This book of poems was 4.5 stars for me - I have trouble reading poetry at all, so I decided to round up because that is not the genre's fault, but I want to say what I did and didn't like in this review instead of just gushing because poetry book reviews so often just GUSH and it doesn't help a review-reader figure out if this book is for THEM.
1. This book is definitely for you if you are in the process, at any phase, of dealing with any kind of identity shame. Put this on your bedside table and read it before you sleep, and let Hoffman hang out with you and encourage you by example to work out your stuff.
2. If you want to be wowed, in the first few poems Hoffman lays out in the clearest terms possible the incomprehensibility of adults to children. Her elegant and savage juxtaposition in the poems about being young are as good as you're going to get, anywhere, any genre. Gold star.
If I was going to add anything to this book, it would be sections. I like a book with sections, so I know how to feel about what I'm reading. Some of these poems deal with being very young, some with the pain of having to hide sexuality as a young person, some deal with alcohol and dating shame, and some with being in New York as both a participant and an observer.
Like I said, I don't read much poetry. I think partly that is because so much poetry doesn't affect me (NOT THE CASE HERE), and I am realizing now that it is also partly because all poems begin entirely without context and I prefer context, even if it is the sound of the author's voice. I would love to have an audiobook of Running for Trap Doors. Or section headings. Great book. That is all.
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Running for Trap Doors Paperback – August 23, 2013
by
Joanna Hoffman
(Author)
-
Print length86 pages
-
LanguageEnglish
-
PublisherSibling Rivalry Press, LLC
-
Publication dateAugust 23, 2013
-
Dimensions5.98 x 0.21 x 9.02 inches
-
ISBN-101937420477
-
ISBN-13978-1937420475
"Gone Too Far" by Debra Webb
This second entry in USA Today bestselling author Debra Webb’s Devlin and Falco series proves that sometimes the past is best left forgotten. | Learn more
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Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Joanna Hoffman is a poet, teaching artist, and LGBTQ advocate. Her poems have appeared in PANK, decomP, Sinister Wisdom, and in MILK AND HONEY: A CELEBRATION OF JEWISH LESBIAN POETRY. Joanna facilitates poetry workshops for LGBTQ youth and has featured at venues around the world. She lives in Brooklyn. She is the author of RUNNING FOR TRAP DOORS (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2013).
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Product details
- Publisher : Sibling Rivalry Press, LLC (August 23, 2013)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 86 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1937420477
- ISBN-13 : 978-1937420475
- Item Weight : 4.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.98 x 0.21 x 9.02 inches
-
Best Sellers Rank:
#3,969,073 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,921 in LGBTQ+ Poetry (Books)
- #22,997 in American Poetry (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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Reviewed in the United States on October 13, 2014
Reviewed in the United States on July 19, 2013
Coming across first books of collections of poetry by poets already respected by peers but not well known to the reading public is a pleasure, and providing those moments of discovery seems to be high on the list of Sibling Rivalry Press. This is their latest exposure to poetry lovers of fresh new talent Joanna Hartman, a Brooklynite with a lot to say and the perfect way of saying it.
In an interview she was quoted as saying, `In the past few years, I've confronted some of the ugly truths standing in the way of my happiness--namely relationship patterns, mental health issues, and a lot of escapism. For years, I tried to distract myself from myself by focusing on any shiny object or person I could find. Once I was forced to stop doing that, I found that the process of actually allowing myself to be happy meant a whole lot of digging. This book holds a lot of what I unearthed. This book features lesbian bars, scorpions, Chinese food, waitresses, Moses, and this emotion :/.'
The aspect of Hoffman's poetry that this reader finds so invigorating is the directness of the style, the feeling being that each poem was meant for a conversation with each particular reader. Not that there are absent major issues and topics for thought - there are in every poem - but her style is so immediate that the poignancy of the poems comes through loud and clear in a very personal manner.
WHY I HAD TO LEAVE THE PARTY EARLY
I don't fit in here. These girls can smell the TV dinner
on me, the metro card
and the borrowed shoes. These girls smile
like checks ripped form the book.
How the gleam makes everything
come unhinged. Even their eyebrows
have bling. Even their issues sparkle.
`Yesterday, we flew to Paris for lunch'
`Occupy Wall Street is probably the only occupation
these people ever have.'
I have Target breath. I bought my fingers
at McDonalds. I sold my sex drive
for pot. I sold my cocaine
for laundry detergent.
`You're a poet? Do you get health insurance?'
Last night, I ate a bowl
of late fees. They tasted
like home.
BECAUSE I WANT YOU AND I THINK YOU WANT ME TOO BUT WE LIVE FAR APART AND YOU'RE REALLY BAD AT TEXT MESSAGES
When the phone vibrates and you name appears, I imagine the technology as a shoebox diorama. Back to back in the cardboard room, your finger presses send, and I flail for the phone as if it were the shoulder of a child running into traffic. When I read your message, followed by the wink-face emoticon, I grin stupidly, gazing admiringly at this little black rectangle. The emoticon is your mannequin, a shivering mirage of a proxy. I want to sit down, Barbara Walters-style, and ask, `When you said wink face, did you also mean smile-face? What about kiss-face?' I am almost 30, and the most exciting part of my morning is receiving a wink-face text from a girl across the country. How about this: meet me in the land where emoticons go to die. It could be a coffee shop in Philly. When I tell you I want to know what's happening here, you say, `Well, I don't know.' We watch each other in silence, your eyes raking up my cheek. I untuck the breath form underneath your tongue. The waitress asks if we're ready to order, and I say, `No.' I reach under the table and hold your hand, as if it were a letter I wrote with mine.
