Book review:

The Homeplace

by Marilyn Nelson Waniek (b.1946)

Prize-winning American poet

Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1990

Thinking about writing this review of The Homeplace re-boots the cold explosion in my self.

Honestly, there was turmoil in this reading.

Marilyn Nelson Waniek is a respected black poet. I’m an old white guy who writes and cares about poetry.

I don’t read much poetry by other writers that appeals to me. I know this doesn’t make me special. I think it’s an ordinary experience.

When I say much of Marilyn Nelson’s work doesn’t appeal to me, that doesn’t signify much of anything out of the ordinary.

When I say that some of poems wrap their hands around my throat and squeeze directly through to my soul, I mean exactly what those words mean.

It’s not “black poetry,” let’s get that straight. That term necessarily implies that there is “white poetry.” I think there are ways to characterize poetry, but the demeaning simplicity of “black poetry” or “white poetry” isn’t acceptable. I think it’s not possible. Poetry is personal, and it doesn’t have a skin color.

Here’s an excerpt from The Homeplace: these are words from “Chosen,” an understated account of a white Southern master and Diverne, a young black woman who is his slave, and Pomp, their son.

“Diverne wanted to die, that August night

his face hung over hers, a sweating moon.

She wished so hard, she killed part of her heart

…And the man who came

out of a twelve-room house and ran to her

close shack across three yards that night, to leap

onto her cornshuck pallet. Pomp was their

share of the future. And it wasn’t rape.

In spite of her raw terror. And his whip.”

I’d like to say I think I want to walk a mile in Marilyn Nelson’s shoes.

Maybe I was able to trudge a few steps when I read her poems.

*   *   *   *

Walking on the beach is so personal

Do you remember?…”Take your time,” my poem

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2017 All rights reserved.

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