Customer Reviews

Eva-Mary

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Linda McCarriston's book, Eva-Mary, is a horrifying account of family abuse and the refusal of those in power to halt the molestation and beatings. It is a powerful work to use with teenagers or adults when introducing poetry books as *books*, not just collections. Tales of child abuse and family abuse never cease to horrify, but by themselves, they would not be a fine work of art, which is what this book is. Ms. McCarriston designed it as both a circle, with the same poem in the front and the back, and a line of progression, as the poet ages and grows away from abuse. We know that abuse is circular in nature, learned from family members. In Eva-Mary, the circle is broken by the poet and her brother; the poet chooses to reinvent herself. Poetry becomes an integral part of breaking that circle. This book manages to hold both the present ugliness of abuse, and the possibilities of survival. She offers different types of survival -- I think we are lucky she chose poetry. I have read this book over and over, and do not tire of it.

Too easy to call this book confessional or post-confessional, labels which too often have reduced its predecessors (I'm thinking especially of Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton) to stereotypes of hysteria. The reduction was wrong there; it would be wrong here too. What *is* here is a calling to account of the social structures that continue to permit husbands and fathers to exercise the "rule of thumb" -- that's the rule whereby men could beat wives with sticks so long as they did not exceed the thickness of a man's thumb -- and the rule of the body's force. There are also poems of redemption, the poet purchasing herself out of the role of victim and into the role of full freedom and joy. This volume was winner of the 1991 Terrence Des Pres Prize and a finalist for 1991 National Book Award. McCarriston teaches at University of Alaska Anchorage, where I was privileged to be her student.

I want ET-like to touch the spot
And say "Oww"
The bruise will go away
It will have never been.

Do contrasts help?
No.

My father struck me once.
I deserved it.
I remember why and it was so worth it.
I learned my lesson
and really needed that lesson.

My mother stuck me once.
I didn't deserve it.
She caught me reading a book.
But it was assigned by Father Hennigan.
She stopped. Hurt -- both her hand and heart.
My elbow had hurt her palm.
My pronouncement of "Freud" to correct her Frewd.

I have struck daughter - once.
There will never be forgiveness from either
giver or receiver.
Daughters should not insult their mothers.
True anger happens.

The shock of it -- such action reaction
Injury to a free spirit that sought to do injury.
Freedom is not free.
This sharp memory does not dull love.

A father can really love
Children can really be loved.

Maybe this is not said often enough.