The Body's Question by Tracy K. Smith

The Body's Question Reviews

• 
  Brina

  Debut collection of poetry in 2002 by Tracy K Smith, current poet laureate of the United States. Even with this early writing of hers, one could sense that she was destined for poetry stardom. Luscious words, straddling two cultures, thought provoking prose of time and place. I have now read all of her poetry collections and will either have to wait impatiently for the next one or go back and read all of her other work. Tracy K Smith is the poet I am most drawn to, and one of few authors that I maintain could write a cereal box and I would still read it. Until next time, I look forward to all of Smith’s future writing.
  
  4 + stars
• 
  Michael

  A wide-ranging debut collection of poems, set mostly in California, exploring everything from pangs of appetite to the trials of life on the borderlands. Smith inhabits many voices here, and the plainspoken writing’s solid but not as strong as her later work.
• 
  Jeff

  I'm just gonna quote stuff.
  
  I really liked the first poem, "Something Like Dying, Maybe."
  
  But section I was only mostly to my liking with the exception of the last half of "Gospel: Miguel (El Lobito)"

  Whoever won
  Would go into the woods
  And take whatever grew.
  
  That night, we sat on the hill
  Watching the fires burn.
  They'll still be slaves,
  
  He said. Nothing
  That means anything
  Has changed

  
  By far my favorite is section I of "Drought"

  The hydrangea begins as a small, bright world.
  Mother buries rusty nails, and the flowers
  Weep blue and pink. I am alone in the garden,
  And like all else that is living, I lean into the sun.
  
  Each bouquet will cringe and die in time
  While the dry earth watches. It is ugly,
  And the earth is ugly to allow it. Still, the petals
  Curl and drop. Mother calls it an exquisite waste,
  
  But there is no choice. I learn how:
  Before letting go, open yourself completely.
  Wait. When the heavens fail to answer,
  Curse the heavens. Wither and bend.

  (hubris's aside: Dear Ms Smith, i want you to change "the heavens fail" to "the sky fails")
  
  
  From "A Hunger So Honed":

  Free in a way that made me ashamed for our flesh—

  and

  There were two that faced us a moment
  The way deer will in their Greek perfection.

  
  All five ?subpoems? that make up "Joy" but especially the fifth:

  These logs, hacked so sloppily
  Their blonde grains resemble overdone poultry,
  Are too thick to catch.
  
  I crumple paper to encourage the flame,
  And for a brief moment everything is lit.
  
  But the logs haven't caught,
  Just seem to smolder and shrink
  As the heat works its way to their center.
  
  Getting to what I want
  Will be slow going and mostly smoke.
  
  Years ago during a storm,
  I knelt before the open side
  Of a blue and white miniature house,
  
  Moving the dolls from room to room
  While you added kindling to the fire.
  
  It is true that death resists the present tense.
  But memory does death one better. Ignores the future.
  We sat in that room until the wood was spent.
  
  We never left the room.
  The wood was never spent

  
  From "Self-Portrait as the Letter Y":

  She will never be free
  Because she is afraid. He
  
  Will never be free
  Because he has always
  
  Been free.

  
  From "Night Letters":

  ... days glide by
  Like southward birds

  and

  All the words for reason
  Lie heaped at the back of a closet
  I will not open
  Until the sun has crossed my window
  For the last time without waking you.

  and

  I listen, knowing
  You are so far away I must be
  Inside you, knowing the night is a great,
  Soft, whispering, steady thing
  Going on in and around you
  And that I am in it.

  
  From "What Fear Is":

  Voices that are not yours
  Lining up to touch me
  While I pray.

  
  Ignoring the actual last poem, the final lines, from "Shadow Poem":

  You are not the only one
  Alive like that

  
  Also i love the painting used on the cover.
• 
  saïd

  Tracy K. Smith’s “
  Self-Portrait as the Letter Y” is a great poem. Here’s my favourite bit:

  You are pure appetite. I am pure
  Appetite. You are a phantom
  In that far-off city where daylight
  Climbs cathedral walls, stone by stolen stone.
  I am invisible here, like I like it.
  The language you taught me rolls
  From your mouth into mine
  The way kids will pass smoke
  Between them.

