Winner of the 2010 Bakeless Prize for Poetry, the debut collection by Dilruba Ahmed Can't occupy the same space at the same time unless, of course, you land in Dhaka ―from "Dhaka Dust"
Ranging across Europe and America to the streets of Bangladesh, the sharp-edged poems in Dhaka Dust are culled from a rich mélange of languages, people, and poetic attitudes. Through lyric and narrative poems, Dilruba Ahmed's keen observations on birth, motherhood, and death offer a unique way into the beckoning world. Voices of villagers resonate alongside those of global travelers, each searching for an elusive homeland in small towns and cities alike. Vendors hawk their wares at a bazaar in Dhaka. Gyms in Ohio double as mosques for uprooted immigrants. In Ahmed's skillful hands, these disparate subjects adroitly capture the textures of life in this new century.
Dilruba Ahmeds work has appeared in Cream City Review, New England Review, and New Orleans Review. She was born in Philadelphia and raised in Ohio. She holds an MFA from Warren Wilson College.
Just finished a slammin' good mystery by Deborah Crombie and not ready to start a new novel yet...so, I've slipped into this wonderful collection of poetry.
A beautiful collection, although there is novelty in the form, I still find it both passive and conventional. I do give regard the indigenous in Dilruba Ahmed's imagery. The Bengal swipe of dust in American soil intersecting with European influences is such a breath of fresh air. I am seeing Ahmed will flourish nonetheless; I see her polishing more her craft, with the muse of diaspora and disdain in a foreign land igniting her poetic ways. She must write always: keep her first land always; and sing always a song with the hyper-structures of poetry. And here I wait for this poet who shall grab the limelight of the best diaspora writers America needs right now.
Dhaka Dust embodies the push and pull of heritage with current life. From the organization of the collection to even the ideas within each poem, there is a joy and sadness and respect and loss. Motherhood and daughterhood. About being of a place and not.
Here are some striking moments that stayed with me, but I think that context might be key:
- "I've long wanted to / stand at the alter, to light / my wick with the flame/ of another" - Cathedral
"Where in each river does the water move?" - Return
- "You'll return to her in the dryness/ of bay leaves, the mingled scents/ of pepper dust and pine. She'll measure spices/ into pots in all the right combinations./ It will take a lifetime to get it right" - Mother
I personally found much of this relatable, but it also felt opaque. I would be there with the poet and then would come to a line and know that I'm missing something. There was some wonderful unique imagery. Ultimately, I didn't find it uplifting, but rather filled with lonliness and sadness. I don't read a lot of poetry, but also maybe there are poems that I'm not ready for yet.
I won this book a long time ago from a Goodreads First Reads giveaway and I never read it, but seeing it on my shelf this morning, I decided to read it. I have to say I was disappointed. The poems were too repetitive, it was as if she was saying the same thing multiple times, but with different words. I did like how it brought up issues such as motherhood, immigration, and communication and it gave an interesting perspective of living in two different countries. However, a lot of these references were lost on me. I am not South Asian, so I did not understand a lot of it. The different foods and words from Bangladesh weren't defined very well, and the poet assumes you know what she is talking about. This annoys me. I don't want a dumbed down book, but I also don't want one that is hard to understand because of cultural differences. My favorite poems from this book were "Cathedral", "Slicing it Open", and "Dust Catcher".
I received this book as part of the Goodreads Giveaway. I must say it was a well written one. There are a lot of poems that I was able to relate to from back home and it made me feel what is being relayed too.
A poet with a wide ranging vision that encompasses the breadth of her life experiences as an Asian American woman with cultural roots in Bangladesh, as an outsider in America's heartland, as a keenly observant, remarkable interpreter of the vagaries of history, culture, language, loss, and renewal. In this wonderful poem, her highly visual images take us from the remote and distant to the immediate and personal:
Looking for Astronauts
by we haven’t found any, just two stars emerging to the east of the Jungfrau or a paraglider’s afterimage suspended in air, a swatch of purple silk. His knees bent in the moment of takeoff—a beat, a hesitation—then he leaped into the stratosphere, sail shrinking to the size of columbine against rock and snow. Here at the window— feet up, coffee mugs—the night drains all color from our skin and clothes. Chiaroscuro to monochrome. You speak slowly, warm on limoncino, a story about your friend’s cousin. I’d like to say I gave my full attention, but I’m trying to memorize the snow’s glare, your sock foot on the windowpane, the snuffed candle’s smoke and sweetness. Above the mountains, the sky grows deep until each peak is a ghost patch of bone.
Ahmed's poetry which concentrates so often on the physicality of place, is rich in atmosphere, especially when the poems are set in Bangladesh. Her environmental concern is also notable and beautifully elegiac. A rich find.
There were several poems in this debut collection I enjoyed. The best of the lot working my way from the back of the book were Jackfruit, Slicing it Open, At the Stove-Side, Fable, Witching Hour, After the Argument and Dhaka Bazaar Before Departure. These poems had a lyricism and cohesion that many of the other poems were missing.
The themes she explores include her growing up in America and being of Bangladeshi descent, visiting other lands (most notably Dhaka), motherhood and food in everyday life. I would have liked her to dig deeper on the ambivelent feelings that are expressed in the poems about her heritage. In several poems she writes of wanting to be free, but never fully explores that theme. Dhaka Bazaar surprises because after returning from a seemingly meaningul visit to Dhaka it ends, "I can forget what I've heard and seen./I can free myself from this glass.
The best poems for the most part are not so overtly autobiographical or topical. Poems like Slicing it Open and the Witching Hour don't rely on her biography and instead are held together with the grace of language and revelation. In Witching Hour she concludes "I am the bird who breaks her beak/ against the glass, but there is no past/ to recover. Instead, I'll remember/ the future. Let's start with a place/ where I've never been." I felt like that really summed up what this book was about. There is no past to recover. A short trip to Bangladesh didn't quite give the resonance that was needed to carry the first part of the book.