REVIEW:
Coachella Elegy

Runestone, volume 11

“REVIEW:
Coachella Elegy 

Runestone, volume 11

Reviewed by Elena Laskowski

— 

To hold love for a place, and for its people, is to hold sorrow for its downfall.

Christian Gullette’s debut collection of poetry, “Coachella Elegy”, is a meditation on the luxurious, tantalizing, and wasteful paradise of California. Gullette finds respite in L.A.’s relaxed culture and celebratory queer community, but it is contrasted with the effects of climate change and the weakening of his partner’s body due to cancer. His quiet but striking words reflect a reckoning with the temporal world that stokes the reader’s own desire and grief.

Many of these poems are actual elegies themselves, structured in couplets and reflecting on lost and waning things. Those not in couplets are in tercets, maintaining flow and cutting to the quick with a few carefully chosen words. When one line is placed in between to stand on its own, it calls attention to itself. Though not always an effective choice, there are instances like the provocative one-liner, “I’d follow L.A. boys anywhere” (pg. 8). The sentiment here reveals itself through Gullette’s pull towards L.A. and his desire for the pleasure to be found there. It speaks to his romanticization of this setting, a theme throughout, making the line a worthwhile break in the couplet structure.

Gullette depicts California’s flashiness, but also its serenity. From the beginning, he displays a longing for an eternity of boundlessness, craving the continuation of all the landscape’s pleasures. Unfortunately, he knows this wish is an impossible one: “The world / is coming apart. / Fire in the mountains. / He’s next to me. / Depthless water, / his body uncovered” (pg. 6). “Depthless” is a fantasy. The haven he has with his partner is a way to pretend that a moment can be enjoyed forever, that there is no limit on earthly pleasures such as clean water and time with a loved one. But the threat of natural disaster and his partner’s looming sickness are time bombs: “I’m thinking about us, / how easily it could all become smoke” (pg. 19). The world as he knows it is ending; his recognition of it only sharpens as the collection continues.

The motif of water is constant. Sometimes a wild and unpredictable ocean, other times the lazy peace of a backyard pool. And at others, a tie-in to his lover. The inclusion of Gullette’s partner is a deeply affecting comparison to the theme of joy amid a dying world. He describes the man’s brain in an MRI scan “like water / after rinsing a brush” (pg. 13), invoking the destruction of his body. Later, Gullette depicts an intimate moment of him climbing naked from a pool, describing the water droplets as trying “not to let go of him” (pg. 46) – a sentiment similar to his own attachments in the midst of impermanence.

The water is always present and personal for Gullette; as both a reminder of and place of respite from climate change. Destruction and salvation in the same setting. It is a strange dichotomy, this enjoyment of a breaking world – relatable to anyone wondering how much time is left to appreciate the likes of butterfly migrations, bee colonies, or clear blue water.

Gulette’s memories and experiences elicit an immersive tone that easily transfers emotion from speaker to reader. Objects too are vehicles for powerful sentiments, i.e. his attempt to grow orchids doubles as a reflection on whether he can raise children. In the titular poem, he conveys sorrow for the generations who have inhabited a dying earth: “There’s a forgotten / swing set submerged / in this sea. Young people who / once swayed on it still exist.” His voice is saturated with devastation, and yet he does not leave joy, or hope, behind. No, Gullette’s aim in this collection is not to dissuade from pleasure, despite his callout of the waste leftover from luxury. He shows the reader that pleasure is not welded to these things anyhow – the realest moments of desire and enjoyment come from his connection to others.

The tragedy of a ravaged world cannot be escaped. But it can be paired with celebration. In the last poem, he writes: “death followed us / here, too. / Best then to end on ecstasy.” (pg. 68). Which is just what he does, by ending his collection with a piece that embraces the messy, passionate indulgence of pleasure. It is a controversial thing to do, when fear for the world is so pervasive and not thinking about it can feel irresponsible. But with his meditations on climate change, Gullette has provided consideration of both devastation and carefree joy. Perhaps carefree vs. careless is the key to his conclusion. This book is no erasure of hard realities, since it bluntly declares them inevitable. It just offers moments of relief in between. Destruction and salvation; existing in the same place.