  But my favourite poem of hers, of course, is the one about the
  house that believes it is not a house.
• 
  Lauren

  Smith's debut collection from 2003 is so strong - loved seeing the early stages here in this collection.
• 
  Sarah

  Meh . . . a couple good lines and images, but mostly Contemporary Poetry. Lots of poems that end with a single image (usually a capital-M Metaphor) trying to perfectly wrap things up by not appearing to be a definite ending. Sometimes they work, but mostly I just notice how she's trying. Maybe Duende is better.
• 
  Nakarem

  2.5 stars
  Maybe I listened to it at the wrong time because I cannot pinpoint any actual things I dislike about these poems but they also barely hit me so I'm not sure I want to give the 3 stars I decided on
• 
  Micah Horton hallett

  Tracy K. Smith. Tracy K. Smith. Tracy K. f*cking Smith. She makes me want to make words again, but infects me with her language and lineation so that I am not sure where my work begins and where my ineffectual echo of her ends. She makes me want to weep, she makes me weep- and laugh and nod and raise my fist. She has FLOW, like the best of performance poets- she has wisdom and makes pictures in my head that ebb and flow and I need her to release another book now. Please.
• 
  James Tierney

  So redolent of speech that it's too perfect for speaking. Is that one of poetry's definitions?
• 
  Anne

  Studded with brilliant imagery.
• 
  Kristin

  A strong debut.
• 
  hh

  3.5
• 
  Hope

  sometimes I don’t understand poetry & other times it just wrecks me!!!!
• 
  Sam

  4.5 — astonishing, can’t believe it was her debut
• 
  Ana Hein

  3.5 stars
• 
  tortoise dreams

  The first book of poems by the Poet Laureate of the United States.
  
  Poetry Review: The Body's Question is an amazing first book, and reassuring in that contemporary American poets are still writing poetry this wonderful. Tracy K. Smith creates within the great tradition of lyric poetry, but her poems are fresh, individual, and modern (yet retro enough to capitalize every line). Too many poets today write poetry so opaque that it couldn't be deciphered by a CIA analyst. Or write poems so accessible there's little substance or meaning, like shower thoughts, like tumblr poetry. Smith writes real poetry (sorry, but true). She's a Romantic. Her poems can be timeless ("A Hunger So Honed") or as immediate and pointed as breaking news: "That's why women/Wear worry and cover their heads, let their words/Drop like shot birds from the higher windows./Every night here one of us is sliced open."
  
  At heart, Smith describes a young woman seeing and enjoying what life has to offer, with her memories never too far from the surface. She has wonderful lines: "I woke, touching ground gently/Like a parachutist tangled in low branches." or "Lying beside you was like/Dangling a leg/Over the edge/Of a drifting boat." or "I have always been this beautiful/and this dead." Appropriately, the book begins with a "Serenade" and ends with a "Prayer." The word "hunger" is a drumbeat throughout the pages, covering everything from desire to ambition to need. The Body's Question includes love poems (many), memory poems, travel poems, confessional poems. The ghosts of the Spanish poets drift through. There's metaphor if you like that, but if you don't you can just kick back and enjoy the pyrotechnic imagery. The amount of work that went into these poems is astonishing. She constructs brilliant first and last lines, and then fills the in-between with revelatory pictures. It's not just that Smith is talented, clever and intelligent, but she knows, she knows what she's doing:
  
  Success must hurt. Must yield sharp evidence.
  I'll have to lie to get it.
  Like love.
  
  Don't let Kevin Young's introduction turn you off, if it does; poets writing about poets can be something of a swamp (I'm currently reading his new book, Brown). If you want an example of the best of contemporary poetry, The Body's Question is it. [4★]
• 
  Mely

  Not the flame, but what it promised,
  Surrender. To be quenched of danger.
  I torched toothpicks to watch them
  Curl around themselves like living things,
  Panicked and aglow. I would wake,
  Sheets wrinked and damp, and rise
  From that print of myself,
  From that sleep-slack dummy self.
  Make me light.
  
  No one missed my shadow
  Moving behind the house, so I led it
  To the dry creek-bed and laid it down
  Among thistledown, nettle,
  Things that hate water as I hate
  That weak, ash-dark self.
  I stood above it,
  A silent wicked thing that would not beg.
  I crouched, and it curled before me.
  I rose, and it stretched itself, toying.
  
  And the brambles whispered.
  And my hands in their mischief.
  
  A spasm, a spark, a sweet murmuring flame
  That swallowed the creek-bed and spread,
  Mimicking water. A gorgeous traffic
  Flickering with light, as God is light.
  I led my shadow there and laid it down.
  And my shadow rose and entered me.
  And on the third day, it began to speak,
  Naming me.
• 
  Jason

  I would give this book 6 stars if I could, or 600. I read our Poet Laureate's books in reverse order, Life on Mars when it first came out, and only got to Duende and this recently. This might be my favorite. The voice is so beguiling, by turns colloquial and sophisticated, with so many arresting images and metaphors.
• 
  Markus

  Drought
  
  Not the flame, but what it promised,
  Surrender. To be quenched of danger.
  I torched toothpicks to watch them
  Curl around themselves like living things,
  Panicked and aglow. I would wake,
  Sheets wrinkled and damp, and rise
  From that print of myself,
  From that sleep-slack dummy self.
  Make me light.
  
