Michael Panzarotto and Gregory Guyton. (Photo by Tom Lauer.)

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

-Theatre Review by Rachel Wooley–

The difficulty of adapting a book to film or stage lies in determining how to stay true to the original while taking liberties to make the story fit its new medium. Jeffrey Hatcher’s adaptation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, playing at the Vagabond theatre Feb 28^th through March 30^th, is not completely true to the book. Instead, the show reinvents this classic Victorian drama, maintaining the 1880’s setting, but offering a fresh, new message that is more relevant to modern audiences.

Conceptually, the play makes some interesting moves. There are four actors who appear as Hyde (Tom Moore, Michael Panzarotto, Thom Peters, and Michael Styer), and each of them also takes on additional roles throughout the play. A woman named Elizabeth (Tiffany Spaulding) also joins the enhanced plot. She is the sister of the girl that Hyde tramples in the beginning of the play out of sheer spite. In a new twist, we learn that Elizabeth’s mother drank away the money that Hyde was forced to pay as restitution. It’s not clear why this compels Elizabeth to seek out Hyde, nor is it clear why she finds herself attracted to his brutish ways upon meeting him, but thus begins a strange love affair.

Gregory Guyton and Michael Styer. (Photo by Tom Lauer.)

In another added scene, Dr. Carew (Thom Peters) and Dr. Jekyll (Gregory Guyton) are portrayed as colleagues at odds with one another, granting Mr. Hyde motivation for his later abuse of the doctor.

The actors all do a superb job. They master the nuances of their various characters, effectively changing accents and mannerisms to distinguish themselves in each new role. Moore, who spends the most time playing the part of Hyde, gives layers to the villain, showing his cruel side without making him a caricature of evil. Some of the yelling during Hyde’s transformations is a little over dramatized, but the monster is portrayed with fascinating intricacy as each actor projects a unique element of menace, enhancing his vile expressions and rage.

Thanks to some help from the lights and music, the way that Hyde  – or sometimes multiple Hydes – loom over Jekyll in his most vulnerable moments is downright spooky. Guyton’s Jekyll is perched perfectly on the edge of madness. As circumstances move beyond his control, his poise and sanity rapidly deteriorate, and Guyton portrays the character with just the right amount of drama.

Gregory Guyton and Tiffany Spaulding. (Photo by Tom Lauer.)

Spaulding, the sole female of the six-member cast, holds her own. She is strong in her own variety of roles, including the unnamed witness to a murder committed by Hyde. This character – a maid – speaks one of the most revealing lines in the play, remarking how the better part of her wanted to call for help, but the other part of her couldn’t help but watch instead. Thus, Hatcher’s adaptation reminds us that what we want and what is right is often at odds within us. Good doesn’t always prevail.

The set and the costumes changed minimally throughout – only accents here and there, such as a hat, monocle, or vest, distinguished each character and worked well to keep attention on the plot. The most dramatic set piece was the ominous red door, a portal on wheels that was moved to indicate a new setting. The fixture also worked to hide, reveal, or blend together scenes and, in essence, blur the lines between Jekyll and Hyde.

As Jekyll remarks, his goal when creating Hyde was to isolate the evil inside him in order to stamp it out. Unfortunately, the potion he invents to divide the two parts of his personality reveals an addicting tendency. Jekyll’s discovery that one dose will allow him to indulge in his base desires – aggression, violence, perversion – and that a second will return him to his better nature as a gentleman of society, causes immediate complications for the doctor.  Soon the temptation is too great. The more he indulges, the less control he has over the transformation. He soon finds himself becoming Hyde unwillingly and needs a stronger antidote to change back.

Tom Moore, Michael Styer, Thom Peters, Michael Panzarotto. (Photo by Tom Lauer.)

