don't die press

A Gush of Humour and Wisdom

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2020-02-28

GUSH: Menstrual Manifestos for Our Times
Ed. Rosanna Deerchild, Ariel Gordon, Tanis McDonald
Frontenac House, 2018 (362 pp.)

https://www.frontenachouse.com/gush-menstrual-manifestos-for-our-times/

Review by Henri/etta Bensussen

If you can laugh at the image of “tampons falling like bombs,” and all the things that go wrong during our monthly bleed-outs, this book is for you. We’re stuck with Mother Nature’s engineering of our reproductive organs, but we own our bodies. As women, we are called on to manage so much in this world, and maybe that’s why menstruation begins in our early teen years. It gives us time to adjust, and to learn how to cope.

The all-star editors have amassed a dynamic assemblage of accounts, rants, jokes, comic strips, poems and stories to disentangle the diverse ways women experience menstruation. The pieces are organized thematically into ten originative Cycles. Under Cycle 3, Making a Mess, “Ten Bloody Pieces of Advice” gives some helpful hints on handling problems like tested friendships, ignorant mothers, and misogynistic jokes. In Cycle 6, Aril-Filled Angel, “The Water Song” tests the “colonial logic” that “our sacredness is too much.” In Cycle 8, Reckless Hunger, “Abnormal” narrates how the author learned what was causing her infertility, and how the medical establishment often deals with it in secrecy.

A highly readable, entertaining, and also educational examination of a biological truth from a feminist viewpoint, this book covers every aspect of a process so many of us are familiar with. Their feisty approach to women’s lot is light years beyond the 1950s, or even the 2000s. As MacDonald writes in the informative introduction, “Let our menstrual identification be bold and strident and strange. Let us be bloody unmistakeable.”

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Henri Bensussen’s poems and stories have appeared in various journals, incl. Eclipse, Blue Mesa Review, Sinister Wisdom, and others, and in the anthologies, Women of the 14th Moon: Writings on Menopause, Beyond the Yellow Wallpaper: New Tales of Madness, and Lisa Locasio, ed., Golden State 2017. A chapbook of poems, “Earning Colors,” was published by Finishing Line Press in 2015. She has a B.A. in Biology, served on the board of the Mendocino Coast Writers Conference, and is an MCWC Sustaining Member.

Madness: The Homecoming

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2020-02-21

Behind the Yellow Wallpaper: New Tales of Madness.
Ed. Rose Yndigoyen.
New Lit Salon Press, 2014.

https://newlitsalonpress.com/product/behind-the-yellow-wallpaper/

Review by Sarah-Jean Krahn, Managing Editor, don’t die press

This quirky, ultra-readable collection, riffing off the quintessential madness fiction by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, opens with a piece that alludes to madness as an act of defiance for women. There is something appealing about madness when it means you tear your body out of the current realm and present it to The Gaze as unintelligible. Each remaining story tampers with this motif via some unique twist that confuses the spectrum of feeling, from insidious numbness in “The Safety Pin Patient Test” to traumatic intensity in “The Color of Nothing.”

When emotional ferocity seizes women consumed by husband or children, at first glance some feminist readers may be turned off. However, with careful consideration we can see that, for the most part, this is the choice that has been presented to the characters as most meaningful. For example, in “Waiting for Jordan,” the single sentence “This is all her fault” reveals the double-bind of women locked into a nuclear family life, yet who themselves earn the blame for apparently locking men into the same patriarchal ultimatum. Meanwhile, the protagonist’s dreams of the 72 virgins calling to her hint at an unfulfilled queer curiosity that won’t allow the reader satisfaction with the suggestion that she is irreparably depressed at being separated from her husband on military tour.

The stories that recreate women characters responsible for murder reveal a frantic need in the feminist imagination to destroy the smelted, inflexible and punishing casts of patriarchal rule. Still, some readers may find these, like some of the photographs depicting the bloody saturation of madness, disturbing. The allure of the photographs is that they have been designed to match each story, and so reflect the desperation, obsession, downfall; the grit, ingenuity, sincerity of the characters. So, keep reading, and notice the overlay of trip wires and drone strikes that drive the characters to their betrayal or brutality. The later story “Thread,” while starring a character of innocence in action but acumen in human agony, unwinds these stealthy tricks of the patriarchy and lays them bare for reckoning.

The collection would not be complete without those pieces which implicate, as Charlotte Perkins Gilman does, the noose that madness itself can be when it is fastened to women by men. Men who doctor, men who mind-doctor, men who dictate women’s futures; men who abuse, men who slut-shame, men who extol women’s obedience—they are the origins of true madness, and the patriarchy benefits when women comply with lobotomized tranquility. In “Behind the Yellow Wallpaper,” women find comfort in a madness all their own when the straitjacket of patriarchy fails to conform to their bodies. Madness is a homecoming, a relief, a joy, as the characters alter not their bodies but the time-space around them to provide habitat that better suits their needs.

