wouldn’t things be different if nothing was an it?
why do you insist on the poet solely enduring
the depths, bringing back mud, forgotten pebbles
and broken glass from the bottom of the well,
hands covered in blood and mud,
dilated pupils and ashen faced,
swinging on a dilapidated bucket
the rope barely holding weight.
once again i’ll need
saffron and rose water
to reconnect to language
wilting on my tongue.
the recipe too complex.
the outcome untold.
i’m tired of making sense for you
carving meaning from pain or beauty,
from these mundane twigs i sweep up
from the floor while you participate
in the economy, go on vacation, post to social media.
my friend is an addict and baring the brunt
of your art in his basement in seattle.
the roots of a blooming life in the sun,
a broken heart wall on guard for clots
that could kill him.
wouldn’t things be different
if nothing was an it?
read that in a book today
not sure what to do with it.
Showing posts with label Joshua Mohr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joshua Mohr. Show all posts
July 19, 2021
200/365
July 18, 2015
All This Life
Joshua Mohr's fifth novel, All This Life, begins in traffic. On the Golden Gate Bridge. In a car. A father and a son. Both broken and searching for something to break the tedium of their lives. The father, recently divorced, ponders,"How can he tell his only son that being an adult is learning to live with your failures?"
A miraculous event during the traffic jam of this opening scene becomes the catalyst for the rest of this beautifully crafted and perfectly paced novel. The characters are trademark Mohr. Each one flawed in his/her own way, but this time around, each character is more vulnerable and likable because they each reflect our own insecurities about living in the modern age. Although the characters vary in age, gender and class, they are united in their yearning for the things that make life more than an endurance test. They each remind us of what it means to live.
By parading a cast of broken characters, Mohr shows us the many ways that, "Everyone swims in the earth's dirty broth." This time, however, he also tenderly reveals moments of grace and hope.
While tackling a wide range of theme and topics like parenting, Twitter, relapsing and addiction, growing old, or the gentrification of his beloved Mission District, Mohr operates with a deliberate and thoughtful prose which dare I say sounds like poetry.This is the kind of novel you will want to read in one sitting, knowing that you might start it from the beginning as soon as you finish.
All This Life is Mohr at his best and most hopeful. I wish I had more to say about this remarkable novel, but I would rather you unpack it yourself. This book deserves your time and attention, if for no other reason that to remind you that, "We will always be lost. We are the walking wounded and there's love in our hearts."
A miraculous event during the traffic jam of this opening scene becomes the catalyst for the rest of this beautifully crafted and perfectly paced novel. The characters are trademark Mohr. Each one flawed in his/her own way, but this time around, each character is more vulnerable and likable because they each reflect our own insecurities about living in the modern age. Although the characters vary in age, gender and class, they are united in their yearning for the things that make life more than an endurance test. They each remind us of what it means to live.
By parading a cast of broken characters, Mohr shows us the many ways that, "Everyone swims in the earth's dirty broth." This time, however, he also tenderly reveals moments of grace and hope.
While tackling a wide range of theme and topics like parenting, Twitter, relapsing and addiction, growing old, or the gentrification of his beloved Mission District, Mohr operates with a deliberate and thoughtful prose which dare I say sounds like poetry.This is the kind of novel you will want to read in one sitting, knowing that you might start it from the beginning as soon as you finish.
All This Life is Mohr at his best and most hopeful. I wish I had more to say about this remarkable novel, but I would rather you unpack it yourself. This book deserves your time and attention, if for no other reason that to remind you that, "We will always be lost. We are the walking wounded and there's love in our hearts."
October 9, 2010
Termite Parade
Joshua Mohr’s second novel, Termite Parade, can best be summarized by the scraps of its own prose. The regurgitated chunks of text when spread out on a blank page are all one needs to understand the painful themes he has so tactfully woven into the perfectly paced plot. Ignoring any traces of sophomore novel angst, Mohr unabashedly allows the reader to wallow in the “vibrancy of creation” while he holds up “a mirror to humankind, so the animals could see themselves.”
The idea of humans as animals is the backbone of Mohr’s tale. He forces the reader into the cages of three characters who “reveal every contortion of their flimsy spirits,” in everything they do and say. He unhurriedly creates a tapestry of shame, guilt, and regret. But rather than pity these lost souls who are trapped in their self-inflicted “dilapidated zoo,” and floundering in their “arrogant betrayals,” Mohr forces us to see ourselves in their malice and indignity.
Mohr’s characters and their abusive existences act as a reminder to us all that the human spirit, while masquerading as noble and benevolent is really just, “seconds from crumbling away.”
Early in the novel, Mohr states, “maybe there is no difference between evolution and devolution as long as it leads to change.” He then spends the remainder of the book deconstructing his three characters down to their most base emotions, and he painfully unveils the animal in us all. By allowing us to relate to their self-loathing, Mohr helps us unhurriedly peel back the duplicity we all hide behind to survive. “What’s the difference between lying to yourself and being redeemed?” He asks. Mohr dares us to admit that we don’t all constantly lie to ourselves.
While Termite Parade is a book that forces you to acknowledge the “neglected, hoarse conscience,” within us all, ultimately it is a novel of hope. Mohr may expose the hypocrisy of human happiness, but at the same time he alleges that perhaps when broken down to our most animal instincts we can, help the unveiled animal get “it’s voice back and sing.”
This novel is an honest and tender testimony to what it means to be human in the face of a world trapped in it’s own apathy and tedium. With every sentence carefully crafted, and every word chosen for immediate impact, it is littered with intense visceral scenes. You may be able to read it in one sitting, but this is a novel that will stay with you every time you look in a mirror and lie to yourself.
The idea of humans as animals is the backbone of Mohr’s tale. He forces the reader into the cages of three characters who “reveal every contortion of their flimsy spirits,” in everything they do and say. He unhurriedly creates a tapestry of shame, guilt, and regret. But rather than pity these lost souls who are trapped in their self-inflicted “dilapidated zoo,” and floundering in their “arrogant betrayals,” Mohr forces us to see ourselves in their malice and indignity.
Mohr’s characters and their abusive existences act as a reminder to us all that the human spirit, while masquerading as noble and benevolent is really just, “seconds from crumbling away.”Early in the novel, Mohr states, “maybe there is no difference between evolution and devolution as long as it leads to change.” He then spends the remainder of the book deconstructing his three characters down to their most base emotions, and he painfully unveils the animal in us all. By allowing us to relate to their self-loathing, Mohr helps us unhurriedly peel back the duplicity we all hide behind to survive. “What’s the difference between lying to yourself and being redeemed?” He asks. Mohr dares us to admit that we don’t all constantly lie to ourselves.
While Termite Parade is a book that forces you to acknowledge the “neglected, hoarse conscience,” within us all, ultimately it is a novel of hope. Mohr may expose the hypocrisy of human happiness, but at the same time he alleges that perhaps when broken down to our most animal instincts we can, help the unveiled animal get “it’s voice back and sing.”
This novel is an honest and tender testimony to what it means to be human in the face of a world trapped in it’s own apathy and tedium. With every sentence carefully crafted, and every word chosen for immediate impact, it is littered with intense visceral scenes. You may be able to read it in one sitting, but this is a novel that will stay with you every time you look in a mirror and lie to yourself.
May 20, 2009
Somethings That Meant The World To Me
I am very excited to be writing about a book just released by a good friend of mine. Josh and I worked together in several restaurants in San Francisco in the late 1990's. It is enough to say that we had some great times and that we that got into our share of trouble. It is also important to say that Josh is one of the most talented people I have ever met. Please support a fresh, young new voice in literature and read Somethings That Meant The World To Me. You will not be disappointed!
My review:
In his brutally candid debut novel, Joshua Mohr creates a hauntingly detailed, beautiful yet wretched world familiar to every loser/saint trying to escape his or her downward spiral.
The carefully crafted prose leaves the reading hanging on every word, allowing the narrative to read like a series of tight flash fiction pieces, rather than a novel which can so often get bogged down by the weight of its plot. The short chapters, like snapshots, ultimately come together to create the complete story. Even while the characters wallow in their pain, shame, and darkness, Mohr’s voice maintains a stubborn perseverance that forces the reader to care about each of them.
In the spirit of downtrodden heroes ala Elliott Smith and Charles Bukowski, we follow the main character, Rhonda, down his path of near misses and ultimate failures. At every turn we are left hoping that he will succeed, knowing that his self-destructive behavior will never allow him redemption.
Flip-flopping between the present and flashbacks to Rhonda’s childhood abuse and subsequent therapy, Mohr painstakingly creates scene after scene where even, “emptiness can suffocate you,“ while a series of seemingly shallow characters, slowly gain depth as the plot unfolds.
Although Mohr confesses that, “sometimes things are so black they are more than a color; they are a place, a lonely solar system,” there is an element of hope hidden in his words, literally buried at the bottom of a dumpster, which forces the reader not to give up on Rhonda. By the time Rhonda confesses to being, “tired of being obliterated,” the reader is left to ponder whether or not Rhonda will find happiness.
Read Josh's article at The Rumpus about being published.
My review:
In his brutally candid debut novel, Joshua Mohr creates a hauntingly detailed, beautiful yet wretched world familiar to every loser/saint trying to escape his or her downward spiral.
The carefully crafted prose leaves the reading hanging on every word, allowing the narrative to read like a series of tight flash fiction pieces, rather than a novel which can so often get bogged down by the weight of its plot. The short chapters, like snapshots, ultimately come together to create the complete story. Even while the characters wallow in their pain, shame, and darkness, Mohr’s voice maintains a stubborn perseverance that forces the reader to care about each of them.
In the spirit of downtrodden heroes ala Elliott Smith and Charles Bukowski, we follow the main character, Rhonda, down his path of near misses and ultimate failures. At every turn we are left hoping that he will succeed, knowing that his self-destructive behavior will never allow him redemption.
Flip-flopping between the present and flashbacks to Rhonda’s childhood abuse and subsequent therapy, Mohr painstakingly creates scene after scene where even, “emptiness can suffocate you,“ while a series of seemingly shallow characters, slowly gain depth as the plot unfolds.
Although Mohr confesses that, “sometimes things are so black they are more than a color; they are a place, a lonely solar system,” there is an element of hope hidden in his words, literally buried at the bottom of a dumpster, which forces the reader not to give up on Rhonda. By the time Rhonda confesses to being, “tired of being obliterated,” the reader is left to ponder whether or not Rhonda will find happiness.
Read Josh's article at The Rumpus about being published.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)