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In a Riptide
Funny while serious, wise without being certain, full of feeling and yet rinsed of sentimentality.
The characters in Ronna Bloom's new collection In a Riptide are tired, sick, old, fragile, baffled, worried, dying, dead, uncertain, snacking, happy, generous, preoccupied, horny, astonished, and sometimes free. Emily Dickinson and Bukowski show up in the same poem. The Buddha has a shower. And Sisyphus is released from his burdens. It's the hospital meets the circus. Here, humour, darkness, and ecstasy mingle, and the chaos doesn't stop. But there's breath in these poems. There's life.
The characters in Ronna Bloom's new collection In a Riptide are tired, sick, old, fragile, baffled, worried, dying, dead, uncertain, snacking, happy, generous, preoccupied, horny, astonished, and sometimes free. Emily Dickinson and Bukowski show up in the same poem. The Buddha has a shower. And Sisyphus is released from his burdens. It's the hospital meets the circus. Here, humour, darkness, and ecstasy mingle, and the chaos doesn't stop. But there's breath in these poems. There's life.
- GenresPoetry
96 pages, Paperback
Published September 15, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 23, 2025
When I practice yoga, I like to repeat the mantra, “I am a part of all living things, and all living things are a part of me.” I stand in mountain pose, feeling lifted up by my interconnectedness with everything and everyone around me. This ritual comes to mind as I read In a Riptide, Ronna Bloom’s most recent collection of poetry, because these poems invite us to consider our place in the order of things and remind us that our common experience connects us.
How does Ronna Bloom achieve this? By dealing with universal themes, such as grief and aging, and making them personal. So often, while reading Bloom’s poems, I experience the aha! moment, the moment of deep connection and of recognizing that my experience is shared, that we are all on this journey together.
A unifying thread throughout this collection is the feeling of disorientation that accompanies loss (of health, youth, loved ones). The book’s title comes from this essential human truth; the reach of the mind is “. . . an ocean that can’t find the shore / or a shore that can’t find the ocean, / lonely for each other, / in a riptide” (“I Used to Know”). One cause of such confusion is the rapid passing of time. Bloom refers to the present moment as “that dodgy fucker” that dazzles and shifts, beyond our ability to grasp it. Grief also disorients us and makes us feel powerless, and the poems in the collection which deal with death bring me back to the pain of my past losses. “When I heard you died, / I was sitting in a chair in the garden / with the phone to my ear. I got up / and lay on the grass, saw nothing, but earth / held me as it will you” (“Five Elegies”).
All of this may sound very sad; however, one of the marvels of Bloom’s writing is her ability to infuse even her most serious themes with humour. When pondering the aging process, she admits that what she has to look forward to is “metamucil in [her] gin and tonic,” and oh, how this makes me laugh! Consider some of these titles: “Sisyphus Goes Skiing,” “In the Lineage of Asshole Teachers,” “Love is Not a Pie.” We are reminded that humour is necessary, in poetry and life.
The last section of the book is the most hopeful and, in some ways, the most profound. These final poems are a consideration of the ways in which we survive: writing poetry, finding community, letting go. We see images of the pruning of branches, the falling down of walls, and we recognize that such release is possible. Happiness is available. It is just out there, writes Bloom, seeing from her window that she’s “not special,” feeling that her glass is most full when it’s holding nothing.
In a Riptide, with its beautiful cover, feels like a gift. I will continue to read and reread it, and I am excited to share it with others.
How does Ronna Bloom achieve this? By dealing with universal themes, such as grief and aging, and making them personal. So often, while reading Bloom’s poems, I experience the aha! moment, the moment of deep connection and of recognizing that my experience is shared, that we are all on this journey together.
