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Falling off the Empire State Building
Falling off the Empire State Building is about family, love, and mortality. It can be difficult to say “I love you” in a working class family, but it may be demonstrated in many ways. Our parents often work at jobs that never match up with their dreams. They cook, clean, and toil until they finally get a moment to go fishing or toss a baseball with you. Sometimes we recognize the love reflected in the epiphany of a simple act: a sip of cranberry juice, a father’s gentle wake-up touch, a mother stirring soup, or a sister signing her death. Perhaps the greatest honor we have left to give our family members is to be at their bedsides and offer solace when they arrive at the end of their lives.
- GenresPoetry
36 pages, Paperback
Published March 1, 2020
37 people want to read
About the author
Jimmy Pappas
6 books283 followersJimmy Pappas served during the Vietnam War as an English language instructor training South Vietnamese soldiers. He received a BA in English at Bridgewater State University and an MA in English literature from Rivier University. His poems have been published in over 150 journals, including Sheila-Na-Gig, First Frost, Shot Glass Journal, Frogpond, Off the Coast, Haikuniverse, Rattle, Cattails, and Boston Literary Magazine. The poem "Bobby's Story" was one of ten finalists in the 2017 Rattle Poetry Contest and won the 2018 Readers Choice Award. Other poems about veterans are included in Jimmy's first book Scream Wounds published by A15 Press in 2019. Jimmy won the Rattle chapbook prize in 2019 for Falling off the Empire State Building. He has received two Pushcart Prize nominations, one Best of the Net nomination, and two Touchstone Award nominations. Jimmy now moderates a weekly Zoom event called A Conversation with Jimmy and Friends.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
September 7, 2020
I am not a poetry connoisseur, but when I read something that really gets to me it's hard to let go of the pages. This collection of poems about parents and family and lost opportunities hit me especially hard, in particular the verses of letting go of life.
Here there was nothing, only my gray man, my gray child, laying there sleeping on his back, waiting for my arrival.
My parents were in their mid-forties when I was born, so I was far younger than my siblings. Somehow, those siblings decided it was my job to be the one who took responsibility for seeing my parents off into the next world. My mother died in my arms, as did one of my brothers, and finally, my father. None of it was planned, more of a lack of responsibility from a brother and sister who told me, in essence, they had their own lives to live. Perhaps they were scared of death.
In Why We Open Our Mouths, the author's sister begs to be released from the pain of cancer, to simply sleep, sleep. Yup. For me, it was my mother's pain from cancer, which left her almost comatose on the family sofa. She didn't want to die in a hospital, so I made sure the hospice nurse made her last days as peaceful as possible. In her own home, in her beloved living room, where she could hear the seagulls, the crashing of the ocean waves, and the muffled cries of my bereft father.
She signed sleep over twenty times. A few days later she stopped breathing. Cheeks sunk in. Mouth open.
In The Lover Of Mysteries, a dutiful son is reading to his dying father when the favorite son arrives, the rich one, the successful one. But the stay is just for a mere fifteen minutes, before that favored son makes a quick exit and the dutiful son goes back to reading to his father. Yup.
In The Gray Man, the dutiful son visits his father at the nursing home where we had put him against his will because he had become too much work for us. Yup.
There were no English words, words that
I could understand, words that could explain all of this,
words that could explain him, words that could explain me,
words that could explain all of the things that have happened
between us, words that could explain why we behaved the way we did.
For my father, I left the rat race for a bit so I could work to get him out of his detested assisted living home and into the veterans home he so dearly loved. It was a sacrifice I was happy to make, knowing he was surrounded 24/7 by adoring nurses who spoiled him and listened to his wartime stories, which he told as though he were still a teenage gunner's mate on a dangerous Atlantic convoy. Because as the title poem makes clear, a good father makes sacrifices.
He would have been one of those workers
who stood in line waiting for a job
just to feed his family; then balancing
on a metal beam high above the earth
while trying desperately not to fall.
So for me, these poems were familiars.
Book Season = Year Round (lost smiles)
Here there was nothing, only my gray man, my gray child, laying there sleeping on his back, waiting for my arrival.