  No one missed my shadow
  Moving behind the house, so I led it
  To the dry creek-bed and laid it down
  Among thistledown, nettle,
  Things that hate water as I hate
  That weak, ash-dark self.
  I stood above it,
  A silent wicked thing that would not beg.
  I crouched, and it curled before me.
  I rose, and it stretched itself, toying.
  
  And the brambles whispered.
  And my hands in their mischief.
  
  A spasm, a spark, a sweet murmuring flame
  That swallowed the creek-bed and spread,
  Mimicking water. A gorgeous traffic
  Flickering with light, as God is light.
  I led my shadow there and laid it down.
  And my shadow rose and entered me.
  And on the third day, it began to speak,
  Naming me.
• 
  Emily Green

  The Body’s Question, winner of the Cave Canem prize, is Tracy K. Smith’s first book of poetry. Kevin Young’s introduction is quite brilliant and points out a lot what is beautiful about the book. The metaphors in the book are not as explosively surprising as what I prefer, but there is a lot to admire in this book.
  
  Her control of the line is pretty genius. Take “Self Portrait as the Letter Y:”
  Was kind of a rebel then.
  Took two cars. Took
  Bad advice. Watched people’s
  Asses. Sniffed their heads.
  
  I know, right? The book is emotionally intense, but far from melodramatic. A great range of voices throughout the poems. First work from a great talent.
  
• 
  Courtney Ferriter

  ** 3.5 stars **
  
  The through line in Smith's debut poetry collection is the needs of the body - hunger, thirst, sexual desire, closeness with others. I liked some of the poems here very much: Smith's "Gospel" poems, "Appetite," "Joy," "Bright," and "Prayer" were my favorites. Others felt somewhat unfinished or less fully formed, but overall still a solid collection. It's not as structurally or linguistically experimental as I tend to prefer in contemporary poetry, but a thought-provoking volume nevertheless. Would recommend if you like poetry and/or works by contemporary African American writers.
• 
  Cornelio

  Her debut collection, already you see the voice that I’ve come to love, that in itself is music, while crafting these evocative scenes that make you face your own, as the best art does.
  
  “You are looking too
  In that language you exhale
  Like globes of air
  That rise and break
  On the surface of what is real.
  I love you. These are not
  The words any more
  Than that hidden skin,
  Dark from childhood
  In a place too beautiful
  To exist, is you.
  But I reach for it
  And we are closer.”
  
  —excerpt from “The Machinery of Evening”
• 
  R.C.

  I'd say this is 2.5 stars, partway between "it was OK" and "I liked it". Smith's word-smithing is great, but often I felt like I loved certain lines but that the entire poem lacked a coherent center. She'd lose me about halfway through, I'd reread a line and love it, then try to reread the whole poem and get lost in the same way again. Perhaps subsequent readings will help.
• 
  Scott

  As with _Life on Mars_, I really wanted to like this book of poetry more. I love Smith’s use of language. While there were a few poems I loved (such as “Mangoes” and “Appetite”), so many of the poems lack enough context or concreteness for me to make sense of them. They seem to be written to herself or to a specific person, not the general reader.
• 
  Jack Heller

  This is the fourth book I have read by Smith. Here, in her first book, she reminds me of Rita Dove in GRACE NOTES. A lot to like in the imagery, but the contexts are personal to Smith. Therefore, there will be always some distance and limitation for the reader, to know whom Smith is writing about, and why. I enjoy the collection, but I would recommend her more recent collections first.
• 
  Lynda M

  I like the fact that her poetry is personal and intimate, yet she provides windows and doors that allow you to enter in and look around. We see the private universe(al) through her eyes and voice without seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, perhaps because there is no tunnel.
• 
  Josh

  The Body's Question is a collection which includes some great moments of language--images and lines that demand the reader stops to consider them, to see things differently, to encounter voices removed by time and distance but deeply personal in their unexpected capturing of humanity.
• 
  Antonia

  Maybe more like a 2.5 from me. Just not a big fan.
  
  Must agree with Goodreads reviewer Scott, who said: “So many of the poems lack enough context or concreteness for me to make sense of them. They seem to be written to herself or to a specific person, not the general reader.”