A unifying thread throughout this collection is the feeling of disorientation that accompanies loss (of health, youth, loved ones). The book’s title comes from this essential human truth; the reach of the mind is “. . . an ocean that can’t find the shore / or a shore that can’t find the ocean, / lonely for each other, / in a riptide” (“I Used to Know”). One cause of such confusion is the rapid passing of time. Bloom refers to the present moment as “that dodgy fucker” that dazzles and shifts, beyond our ability to grasp it. Grief also disorients us and makes us feel powerless, and the poems in the collection which deal with death bring me back to the pain of my past losses. “When I heard you died, / I was sitting in a chair in the garden / with the phone to my ear. I got up / and lay on the grass, saw nothing, but earth / held me as it will you” (“Five Elegies”).
All of this may sound very sad; however, one of the marvels of Bloom’s writing is her ability to infuse even her most serious themes with humour. When pondering the aging process, she admits that what she has to look forward to is “metamucil in [her] gin and tonic,” and oh, how this makes me laugh! Consider some of these titles: “Sisyphus Goes Skiing,” “In the Lineage of Asshole Teachers,” “Love is Not a Pie.” We are reminded that humour is necessary, in poetry and life.
The last section of the book is the most hopeful and, in some ways, the most profound. These final poems are a consideration of the ways in which we survive: writing poetry, finding community, letting go. We see images of the pruning of branches, the falling down of walls, and we recognize that such release is possible. Happiness is available. It is just out there, writes Bloom, seeing from her window that she’s “not special,” feeling that her glass is most full when it’s holding nothing.
In a Riptide, with its beautiful cover, feels like a gift. I will continue to read and reread it, and I am excited to share it with others.
September 2, 2025
"I thought of the four people the Buddha met in his travels sick person, old person, dead person, happy person with nothing. And I felt like all of them." --Ronna Bloom
This brief volume is a moving exploration of the emotions we experience and encounter as we move through our days. I feel that the author may have experienced a great deal of grief and writing this was part of her healing process. My favorite poem of this collection "One Night" reminds us that change is inevitable: "In one minute, I slept a whole night./ In one night, I slept a whole minute./ The world changed completely/ while I was gone." She crafts such beautiful lines: "[...] you could be a lesson or a letter/ or an orphaned joy carried on the wind;" and "[...] the birds are flying through me/ in their beautiful green and blue birdsmaids' dresses/ singing our song."
One line in particular has stayed with me, and I will probably pin it to my vision board: "I need to write closer to the truth, not the wished-for truth."
I have not read any of Ronna Bloom's other books; I see on Goodreads that she has several others. Bloom is a writer I will be seeking out to learn from, both as a writer and as a student of the world. Until then, I will "unperson," and perhaps find peace with myself.
This brief volume is a moving exploration of the emotions we experience and encounter as we move through our days. I feel that the author may have experienced a great deal of grief and writing this was part of her healing process. My favorite poem of this collection "One Night" reminds us that change is inevitable: "In one minute, I slept a whole night./ In one night, I slept a whole minute./ The world changed completely/ while I was gone." She crafts such beautiful lines: "[...] you could be a lesson or a letter/ or an orphaned joy carried on the wind;" and "[...] the birds are flying through me/ in their beautiful green and blue birdsmaids' dresses/ singing our song."
One line in particular has stayed with me, and I will probably pin it to my vision board: "I need to write closer to the truth, not the wished-for truth."
I have not read any of Ronna Bloom's other books; I see on Goodreads that she has several others. Bloom is a writer I will be seeking out to learn from, both as a writer and as a student of the world. Until then, I will "unperson," and perhaps find peace with myself.
August 5, 2025
Raw, emotional, and frank musings of observers with the world around them and how they interact within it and how they visualize it. A chaotic mix of emotions that make you wonder if the subject has an idea of what emotion - or emotions - they are feeling at any given moment (in any given poem). Definately not a "light" read, but will leave you feeling moved.
August 12, 2025
This was a heavy but sweet collection of poetry. The world around the poet it’s the obvious inspiration for this work. Really sweet and unique.
Thank you netgalley
Thank you netgalley
August 11, 2025
A very short but great read; heartfelt and real. The poetry regards the world around the writer and how they live life. There's not a lot to say on this since I just really enjoyed it!
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews