A review of Linda Lamenza’s FEAST OF SEVEN FISHES
Some say breakfast—colazione, in Italian—is the most important meal of the day.
In Linda Lamenza’s rich new volume of work, Feast of the Seven Fishes, readers are served morning poems (breakfast selections, if you will) that do not disappoint. And it does not stop there. The curious structure of this collection is alluring and inviting, a promise of three sweet and savory meals a day: Part One, Colazione. Part Two, Pranzo. Part Three, Cena.
The tastings are complex, all in the form of gritty and glittering poetry, written by an artisan of language with a careful, caring hand and heart.
An abundance of attention is paid to tiny mercies, delicate noticings of the everyday. Lamenza is particularly adept at this.
In “Because My Father Was Drunk By Noon”:
At the top, rescued animals are in cages.
A skunk has a sign saying he can’t spray anymore.
I speak to him in a friendly voice.
Tell him sorry you lost your powers.
and
My mother looks past me.
We drive the empty Taconic Parkway home.
Slowly we pull into the driveway:
broken flower pots, bottles of Piels Beer,
some whole, some shattered.
We go inside.
Couch crooked, coffee table toppled over.
One spindle of the rocking chair rests
on the shag carpet.
Dad, asleep in his Easy Chair.
On the television screen, Audrey Hepburn
pulls on her long, white gloves.
In quintessential Lamenza-style, the players are broken but somehow attuned to light.
Here, too, little flashes of brightness amid an icy bare, as we see in “Salve Regina”:
I sit on the cool linoleum,
clutch my rosary beads,
recover from fainting,
what the nuns call being moved
by the grace of Mary, Mother of God,
the treeless blacktop cleared for the May
Crowning,
the metal folding chairs lined
up in rows searing in the sun.
And there is food, glorious food! Braided into the family storms, self-reflection, and nods to the natural world are platters of aromas, tastes, and textures. They fill the table that is this volume of rich, rich work. From “Easter Lunch,” a selection that prompts wonder about change—in bodies and in bonds:
As words exit her lips, I
wonder if we tasted the same thing when
we split that last piece of ricotta pie.
Maybe she tasted the bitter orange,
while I tasted the sweet cheese.
Lamenza’s willingness to go all in here is admirable and liberating. Some of the settings: gardens and kitchens and church pews and courthouses, on country roads and suburban parkways, in JoAnn Fabrics and Teatown Reservation and the Gulf of Mexico. And what is revealed? The complexities and compassions of an Italian American childhood turned womanhood: hunger, love, forgiveness, and flawed, fierce souls.
Dereck Walcott’s 1976 poem “Love After Love” stirs the reader with these final lines: “Sit. Feast on your life.”
Linda Lamenza has done just that in this newest volume of spectacular work. With grace, she serves a glorious feast, indeed.
Feast of Seven Fishes by Linda Lamenza is available from Nixes Mates Review.
