Book Review: Wager by Adele Elise Williams

By: Annaliese Kunst

Wager is former Cream City Review contributor Adele Elise Williams’ debut poetry book—as well as the finalist for the 2024 Miller Williams Poetry Prize, in which the judge Patricia Smith described it as “crafted to upend the familiar.” This poetry collection explores how trauma fundamentally changes you and the harsh realities of an idealized Americana with meticulous wit and technique. 

As soon as you start reading Wager, Williams shocks and challenges the readers in a seemingly simple poem titled “Deconstructing Milk Baby” that grows more complex the deeper you look. The poem explores Williams’ life in a simplified, broken-down formula, using repetition of “and before that” to mimic the cyclical nature of life. The strongest part of this piece is when Williams showcases how everything that happens to us—from birth to death—changes who we are: 

“I was a floor baby / but not a bed baby / so my head / is round-round / like an acorn, / like a bumble / that bothered, left / and then returned. / Full circle. Full of resentment. / I am full of resentment / and fear. / I am a fearful woman.” 

Williams returns once more to playing with time and childhood anxieties in “Earliest-Memory Prompt.” The use of enjambment within this poem forces the reader to keep reading and reading at a quick pace, just how these images flash through the speaker’s mind when she recalls her childhood. Additionally, the speed and pace at which she guides you through the poem leads you to gut-wrenching, subtly confronting lines. Flashes of tense childhood memories scar and leave an imprint on you, yet as Williams showcases here, are just another snapshot within your mind. The poem ends on a shocking note that perfectly displays how traumatic memories as a young child shape you:  

“the heavy buckle snapping like cherry the dropping / like pop, no, it is like how at the deepest moment / of fucking i wanna die.”  

The poem, “God Bless Americana,” details how the very core of Americana is brutalized violence while also portraying the inequalities between social classes within this culture. Yet, there is a clash between the speaker and blue-collar culture when it comes to roadkill and violence. The word choice of this poem is terrific, consistently using words associated with death and gore to immerse us into the rural South setting, while also juxtaposing it alongside mentions of Santa and G.I. Jane to showcase the clash between the speaker and this culture of violence. The combination of violence and childlike imagery is what really sells the poem: 

“and after the neighbor shut her / door I ran to the beg, my hatchet at the ready, gripped cautiously / like a child’s hand while street crossing and when I opened / the trashed bag there was nothing inside but blood, blood.”  

In “Take the Bait” Williams explores how harsh realities of her childhood still persist within her. She details rescuing animals and trying to help them, but always ended up slowly watching them die. This cycle led to morbid curiosity and obsession, which later leaked into other aspects of her life, such as writing poetry. The violence of roadkill and animals being hunted and consumed is examined and paralleled alongside fruit imagery and innocence, perfectly showing Williams’ addictive nature. 

“I remember caring / for the strays under our house… I’d watch them die, always sick / and on the edge… Was my / interest in salvage or ritual?… I remember / the first poem I ever wrote — a clementine / full-faced and gasping as I consumed it / whole, even the juices hollered.” 

It is impossible to easily and quickly summarize Wager in a few words, just as it is impossible to write a review on it and capture all of its themes. Williams is a firecracker and has an expert understanding of pacing, switching from lingering on a graphic image or skipping right past it like it was an everyday image. She keeps readers on their toes and her collection begs you to keep reading until all the poems have been consumed whole. 

Wager is out now to read. Copies are available from University of Arkansas Press. You can order a copy here: https://www.uapress.com/product/wager/ 

Bios:

Annaliese Kunst is an undergraduate student at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She is majoring in English with a focus in Creative Writing. Previously, she was the Managing Editor of UWM’s undergraduate literary magazine Furrow.

Book Review: Softie by Megan Howell

By: Emily Barnard

Softie, written by Washington, D.C. author Megan Howell (pictured), is a thought-provoking book featuring a collection of short stories. These stories, while including contrasting characters, worlds, and genres, carry similar themes that ring true for many. Many of the protagonists in Howell’s stories are young women of color, who have experienced some form of prejudice either within their own experiences or their families’. 

Family is a prominent theme throughout Howell’s stories, both the challenging and priceless aspects of it. In particular, abuse within families is a subject touched on frequently, as is how Howell’s protagonists overcome it. Howell delivers on these themes in her stories in a powerful way, creating an air of sympathy and relatability for her various protagonists in their different, yet recognizable dynamics between parents and their children. 

One story in Softie that touches on the topic in an endearing and emotional way is the very namesake of the book, “Softie.” The story features a young Black girl named Clio who lives with her father, a famous Hollywood director. Clio’s father has treated her poorly her entire life, abusing her in ways a father never should. In this excerpt, Howell reveals Clio’s internal feelings toward her father: 

“I’d been infected by him for so long I could only feel sorry for him the same way he did for himself and maybe me to some extent. He looked like a little boy even though he towered above the squat businessmen sitting with him. His hands were folded politely in his lap. He nodded. His eyes look worried. His back was hunched. I felt so humiliated for him that I wanted to kill him just to stop feeling.”  

Clio resents her father for everything he has done to both her and the other girls in his industry. She is embarrassed that he is her father, but at the same time, knows no other alternative. Clio does not yet realize that there is a way out. Howell’s tragic and realistic tale of child abuse will make readers’ hearts ache for Clio. Throughout the story, Howell builds strong development for Clio as she realizes the extent of how troubling her situation is, and her desire to be free grows. 

