Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

poetry comics

It is often surprising to me what is popular in my classroom library. I have some idea of what might be of interest to my high school students (of course!) and I supply those books whenever my budget allows. I picked up Grant Snider's graphic novel Poetry Comics on a whim at an ALA convention, and given its intended audience–much younger readers–I didn’t think it would resonate, but I put it on the shelf anyway. Imagine my shock when it turned out to be a choice reading time sleeper hit! After seeing several students pick it up, I decided to take a closer look myself, and I can see why it was (is!) in demand.

 

poetry comics by grant snider book cover
Combining poetry and comics in a whole new way, this fun and imaginative book is perfect for poetry lovers and reluctant readers alike.

From the cloud-gazing hours of early spring to the lost bicycles of late autumn, Grant Snider’s brilliantly illustrated
Poetry Comics will take you climbing, floating, swimming, and tumbling through all the year’s ups, downs, and in-betweens. He proves that absolutely everything, momentous or minuscule, is worthy of attention, whether snail shells, building blocks, the lamented late bus, or the rare joy of unscuffed shoes. These poems explore everything you never thought to write a poem about, and they’re so fun to read you’ll want to write one yourself. Not to worry, there’s a poem for that, too!


Poetry Comics is just what it sounds like: a book of comics but also a poetry anthology. Each page, or each couple of pages, consist of poem(s) told panel by panel, in integrated, illustrated format. As one might guess from the cover illustration, the poems focus on nature, following the structure of the seasons, with some variation and tangents to take on the art of poem-writing itself, identity, and even things like waiting for a late bus. The compilation, while meant for young readers in the 7-12 age range, will also be of interest to aspiring comics artists and writers of all ages.


Snider’s art is simplistic, with basic 2D figures and landscapes, and a focus on the sky and horizon. Primary colors, fairly literal interpretations of each poem, and two “characters” (a boy and a girl) dominate the panels when nature and the natural world does not take center stage. Snider also makes interesting use of panels and the gutter–the white space around panels–on each page.


As far as the poems themselves, Snider’s key features are alliteration, repetition, lists (catalog), and of course the aforementioned organization around seasons and seasonal changes. My favorite poems in the book are “How to Write a Poem” numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4. Ah! Can’t forget to mention the structure of Snider’s poems too: a lack of commas, sparse periods and end stops, and very short poems overall. Each poem stands alone: some merely a single line, others still short but spreading over two pages. They don’t have to be read in any particular order either. Beyond that, the most stand-out thing about them is their clever titling, which amused me most.


According to the notes in the book, Snider’s illustrations are done in pen and marker, and reedited in Photoshop. The balance in the book definitely leans to image over text, which, while pleasing to the eye, does not grant a huge amount of depth, since those images themselves are also fairly simplistic. A note: they contain no evidence of phones or digital life, and in that way feel timeless.


Overall, Poetry Comics is a decent collection of poems and art for young people that may inspire adventures and a couple of reflective, poignant moments.


Recommended for: readers ages 7+, and read alouds with younger children to foster reflection and contemplation.

 

Fine print: I picked up an advanced copy of this title for review consideration at an ALA conference. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

cenzontle

Thursday, August 9, 2018 | | 0 comments
Here is my truth: I don’t read poetry often, but I wish I did. I want to be that person who reads poems and religious texts and essays on important cultural topics regularly. And it’s not because I think that sort of person is better or more serious. No, I just know that when I read more widely, because I had to (school, for so many years), I was a more interesting on the inside. I absorbed it all and tried on different ways of thinking and my dreams were varied and colorful.

So every now and then I try to make myself into that person again. I try. I read poetry, I linger on a prayer, and I purchase a book of essays. And when I do, I sometimes come across a text that is… abstruse? I can’t get into it at all, though I enjoy the language and drink in the words with my eyes. They just end up traveling right through me without leaving a permanent mark. When I read novels, if they are any good, they scoop out my feelings with a spoon, and that is its own delightful pain/pleasure. I return to that over and over. Lighting up my brain with poetry takes more effort (usually), and I am loath to loan myself the time if the pleasure is fleeting. In this case I took as long as I needed to. And my reading experience turned into something meaningful.

I asked my library to order Marcelo Hernandez Castillo’s volume of award-winning poetry, Cenzontle, because I read a lovely review of it in Shelf Awareness. And then, because I kept it so long, the library declared it lost (don’t worry, I eventually returned it). I finished it, and though I don’t think I “got” all of it (poetry is hard), I enjoyed it. I tried. I am maybe becoming the person I want to be. I adored the way Hernandez Castillo’s words made me play with mine (even here in this “review”), and I’ll be amazed by the vivid dreams I’m probably going to have for the next few weeks because those words painted the inside of my brain in electric neon.

Hernandez Castillo writes about growing up, and sex, and birth and death, and birds and honey and words and dreams. He writes about having a brown body, and sorrow (unrelated)(?), and being an undocumented immigrant. His poems are peppered with prayers, and internal/external juxtapositions. Maybe I didn’t absorb it all, but I could appreciate the lyricism and flights of fancy and maybe I understood a few metaphors. I understood enough to like, to keep reading. I think it was beautiful. I kept rereading one line here, maybe two, pondering if that one or this one was something I’d copy down and keep. Okay, I know it was beautiful.

God, I don’t have anything else to say. Read that Shelf Awareness review. Read the book yourself (it’s compact). Let me know what you think of it. I am going to work on reading more poetry and I plan to come back to Cenzontle again. I’ll even buy my own copy this time so that the library doesn’t think it’s lost.

cenzontle by marcelo hernandez castillo book cover
In this lyrical, imagistic debut, Marcelo Hernandez Castillo creates a nuanced narrative of life before, during, and after crossing the US/Mexico border. These poems explore the emotional fallout of immigration, the illusion of the American dream via the fallacy of the nuclear family, the latent anxieties of living in a queer brown undocumented body within a heterosexual marriage, and the ongoing search for belonging. Finding solace in the resignation to sheer possibility, these poems challenge us to question the potential ways in which two people can interact, love, give birth, and mourn―sometimes all at once.
Older Posts Home