The Only Worlds We Know, By Michael Lee, Reviewed by K McClendon

The Only Worlds We Know, By Michael Lee, Reviewed by K McClendon

The Only Worlds We Know

Micheal Lee

Button Poetry

Fall 2019

ISBN: 978-1-943735-60-0

92 Pages

Reviewed by K McCLENDON 

If you are profoundly lucky, grief is something you know in name only. It has not yet made a home in the heart where someone you used to love once fit. Most of us carry on through the world ignoring death, attempting to make as little eye contact as possible. We assume tomorrow will come because if we didn’t, fear would make life impossible. But what happens when death becomes a force you can no longer ignore? What is there to do in life when you have no other option but to grieve?

In his debut book The Only Worlds We Know, published by Button Poetry Publishing Fall 2019, Michael Lee teases out these impossible ideas of death. He navigates the loss of a beloved friend to knife violence and the thin line between life and death as a recovering drug addict. 

There are many ways Lee attempts to describe death and its relationship to the body. A line from the poem “The Study Of The Dead And Puzzles” reads, “the knife does not kill the body it simply informs it / that death is possible; a single light flooding the room, / the one corner of the house we never knew / existed until all other rooms had darkened.” Another line from the poem “study of knives and music” says, “as if death is a kind of realization the body has.” Lee has an incredible way of giving death a soft side, a mystery that is not so terrifying. At the same time, he acknowledges that it is a sudden and incomprehensible thing the moment it happens. This balance is striking, as Lee is able to reduce death to a mere moment, the sun setting on a life.

Lee writes about the act of grieving.  In “A group of dead friends is called a memory,” he places the reader now at a dinner table, imagining dining with ghosts. They sit in the loneliness that comes with losing loved ones to the unexpected horrors of life. There are enough plates for the living and but not for the ghosts to feast. Michael, wonderfully alive, tells stories of times when these ghosts were not yet undone. He attempts to reconcile his own living, by recounting joy. 

When speaking of his life as a recovering addict, he emphasizes a different way of grappling with death. In the poem “Out There,” he writes about what it means for him to go to Alcoholics Anonymous and what it means when people stop coming to the meetings. “Each week a new man enters / the room, each week another man doesn’t / come back. What magic, to walk through / a door and then appear again as ink / in the Sunday paper. He went back out,/ the sentence a sentence… /and you wonder / where all these men have gone but you don’t / you know./ You know there is no long winter out there / where we dig through dead pines / in search of the bottom.” 

In this poem, Lee interrogates death as both addict and a witness to addiction’s power. It is a fact that if the addict drinks, smokes, or otherwise gives into the addiction, death is not only possible, but it is unavoidable. Lee centers himself in the middle of it, an addict who has seen his future over and over again in the ones who have gone out. Lee comes to terms with sobriety only after death is accepted as imminent. On the page this poem has power that is unprecedented, Lee’s performance of it is second to none, watch it here.

Lee speaks of death with a control that makes it seem like a manageable moment we all must inherit. He does not let us forget there is beauty and grace in this too. He masters grief in a way that allows space to be held for healing. This debut book of poems exhibits mastery of the abstract, working to uncover the darkness and confusion of the only worlds we know. 

Meet the blogger:
K McCLENDON is a junior at Hamline University where they study creative writing. K competes nationally as a spoken word artist. They have been an avid Button Poetry fan for many years and are now an intern at the company.

The Killers’ Literary Challenge By Tijqua Daiker

The Killers’ Literary Challenge By Tijqua Daiker

From the cinnamon challenge that had you gasping for breath in the half finished basement of the kid down the block to #thefloorislavachallenge #2k17, people these days no longer throw down their gauntlets or draw lines in the sand. Challenges take place on social media instead of the arena these days. They’ve certainly become a way to entertain and foster community.

I truly think that the lit-o-sphere could really benefit from creating some more challenges. 

