Like eating a bowl of raw wheat mixed with fruit loops. The wheat: “…against the pushing bully/wind./incessant male probing howling/wind/pulling hair/lifting skirts/hurling dust/into eyes, mouth, ears/any crevice or orifice.” The fruit loops: “What was the bridegroom’s name?/Sweet William/What was the bride’s name?/Rose/What did she wear on her head?/Orange blossom/What did she wear on her feet?/Lady slippers…” and on and on it goes. To be fair, the flower thing is a found piece. And the fluffy stuff in here is really supposed to act in counterpoint to the raw, dry prairie images. But it just feels like two separate things, the one powerful, the other awful. Fortunately, the powerful images prevail: “the sky heavy with thunderheads/the weight of cobalt/pressing down on a field of rape/its screaming yellow/its pungent perfume…” The violence of these images builds throughout the book, creating a powerful residue. And most of the sweet disgusting images are in italics. So just skip anything in italics and you’re in for a treat. (KS)
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