My parents were in their mid-forties when I was born, so I was far younger than my siblings. Somehow, those siblings decided it was my job to be the one who took responsibility for seeing my parents off into the next world. My mother died in my arms, as did one of my brothers, and finally, my father. None of it was planned, more of a lack of responsibility from a brother and sister who told me, in essence, they had their own lives to live. Perhaps they were scared of death.
In Why We Open Our Mouths, the author's sister begs to be released from the pain of cancer, to simply sleep, sleep. Yup. For me, it was my mother's pain from cancer, which left her almost comatose on the family sofa. She didn't want to die in a hospital, so I made sure the hospice nurse made her last days as peaceful as possible. In her own home, in her beloved living room, where she could hear the seagulls, the crashing of the ocean waves, and the muffled cries of my bereft father.
She signed sleep over twenty times. A few days later she stopped breathing. Cheeks sunk in. Mouth open.
In The Lover Of Mysteries, a dutiful son is reading to his dying father when the favorite son arrives, the rich one, the successful one. But the stay is just for a mere fifteen minutes, before that favored son makes a quick exit and the dutiful son goes back to reading to his father. Yup.
In The Gray Man, the dutiful son visits his father at the nursing home where we had put him against his will because he had become too much work for us. Yup.
There were no English words, words that
I could understand, words that could explain all of this,
words that could explain him, words that could explain me,
words that could explain all of the things that have happened
between us, words that could explain why we behaved the way we did.
For my father, I left the rat race for a bit so I could work to get him out of his detested assisted living home and into the veterans home he so dearly loved. It was a sacrifice I was happy to make, knowing he was surrounded 24/7 by adoring nurses who spoiled him and listened to his wartime stories, which he told as though he were still a teenage gunner's mate on a dangerous Atlantic convoy. Because as the title poem makes clear, a good father makes sacrifices.
He would have been one of those workers
who stood in line waiting for a job
just to feed his family; then balancing
on a metal beam high above the earth
while trying desperately not to fall.
So for me, these poems were familiars.
Book Season = Year Round (lost smiles)
February 27, 2020
These poems remind me of Coleridge’s quote that poetry should be “the best words in the best order.” There are many deaths in this book, but Pappas maintains that delicate balance that makes the poems touching, not maudlin. He chooses a few simple gestures to capture the letting go, the dread, the grief, and how small memories, not the grand occasions, best sum up a life well lived. These are poems of love. Of course, an adult child will inevitably blame himself for not doing enough, but most readers will be shaking their heads, “No, you did.”
Pappas’ book is more tender than sad and includes some wonderful moments of comic relief, which I won’t spoil for you.
While I generally prefer short poems, and most of these are, I was particularly impressed by his longer five-part poem, “The Gray Man.” He not only uses an Ingmar Bergman film as a metaphor for his father’s final days and how he was having trouble making sense of the stark, mostly silent scenes, but the five acts imitate a movie script. Here's a clip from "Part I. The Visit,"
“….Even Bergman was never fully understandable,
even his words got lost in white shirts and a white background,
but at least he had words, at least there was an attempt at
translation. Here there was nothing, only my gray man…
…sleeping on his back, waiting for my arrival.”
Pappas’ book is more tender than sad and includes some wonderful moments of comic relief, which I won’t spoil for you.
While I generally prefer short poems, and most of these are, I was particularly impressed by his longer five-part poem, “The Gray Man.” He not only uses an Ingmar Bergman film as a metaphor for his father’s final days and how he was having trouble making sense of the stark, mostly silent scenes, but the five acts imitate a movie script. Here's a clip from "Part I. The Visit,"
“….Even Bergman was never fully understandable,
even his words got lost in white shirts and a white background,
but at least he had words, at least there was an attempt at
translation. Here there was nothing, only my gray man…
…sleeping on his back, waiting for my arrival.”
November 20, 2021
A book of odes as love songs to passed relatives. Honest, well thought out, sometimes stark. The premise is a worn one in poetry - nothing new here - but it is real and deeply emotional. Almost reads like Stanley Kunitz.
April 28, 2020
Humane, compassionate, clear-eyed view of family relationships. In the brokenness, redemption, hope and love. A short but powerful collection of poems.
March 1, 2020
In his follow-up to his Vietnam War-themed poetry collection, Scream Wounds: How to Kill Your First Man in War, Jimmy Pappas has produced another excellent collection of themed poetry. This time, however, the theme here is death -- or more specifically, how we, the survivors, deal with the dying and death of loved ones.