We have National Novel Writing Month in November (NANOWRIMO) and National Poetry Month in April (30/30 or NAPOWRIMO), but something I really enjoy about other viral challenges is that they are not confined to a single month. The literary community is notoriously introverted – we’ve gotta be supporting each other year round. I’m talking 24/7 & 365. So, I’ve come up with a challenge made specifically for us book nerds that you could post anytime, anyplace:

The Killers’ Read My Mind Challenge

#fiction #short prose #idoubledog I can pinpoint the moment. I was late to The Killers’ fan fare, but when Brandon Flowers told me he got soul but he ain’t a soldier, I felt it like his layered harmonies were all tangled up in my ribcage. Twelve year old me had a near-spiritual epiphany: I can care without needing to put myself on the front lines.

So, yeah, All These Things That I’ve Done got me hooked, but then there was Read My Mind. Not only was it a bop for the entirety of my pre-adolescence, but it housed a challenge. That’s right, folks. Brandon Flowers threw down the gauntlet for writers everywhere when he said,

“the good old days, the honest man

the restless heart, the Promised Land

a subtle kiss that no one sees

a broken wrist and a big trapeze

the teenage queen, the loaded gun

the drop dead dream, the chosen one

a southern drawl, a world unseen

a city wall and a trampoline”

Here’s how you play: 

Brandon Flowers’ song gives you the idea bank. 

You try and use as many of his concepts as you can in a short story of your own. 

Imagine: an intense period piece set in the circus regarding  two trapeze artists stumble upon the missing murder weapon (a gun still loaded) and get roped into a life of crime. The crime lord is from Alabama who used to be an honest man. 

Imagine: a torrid apocalyptic rom-com short about your dream date- a brazen hooligan who has always been itching for adventure – falling prey to the legions of undead while your city builds a wall to ward off the zombie hoards. 

Imagine: a saccharine fantasy coming of age story in which a trans girl’s transition jump starts her fae-inheritance and now she’s dealing with being a faery queen at sixteen and ruling over a mythic, dangerous, beautiful world that’s entirely unseen.

And for a #challenge on top of this #challenge – get precise with your word count.

Read My Mind was released in 2007. Can you write a short can have exactly 2,007 words? The longest edited version of the song was the Gabriel & Dresden Unplugged Mix; it was 10 minutes and 24 seconds long. Can you write a short with exactly 1,024 words? The original track was 4 minutes and 6 seconds long. Can about a super short that’s only 406 words long? 

For some extra easter eggs in your #TheKillersReadMyMind challenge, here’s some more words to weave into your story:

  • Feburary 13th 

The song’s original release date 

  • Sam’s Town 

The name of the album

  • Belgium 

Read My Mind was big in Europe too; it ranked 12th on the charts in Belgium in ‘17

  • Friday Night Lights 

A remix of the song was featured on the NBC Series’ soundtrack

  • 1981 

Brandon Flowers, the lead singer of The Killers, was born in 1981 

  • Pet Shop 

The Pet Shop Boys have done at least 5 different edits of this song

  • Japanese Elvis Impersonator 

*shrugs* there’s one in the music video!

Can you think of any other guidelines for the challenge? 

If you do attempt the challenge, post your results on instagram and be sure to tag us:

@Runestone @tijqua #TheKillersReadMyMindChallenge 

Do it. I dare you.

Meet the blogger:
TIJQUA DAIKER graduates this spring from Hamline University. They live in Minnesota.

The Collected Schizophrenias By Esmé Weijun Wang, Reviewed By Eliot Joy

The Collected Schizophrenias By Esmé Weijun Wang, Reviewed By Eliot Joy

The Collected Schizophrenias

Esmé Weijun Wang

Graywolf Press 

February 2019

ISBN 1-555978273

224

Reviewed by ELIOT JOY 

I bought my copy of The Collected Schizophrenias in spring of 2019 at a small, local bookshop with a flutter of hope in my chest. It’s rare to find literature authored by someone whose experience bleeds past the common boundaries of low or labile mood into less digestible territory. Too often, stories of psychosocial disability—commonly known through a framework of psychiatric disorder—are told from the outside looking in. We are objects discussed, our stories shared without consent. If we are to tell our stories, people want rock bottoms, dark with dirt and blood, or a soaring recovery narrative: the Hero’s Journey, writ in couch and pill and Kleenex. I was depressed, anxious, maybe abused. My life fell apart. I got help. It gets better.

