Little Creatures (Poems by Julia Carlson)
By
Renuka Raghavan, Author of Out
of the Blue
(Big Table Publishing, 2018)
Meditative,
vulnerable, and elusive, the poetry of Julia Carlson’s Little
Creatures
thwarts the conventional doggerel, composed instead to develop
significance from contemporary-themed narratives. Replete with
thoughts concerning the world around us, be them natural or
political, Carlson’s poems illuminate a world charged with the
delicate vulnerability of quiet rage, past relationships, and ongoing
remembrance.
The
book opens with an untitled, short quip where the narrator finds
satisfaction in sweet candy to compensate for life’s other
unsatisfactory uncertainties. An interesting, if not, an offbeat
choice to launch Carlson’s second poetic collection. After all,
it’s always the little things in life, right? It does, however,
segue into a poem that appears to be the real heart of the book.
“Black
Hole” juxtaposes the worries that seem to burden us only during the
darkest hours of the night, amidst the cacophony of neighborhoods,
homes, and lives searching for rest and peace. In reality, the poem
attempts to explore something much deeper, and something that the
overall collection drives straight into—existential meditation, au
courant.
As
a scholar and clinical social worker, Carlson has dug deep into her
rich life and presented us with poems that transition from page to
page as the timeline of a seasoned narrator’s life story. Poems
like “Children Of War,” “Tithe,” “Emergency In The Tombs,”
and “Thin,” carry with them the burden of darkness and while the
pain they seek to assimilate is evolving and universal, the
historical background is wholly personal.
“
Get
drunk…obsess…think about Jesus,” oddball solutions presented in
“Methods To Put The World Away,” one of a handful of poems that
evoke comical whimsy, perhaps to break the heaviness of somber
obligations in poems like “Room 512,” “Letters From,” and the
aptly titled, “Girl Gives Birth In Her Room While Her Parents Watch
TV.” In “Sex,” two lovers appreciate the act of physical
emotion, surrendering completely and unabashed.
Then
there’s the title poem, “Little Creatures,” a villanelle that
meditates on the book’s larger, over-arching theme of metaphysical
existence. The lines and stanzas of the villanelle fold into each
other, mimicking the way life’s knowledge folds into itself, one
way or another, regardless of the type of creature. The lyrical
language tenderly implies violence is a part of that knowing:
“…sharpened
talons can only maim…things that never change…the hawk’s within
hunting range.”
Carlson’s
Little
Creatures
exhibits a contemporary, tactile, and corporeal poetic voice that
opens a way to understand the duality of a world capable of producing
appalling travesties of life as well as awesome feats of beauty.
Renuka Raghavan’s previous work has appeared in Boston Literary Magazine, Jersey Devil Press, Blink-Ink, Star 82 Review, Down in the Dirt Literary Magazine, Chicago Literati, and Gravel, among others. She is the author of Out of the Blue (Big Table Publishing, 2017), a collection of poetry and prose. She is a co-founder of the Poetry Sisters Collective and serves as the fiction book reviewer at Cervena Barva Press. She writes and lives in Massachusetts, with her family and beloved beagle.