Falling Off the Empire State Building is a short collection, but it makes a strong emotional impact. Pappas has a knack for recognizing the things we zero in on when we lose someone we love, be it the act of discarding the shoes of the deceased (in "My Mother's Shoes"), or reflecting on the sacrifices he or she made while alive -- this is in reference to the titular poem, "Falling Off the Empire State Building," wherein Jimmy confesses to sharing as fact with his students the story of how workers would fall to their death during construction of the Empire State Building, only to be replaced by desperate workers waiting in line for an opening. Though he later learns that this was an urban legend, the poem relates how his father
There is obvious truth in the fiction of the tale (and besides, I'm fairly certain you could replace "Empire State Building" with "Hoover Dam" and be historically accurate). Desperate people will go to huge lengths to care for their families, and at their deaths, we have to reckon with this. Did we do enough to reciprocate that love? Is there enough we can do in the end to ever repay them?
If you live long enough, you will inevitably experience the deaths of many people you love. It is the price you pay for being fortunate enough to live a long life. Pappas seems to realize this -- his latest collection of poetry is not maudlin or grief-stricken, but is rather a wistful, gentle take on the end that awaits us all, and what meaning a life takes on after it has concluded.
Falling Off the Empire State Building is a short collection, but it makes a strong emotional impact. Pappas has a knack for recognizing the things we zero in on when we lose someone we love, be it the act of discarding the shoes of the deceased (in "My Mother's Shoes"), or reflecting on the sacrifices he or she made while alive -- this is in reference to the titular poem, "Falling Off the Empire State Building," wherein Jimmy confesses to sharing as fact with his students the story of how workers would fall to their death during construction of the Empire State Building, only to be replaced by desperate workers waiting in line for an opening. Though he later learns that this was an urban legend, the poem relates how his father
...would have been one of those workers
who stood in line waiting for a job
just to feed his family; then balancing
on a metal beam above the earth
while trying desperately not to fall.
There is obvious truth in the fiction of the tale (and besides, I'm fairly certain you could replace "Empire State Building" with "Hoover Dam" and be historically accurate). Desperate people will go to huge lengths to care for their families, and at their deaths, we have to reckon with this. Did we do enough to reciprocate that love? Is there enough we can do in the end to ever repay them?
If you live long enough, you will inevitably experience the deaths of many people you love. It is the price you pay for being fortunate enough to live a long life. Pappas seems to realize this -- his latest collection of poetry is not maudlin or grief-stricken, but is rather a wistful, gentle take on the end that awaits us all, and what meaning a life takes on after it has concluded.
May 23, 2020
There are no laments in Jimmy Pappas's new chapbook of verses on the subjects of childhood and death. Falling Off The Empire State Building has about equal measures of revelation and chaos. These are short stories told in poignant moments, such as when his sister, three years after being given six months to live, says,
I scored a 45 in golf. I lasted longer than
anyone thought I could. I am ready to die.
Chaos is my word. In Creation (the second piece in the volume), the toddler (given time) would have reported his Four Noble Truths as,
Life is suffering. People fall
off ladders. Love ends.
Nothing has any meaning.
Pappas's own word is there in The Incomprehensibility of Order. There is no meaning to whose turn is next, a hawk fails to catch its prey is all.
For thirty or forty years, the Eiffel Tower was arguably the world's most famous building. For the next thirty of forty it was The Empire State Building. The Old World and the New had their day. Now, since 9/11, perhaps the very idea of the World's Most Anything has become uncertain. But falling off the Empire State isn't suicide; it's a revelation of his father trying desperately to cling on.
Nothing extraneous mars this short collection, which spans many lifetimes in less than one. Unlike a bulky collection, there is more in what has been left out. This allows a delicate balance between youth and age, male and female, family and others. If in The Gray Man, Pappas flirts with guilt, he assuages it in The Lover of Mysteries. In The Burial of Hamlet, he even manages to insert a third generation's curiosity over life and death.
Finally, quoting Sappho, the religious function of this poetry is revealed. By focusing on the personal, the universal appears. Jimmy Pappas has crafted some verses which - like the black raspberries of Invitation - he sprinkles on pancakes and serves them up to the people here; then shares them out with the rest of us.