Hatcher’s adaptation brings out new anxieties in both Jekyll and Hyde. Jekyll is desperate to find serenity. Hyde, on the other hand, longs for companionship. This is perhaps where the play is most successful, mirroring modern society’s vanities and consequent human isolation. Like Jekyll and Hyde, we yearn for serenity, companionship, and the fulfillment of desires we can’t always name. Some might choose a poison to transform and transcend their faults and inhibitions, others suffer in silence. From the gentlemen of society to the parlor maids portrayed on stage, this show evokes our sympathies, and audiences will realize that perhaps there’s a little bit of Hyde lurking within everyone, waiting to be freed.

***

Post Photo Courtesy of Tom Lauer at http://www.vagabondplayers.org/

Delta Rae Carries the Fire

-Concert Reviewed by Diana Mumford–

With music inspired by folktales and southern culture, Delta Rae has sold out shows nationwide. The Jefferson Theatre in Charlottesville, VA was no exception. The house was packed on February 20 for the North Carolina native group’s second headlining show. The band’s blend of folk and pop-rock brought in fans eager to escape the cold to hear songs steeped in sweet tea and southern mythos.

Delta Rae’s musical clout stems from the harmonies of their four main vocalists–siblings Brittany, Ian, and Eric Holljes and Elizabeth Hopkins. Rounding out the sextet are Mike McKee and Grant Emerson on drums and bass, respectively.

After performances from openers Angelica Garcia and The Falls, Delta Rae emerged from backstage with little fanfare and clad in simple black attire. Then the party began. The entire venue came alive at Delta Rae’s first note, writhing and dancing en masse. It’s unmistakable—these people are talented. Their performance felt raw and exciting, but it should be noted that it has taken years of hard work to create so much electricity. Over time, these musicians have morphed into professional performers with an undeniable stage presence.

The band’s repertoire mostly included songs from their first official full-length album, Carry the Fire. Listeners will note that while the album is well constructed, and enjoyable, it pales in comparison to their live performances. In contrast to Delta Rae’s adrenaline-fueled shows, the music feels sterile. Studio versions of the band’s songs are a little too polished. Listen to Delta Rae in the car or on headphones, it’s difficult to interact or even absorb the lyrics. The human element that makes their live shows so thrilling has been stripped away, leaving behind clean, predictable vocal harmonies and unadventurous instrumentals.

Not the case on stage. During the performance of their first single, “Bottom of the River,” unprompted, the crowd stomped and whooped along with the band, mimicking their energy. ”Hold my hand,” the audience called. Delta Rae responded, “Ooh, baby, it’s a long way down to the bottom of the river,” slamming chains to the floor. Delta Rae has always given high voltage performances, but now it’s apparent they’ve grown more comfortable owning the venue. Thursday night, they belted out harmonies while jumping, dancing, and running around the stage, choreographing crashing instruments with their movements.

Regardless of their overly refined studio album, on February 20th, Delta Rae certainly carried the fire to the stage. In person, the audience could hear and feel the band’s voices crescendo and the instruments swell. Delta Rae has come a long way from the sparsely populated bar scenes where they got their start. Now playing to densely packed, sold out shows, their live performances are so natural and warm that it feels as if they are giving the audience permission to borrow a piece of their musical soul.

This will be a big year for Delta Rae. The band has recently set out on tour and they have a new studio album in the works. Their success shows no time of slowing any time soon. For those of us without tickets, however, we can only hope that they soon learn to bring the same intensity and emotion of their stage demeanor to the record store and streaming radio stations.

***

Post photo courtesy of http://www.indyweek.com

The Great Beauty

(La Grande Bellezza)

-Film Reviewed by Lisa Umhoefer–

Few films call for an instant replay. The Great Beauty (La Grande Bellezza), written and directed by Paolo Sorrentino, is spectacular. Seeing it once won’t be enough for some audiences, and many will consider immediately returning to the box office to purchase tickets for the very next showing.

The film opens with a female choir singing in a tourist spot in Rome, Italy. The angelic music, the heavenly views and the strange quietness of the scene woo the audience, until the mood is suddenly interrupted when an Asian tourist suffers a fatal heart attack. Gradually, the shock of the tourist’s death fades, and the singing and stunning photography of Rome resume. A powerful introduction, viewers immediately register that they are on a tragic and comedic footing. The Great Beauty meditates on the joys and thrills of life and living, without which there can be no death.

Enter Jep Gambardella (Toni Servillo), the film’s central character. He is first seen celebrating his 65^th birthday in lavish and eccentric fashion. Jep arrived in Rome 40 years previous, wrote a novella that garnered him some fame and then spent the next four decades following his dream of not only living the party life, but controlling the city’s party culture.  His desire is to decide for all what is hot, and to become the chief authority on this subject.  His fabulous apartment, with its large balcony lying directly across from the Coliseum, is the perfect spot to host large drug and alcohol-fueled binges. The age range of the party, which varies wildly from young to old—all free and sensual—is a refreshing sight for American eyes, where audiences rarely witness anyone over 21 enjoying themselves with such liberty on screen.

Critics have argued that The Great Beauty pictures the gross debauchery of Rome’s elite, perhaps romanticizing it to excess.  While wealthy and ostentatious characters are featured, they certainly are not the exclusive topic, nor are they pictured as single value characters who are either all bad or all good. Jep, in his wandering, encounters old friends, including those that still work in strip clubs to make a living.  Life is not easy for anyone, audiences discover in sad detail, but it can be beautiful for everyone as well. Jep’s romantic encounter with the daughter of the friend from the strip club is a wonderful depiction of the variety of love that can come from one person knowing another, if only a little bit.

The Great Beauty has been compared to La Dolce Vita by Federico Fellini. The comparison is apt on some levels, especially concerning the visual circus of images, but this film offers more humility and focuses on the importance of each individual man and woman’s life. At one point, Jep is hosting his friends in a quiet discussion in his backyard. After being chastised by one woman for his drifting ways, he brings her down to earth. “We’re all on the brink of despair,” he defends his lifestyle in a manner shocking in it’s bluntness, yet eloquently spoken. “All we can do is look each other in the face, keep each other company, joke a little… Don’t you agree?”  Clearly he believes his  lack of ambition is less a flaw than it is a conscious decision.

The company this film offers is superb. The images are breathtaking; the camera swoops and moves within Jep’s world, reassuring audiences as though they are being rocked in a comfortable cradle. Meanwhile Jep’s narrative merges with Luca Bigazzi’s brilliant cinematography, offering a parental voice that earns each viewer’s trust and sympathy.

There is not much in the way of overt drama or action, but this does not detract from the experience of this film. On the contrary, Paolo Sorrentino has crafted a coherent world that illuminates life’s most transcendent moments. Exploring the powerful emotions of heartbreak, embarrassment, longing, even exuberant happiness, audiences witness a majestic, though human life story play out and will feel drawn into the splendor and colors of every scene.

 ***

 Post Photo Courtesy of http://filmmakermagazine.com

The following three poems composed by Kentucky resident, Kelsey McMurtrey, with accompanying artwork by Monologging artist and Hawaii resident, Lauren Elyse, continue the collaboration this pair began last November, entitled Vignette. Since embarking on this project, Kelsey’s poetry and Lauren’s paintings have been viewed by over 1,000 visitors, demonstrating the power of monologging.org to bring creative networks together through artistic collaboration. Kelsey and Lauren are now in the beginning stages of writing and designing a composite book derived from their bimonthly installments originally published online. The two converse primarily via email and their exciting collaboration has inspired thematic discussions and imaginative storytelling. Lauren’s paintings take us back in time to the glory days of show girls and Hollywood magic. Likewise, Kelsey’s delicate prose, reminiscent of John Dos Passos’, USA Trilogy, embraces iconic history, creating new scenes, characters and powerful moods….

Vignette II

“Delphinium” Lauren Elyse

Audrey

A soft statue,

captured in smooth black silhouettes

and almond-eyed smiles.

Painted in thin brush strokes,

a raised pointed shoe,

an illumination—

elevé.

Teetering glissades brought

keys for locked doors and stuck windows—

rising, she flew through.

Into static-filled television sets

and wrinkled radio waves.

Yearning

for laughter, for grace,

she stood center floor—

delivering the light

she sought.

“Lotus” Lauren Elyse

Cliff House

Carriage-drawn and carefree,

they came to me.

I carried iced glasses

and clinking crystal parties—

stood majestic,

floating.

Your biting orange whips

flickered, cracked—

took me.

Tossed silver trays

and deep burgundy heels—

latched onto mauve curtains,

pulled at sweating oak floors,

turned evening revelries

to limp ash,

falling.

Smoke poured from windows

like bottles of Chablis—

fleeting staccato exits

filled my empty belly.

You left me

in a watery bed,

silverware drawers glued shut,

dead chandeliers

swaying in grey saltwater.

But I was not forgotten—

made alive again

through humming violin strings,

riding on crisp coat tails

and painted matrons,

I thrive—

leaving your flames thirsty.

“Carnation” Lauren Elyse

Muted Gestures

You’re here now,

binding me with wringing hands

and buttery promises,

stealing words from my painted lips

and watching lungs cave in—

my eyelids are hinged,

heavy.

Drop me,

unfurl me from this tinted box.

Careful not to smear this painted face,

smiling but

silent.

Let me dance in opaque enclosures

with laced eyelashes

and vibrant company,

freed from ropes

and smoky conversation pieces—

do you hear me?

READ MORE VIGNETTES

Post Photo Courtesy of Lauren Elyse

Photo Courtesy of: http://www.baltimorebrew.com

Something with

a Crust

-Book Reviewed by Rachel Wooley–

Kimberley Lynne’s, Something with a Crust: Stories from Hamilton, is a collection that represents its Baltimore neighborhood beyond the setting: these stories are in turn quirky, campy, dark, funny, disparaging, and uplifting. They showcase the working class and the privileged, the thriving and the abandoned. They demonstrate the small-world, tight-knit feel of Baltimore’s best communities and the isolation of its neighborhoods from one another. Even the cover illustration, a close-up image of form stone, finds its inspiration here: the stucco finish was patented in Baltimore in 1937 and can be found covering many a rowhouse in multiple neighborhoods.

These stories, while billed as fiction, sometimes blur the line between that and memoir. Lynne draws from life experiences in her Baltimore neighborhood and beyond, seamlessly weaving them into imaginative scenes. The stories themselves are clearly linked, too: characters reappear, paths cross, situations move from background to forefront (like the ever-intriguing Asian lady in the round hat). You’ll start to recognize them from one piece to another – or maybe even from real life, if you’ve spent any time in the city.

Each story begins with an image – black and white, overexposed, taken from some part of Hamilton. Trees, street signs, and store fronts give a clue about where each story is oriented. The stories are narrative, and for the most part within the realm of realism, though sometimes the light mist of something magical slips in. “I believe that there’s some sort of energy in the universe, some sort of magic,” says the narrator in “The Whim of the Great Magnet,” the collection’s final story; “I can’t name it, but I feel certain it can name me.” Lynne might not be able to name this magical element, but she is certainly in tune with it here.

Lynne’s variety of description throughout the book is enchanting. She has a lyrical way of making comparisons even when describing people or scenes that don’t seem to merit such treatment. For example, in “The Guru of Hartford Road,” the title character has cheeks that “sag in pouches, pocked like pears teetering on the edge of decay.” In a few of the shorter pieces, like “A Little Wilderness,” these lyrical descriptions take the forefront, giving the stories a wonderful sparkle: “I like a little wilderness in my yard…I keep the wild barely at bay, a reminder of the tangle inside each of us.”

The strongest stories, however, are the ones in which Lynne has moved completely into the heads of her characters: third-person narrated pieces like “A New Minefield,” in which a 30-year-old classically-trained cellist is trying to reclaim his passion, and “Tree People,” in which a tree trimmer falls for the woman his uncle is dating. These stories unfold beautifully, and in a sense intricately, so that even the more absurd situations, like Felix’s in “Baked,” where someone breaks into his house to bake a pot pie, seem logical on some level. Lynne gives all of her characters incredible authenticity, which allows the outcomes of their stories to feel “right.” And one need only spend some time in Baltimore, particularly in the neighborhood of Hamilton, to realize that any of the situations  could also be true.

“Something with a Crust” is Kimberley Lynne’s third published book and her first collection of original short stories. It is her thesis project from UB’s MFA in creative writing and publishing and offers a wonderfully rich perspective on her home city. You can find it at The Gift Cellar and The Red Canoe (both in Lauraville, MD) or through its website, somethingwithacrust.wordpress.com.

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Innanetape

-Album Reviewed By Jake Kresovich–

Vic Mensa, a 19 year old rapper from Chicago, launched his solo career after the breakup of his former band, Kids These Days. He released his first mixtape Innanetape in the fall of 2013.  The Source magazine has ranked the album as the second best mixtape of the year, placing Mensa on the same pedestal as Chicago’s other up and coming artist, Chance the Rapper.  Likewise, Complex magazine has identified Mensa as one of the ‘25 new rappers to look out for’.  Both Mensa and Chance are part of the Chicago artist collective “SaveMoney” which consists of rappers, visual artists, producers and other driven, talented youths.  After a successful debut year, Vic will tour internationally beginning in February.

Innanetape opens with the song “Welcome to Innanetape.” Here, Mensa wastes no time demonstrating his considerable abilities as a rapper. He rhymes over a beat that remains heavy throughout the song.  This baseline drags slightly and is unable to keep pace with Mensa’s rhymes, but it never holds the vocalist back. Instead it creates a nice contrast with Mensa crafting brilliant verses to skillfully navigate the tricky pulse.

The lead single on the album “Orange Soda” shows Mensa’s ability to slow down and become more thoughtful with his rhymes.  In this song he rhymes about falling in love with music and the challenges that come along with trying to make it big in the industry.  “They made a list about Chicago rappers and they skipped me,” he complains.  But this setback has only inspired him to work harder. Towards the end of the track, a piano rings while Mensa sings overtop, offering a refreshing change of style from previously introduced beats and melodies.

“Tweakin’”, the album’s fourth track, again features a weighed-down beat that seems to lag behind the abilities of the lyricists.  At times the beat is confusing to follow, with pointed drum shots and slurs but this muddling of sounds hardly limits the power and emotion of the song. “Tweakin’” playfully invites Chance the Rapper to a guest verse and he does not disappoint.  His unique voice and flow shine through as he uses his lyrical ability to create some imaginative lines.  “They say a smart man looks like a mad man to a dumb man/ But one man…wait I’m tweakin’” Chance rhymes at the end of his verse as he loses track of his thought process, tying in his bars with the theme of the song.

Mensa touches on the violence of his hometown in the song “Yap Yap.”  The beat for this song fits the song’s theme in that it is dark and uses hard snare shots to sharpen the sound. The song begins with Mensa saying, “You think they stopped making guns when they made yours?” implying he also owns one.  After which he rhymes about making cops “miss their quota” by making sure “the baby’s in its manger” a reference reminding gun holders to makes sure their weapons are well hidden when the cops come around.  Like many other Chicago rappers the epidemic of violence in Mensa’s immediate environment has inspired many of his rhymes.

Innanetape is an ambitious and excellently executed mix tape. Although some of the production elements could be improved, the album as whole, and Mensa’s verses in particular, deserve all the praise they have received and more. Mensa’s friendship with Chance the Rapper exemplifies the well-connected Chicago music scene, and how there is thrilling innovation taking place in the Windy City’s studios.  Even better, Innanetape is offered as a free download, an authentic and generous gesture from one very talented kid who is having a ton of fun on the brink of fantastic success.

***

Post photo courtesy of http://theboombox.com

Harvey

-Theatre Review By Rachel Wooley–

Harvey, now playing at the Vagabond Theatre January 10th through February 9th, is an imaginative tale about Elwood P. Dowd, a well-to-do man whose invisible best friend, Harvey, is a 6’8 ½” pooka that has taken the form of a white rabbit. What is a pooka? And how will Mr. Dowd’s family, especially his society-minded sister, Veta, handle his unusual companion? These and other questions are answered in this fun revival of the classic 1950’s story.

The play opens with Veta (Joan Crooks, who gives the role just the right amount of drama), and her daughter Myrtle Mae (Karina Ferry), hosting a society party in their shared family home while Elwood (magnificently played by Roy Hammond), is out. Veta and Myrtle Mae can’t help ducking away from their guests every few moments to discuss the success of the party, but they’re also afraid that Elwood will come home early and bring Harvey with him. Of course, their fears play out exactly as they imagine: Elwood arrives home from his card game, Harvey in tow, and is pleased to find that Veta and Myrtle Mae have friends over. He sets out at once to introduce Harvey to the society ladies, to the horror of his sister and niece.

Mrs. Chumley (Amy Bell) and Elwood P. Dowd (Roy Hammond). Photo courtesy of Ken Stanek.

For Veta, Elwood’s behavior at the party is the last straw. She decides, with encouragement from Myrtle Mae, to have him committed to an asylum. In a comical twist, however, Veta manages to get herself committed instead while Dr. Sanderson (Chris Cotterman) allows Dowd to go free. The rest home must then correct its mistake, and Dr. Chumley (Phil Gallagher), the head doctor and founder of the home, appears to aid in the search for Elwood. (Phil Gallagher was cast in a last-minute replacement for Chumley due to the original actor’s illness; he gave a masterful performance.)

Chumley successfully locates Elwood – and Harvey. But the doctor’s own sanity is challenged when he discovers that he too can see the white rabbit. Complicating matters further, the doctor learns that Harvey may be able to grant him an unusual sort of reprieve from his overly taxing job.

The Players have built a delightful set to accompany the show. The first act takes place in the fairly intimate setting of the family library. The conversion to the large, open reception area of the Chumley Rest Home for the second act (via some ingenious hinged walls and rotated props) is fun to watch.

Dr. Chumley (Denis Latkowski) and Dr. Sanderson (Chris Cotterman). Photo courtesy of Ken Stanek.

Various sub-plots add to the entertainment. Myrtle Mae is at the age where she’s ready to be “turned out” into society and begin courting. Ferry’s range of facial expressions while Veta recounts having her clothes “ripped off” before she was forced into the bathtub at the rest home, is priceless. She’s horrified for her mother but also intrigued and amused by the idea. Then she meets Mr. Wilson (played by Colin Holmes), the rest home worker responsible for Veta’s horrors. Their instant attraction is obvious (and amusing), but masterfully portrayed by the actors so as not to be overstated.

And then there’s the tension between young Dr. Sanderson (Chris Cotterman) and the lovely nurse, Ruth (Amy McQuin). Their attraction to one another is clear, but seems to manifest itself only through arguments and bickering. Cotterman overacts the part a bit here, with exaggerated facial expressions and movements during his interactions with Ruth and Dowd, but will hopefully settle into the role in subsequent shows.

Amid all the chaos, Elwood manages to befriend nearly everyone. He clearly values companionship more than anything else. He hands out his business card in a comically repetitive gesture, taking hospitality to an extreme and inviting new acquaintances out for dinner or drinks immediately upon meeting them. His new friends – from the nurse to Dr. Sanderson to Chumley’s wife – are easily won over by his earnest enthusiasm. Hammond gives Dowd a sort of flighty, fidgety air; his fluttering hands and slightly unkempt appearance (his hair, for example, is always completely mussed when he’s not wearing his hat) make his earnestness seem even more endearing.

Judge Omar Gaffney (Marc Rehr), Veta Louise (Joan Crooks), and Myrtle May (Karina Ferry)

Elwood is eager to make others happy, especially Veta.  He ultimately lets his sister decide whether he should take the treatment from Dr. Chumley, which may eliminate the problem of Harvey forever. Thus, Veta must choose whether she prefers to rid her brother of his eccentric companion and help him to become “normal,” or to keep him as the kind, pleasant man he already is, eccentricities and all.

Director Sherrionne Brown (who also had a hand in the set design, sound design and props) brought to life a wonderful rendition of the story. The play is a light-hearted reminder of the importance of true companionship. It’s funny, uplifting, and marvelously executed – you’ll start to believe, like Veta, that you’re catching glimpses of Harvey, too – and you’ll be glad for it.

***

Announcing the Winner!

Monologging.org is pleased to announce the winners of its first annual “Travelogue Contest” The contest drew entries from all over the world, and has helped connect a greater network of writers. Participants compiled short, 250 word stories based on there travels. The contest was judged by Jeffrey F. Barken and Menachem Kaiser. Submissions were rated based on story telling technique, and the author’s accompanying original photograph from their travels. Monologging.org looks forward to repeating the contest next summer.

This years winner is Caitlyn Taix. Her travelogue, entitled “Casino Forests” recounts a dispiriting breakdown in Nevada, and a night’s stay in Reno. To read Caitlyn’s travelogue and view her winning picture please scroll below. Contest runner-up, Emily Villela’s piece, “Bogden Voda,” is also below.

Reno Sunset, Photo Courtesy of Caitlyn Taix

 Casino Forests

-By Caitlyn Taix-

Reno sounds agreeable if completely unfamiliar. Beth’s Rav was ill with MS like tremors, so we decided to stop there and give the car a rest. But we’d already pushed her too hard, so she died there instead—right off the interstate. In the core of a hectic intersection. I panicked. We were supposed to make it to the Redwoods tonight. “We’re gonna need to push it, Caitlyn.” Up a goddamned hill. Two sweet Mexicans and 30 seconds later, we were at a gas station calling a tow truck. Beth laughed and made things easy; her optimism never faltered. I mean, she finds 2 four-leaf-clovers in a mile wide field. When the tow truck finally arrived, the driver was charitable and offered us a ride to the hotel that my sympathetic father bought us. “You don’t wanna pay cab fees. Just buy me a Happy Meal and we’ll call it even.” We bought him two.

We found that Reno is not California. Glass elevators are not hiking trails. There aren’t

Redwood forests, but acres of casinos. Orange, wrinkly women with bedazzled pants and purses playing slot machines in gas stations. Everything neon and ching-chinging; everyone graying and smoking cigarettes. We were in a concrete carnival nightmare instead of in a tent under lush trees. The only friend we made was a thug named Avon who asked us to come party. Sensibly, we fled. So we got drunk and trespassed and pissed on the hell-hole. We mailed postcards. “Reno sucks. Never come here.”

***

Bogdan Voda. Photo Courtesy of Emily Villela

Bogdan Voda

-By Emily Villela-

Lou and I had been dating a year when we went on the road for four months. We bussed from

Albuquerque to New York, flew to Barcelona. From Spain, we traveled to Marseille, Zagreb, Bucharest. I was planning one week in advance: how we would travel, where we would sleep, where to buy groceries. Romania was Lou’s domain.

We were headed to the rural province of Maramureş. The conductor woke us before dawn and threw our bags onto the ground. We’d missed our stop. Outside, the mist turned to rain. We started walking.

The temperature rose with the sun. I tied my sweater around my waist and cursed my leather boots. Toothless old women and children stood on the roadside, thumbs out. I tied a scarf around my head and followed suit. We caught one ride, walked for miles, caught another.

