Broumas Post

Olga Broumas’ book “Beginning with O” is a difficult read. It is difficult to follow and difficult to understand. That is not to say that it’s a bad book or poorly written. It is certainly not to suggest that Broumas is not a gifted poet. Obviously, Stanley Kunitz’ having selected it as winner of the Yale Series of Younger Poets award (1977?) immediately qualifies the book as poetry of the highest regard. Besides, far be it from me to decide what is and is not good poetry. I am seemingly not far enough along in my critical education to make such brash judgments about a book that I simply have difficulty following. What I can do, however, is make some observations.

The first poem, “Sometimes, as a child” includes some beautiful imagery: “sometimes you’d dive… through water so startled it held the shape of your plunge” and “you’d emerge clean caesarean, flinging rivulets from your hair, your own breath arrested.”
The poet asks her reader to recall a moment so distinct, so important that it changes you, changes your perception, maybe your life. I enjoy, too, the method of organizing a book with an introductory poem of sorts (I’ve seen this used often), that is separated, at the beginning, from the remaining sections – sections that contain numerous poems. This first poem works almost as an epigraph, a prelude of what’s to come.

I have to admit, though, the real “meaning” escapes me. It seems on one hand a love poem, on the other a nod (knowing the matter of the rest of the book) to mythology itself. Perhaps she is combining the two ideas, mythology is a love that endures. Admittedly, I am also curious about her use of italics throughout the body of the poem. Is the narrator speaking in someone else’s voice? For someone else, perhaps?

The poem “Circe” is divided into three sections, “The Charm,” The Anticipation” and “The Bite,” which would seem to parallel, in a way, Circe’s use of magic potions to transform her enemies into animals. The poem itself, however, is elusive in its purpose. “The Charm” seems to speak of passion, “the fire bites…bites on her own sweet tongue.” It is a woman’s passion (probably Circe’s), but for whom or what we’re not quite sure. “The Anticipation” is written in the voice of a woman who waits for someone (or something?) to pursue her, but which she has some kind of control over. “The Bite” is interesting in that the narrator (possibly the woman from the previous section) becomes Circe as she walks into town at night, ultimately leaving men behind. It would seem there is a lesbian theme in this poem, but the whole substance of which puzzles me.

The last section gives homage to Anne Sexton’s “Transformations.” Broumas writes a series of fairy tale poems with traditional titles and uses, on a couple occasions, Sexton quotes as epigraphs. There continues to be an overarching theme of eroticism with what seems like lesbian overtones (a quick Google search of Broumas confirms this idea). Still, there is little in the way of typical narrative in these poems. Broumas could certainly be commended for her revisionist thinking. Where some poets prefer telling stories, Broumas seeks to evoke emotions. She will not offer you the truth as she sees it, but rather offer you a place to feel around for the truth yourself. She does this with an exquisite voice and a language that is almost surreal. There is undoubtedly a large audience for these poems, and for poets like Broumas. Unfortunately, I am at present not among them. I am much too simple, and afraid I always will be.