I scored a 45 in golf. I lasted longer than
anyone thought I could. I am ready to die.
Chaos is my word. In Creation (the second piece in the volume), the toddler (given time) would have reported his Four Noble Truths as,
Life is suffering. People fall
off ladders. Love ends.
Nothing has any meaning.
Pappas's own word is there in The Incomprehensibility of Order. There is no meaning to whose turn is next, a hawk fails to catch its prey is all.
For thirty or forty years, the Eiffel Tower was arguably the world's most famous building. For the next thirty of forty it was The Empire State Building. The Old World and the New had their day. Now, since 9/11, perhaps the very idea of the World's Most Anything has become uncertain. But falling off the Empire State isn't suicide; it's a revelation of his father trying desperately to cling on.
Nothing extraneous mars this short collection, which spans many lifetimes in less than one. Unlike a bulky collection, there is more in what has been left out. This allows a delicate balance between youth and age, male and female, family and others. If in The Gray Man, Pappas flirts with guilt, he assuages it in The Lover of Mysteries. In The Burial of Hamlet, he even manages to insert a third generation's curiosity over life and death.
Finally, quoting Sappho, the religious function of this poetry is revealed. By focusing on the personal, the universal appears. Jimmy Pappas has crafted some verses which - like the black raspberries of Invitation - he sprinkles on pancakes and serves them up to the people here; then shares them out with the rest of us.
February 22, 2020
In this chapbook, Pappas has put together an experience of family and loss. These poems are sharp and accessible, always on point. They thrum with feeling without ever crossing the line into excessive sentimentality. Falling off the Empire State Building is a short collection and a fast read, but interesting and enjoyable to the end. The title piece, especially, left me musing. Good stuff.
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August 10, 2024This chapbook is comprised of raw narrative poems centered around the experience of watching a loved one die, the attendant survivor's guilt and the awareness of all the big and small ways we, both as individuals and as a society that overly medicalizes the death process, repeatedly and painfully betray the aging and dying.
March 17, 2020
This chapbook came with my March issue of Rattle. I brought it with me on a trip, and read the entire book in one sitting that night. I have rarely been so emotionally touched by a book of poetry. I praised it to a colleague the next morning--about how TRUE it is. Back at home, she messaged, "Here I sit at the Honda dealership, with tears in my eyes." I was glad she responded the same way I did, but was not surprised. This is an exceptional book!
September 7, 2020
Very much enjoyed this chapbook (a Rattle chapbook award winner) by New Hampshire poet Jimmy Pappas. The poems are honest and affecting, especially those about the poet's relationship with his father. I heard Jimmy read some of these poems, including "The Gray Man," (a real fave) on Rattlecast, the wonderful live show and podcast by Tim Green, editor of Rattle magazine. Kudos, Jimmy! I'm really glad to see this book in print!
November 27, 2023
This was a good collection with some nice poems, some stronger than others. Lots of death poems, especially bedside in someone's final moments.
June 18, 2020
A quiet book mostly about death, especially the death of loved ones. "Creation" stands out; it goes in so many directions. The long, multi-part poem, "The Gray Man," is striking. The older you are, as you experience the deaths of more and more family members, the more you may appreciate this chapbook.
August 23, 2020
Beautiful meditations on the working-class life and loving parents well into their old age.
June 4, 2020
This is a powerful collection of poetry that details some really tough experiences. Many of the pieces center around death or end of life situations and the relationship between parent and child. The author sets up the relationships in interesting ways and includes thought provoking details in each piece.
May 21, 2020
Rattle Chapbook Prize Winner for 2020 by Jimmy Pappas is a journey through the evolution of a life and the grief of death that is visited upon us all. An invitation to ponder the mysteries of coping and melancholia. There are seeds of faith sewn within the linings of all the words.
March 21, 2020
This collection looks at mourning the loss of a loved one and at the ways in which we sometimes witness, sometimes fail to witness, suffering.
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April 15, 2020Here is a link to "The Gray Man" on Rattle:
https://www.rattle.com/the-gray-man-b...
Here is a link to Rattlecast #34 where I was interviewed by Tim Green:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfbfG...
https://www.rattle.com/the-gray-man-b...
Here is a link to Rattlecast #34 where I was interviewed by Tim Green:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfbfG...
