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The Giving of Pears
Abayomi Animashaun, a native Nigerian, is decidedly a new and important voice in the current generation of emerging poets.
- GenresPoetry
75 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 2010
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
May 4, 2019
A fitting review of this book is citing Beaudelaire. He said that 'Beauty is always strange ... always contains a little bit of oddity, naive, unwanted, unconscious oddity, and that it is this oddity that makes it particularly Beautiful, it is its registration, its characteristic.'
I say a delectable pear, this is!
I say a delectable pear, this is!
April 26, 2010
Abayomi Animashaun’s poems hum inside like a good cocktail. When he invokes, ‘Lead us into that pure elegance,’ he is cherishing cities, foods, colors, human histories of passion and hope, with a lush affection and rich attention. These poems are blessings to the spirit. Their vivid, magical powers of witness lift up the world. — Naomi Shihab Nye
In Abayomi's world, gods and prophets and dead friends walk ‘in and out of walls.’ Fruits and animals of a lost ancestral village – guava, iguanas and goats, flock on flock – assert their spiritual presence. To say these are merely “religious” poems would be an understatement…these poems vibrate with living spirits, giving voice and honor to the unseen. Indeed, this is a fresh and dazzling first book. — Marilyn Chin
Abayomi Animashaun’s The Giving of Pears is a tribute to inner lives: of people, of fruit, of vegetables, of trees. Animashaun’s poems read as parables, using magic and myth, to sustain emotional power as he explores violence, tranquility, and the dead. The effervescent surface of these poems and their rich underpinnings make The Giving of Pears an exciting debut.— Denise Duhamel
These poems are subtle, wide-ranging, and lovely, recreating a world steeped not only in myth, loss, and the vagaries of memory, but in the daily life of Abayo Animashaun’s native Nigeria. Here, a speaker recounts conversations with Mohammed or Noah. Elsewhere, angels hang up their wings and head to the barbershop for a haircut and a shave. One poem teaches us how to speak to birds, another meditates wittily on folklore, while, in a third, the speaker’s dead friends walk “in and out of walls.” And within a kettle, a whole village boils and thrives. By turns erotic, elegiac, and meditative, these rich poems suggest an ambitious, fiercely original young poet, one whose work I’m sure I’ll return to again and again. — Kevin Prufer
In Abayomi's world, gods and prophets and dead friends walk ‘in and out of walls.’ Fruits and animals of a lost ancestral village – guava, iguanas and goats, flock on flock – assert their spiritual presence. To say these are merely “religious” poems would be an understatement…these poems vibrate with living spirits, giving voice and honor to the unseen. Indeed, this is a fresh and dazzling first book. — Marilyn Chin
Abayomi Animashaun’s The Giving of Pears is a tribute to inner lives: of people, of fruit, of vegetables, of trees. Animashaun’s poems read as parables, using magic and myth, to sustain emotional power as he explores violence, tranquility, and the dead. The effervescent surface of these poems and their rich underpinnings make The Giving of Pears an exciting debut.— Denise Duhamel
These poems are subtle, wide-ranging, and lovely, recreating a world steeped not only in myth, loss, and the vagaries of memory, but in the daily life of Abayo Animashaun’s native Nigeria. Here, a speaker recounts conversations with Mohammed or Noah. Elsewhere, angels hang up their wings and head to the barbershop for a haircut and a shave. One poem teaches us how to speak to birds, another meditates wittily on folklore, while, in a third, the speaker’s dead friends walk “in and out of walls.” And within a kettle, a whole village boils and thrives. By turns erotic, elegiac, and meditative, these rich poems suggest an ambitious, fiercely original young poet, one whose work I’m sure I’ll return to again and again. — Kevin Prufer
February 20, 2025
These poems are whimsical, surreal, vivid, and the kind of blasphemous that can only be written by someone with deep familiarity with spiritual traditions. My favorite section was “The Other Testament,” which contained the majority of the poems related to biblical matters.
An example:
The Burning Bush
It should matter little
That no burning occurred
That the dull light glowing
From the gaunt leaves,
Was no invention of a god tired
Of old metaphors
And pointing a tired shepherd
Through a new rite.
It is enough that the light
Was nothing more
Than a pale reflection
Of the prophet’s own heart
Renewing itself
And reminding him:
Death brings fresh blessings.
Even in the desert, we are not alone:
It is no wonder Moses removed
His sandals
And prostrated long
As if communing with god.
Though he knew, clear
As that light he swore he saw,
All of it was made up,
And he was just fooling himself.
