Week Nine: Jorie Graham, The End of Beauty

Jorie Graham’s The End of Beauty seems to be of quite a different timbre than the other books we’ve read so far this semester. I wonder how much its earlier publication date (1987) has to do with what seems to me like a much different tone. The book feels a little more familiar than some of the other things we’ve read since it’s decidedly more formal and traditional than some of the other works—it’s definitely more reminiscent of the kind of classic poetry I was exposed to in high school. Upon opening the book and seeing the form on the page, I wasn’t surprised that the poems seemed to stay in the realm of Adam and Eve and Biblical creation. I think it’s very interesting how subtly Graham shifts from her Biblical theme to more personal poetry. It happened so gradually that I wasn’t very aware of it until I got to “Breakdancing.”

                It seemed like the first major subject change. Looking back I realize that there’s a lot of non-Biblical content before that, but Breakdancing itself seems like an odd, even startling topic for a poem in this volume, or, at least, it did to me until I read it. When I think of breakdancing I think, “cool,” and not much beyond that. So I was impressed with how much beauty Graham sees there and how beautifully she describes the act of breakdancing, using that as a vehicle to discuss a lot more than just a dance. But like much of the volume, I kind of lost track of where this poem was. That feeling of lostness was comfortable in some of the more abstract poetry we’ve read because it made sense, but it was a little disconcerting here.

                I think the major strength and beauty in Grahams poetry comes through her stunning images and descriptions. “Breakdancing” has some moments that are surprising but so fitting. And while some of the other poets have used vague hints towards imagery to then create a scene, Graham makes interestingly specific use of words and phrases to cultivate really full, rich images. A favorite from “Breakdancing” is “Minutes exploding like thousands of silver dollars all over your/ face your hands but tenderly, almost tenderly, turning mid-air, gleaming,/ so slow, as if it could last.” I’ve never heard anyone describe anything as being like thousands of exploding silver dollars. So the image itself is compelling and lovely, but the surprise of its uniqueness adds an interesting dynamic to the emotional response the poem provokes. I’m looking forward to talking more about Graham in class.