May 5, 2020
Fantastic. Took me right back to my mother's illness and death, my father's reaction. His illness which had overshadowed most of my life took a temporary backseat to hers and revved up again after hers ended.
Every simple word in every complex poem is a gift to be examined and kept forever.
Every simple word in every complex poem is a gift to be examined and kept forever.
April 4, 2020
God, I love this chapbook and Jimmy Pappas. Every poem speaks to me, whether it’s the one about baseball player Jimmy Piersall, the burial of a hamster, or the final days of his father in a nursing home. He has a frank, sassy tone, makes every word count, and comes up with some surprising connections in his poems. For example, in “At My Stepmother’s Deathbed, Twice,” he suggests while she lies in a coma, “Perhaps she is a female Jesus just brought down from the cross. We are the twelve apostles gathered together, preparing to go out into the world and spread her Word.” But then she wakes up and asks for cranberry juice. Beautiful work. If you have a chance, listen to Pappas reading many of these poems on Rattle’s March 13 Rattlecast at YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfbfG...
April 21, 2020
These poems instruct the heart and the mind. Not a trace of sentimentality mars the honest feeling drilled like a deep well into the purity of good water, rich with iron. The poet takes responsibility that many would shirk. In “The Grey Man” his regret at having to place his unwilling father in a nursing home is heart-breaking as he acknowledges “I was busy.” In “Mourning” he admits “jotting down notes/for my next poem” as the body turns cold. Such unimpeachable, unforgettable poetry is suffused with love, never sugar-coated, always true, every poem leaves the reader like a thirsty man wanting more.
June 18, 2020
This came with my Rattle subscription and I was intrigued right away, as I'd once had a dream of jumping (to fly) off the top of the Empire State Building. I sat down to read it and couldn't put it down. Well-crafted, honest, plainspoken and never maudlin or overwrought, these words felt like a hug in a dark time. "Creation" is a poem I keep coming back to. An excerpt: "If everyone waited long enough,/I could have explained to them/my four Noble Truths:/Life is suffering. People fall/off ladders. Love ends./Nothing has any meaning." You'd think, with language like that, that this might be a book full of misery, anger, or self-pity, but this poem in particular made me laugh, and even with so many pieces about loss, Pappas isn't depressing, merely beautifully illustrating our shared humanity and mortality. "The Burial of Hamlet" and "Let Me Go, She Said." were two more that stuck with me and echoed. Short, but packs numerous punches.
June 21, 2020
Not really my preferred kind of poetry, but it did help me realize that I might actually have preferences, so that’s something!
July 7, 2020
I got this chapbook for free from the author with not even an agreement of a review in exchange. That being said, I feel I must review this. This is, hands, down, some of the best poetry I have read this year. I highly recommend it.
March 22, 2020
There's a whole lotta living inside of suffering and dying and Pappas gets all the colors right.
July 29, 2022
This is a terrific short collection of poems. Almost all the poems are about the author’s family, including moving tributes to his late sister, mother and stepmother. The title poem made me think about the sacrifices my forefathers and ancestors made for me. My favorite poem is about his deceased mother’s shoes. There is a playfulness and emotion that runs through all the poems. They are also written in a clear, conversational tone which is refreshing.
February 23, 2020
Well-written yet disquieting. Reading it in one sitting was a depressing experience—I’d recommend reading a poem or two at a time and setting it aside.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 16, 2020
An amazing collection! I finished the book and read it straight through again. The title poem will stick with you, a father/child story with that desperate desire not to fall. Other favorites are The Gray Man (brutally honest, totally succeeds at being both a personal confession and a universal rite of passage) and Why We Open Our Mouths. Each of these poems stands on its own and contributes to the set. Also, love the cover.
I missed seeing Jimmy Pappas read locally last year. Will definitely be looking for opportunities to hear him tour with this book.
I missed seeing Jimmy Pappas read locally last year. Will definitely be looking for opportunities to hear him tour with this book.
February 21, 2020
Disconcerting. Disquieting. Mostly poems about dying.
February 27, 2020
Will review soon.
March 2, 2020
Excellent work and every verse a joy to read. Difficult, yes, with darkness -- but the other side is the bright intensity and clarity of emotion that is life. Anyone who has sat at a deathbed or suffered personal loss will respond to these poems. Everyone else -- pay attention!
Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews