Joseph presents the events of daily life both plainly and transcendently, as if to summon up the entire cultural setting in which they take place. . . . The triumphant final poem, 'Plenty' is an implied rebuke to any possible misreading of her poems as limited to a poetics of identity, or rooted in the deprivations of history rather than the plenty and richness of her experience, the will and ingenuity of her imagination and her strong poetic gift." --Women's Review of Books "These poems point to the strong materials needed to make ourselves whole in the modern world. They alert us to the seams we must tug at to see into ourselves." --Yusef Komunyakaa Allison Joseph is the author of three books and her honors include the 1992 Women Poets Series Competition Award, the 1992 John C. Zacharis First Book Prize, an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship in Poetry for 1996, and a 1997 Literary Award from the Illinois Arts Council. She is Associate Professor of creative writing and poetry at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale.
Allison Joseph (born 1967) is an American poet, editor and professor. She is author of six poetry collections, most recently, My Father's Kites: Poems (Steel Toe Books, 2010).
Born in London to parents of Jamaican heritage, Allison Joseph grew up in Toronto, Canada, and the Bronx. She graduated from Kenyon College with a B.A., and from Indiana University with an M.F.A. She teaches at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, and is Director of the Young Writers Workshop at SIUC, which she founded in 1999: a four-day summer program for high school students. Many of SIUC's creative writing faculty and graduate students are involved with the workshop, and the student participants come from several states. In 1995, she was one of the founding editors of Crab Orchard Review as the magazine's poetry editor and has also worked as editor-in-chief since August 2001. She lives in Carbondale, Illinois.
At first this book feels like (merely?) a collection of portraits and childhood memories, but as it progresses the reader becomes more aware of Joseph’s careful placement of images and their growing resonance. About midway through it’s as if the poems surface from the depths of memory and become more overtly grounded in the world of accountability. There’s a moment in the poem “Señora Williams” where the book just takes off for me, and nearly every poem that follows—“Talking to Marilyn,” “Screen Test,” “Higher Education,” and “The White People Next Door” are among my favorites—maintains this level of complexity and intensity.
Señora Williams banged that ruler three more times,
harder each time until Teresa grabbed it, broke it, yelled ¿”como se dice “bitch”?, her accent perfect in anger.
And here is the conclusion of “Talking to Marilyn”:
They regret letting me watch, I know it, so I leave that storefront séance
quietly, taking my doubt with me, my only chance to find out what becomes a legend most ruined by a skepticism
strong as the harsh glaring light that hits whenever I leave a movie’s dark comfort, trying to make sense of day.
Joseph takes up colloquial, common syntax and phrase as her material but shapes it with her own free verse forms (e.g., poems consisting of exclusively unrhymed, unmetered couplets or tercets) that use line breaks to give power and meaning. The book has a fairly linear progression and the bulk of it is written looking back at childhood through to adolescence as a young black woman from Canada, not fitting in. Perhaps it is just where I am as a person, but I felt the later poems that deal with her adolescence and adulthood felt more immediate and striking to me. I really got pulled in with the ending of the book and had a harder time linking up with the youngest (also earliest in the book) memories.
It's a miracle we survive our childhoods and our education retaining enough grace in adulthood to extend the generosity to others that these poems exhibit. I've had this book on my shelf for a dozen years.m I didn't know I had been missing out.