Lessons on Expulsion
Poems
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- ¥1,200
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- ¥1,200
発行者による作品情報
An award-winning and hard-hitting new voice in contemporary American poetry
The first time I ever came the light was weak and carnivorous.
I covered my eyes and the night cleared its dumb throat.
I heard my mother wringing her hands the next morning.
Of course I put my underwear on backwards, of course the elastic didn't work.
What I wanted most at that moment was a sandwich.
But I just nursed on this leather whip.
I just splattered my sheets with my sadness.
—from “Poem of My Humiliations”
“What is life but a cross / over rotten water?” Poet, novelist, and essayist Erika L. Sánchez’s powerful debut poetry collection explores what it means to live on both sides of the border—the border between countries, languages, despair and possibility, and the living and the dead. Sánchez tells her own story as the daughter of undocumented Mexican immigrants and as part of a family steeped in faith, work, grief, and expectations. The poems confront sex, shame, race, and an America roiling with xenophobia, violence, and laws of suspicion and suppression. With candor and urgency, and with the unblinking eyes of a journalist, Sánchez roves from the individual life into the lives of sex workers, narco-traffickers, factory laborers, artists, and lovers. What emerges is a powerful, multifaceted portrait of survival. Lessons on Expulsion is the first book by a vibrant, essential new writer now breaking into the national literary landscape.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In her hallucinatory debut collection, S nchez negotiates an imaginative space between oral history and journalistic reportage, overloading the senses as she produces "a body on the verge of fever." Sex workers, farmers, hormonal adolescents, and churchgoers populate these formally varied lyrics delivered with a whiff of magical realism. S nchez is as capable of intriguingly surrealist gestures ("the day goes on picking/ the meat from its teeth") as of photographic depictions. Her narrative voice is perhaps most seductive when most ruthlessly sensory, describing an estranged lover's angst triggered by the odor of raw ginger, or evoking New York City streets with "the rich smell/ of baked garbage and coconut curry." S nchez's protagonists defy expected cultural roles, braving the disapproval of patriarchs and of "ashen saints with their eyes/ rolled back in blessedness,/ whites the color of old wedding/ dresses." Ambient unease and confessional impulsivity culminate in the lush shock of "Six Months after Contemplating Suicide," in which the speaker reckons with wanting "the end// with a serpentine/ greed" and celebrates the hard-won capacity for survival. Throughout, a sense of menace pervades all the joyfully vivid detail, suggesting that only language itself provides a "brief happiness as fierce as the wet muscles of a horse."