The sun was setting.

“Where are you going?” asked our lady driver.

“Bogdan Voda.”

“But where?”

“The center of town?”

She laughed, drove home. After some discussion, she gave us a single bed. The next morning, her husband brought us bread, blueberry preserves, a steaming vat of milk.

“Is this pasteurized?” I said once he’d walked away.

“Oh for god’s sake,” said Lou.

I had no idea where we were going next, how we would get there, where we would lay our heads. Our host was tilling a garden plot by hand. The air smelled of hay and horses. Pale sunlight fell on thatched roofs. And I drank.

***

Urban Tumbleweed:

Notes from a Tanka Diary

-Book Reviewed by Kendra Bartell–

A pink snake racing across the desert

hardly needs explanation, unless

you believe it is only a trick of the mind.

In Urban Tumbleweed: Notes from a Tanka Diary Haryette Mullen presents to us 366 variations on a tanka, a cousin of the haiku form of Japanese poetry. In English language translations or writings, usually the 31-syllable form is split into 5-7-5-7-7 lines, but Mullen improvises, creating a 3 line form with variable syllables between each poem. Most stick to the 31 syllables, but all are 3 line snapshots of an urban pastoral experience.

Mullen’s introduction to the collection describes how the project made her “look forward to this daily reminder that head and body are connected.” The walks she takes, without any distractions of companions or ear buds, allow her to both connect with her body and allow for the brain and body to talk to each other, through her. The 366 poems are compiled from a year-and-a-day’s worth of walks through Los Angeles, Texas, and Sweden, presenting condensed images of each locale. The visual presentation on the page is 3 tankas per page, with considerable white space in between. This design presents readers with a choice. In their precise imagistic feel, for many, it will be difficult to resist reading through the book quickly, trying to piece together a uniting narrative structure or discover thematic links between the poems. Other readers, however, will enjoy patiently considering each poem individually. A reading strategy that bears relevance considering each tanka was composed on a different day.

The pastoral has been a form in poetry dating back through centuries and continents, so it is exciting to see a poet such as Mullen take on the form in an urban setting, while applying interesting formal constraints to the poems as well. Some of the book’s compelling imagery demands pause:

Blast of hellish breath, infernal scourge,

parched wind that whips and scorches. Green

torches, oily eucalyptus trees, bursting into flame.

In this poem readers hear the echoes of Mullen’s previous work. Each line is marked by an incredible awareness for sound and rhythm, any and all connotative and denotative meanings of words that can be pulled into the poem. But Mullen’s sense for play feels less present in this collection than in her other works, Sleeping with the Dictionary and Muse & Drudge. While Sleeping with the Dictionary, a finalist for the National Book Award, was similarly engaged in working with constraints, it did so with an eye towards L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E and more procedural poetics, working towards showing language as its basic form: building blocks to tinker with. Here, in Urban Tumbleweed, the constraint seems to be working to focus and rein in the poems, to distill them to one pure moment. The book solidly holds on to its meditative tone, even when playing with humorous moments like a hummingbird mistaking Mullen in a red dress for a giant hibiscus.

Ultimately, this book is admittedly working in a different vein. Urban Tumbleweed is not packed with allusions, riddles with sound and procedural poetics, or layered denotative and connotative meanings of words. Instead, the book presents focused meditations. Despite the temptation of a quick read, readers will likely profit most from this volume of poetry by slowing their pulse and accepting the mood cast by the sparse pages. Spending time with each tanka is rewarding. Each stanza unfolds like the very flowers Mullen has labored to present in their most concise form:

Caught a quick glimpse of bright eyes,

yellow feathers, dark wings. Never learned your name—

and to you, bird, I also remain anonymous. 

***

Urban Tumbleweed: Notes from a Tanka Diary by Haryette Mullen, Graywolf Press (Minneapolis, Minnesota)

Post Photo Courtesy of: NPR.org