How to Love the Empty Air

How will you celebrate?  April is National Poetry Month, a time to explore and experience the world of poetry.  In honor of National Poetry Month, I read a new collection of poetry by Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, the poet's seventh, How to Love the Empty Air, published in 2018.

This book is an intimate, autobiographical collection of poems that depict the author's successes in her work and relationships, as well as the great loss that she experiences when her mother--her "narrator"--dies suddenly.  In these poems, we learn about the poet's life, about her writing career and move to Texas, and about her relationships, especially her relationship with her mother.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was pleasantly surprised by this book, because it's contemporary--it includes email and texts--it's down-to-earth, and also, most importantly, it illustrates the poet's beautiful, close relationship with her mother, who has died. Each of these poems is like a short story (or more accurately, a mini story) packed with creativity, thought, and feeling.  Although Aptowicz is deeply grieving the loss of her mother, she's able to find some comfort, which she shares with her readers, by remembering and honoring her mother in this collection, in a way that's both personal and universal.  The titles of poems, such as for the opening poem, My Mother Does Not Give Advice, and Moving Means that You Have to Touch Everything You Own Once (never thought of it that way!), and the final poem, Sleeping in Late with My Mother (which ends the collection in a funny and positive, remarkable manner), set the stage for the unique humor found in this collection.  Her mother's voice comes through clearly in these poems, sometimes quite literally, "That's not the picture I want you to see/Use the other one/You know that one, from our weekend together?"  (from the poem, Portraits of My Mother, Far Away from Texas).  The poet and her mother share a special sense of humor. These poems are funny, they are touching, and very "relatable".  I don't know how Aptowicz manages to create poems out of emails, texts, and references to emojis, but she does!  On a personal, related note, having lost my own mother in 2011, I cherish the letters and emails I have from her, and reread them when I crave connection to her.  My mother's words, like Aptowicz's mother's words, contain her humor and her support, and so remain helpful, and present. 

If I were a high school English teacher, I'd choose to read and discuss How to Love the Empty Air with my students, because I think my students would then fall in love with poetry.  But many people, of all ages, are reluctant to read poetry. They worry perhaps that they will not understand it, that it'll be written in formal, difficult-to-decipher language, replete with odd metaphors and similes, bygones from another era. These poems are easy to read and yet full of depth and meaning. I really can't say enough about them!  If you're at all intimidated by the idea of poetry, pick up this book. You might change your mind completely.

Many thanks to Serena from Poetic Book Tours for inviting me to participate in this tour, and for providing a complimentary copy of this brilliant book.  To read other reviews of this collection, please visit Poetic Book Tours' tour for How to Love the Empty Air.
 
Thank you very much for reading! Your comments are appreciated.

Why Do I Write?: A Guest Post by Rajiv Mittal

Last month, I read a terrific, concise review on Tracy's book blog, Pen and Paper, about a novel with "simple yet powerful language" that's "incredibly rich in human emotions", Brahmahatya by Rajiv Mittal, published in 2017.  Like Tracy, I'm not familiar with Hindu scripture or mythology (I studied Hinduism only briefly in high school), but the book sounds fascinating to me.  Author Rajiv Mittal graciously sent me a copy of his novel, which I hope to read and review before too long.  The author also wrote an exclusive guest post for this blog.  Like me, I think you'll find it strong and compelling.

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Why Do I Write?

A Guest Post by Rajiv Mittal

 

You asked me if I would like to write a guest post.

The first thought that came to my mind is, ‘Why do I write?’

So why do I write?

First of all, a random rant …

Because there are six billion humans in this planet. I cannot handle that number. A novel is a universe which usually contains a manageable population and the main ones are generally interesting.

If I switch on the TV or surf the internet, I read about how mankind is destroying the planet. And the more dramatic of such portrayals show heart-rending photographs of children in great distress. Where on earth are the parents of these children? What made them produce children if they could not offer them lives better than their own? When I write, I feel happy that I am not under pressure to feel outraged at everyone other than the real criminals.

And they are?

‘Produce more children for our vote banks,’ continue to exhort our political people. ‘Consume more,’ continue to exhort our corporate people. The real world now seems to be held to ransom by people with maniacal eyes hysterically expostulating the beauty of their religions. It seems most of these people have spent a great deal of time and effort trying to look ugly. They have succeeded spectacularly. I don’t want to see them, hear them or argue with them. I smell decay and their touch is not healing. What do they do to earn a living? What were their grades in school and college? What qualifies them to be the prophets? Just ugliness, it seems.

What makes for a good story? I am told it is the following:

Theme. A theme is something important the story tries to tell us—something that might help us in our own lives. ...

Plot. Plot is most often about a conflict or struggle that the main character goes through. ...

Story Structure. ...

Characters. ...

Setting. ...

Style and Tone.

The real life story is the worship of fecund reproductive organs and its ending worries me, it is not something that interests me.  Books are the triumphant outcome of the uncontrolled mind.

That is why I prefer to write. I am in control of my universe.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

How Brahmahatya happened:

I would visit my father in his retirement home during his final days. Seeing all the residents, I would wonder – what are their stories? And are they all really who they say they are. Also, spending time at a retirement home made me question a lot of things about life. And the story evolved.

Strange to say, but once I started writing it, the book took on a life of its own. It sounds clichéd but it is a fact. It was almost as if the book got its own aatma (soul) and I became another character in its life journey – the character of the author.

A personal experience related to the book: 

There was time to spare and the tuktuk was chugging past the Theosophical Society en-route to Phoenix Mall in Chennai. I had a suspicion it had no business being there but the tuktuk driver was canny and I was clueless. On an impulse, I asked him to stop near the gate and paid him off.

I had last gone inside the Society gate with my dad. He had wanted to show me some banyan tree - one of the largest in Asia. I was seven years old and I was very happy to be alone with him even though it was only to see some stupid tree. I remember I had then been very scared of it (it was a huge presence with strange limbs). I wanted to see it again now, no... I wanted to relive the memories. I recall (now as an adult) that it was massive, majestic in its silence and even the forces of nature (the waning twilight rays, the gentle sea-breeze and the noisy birds) had fluttered nervously around it, as if seeking permission.

My steps quickened as I reached it. The signboard said, ‘The Great Banyan Tree.’ I looked around, puzzled. A lone security guard walked up to me and said, ‘Sir, the tree fell down in a cyclone many years ago.’ I stared at the vast green space in the center where it had stood, quite uncomprehendingly. I felt very angry. This was very wrong. The tree had no right to die. It was meant to be eternal.

I again looked at the emptiness where the tree had lived. The younger trees, its descendants, stand proud and tall, seeming to preserve and protect the bare space.

When I walked away, I again felt the presence of my dad, very frail in his final days but very strong in my memories.

Some words that echo the philosophy of the book:

        •   Whomsoever you encounter is the right one.
        •   Whatever happened is the only thing that could have happened.
        •   Each moment in which something begins is the right moment.
        •   What is over is over.

                      Author – Unknown


The quiet, unhindered steady chant that treads through the book:

“Brahmanda bhramite kona bhagyavan jiva. According to their karma, all living entities are wandering throughout the entire universe…”

 I hope Brahmahatya will form part of your life journey, however small. Thathasthu. (It will be so).

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"Books are the triumphant outcome of the uncontrolled mind"!  I relish the idea of making order and art out of disorder and chaos.  Your personal story about the Great Banyan tree is very powerful and touching.  Thank you, Rajiv, for sharing your thoughts about writing, and more, in this outstanding guest post.  I am truly looking forward to reading your book.

Your comments are welcomed, as usual. Thanks for reading!