson’s biography is full of interesting and varied detours. She is a poet, visual artist, and businesswoman…
Karren LaLonde Alenier Granddaughter Clara Spera explores Bubbie Ruth’s big closet my mom Jane Ginsburg was never hamstrung by her mom’s inattention no rather she and her brother were often smothered it’s not as if Bubbie caused collapsed lungs Bubbie and I are short people among our family clan our love another gauge for our largeness the way we blather sweet nothings to those we hold dear not stung by formalities I shopped her closet once I donned her cashmere coat beckoned to her as she bent over briefs look it fits me so well me too not a…
December 2021 Welcome to the new issue of MER VOX Quarterly. We are pleased to present two new folios in this issue. “Ukrainian Voices” presents the work of Ukrainian poets, some in translation. Our latest Mother Figures folio, “Mother in Objects,” explores in prose and poetry the way physical objects come to evoke some essence of the mother. Our latest M.A.M.A. words-and-art collaboration introduces an installation at the Museum of Motherhood, Mother Tree by Helen Hiebert, and Nest by Martha Joy Rose and Polly Wood. Check out our latest book reviews, here. Ukrainian Voices – A Poetry Folio Curated…
Welcome to the December 2021 Mom Egg Review VOX: Ukrainian Voices While reviewing submissions for the upcoming MER 20 print issue we became intrigued by the poems by Jane Muschenetz, a Jewish refugee from Ukraine to the United States, that wove two worlds and two languages into a tapestry telling a story of hunger, displacement, and motherhood. In her poem, “Definitions,” Muschenetz writes, “This is poetry?” English words are interlopers in my mother’s mouth they wear a disguise to fit in ‘Th’—‘S’ sounds take on hard ‘Z’ edges ‘V’s stand in for ‘W’s, ‘R’s roll with it better, but They’re…
Halyna Kruk Translated by Ali Kinsella and Dzvinia Orlowsky to Sylvia Plath O, Sylvia, he entrapped me in the calico fields of small squares. Yes, he ensnared me in hemmed flaxen fields. He wants to catch me, to encircle me, O, Sylvia, he wants to mark me in the soft oblivion of cotton fields, to enter me in some roster as an endangered breed, Sylvia, tie me down by the ankle with two or three kids so I can’t ever leave him, only: – crumple these checkered fields, – irrigate these ribbed fields with my sweat, – grow weak…
Natalka Bilotserkivets Translated by Ali Kinsella and Dzvinia Orlowsky Fish Always in profile, gray and flat, a mermaid’s tail, cloudy crazed eye… Unhooking you, the hand holds onto your gills simply and cruelly. Always in profile and always mute, fragile spine, weak rib lattice… Old age comes. Used to it, my soul has no rest. Water stands in mothers’ wombs, nature is silent—and yes, like the first fury, its bottomless bowels trembled. Hold on to life! It slips from your hands like a fish, leaving in your palms slime and dirt, diluted with water. *** A stone smile…
Ania Chromova Translated by Ali Kinsella untitled the old lady on the street offered my children some candies: are they yours? how darling. why only two? have some more. just two or three more. and make ‘em just as cute. why are you laughing? I’m serious. you’re still young, don’t get it. look, take a look. what’s at my back? death. what’s at your back? death. around the corner to the right—war. to the left—war. under our feet—bones. the sky is silent, who knows what it’s thinking about. I say this from the bottom of my heart. and don’t…