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Mother Quiet
Martha Rhodes is the author of two previous collections, Perfect Disappearance and At the Gate. She teaches in the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, New School University, and at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown. She is a founding editor and the director of the independent literary press Four Way Books.
- GenresPoetry
61 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2004
About the author
Martha Rhodes
11 books4 followers Martha Rhodes has taught at Emerson College, New School University, and University of California at Irvine. She currently teaches at Sarah Lawrence College and the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College. She has been a visiting or guest poet at many colleges and universities around the country and has taught at conferences such as the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, The Frost Place, Indiana University, Sarah Lawrence Summer Conference, and Third Coast. She serves on many publishing panels throughout each year at colleges, conferences and arts organizations, and is a regular guest editor at the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and the Colrain Manuscript Conference. She also teaches private weekly workshops. In 2010, she took over the directorship of the Frost Place Conference on Poetry in Franconia, NH. Rhodes is the director of Four Way Books, publishers of poetry and short fiction, located in New York City.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
March 9, 2020
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/mo...
It is astounding to me how so many readers can give this book such high ratings and fail to show any reason why. Are we supposed to immediately want to read something just because an amateur critic gave a book five stars with no review to back it up, or perhaps not even read a book because of a mean-spirited one-star rating? I could find very few reviews on my machine for Mother Quiet, and on some book sites there aren’t any. That is, until now. And yes, this book deserves high praise. Simply stated, Rhodes is not afraid to speak her mind, unlike her admirers.
I am reminded of the poet Jerah Chadwick in her opening poem A Progression. Look him up, read a few of his poems, and you will recognize the resemblance. That is not to say he was savaged by Rhodes and stolen from, merely that their tone is similar, their gait and rhythm remarkably the same. Chadwick died too young and well before he could make a name for himself, that is, if he even wanted to make a name. But on the whole, his poems are demonstrably superior to the poems of Rhodes, with no extra fluff or filler to be found in them.
I came to the poetry of Martha Rhodes due to a brilliant essay by Louise Glück titled The Forbidden in her essay collection titled Proofs & Theories. There is a quotation lifted from that essay printed on the back of this Martha Rhodes book as blurb, but Glück’s essay is not referring to the poems specific to this book. The examples Louise Glück provides in her essay are poignantly brilliant poems from an unpublished manuscript, and were the reasons I consequently purchased this, the wrong book. But that does not lessen my respect for Rhodes’ honesty on the page, her fierceness of character to abide by her truth and the courage to speak it. Most of the poems in Mother Quiet are extremely better than most poems published today, but only one of them stands out, and is worthy of exemplary praise.
When
When our children smelled of perfume,
our perfume smelled of skin.
Our skin smelled of hedges
and our hedges smelled of wings.
Then our wings smelled of injuries.
Our injuries smelled of river, a river
smell of yellow and our children
ran away.
The poems Glück presented in her essay were provided as proof of Rhodes’ superiority, again, of strong and honest poems dealing with the subject of death. Mother Quiet also deals with death, hence the mistake in my purchase. Glück’s high praise for Rhodes was given in comparison and at the expense of criticism for the great Sharon Olds and her book of poems titled The Father, which I happened to think was a fine book and probably my favorite Olds title of all-time. But Glück’s examples of the strength and honesty of Rhodes on the page furthered my belief in at least checking her out. I am generally skeptical of all books of poetry and usually wish afterwards that I had not taken the time to look at them. After years devouring and obsessing over Wallace Stevens, Emily Dickinson, and Jack Gilbert there are few poets worthy of reading these days.
The poem When is a superior piece of art. But for the good of all working poets allow me to briefly list a few poems that should not have been included in this collection, Mother Quiet. Inferior work goes a long way in excising good readers, so these inferior poems listed should not go unheeded. Of course, not many of us read poetry these days so the list might be for naught. Regardless, four mentions of so-called poems begging for the blade of a tyrannical editor are Gone; Existence; You! Behind the House!; and ! Blank pages would be preferred over these somewhat silly and poorly constructed lines of drivel. But I do think Rhodes is worthy of further examination. There is promise here. And at least I know (and feel) she is not lying to me.
It is astounding to me how so many readers can give this book such high ratings and fail to show any reason why. Are we supposed to immediately want to read something just because an amateur critic gave a book five stars with no review to back it up, or perhaps not even read a book because of a mean-spirited one-star rating? I could find very few reviews on my machine for Mother Quiet, and on some book sites there aren’t any. That is, until now. And yes, this book deserves high praise. Simply stated, Rhodes is not afraid to speak her mind, unlike her admirers.
I am reminded of the poet Jerah Chadwick in her opening poem A Progression. Look him up, read a few of his poems, and you will recognize the resemblance. That is not to say he was savaged by Rhodes and stolen from, merely that their tone is similar, their gait and rhythm remarkably the same. Chadwick died too young and well before he could make a name for himself, that is, if he even wanted to make a name. But on the whole, his poems are demonstrably superior to the poems of Rhodes, with no extra fluff or filler to be found in them.
I came to the poetry of Martha Rhodes due to a brilliant essay by Louise Glück titled The Forbidden in her essay collection titled Proofs & Theories. There is a quotation lifted from that essay printed on the back of this Martha Rhodes book as blurb, but Glück’s essay is not referring to the poems specific to this book. The examples Louise Glück provides in her essay are poignantly brilliant poems from an unpublished manuscript, and were the reasons I consequently purchased this, the wrong book. But that does not lessen my respect for Rhodes’ honesty on the page, her fierceness of character to abide by her truth and the courage to speak it. Most of the poems in Mother Quiet are extremely better than most poems published today, but only one of them stands out, and is worthy of exemplary praise.
When
When our children smelled of perfume,
our perfume smelled of skin.
Our skin smelled of hedges
and our hedges smelled of wings.
Then our wings smelled of injuries.
Our injuries smelled of river, a river
smell of yellow and our children
ran away.
The poems Glück presented in her essay were provided as proof of Rhodes’ superiority, again, of strong and honest poems dealing with the subject of death. Mother Quiet also deals with death, hence the mistake in my purchase. Glück’s high praise for Rhodes was given in comparison and at the expense of criticism for the great Sharon Olds and her book of poems titled The Father, which I happened to think was a fine book and probably my favorite Olds title of all-time. But Glück’s examples of the strength and honesty of Rhodes on the page furthered my belief in at least checking her out. I am generally skeptical of all books of poetry and usually wish afterwards that I had not taken the time to look at them. After years devouring and obsessing over Wallace Stevens, Emily Dickinson, and Jack Gilbert there are few poets worthy of reading these days.
The poem When is a superior piece of art. But for the good of all working poets allow me to briefly list a few poems that should not have been included in this collection, Mother Quiet. Inferior work goes a long way in excising good readers, so these inferior poems listed should not go unheeded. Of course, not many of us read poetry these days so the list might be for naught. Regardless, four mentions of so-called poems begging for the blade of a tyrannical editor are Gone; Existence; You! Behind the House!; and ! Blank pages would be preferred over these somewhat silly and poorly constructed lines of drivel. But I do think Rhodes is worthy of further examination. There is promise here. And at least I know (and feel) she is not lying to me.
Displaying 1 of 1 review