Snapshots

by , on
2019-09-13

Put Your Hand in Mine (poetry)
Elaine Woo
Signature Press (2019)

Review by Rachael Ikins

Elaine Woo’s journey from young childhood to gray hair is told with a close connection to the natural world, even as it succumbs to environmental degradation. She is a relentless observer who gives the reader unique perspectives on such homely natural things as a cat stalking a bird, crows gathering, or, most significantly to her, the waves washing “the hem” of the beach. Even quotidian clothing, crafted by nature and by humans, takes on purpose for the speaker, from worn denim to winter boots and an embroidered tunic.

Despite the speaker’s sustained solitude, it is the odd poem about people–her friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer, her mentor who lost the vision in one eye, her mother, her father–that define the collection with snapshot-like clarity. From poem to poem, the experience of reading is akin to looking through an old diary or photo album, though not always a happy one. It is through her relationships with people we see her grow from an impressionable girl into a woman who owns herself and her life. Her female characters, such as her mentor, prove brave independent women no matter what challenges them. Meanwhile, her relationships with women bolster her own self-examination and willingness to accept her own flaws as she works to strengthen her sense of self.

This reviewer found the format of some poems distracting as the poet sought to put her words into motion across the page. For example, the arrangement of one line on the left margin, skipping two lines, and then settling in the right margin, in actuality seemed unnecessary: the language in these poems is strong enough on its own to convey the heartbeat of the seasonal cycles riding on the waves of the ocean in which the poet finds steadfast peace when in pain. However, other readers may enjoy having this enigmatic canvas to interpret from.

In the end, “Put Your Hand in Mind” reads as a complicated tension between despair and hope as well as a call for women to hold hands across their differences. The Amazon Rain Forest is burning. Rafts of plastic pollute the speaker’s beloved ocean. By 2030, humans may use up all of the earth’s ability to replenish topsoil and, hence, food. Where does one find hope in the face of such realities? Woo turns repeatedly to the beauty of nature for her inspiration. It is this we poets must remember, and through our writings, speak out and call each other to accountability.

Knowing

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2019-09-06

Just Two Girls (poetry)
Rachael Ikins
Clare Songbirds Publishing House (2017)

https://www.claresongbirdspub.com/shop/poetry/

Review by Elaine Woo

New York state poet Rachael Ikins takes the reader on an uneasy but riveting ride through the terrain of nonbinary relationships and loss in her poetry collection, Just Two Girls.

The poem from which the book’s title is derived, “Just Two Girls: For Lizbeth,” unravels the secret tale of a young woman living in “Student housing. Quirky rich kids. / Eccentrics and ghetto’s edge.” She slips by in low key garb, “Sweat pants, sneaks and a canvas bag. / No make up. Nobody suspects.” That is, nobody suspects her chosen profession is call girl: “I dance on a bar in the near west end / over by the zoo. Blue collar working men / red-necks, those college boys. I flaunt a big feather fan.” Ikins is a mistress of artful surprise, which flaunts itself through her poetry collection. 

The title poem ends with grateful acknowledgment of a female friendship that sustains the call girl through vaginal removal of a cancer, a procedure that won’t mar her youthful skin, evidently so valuable an asset in her profession. Sustaining friendships of the sort, all women need, no matter their vocation. Meanwhile, her dear friend “tries to behave as if we are just two girls.” 

However, others judgmentally question what their relationship really consists of. In “At the Farm Stand: Grandma  W. Talks about a Customer with her Daughter-in-Law,” we hear a snippet of cruel conversation between Grandma and daughter-in-law: “Say, what d’you think them gals do up there in Dottie’s old place? I heared they’s lezbeens. It ain’t right, two women together…Is it now?”  This is the paranoia, fearmongering and misunderstanding that nonbinary people commonly face. Ikins captures the spirit of gossipy country folk with choice dialogue: “Ain’t right. ‘Course two men together’s worse…I don’t like even to t’imagine. Bad enough I seen them yearlin’ bulls ever’ spring humpin’ til one gets dumped on its butt.”

While the acts of bulls are overt, the poet notices even the smallest creature’s desire. In “Full moon/Slapping at Mosquitoes September 2,” she views the mosquito’s proboscis as “Tiny female’s lips prick, sort through freckles, stray blonde skin hairs—anesthesia, lust for blood, a way in.” Through the many comparisons that in this volume are made between people and animals or nature, the speaker reveals the bewitching of her infatuation with both her girls and guys.

The anthropomorphizing of even inanimate objects may speak to a notion of humans as the center of the universe that is somewhat limiting. Nevertheless, Ikins’ narrator deftly uses this technique to capture the pain of the loss of her lover in “Butternut Squash.” As the speaker walks down a grocery store aisle, she observes, “Squash undoes me…I want to choose the right tanned form, sweetest of orange flesh.Laden with double meaning, this reminds the reader as much as her of her lost lover. Ultimately, they remain separated by death: “We divide our braided life into shaggy hanks of silvery hair.”

The ending line of “Treasures,” “I am ready to know,” left me with knowledge that the many varied voices of squash, mosquito, bull, and call girl all have a knowing, a female knowing, even if misunderstood by mainstream society. Much for women to celebrate!

Shelf Life: An exciting new project from don’t die press

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2019-05-07

don’t die press is now accepting books for review.

We want to promote your book, but first, we need books and reviewers!

Click here to find out more, or e-mail gro.sserpeidtnod@rotide .