I find this poem fascinating. While on its face it is blasphemous (claiming the miracle of the burning bush is false or made up), it is engaged on a deeper level also. The opening line grabs me immediately - “it should matter little/ that no burning occurred” - why? I have experienced something like what this poem seems to be describing in prayer myself - a miraculous or connected experience that also somewhat seems like an act of imagination. Is that actually wrong or false? I think the poet here is questioning what a spiritual experience is or is supposed to be, and how it relates to imagination.
I also really enjoyed the poet’s imagery in general. Another example:
Tomato
Before slicing
And throwing it on a pan
Pay attention,
And if you have the eye
You’ll find, on its side,
A wooden door with a brass handle.
Push slowly, and enter
A village with its own silent physics.
Its own reddened curvature:
Yellow is the face of the newborn.
Green, the tired hat of the old.
Here sand is red,
And goats lead their shepherd
Through a narrow yard’s edge.
Doves wash their breasts
At the mouth of a black river.
Children with white seeds on their heads
Tie gray wet clouds on their waists,
Leap around in a circle and sing of light.
Of soil. Of their readiness to be plucked
And wiped by a calloused hand.
This is what I mean by whimsical and surreal. Why are these things in a tomato? Why would you see them there? But I like the idea of paying attention before slicing, and when I contemplate the tomato, the imagery works.
Reading these poems was surprising and pleasurable, often humorous, though there were also some more serious recurring themes such as the strain of interracial relationships or contemplation of an unborn son.
Based on this collection, I would read anything by this poet.
An example:
The Burning Bush
It should matter little
That no burning occurred
That the dull light glowing
From the gaunt leaves,
Was no invention of a god tired
Of old metaphors
And pointing a tired shepherd
Through a new rite.
It is enough that the light
Was nothing more
Than a pale reflection
Of the prophet’s own heart
Renewing itself
And reminding him:
Death brings fresh blessings.
Even in the desert, we are not alone:
It is no wonder Moses removed
His sandals
And prostrated long
As if communing with god.
Though he knew, clear
As that light he swore he saw,
All of it was made up,
And he was just fooling himself.
I find this poem fascinating. While on its face it is blasphemous (claiming the miracle of the burning bush is false or made up), it is engaged on a deeper level also. The opening line grabs me immediately - “it should matter little/ that no burning occurred” - why? I have experienced something like what this poem seems to be describing in prayer myself - a miraculous or connected experience that also somewhat seems like an act of imagination. Is that actually wrong or false? I think the poet here is questioning what a spiritual experience is or is supposed to be, and how it relates to imagination.
I also really enjoyed the poet’s imagery in general. Another example:
Tomato
Before slicing
And throwing it on a pan
Pay attention,
And if you have the eye
You’ll find, on its side,
A wooden door with a brass handle.
Push slowly, and enter
A village with its own silent physics.
Its own reddened curvature:
Yellow is the face of the newborn.
Green, the tired hat of the old.
Here sand is red,
And goats lead their shepherd
Through a narrow yard’s edge.
Doves wash their breasts
At the mouth of a black river.
Children with white seeds on their heads
Tie gray wet clouds on their waists,
Leap around in a circle and sing of light.
Of soil. Of their readiness to be plucked
And wiped by a calloused hand.
This is what I mean by whimsical and surreal. Why are these things in a tomato? Why would you see them there? But I like the idea of paying attention before slicing, and when I contemplate the tomato, the imagery works.
Reading these poems was surprising and pleasurable, often humorous, though there were also some more serious recurring themes such as the strain of interracial relationships or contemplation of an unborn son.
Based on this collection, I would read anything by this poet.
December 7, 2020
Abayo is a friend and former colleague of mine, so I'm already a fan. But this is the first time I've read one of his collections cover to cover, and it was beautiful. I loved the "The Other Testament" section--I laughed at the end of "Noah" and love the way he, using so few words, conveys whole other histories for Old Testament figures including Noah, David, and Potiphar's wife. Just beautifully written, with such an economy of language.
I want to reread these when I have more time to track the use of fruit and color, especially blue, throughout the collection.
I want to reread these when I have more time to track the use of fruit and color, especially blue, throughout the collection.
April 16, 2020
This was a good collection of poems that I failed to connect with too much. I blame the reader (and his current state of mind) most likely in this case.
I loved the poem "How to speak the language of birds"
I loved the poem "How to speak the language of birds"
April 12, 2010
Abayomi Animashaun incorporates Greek and Yorba myth into a contemporary world where prophets drink and lust after women. The poems are erotic, meditative and ambitious. He writes of memory, loss, spirituality, and love. This is an exciting first book.
August 2, 2011
Beautiful imagery, some abstractions, but overall a lovely read and offers poems to be thought about and read again.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews