You Are Happy group discussion

[Alexa]

And now we turn to Margaret Atwood's next book of poetry, You are Happy.

[Alexa]

This is divided into four sections.
The first section, "You Are Happy," contains:
Newsreel: Man and Firing Squad
Useless
Memory
Chaos Poem
Gothic Letter on a Hot Night
November
Repent
Digging
How
Spring Poem
Tricks with Mirrors
You Are Happy
The second section, "Songs of the Transformed," contains:
Pig Song
Bull Song
Rat Song
Crow Song
Song of the Worms
Owl Song
Siren Song
Song of the Fox
Song of the Hen's Head
Corpse Song
The third section, "Circe/Mud Poems," contains 24 untitled poems (or prose pieces). I'll list them by their first line:
Through this forest
Men with the heads of eagles
It was not my fault, these animals
People come from all over to consult me, bringing their
I made no choice
There must be more for you to do
You may wonder why I'm not describing the landscape for
You stand at the door
There are so many things I want
Holding my arms down
My face, my other faces
The fist, withered and strung
This is not something that can be renounced,
Last year I abstained
Your flawed body, sickle
This story was told to me by another traveler, just passing
We walk in the cedar groves
Not you I fear but that other
You think you are safe at last. After your misadventures,
When you look at nothing
Here are the holy birds,
Now it is winter.
It's the story that counts. No use telling me this isn't a story,
There are two islands
The fourth section, "There is Only One of Everything," contains:
First Prayer
Is/Not
Four Evasions
Eating Fire
Four Auguries
Head Against White
There is Only One of Everything
Late August
Book of Ancestors

[Alexa]

from Spring Poem

...the earth
ferments like rising bread
or refuse,...

What a juxtaposition!

[Alexa]

I slowly began to realize that the "Songs of the Transformed" were quite funny.

[Alexa]

This is wonderful:

This is not something that can be renounced,
it must renounce.

It lets go of me
and I open like a hand
cut off at the wrist

(It is the
arm feels pain

But the severed hand
the hand clutches at freedom)

[Alexa]

I'm really enjoying the way the Circe poems can be read as coming from Circe herself, or as coming from a woman of today. The multi-layered aspect is really fun!

[Alexa]

I quite enjoyed the structure of this! First we have the ironic, sad "You Are Happy" section, full of poems of loss and endings and fights and similar negative emotions, then we move on to the "Songs of the Transformed," funny, joyful poems, then we move on to "Circe/Mud Poems," poems about the transformer Circe herself, and her own reluctant transformation into a lover, and then finally "There is Only One of Everything." This last section touched me the most - these seemed to me to be poems about mature, happy, settled relationships; the young fighters have been transformed into contented lovers and I loved it!

[Alexa]

Some of my favorites that aren't included in "Selected Poems." (And choosing what to include in a collection, that must be a hell of a job!)

I find this one quite erotic:

Memory

Memory is not in the head
only. It's midnight,
you existed once, you exist

again, my entire skin
sensitive as an eye,

imprint of you
glowing against me,
burnt-out match in a dark room.

[Alexa]

The imagery in this one really caught me:

How

How to tell you
that this means grief,

this white plate, orange on it
in the morning; and the silver knife,

the way they sit on the table
as if they belong here,

so assured, taking so much for granted,
forgetting they have been left behind;

they decide I own them
and the dust, the light,

these things I will never be able
to touch, that will never touch me.

[Alexa]

I can't say why I find this one so powerful:

First Prayer

In these prayers let us not forget our bodies
which were loyal most of the time
though they would have preferred freedom;

They stood in rows when we lined them up,
they ate when we told them to, when the food was bad
they didn't complain, they wore our livery,
our utensils, grey animal fur hands
on their hands, blades on their feet,
they let us warp them
for purposes of display or science

and so many of them are roaming around empty
in parks and standing idle on corners
because their owners have abandoned them
in favour of word games or jigsaw puzzles.

In spite of it all they forgive us
again and again, they heal their own wounds
and ours too, they walk upright for us
when we ourselves are crippled,
they touch each other, perform love in our place
and for our sake, who are numbed and disabled;

and they are discreet, they keep our secret,
with their good help we will rise from the dead.

O body, descend
from the wall where I have nailed you
like a flayed skin or a war trophy

Let me inhabit you, have compassion on me
once more, give me this day.

[Alexa]

And finally:

Four Evasions

Sitting in this car, houses & wind outside,
three in the morning, windows
obliterated by snow

coats & arms around each other, hands
cold, no place we can go

unable to say how much I want you
unable even to say
I am unable

*

Not that there is nothing to be
said but that there is
too much: this cripples me.

I watch with envy & desire,
you speak so freely.

*

Tell me something,
you ask at last, Anything.

To love is to let go
of those excuses, habits
we used once for our own safety

but the old words reappear
in the shut throat, decree

themselves: exile,
betrayal, failure

*

Airplane makes it off
the runway, cars & houses deflate,

diesel air & stale upholstery,
smell of you still on my skin;

thinking of my reluctance, way I withdrew
when you came towards me, why did I.

Easier to invent, remember you
than to confront you, fact

of you, admit
you, let you in.