Glowing blurbs and accolades promised that Esmé Weijun Wang’s collection of essays held something more for we who move through extreme states and unusual experiences, we whose perception of the world differs from others around us. We need books by us, for us. I thought that’s what I picked up to read. I thought, between writer and reader could be found a welcoming “we”.

I was disappointed. As it turns out, own voice is not enough.

Reading The Collected Schizophrenias felt like eavesdropping on a conversation between Wang and the privileged sane. The collection of essays appears to operate with the intention of challenging preconceived assumptions that plague those who receive any variety of schizophrenic diagnoses and educating an ill-informed reader as to what it means to live such a life. A worthy intention, given the long history of dehumanization and systemic abuse suffered by folks given these and related diagnoses, including those who take steps to avoid psychiatric intervention. However, Wang’s attempts to secure humanization are entrenched in a desire to meet the very sociocultural standards that define away our humanity. Her assertions of personhood too often hinged on her social performance, achievements, education, even her verbal coherence while in extreme states. As someone who has found themself so lost in language that their words no longer made sense to anyone, even themself, let me keep this short and simple:

This book hurt to read.

Critical disability theory defines disability as a sociocultural failure to meet the needs of diverse people. Colonial capitalist structures and expectations are social constructs, and as such, any inability to meet these arbitrary standards is due to culture, itself. We are disabled by the social organism, not our individual bodies. This understanding is foundational to disability advocacy and pride. Without it, discourse enters dangerous territory, blaming challenge, pain, and suffering on diagnosis, limit, and boundary. Wang falls into this category too often for comfort; too often, even, for safety.

The essay “High-Functioning” discusses a speech she gives as a member of an anti-stigma speaker’s bureau, identifying active attempts to classify her value:

“That phrase, “prestigious university,” was there to underscore my kempt hair, the silk [Mark Jacobs] dress, my [Chanel and Tom Ford] makeup, the dignified shoes. … “Prestigious university” acts as a signifier or worth.”

She goes on to describe other such signifiers—her wedding ring, her entrepreneurial pursuits—but dumbs down her language in what appears to be an attempt to make her speech more accessible and relatable. Later, addressing a group of clinicians, she reinvokes SAT words and not-so-humble-brags about her role as a researcher at the Stanford Department of Psychology’s Bipolar Disorder Clinic, where she: “briefly wondered if these clinicians would even be able to find work.” She ends the essay:

“A bespectacled woman raised her hand. She said that she was grateful for this reminder that her patients were human too. … When she said this, I was fingering the skirt of my exquisite dress. I’d fooled her, or convinced her. Either way, I knew, was a victory.”

A victory shared only by those capable of meeting exceptional standards. Wang’s résumé is an outlier regardless of her psychosocial disability. If we have to match that level of achievement in order to appear human in the minds of clinicians, only Wang and other Ivy League alumni have a chance at personhood—if they’re lucky. For most of us, if these are the standards of humanity, we’re doomed.

Wang wants nothing more than to place herself among the high-achieving sane and is more than willing to leave the rest of us in her dust. The parallels between the glorification of her own disabled exceptionalism and a “not like other girls” brand of internalized oppression are as striking as they are harmful. Wang wants the reader to know she’s not like other crazy people. Unlike those crazy people, she is smart and successful; she has worth. Never mind that her value is counted in units of measure built by the very systems that disable us in the first place.

This attitude is most obvious, even self-aware, in “High-Functioning”, but it can be found in more subtle ways throughout the entirety of the book. For example, in “Towards a Pathology of the Possessed”, Wang investigates a murder trial of Malcoum Tate, a man cared for by his family after receiving a diagnosis of schizophrenia. His mother waited in the car while his sister shot him, reloaded, and shot him again, killing her brother with thirteen rounds to the head and back. Wang uses her research of this tragedy in a blended essay, exploring cultural and situational fear of crazy people, a bill in California that would strengthen the reach of involuntary treatment of psychiatric patients, and two organizations that fought for or against the bill. 

It seems Wang was attempting to show empathy for both sides of this argument and to point out a shared desire for improved access to community support for both individuals living with psychosocial disability and the families supporting them. For all the empathy she expresses for Tate’s murderers, she expressed little, if any, for Tate. She mentions his inability to speak for himself, which is certainly better than nothing, but it’s not the same thing as extending posthumous solidarity. Especially in the context of the humanizing quotes she extends to his murderers.

When Wang does offer space on the page to other people with psychosocial disability, they are usually people who have achievements and “signifiers of worth” much like her own. In “Towards a Pathology of the Possessed”, Julian Plumadore gets sizable quotes, describing his fight against the aforementioned bill in California and the power disparity between those fighting to increase the scope of involuntary practice and those fighting for their autonomy and humanity. I appreciate his story and the insights he shared about the racial and socioeconomic disparities between the two groups. It was hard not to notice, however, that she didn’t quote just anyone who fought against the bill, but a man with credentials: the manager of an anti-stigma speaker bureau and a former community advocate for another local organization.

In fact, there is a pattern in how she shares the page and gives platform to others with psychosocial disability. Those with “signifiers of worth” are treated as authority and equal, from Julian Plumadore of the speaker’s bureau, to Francesca Woodman, an accomplished young photographer who died of suicide, to Michelle Hammer, who runs Schizophrenic.NYC, an advocacy-focused clothing line. Those without “signifiers of worth” are treated by Wang much the way we are treated by sane people. They are given small vignettes, cautionary tales and examples of madness too far gone. She goes so far as to quote Jacques Lacan, who drew the line between the mysticism of John of the Cross and the madness of Daniel Schreber as such:

“…while John of the Cross wrote in a poetic way, Schreber did not.”

If certain aesthetics are required for us to maintain our personhood in the eyes of those in power, anything from taste to education to money will gatekeep our access to humanization. I can see how Wang might overlook the problem of aesthetics; after all, she, like many others, is empowered by fashion, a fact more uplifting than repeated reassurances that she has never experienced word salad. She can pass as sane when others cannot, and this passing protects her; even when she can’t pass, she is, at least, coherent. Rather than discuss her passing in terms of privilege or use her power to connect with those more marginalized than herself, Wang offers meager, handwringing self-reflections that do nothing to mitigate the damage of internalized ableism:

“Because I am capable of achievement, I find myself uncomfortable around those who are visibly psychotic and audibly disorganized. I’m uncomfortable because I don’t want to be lumped in with the screaming man on the bus, or the woman who claims that she’s the reincarnation of God. I’m uncomfortably uncomfortable because I know that these are my people in ways that those who have never experienced psychosis can’t understand, and to shun them is to shun a large part of myself.”

This fear of connecting with others like us also manifests itself in the erasure of our self-advocacy and organization. When I first read Wang’s essay “On the Ward” online, her glancing reference to “survivor-based movements” made her own voice narrative even more exciting. But again, I was disappointed. This is Wang’s only reference to psychiatric survivors and never does she specify what they survived. As a psychiatric survivor, this horrifies me. Nothing improved my quality of life like being connected to others who recognize the harmful, neglectful, and abusive practices suffered under the banner of psychiatry. Survivor communities save lives.

Not only does Wang fail to specify what she means by “survivor-based movements”, but her research reflects either a bias against or a woeful ignorance of such movements at large. In “Diagnosis”, an essay ripe with a variety of sources, she makes a sudden pivot from research into anecdote:

“Sometimes I encounter people who don’t believe in mental illness. These people may have been diagnosed with depression or anxiety at some point, but are usually symptom-free when I meet them. Often, they claim that such diagnoses are oppressive to those with unique abilities.”

If Wang cared to do her homework, she would find that survivor-based Mad Pride and Antipsychiatry movements have been spearheaded by people much like herself. People who have seen things and heard things others haven’t, who have suffered involuntary confinement and chemicals forced into their bodies, regardless of consent. A variety of cultures around the world view voice-hearing and other phenomenon through frameworks entirely other than the colonial strongarm of the American psychiatric paradigm, including frameworks of spirituality and connection to unseen forces. I can’t help but wonder how a book so lauded for its research overlooked these widespread, international movements, given her “prestigious” education.

