(or wherein I once again prove that the parts of poetry which intrigue me may not be what I am supposed to be talking about)
You know what I really appreciated about Tremulous Hinge: the layout of some of the poems. Like the indentation. Seriously. Or there’d be a thin poem, maybe only eight or nine spaces worth of letters on each line. Then each verse would be only lines long and it would be these little rectangles like a path down the page.
I can hear one of my high school English teacher’s sarcasm right now: That’s what you think is important about poetry?
Yes. I mean, how do the poets know
where to end lines and
how much to
indent?
So I read Tremulous Hinge and thought about that. The poems that were over a page were too long and could have been tightened. One poem mentioned a Catholic grandfather, which made me think of my Catholic grandfather. The poems felt working class, close houses, thin walls lacking insulation (I don’t mean that in a negative way, because I read what I just wrote and it sounds super classist. I mean more like you felt you were walking through that sort of neighbourhood as you read the words; some of the poems drew the scene like a photograph).
I wonder how one becomes a poet. It’s so different than how I see the world. Sometimes I feel like an alien when I read poetry. I didn’t mind so much with Tremulous Hinge though.
Tremulous Hinge by Adam Giannelli went on sale April 15, 2017.
I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.