Joanna Hoffman is immersed in now and how now affects everything that makes life take on meaning - on not. She challenges us with her own musings and leaves us with the feeling we have just peaked under a page and found a new artist who counts. Grady Harp, July 13
In an interview she was quoted as saying, `In the past few years, I've confronted some of the ugly truths standing in the way of my happiness--namely relationship patterns, mental health issues, and a lot of escapism. For years, I tried to distract myself from myself by focusing on any shiny object or person I could find. Once I was forced to stop doing that, I found that the process of actually allowing myself to be happy meant a whole lot of digging. This book holds a lot of what I unearthed. This book features lesbian bars, scorpions, Chinese food, waitresses, Moses, and this emotion :/.'
The aspect of Hoffman's poetry that this reader finds so invigorating is the directness of the style, the feeling being that each poem was meant for a conversation with each particular reader. Not that there are absent major issues and topics for thought - there are in every poem - but her style is so immediate that the poignancy of the poems comes through loud and clear in a very personal manner.
WHY I HAD TO LEAVE THE PARTY EARLY
I don't fit in here. These girls can smell the TV dinner
on me, the metro card
and the borrowed shoes. These girls smile
like checks ripped form the book.
How the gleam makes everything
come unhinged. Even their eyebrows
have bling. Even their issues sparkle.
`Yesterday, we flew to Paris for lunch'
`Occupy Wall Street is probably the only occupation
these people ever have.'
I have Target breath. I bought my fingers
at McDonalds. I sold my sex drive
for pot. I sold my cocaine
for laundry detergent.
`You're a poet? Do you get health insurance?'
Last night, I ate a bowl
of late fees. They tasted
like home.
BECAUSE I WANT YOU AND I THINK YOU WANT ME TOO BUT WE LIVE FAR APART AND YOU'RE REALLY BAD AT TEXT MESSAGES
When the phone vibrates and you name appears, I imagine the technology as a shoebox diorama. Back to back in the cardboard room, your finger presses send, and I flail for the phone as if it were the shoulder of a child running into traffic. When I read your message, followed by the wink-face emoticon, I grin stupidly, gazing admiringly at this little black rectangle. The emoticon is your mannequin, a shivering mirage of a proxy. I want to sit down, Barbara Walters-style, and ask, `When you said wink face, did you also mean smile-face? What about kiss-face?' I am almost 30, and the most exciting part of my morning is receiving a wink-face text from a girl across the country. How about this: meet me in the land where emoticons go to die. It could be a coffee shop in Philly. When I tell you I want to know what's happening here, you say, `Well, I don't know.' We watch each other in silence, your eyes raking up my cheek. I untuck the breath form underneath your tongue. The waitress asks if we're ready to order, and I say, `No.' I reach under the table and hold your hand, as if it were a letter I wrote with mine.
Joanna Hoffman is immersed in now and how now affects everything that makes life take on meaning - on not. She challenges us with her own musings and leaves us with the feeling we have just peaked under a page and found a new artist who counts. Grady Harp, July 13
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Reviewed in the United States on November 4, 2013
"Shop class is for boys and lesbians. Not starfish like you that sit faceless and unscreaming as they slice your limbs." Um, yes. This line is found at the beginning of the poem, "High School Electives" (21). This one line to me says it all about this book: it's got heart, it's got hurt, it's got light, it's got life and it's got poetry. I had only known Joanna's poems through performance so I was nervous about what the page would reveal. Much to my surprise she is as prolific on the page as she is off. The high points of this book are when Hoffman lets vulnerability take over like in "Dear Sarah" (34). "The way your naked body split into mine like milk onto a kitchen floor," adds so much depth and heart ache and love to the poem and then, "--I sold all those postcards to Girls Gone Wild,"and then the defensive side comes out which lends to laughter and more heart ache. I like heart ache in poetry and there is some in this but there is also alot of light. In "Why I Had to Leave the Party Early," a question comes up, "You're a poet? Do you get health insurance?" As a poet I can tell you the answer to that question is "No" but we do get Joanna Hoffman. She will cleanse and repair your soul properly. No health plan can cover that.
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Reviewed in the United States on September 16, 2013
These poems are so delicious, the first night I held this book, I read it twice. Aloud. Both times. Her words found their way into places in myself that I'd forgotten, and took me places I wouldn't have known otherwise, simply because that is where she wanted me to go. Her work bears its soul, brings you laughter, sadness, falling in love with a someone you've never met and that ghost of bile that creeps up your throat when you taste the anger in her words on your lips. These poems have quiet power that you won't realise is there. Until you shut the book, only to open it at the beginning again moments later.
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