The dearth of critical disability literacy in Wang’s book made it difficult to enjoy the true strength of her essays: the personal narrative. It’s a shame; Wang is a good writer. I enjoy her work when it doesn’t hurt. There are several I would recommend reading, despite some hesitation: 

“On the Ward” and “Perdition Days” depict extreme states and unusual experiences in-scene, without straying into sensationalism or spectacle. 

“John Doe, Psychosis” and “Chimayó” explore the intersection of psychosocial disability, trauma, and chronic illness. 

“Beyond the Hedge” provides a grounded example of non-clinical community support and less-colonial perspectives and frameworks for unusual experiences, as well as avenues of study and tools others can use to improve their sense of personal agency.

I believe that Wang worked very hard on these essays, striving to inform and debunk as she felt best equipped. I also believe there is more to challenging stigma than intellectualism, aesthetics, and exceptionalism. The Collected Schizophrenias fails to lift up anyone other than those who meet or exceed standards set by the systemic structures producing the conditions that disable populations of psychosocial diversity in the first place. Wang’s collection alienates the audience it might have touched and caters to an audience wielding power over us.

If you are interested in learning more about critical disability theory, mad pride and mad studies, and psychiatric survivor movements, I offer you the following resources:

Hearing Voices Network – USA and UK

The Icarus Project

Mad in America

The Chemical Imbalance Theory: Dr. Pies Returns, Again

Madness Radio

MindFreedom

The Underbelli

Mental Health, Madness, and Psychiatry: a study guide and annotated bibliography

Meet the blogger:
ELIOT JOY lives between some rivers and near a few lakes. Forever Falling Sideways of the Icarus Project first published their poetry in 2013. Their love of writing has been fostered since they were six years old.

 

Hoarding and Organizing: A Bookmark Writing Exercise for the Times

Work has been cancelled. School has been cancelled. Indeed life as we know it has been cancelled. Many of you might even be social distancing at home in your childhood bedrooms, away from your friends and writing community. Today, Runestone is here to offer you a writing distraction, that just may help you clean our cache of bookmarks any reader worth their weight in paper is sure to have stashed in the drawers or books.

Bookmarks are almost as essential to reading as the actual book itself. Without them, pages get folded and torn. Spines become bent and frayed from being left open upside down. Places are completely lost and precious reading time wasted frantically trying to remember where you left off.

A lot of people take bookmarks for granted, some are cheap handouts at events, some expensive, some a masterful work of art, some a ripped notebook page or playing cards. But really they’re essential to any complete reading experience. 

So if you need some inspiration for your current writing project or just want to see how many bookmarks you have hiding in your bookshelf, here’s a fun way to use your reading partners to change up your writing.

Step one: Raid your books and bookshelves, find as many bookmarks as you can. Make sure to replace them with a playing card from an incomplete deck so you don’t lose your place. Once you have at least five then you can have some fun.

Step two: Spread the bookmarks out on a flat surface, table, floor, desk, doesn’t matter. Arrange them in any shape or alignment you wish. Have a notebook and pen, or your computer nearby, whatever you want to write on next to you. Start something new or continue something old.

Step three: Examine your bookmarks. Do any of them depict a type of landscape? A forest, desert, the ocean, a city? Take that landscape and make it the setting of your story or scene. If you have more than one bookmark landscape, use that for the next story or scene.

Step four: Do any of your bookmarks have writing on them? Take the second, fourth, or eighth word (Depending on how long the message is) on each bookmark and use that to start or end your next few sentences.

Step five: Take the brightest colored bookmark in your collection. What’s the texture of it? Smooth, soft, rough? What’s it made out of? Paper, cloth, yarn? Use the details of the bookmark to craft a new character to use in your story or scene.

Step six: do any of your bookmarks have tassels on them? If you do, tie them together. Twist them up as tight as you can. Make each tasseled bookmark into a character, using step five, that has tangled, complicated relationships with each of the other characters. If you can, use them in this story or save them for another project.

Step seven: Are there any animals depicted on the bookmarks? Have this animal be the companion or pet of one or more of your characters if there’s more than one animal. 

Step eight: Choose any two bookmarks, your favorite ones. Use any images depicted, people, animals, landscape, colors to determine the next major external conflict of your story or scene.

Step nine: Choose two different bookmarks, doesn’t matter which ones, to determine how your story ends. Use the texture, images, words, animals, people of the bookmarks to figure out how you want to resolve the story or scene.

Once your story or scene is complete or has reached a stopping point, make sure to put all bookmarks back in the books where you found them. Do what you wish with the story or scene, keep it, edit it, add on to it, delete it, toss it in the trash, light it on fire and watch it burn in the kitchen sink.

Feel free to pull out the bookmarks again, or find new ones and write with them as much or as little as you want.

Happy Writing!  

Meet the blogger:
KATIE FLINT is a recent graduate of Hamline Universty with a BFA in creative writing. Her work can be found in The Fulcrum, and Sensicality. She loves writing fiction and poetry and enjoys exploring different genres. She adores dogs and almost every other creature on the planet except mosquitos. She can usually be found on the floor binge watching Netflix while her puppies snooze on the couch. 

The Gift of Handwriting, By Molly Johnson

The Gift of Handwriting, By Molly Johnson

There is a box, buried deep in my closet that contains easily hundreds of letters I have received over the course of my life – from pen pals, for birthdays, from kids I’ve babysat, even the occasional scrap of paper with a scrawled sentence passed to me in class. I will be the first to admit that it’s a bit of a pack-rat tendency to hang onto all these letters, but there is something charming and nostalgic that keeps me from ever willingly being able to part with them. 

Perhaps I am overly-sentimental, but there’s an often unnoticed beauty in a handwritten letter that is slowly dwindling away in the rise of much more efficient forms of communication. Why sit down to laboriously write out a letter to someone that will take days to even get to them? There is certainly no longer much logic to it, but there is a lost art.

I have found that it can be deeply personal to receive a handwritten letter. In an age where everything is being transformed to the peak of hyper-efficiency, knowing someone took the time to find some paper or a card, whip out a pen and write a note solely for my eyes can be more meaningful than a quick text message or email. Beyond that, the importance does not dwindle with time. As I look through dozens of letters, there’s still an excitement in unfolding paper that has become soft at the edges, reading old letters I’ve already read, learning again what someone wanted to tell me. 

Beyond that, I love the uniqueness of handwriting. I’ve heard countless people say that they hate their handwriting or that it’s terrible. I argue that no handwriting is truly terrible. Even the near illegible handwritings that take a bit of deciphering are wonderful, because they are just like humans – consistently different. Handwriting could even romantically be looked at as a physical expression of their personality.

To those who may argue that they never know what to write in a letter, I am well acquainted with that prick of anxiety when staring at a blank page and realizing that you have no idea what you want to say to that person. But I also have a “letter” buried in my cardboard box that is just my name written about thirty times all over the page and it still makes me smile when I see it. Sometimes it doesn’t have to be the eloquence of the words we write, but rather the gesture of human kindness in written form. Beyond that, as much creative energy you use to write a story or a poem could easily go into writing a letter. Just because you have a much smaller audience doesn’t mean you can’t make artistic choices in your creation.

As writers, we have the opportunity to utilize our love for the written word and create messages to those important to us – to uplift them, to tell them a story, or just to make them laugh. With the holidays approaching and the wallets of students always too thin, maybe a handwritten letter could take the place of a gift. Maybe the joy found in receiving a letter is not universal, but there are those who would deeply appreciate the gesture and perhaps you never know until you try.

Meet the blogger:
MOLLY JOHNSON lives and writes in the Twin Cities. She is a graduate of Hamline University, with a BFA in Creative Writing. She was awarded the 2018 HU Broadside Award in Fiction and is now pursuing her writing career outside of college.

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