Ruin

Cynthia Cruz, Ruin (Alice James Books, 2006) Ruin is a book that will hurt you, but do so in an indefinable way, kind of like the charming guy at the bar who couches a mild insult within every compliment. Cruz' work loves to contradict itself emotionally, every happiness cursed, every blackness countermanded with a joy: There's a gunboat cutting through the distance, Its hull ablaze with honey light and black Lanterns tattering in the breeze. Off the rafters Hangs an old yellow dress I wore once when I was little. There's a sick Sheltie staring from the landing And a pile of cages rusting in the weather. A ghost, I enter the boat. When it pulls up, I'll be a girl again. ("Secondhand Gun") These are short, punchy pieces, each demanding reflection. It's a small book, but one worth savoring. *** ½

As a long time fan of Cynthia Cruz's work, I knew I would enjoy Ruin but, it has surpassed all my expectations!

I agree with Harold Bloom's test of the potency of literature: it possesses a strangeness that forces you to change your world somehow to incorporate it, or to give up and leave your world in order to join it somewhere else. Cynthia Cruz's cycle of poems does some of each. On the surface I can make easy comparisons to Rimbaud (for the torrent of images) and Plath (for the here-take-a-look-at-my-bleeding-wrists-no-I-don't-mind-ness) but after a few readings a world that is clearly Cruz's own emerges. I have found myself describing it as gothic, then hastening to clarify that none of the stereotypical gothic trappings are here. But the aesthetic of rummaging around in the ugly to find a sliver of beauty is fascinating in her hands. So much is surprising about this collection. How the lynchpin of the whole cycle goes almost unnoticed in one of the most understated poems. How the structure is in some ways quite formal (shifts in color and symbol from before to after that lynchpin) and in other ways quite postmodern (try to pin down the way drugs figure in this text.) Clearly I am a fan; I suppose I wouldn't take the time to write a review of an obscure, slender volume of poetry if I weren't. This book is a steal, and I think it's important to support a talented poet who has made an ugly pretty thing that will meet you on its own terms.

Of all the new first books of poetry I've read this year "Ruin" is an outstanding work of lyrics taut in language, mystery and emotion. I bought this last week and I've read through it everyday since then. Great book.