Another story in Softie that explores such themes in both a harrowing and realistic way is called “Melissa, Melissa, Melissa.” The namesake of the title, Melissa, is a young girl who lives with her parents: a white father and a Black mother. While she has many fond memories of her father, a darker side to him is revealed throughout the story when Melissa recounts the moment leading up to him leaving. Howell successfully uses juxtaposition to compare the behaviors of Melissa’s parents, highlighting a healthy relationship between a parent and child with an unhealthy one. By telling the story in the eyes of a young girl, Howell captures just how damaging these situations are to children. Readers, through Melissa’s perspective, will feel just as powerless as she did when she reflects on her father’s behaviors toward his family: 

“I don’t think he ever apologized to Mom for anything. Not when he called her filthy names just to get a rise out of her; not when he went behind her back to make big, confusing purchases like the antique set of fishery books; not when he poked fun of her anger, dressed her down, or lied to her.” 

Though “Softie” and “Melissa, Melissa, Melissa” are written in a realistic nature, Howell has quite a few stories in Softie that, while drawing elements of the fantastical, still carry these recognizable themes of relationships and family. An example of such a story is “Kitty & Tabby.” The protagonist, Tabitha, is a high school girl who has remarkably familiar struggles. She does not have many friends, nor does she have a healthy relationship with her father. When Tabitha befriends Kitty, a girl who lives nearby, Tabitha’s perception of the world around her changes forever. Howell delivers these themes in a new, exciting way while digging deeper into the psychology of parents, exploring how many view their children as their own legacies. 

Abuse within families can take many forms and have various roots, which Howell portrays sensitively in Softie. By writing in the perspective of these young women, she demonstrates their inner thoughts superbly. Readers can feel how distraught and unsafe they feel in their situations and cannot help but root for them when their resolve to be free grows. Howell’s provocative stories, no matter the genre, will prove inspirational for anyone who can relate to and feel moved by the various strong and complex protagonists in Softie. 

Softie will be released in November 2024. Copies are available from West Virginia University Press.

Bios:

Megan Howell: Megan is a DC-based writer. She earned her MFA in Fiction from the University of Maryland in College Park, winning both the Jack Salamanca Thesis Award and the Kwiatek Fellowship. Her work has appeared in McSweeney’s, The Nashville Review and The Establishment among other publications. Her debut short story collection Softie is forthcoming with West Virginia University Press in November 2024.

Emily Barnard: Emily Barnard is an undergraduate student at UWM. She is majoring in English, currently on the Creative Writing track, and minoring in Film.

Book Review: Brazos by Justin Carter

By: Emily Barnard

Brazos is the first book written by former Cream City Review contributor Justin Carter. This poetry collection primarily focuses on Carter’s upbringing and childhood in a small Texas town. The poems within Brazos have themes within them that many, whether they’ve grown up in a small town or large city, can relate to. Themes of belonging, growing up, and desire for change are all found within Carter’s thought-provoking poems that ring true for many Americans’ lives. 

One poem in Brazos, “Self-Portrait Without Adornment,” details how Carter views his hometown after spending many years away. Like many, Carter left his hometown as an adult to discover what else was out there. In this poem, Carter reflects on the behaviors and mannerisms of the people he used to call neighbors. An excerpt from the poem that portrays this feeling of displacement reads: 

“I visit / for holidays & leave again, / a tourist in a world of familiarity. / Self-portrait as endless train. / Years ago, an electronic billboard / advertised the fireplace store / & the boat repair shop. But one morning, / I looked up and saw Barack Obama’s face / behind prison bars. I knew, then, / I needed to escape.” 

There were many factors that made Carter feel alienated from his community, and the imagery that he uses to display these complex feelings is phenomenal. These differing opinions and values in life were the deciding factor for him to leave his hometown behind and look to the future, to find a place where he can truly feel a sense of belonging. Without feeling connected to your community, it can be very hard to live a fulfilling life, which Carter portrays beautifully in this poem. 

Even though Carter emphasizes how important it was for him to leave his hometown behind, he does not gloss over the challenges and hardships that came with renouncing everything that he knew. Carter displays some of these melancholic feelings in this excerpt from “Self-Portrait Without Adornment”: 

“I’m 32 & know I’ve seen my parents / more in the past than I will / in the future.” 

Though Carter reflects on his hometown with a feeling of sorrow, there are some bittersweet aspects of his childhood that he looks upon with fondness, as seen in the poem “Some Things I Miss”: 

“Every bar called a beer joint & my uncle in a cowboy hat crooning George / Jones songs on Friday nights, the drift of cigarette smoke, the small / impact of pool cues. Straining my eyes in the midnight fog for a lone / doe beside the road, ready to swerve away.” 

The way Carter incorporates senses in this poem, such as hearing his uncle sing, and smelling cigarette smoke, helps readers imagine what life was like for him in this town. Though Carter knew that he had to leave his hometown to move forward with his life, he still holds fond memories of living there. Sometimes the smallest moments can be the most meaningful, and Carter illuminates this nostalgic feeling exquisitely.  

The poems in Justin Carter’s book Brazos display a sense of humanity that encourages reflection upon one’s own life. Growing up, moving away, and discovering who you are, are all aspects of life, even if hard, that everyone must go through. And even though it is important to move forward in this way, we should hold and treasure the memories that have shaped the people we have become. 

Brazos will be released on August 6, 2024. Copies are available from Belle Point Press.

Bios:

Justin Carter: Justin Carter’s poems have appeared in The Adroit Journal, Bat City Review, DIAGRAM, and other spaces. Originally from the Texas Gulf Coast, Justin currently lives in Iowa and works as a sports writer and editor. Brazos is his debut collection.

Emily Barnard: Emily Barnard is an undergraduate student at UWM. She is majoring in English, currently on the Creative Writing track, and minoring in Film.

An Interview with Dorsía Smith Silva

By Keinana Shah

What does it truly mean to drown? According to Dorsía Smith Silva, it means more than you would think. Her upcoming debut poetry collection, In Inheritance of Drowning, explores the devastating effects of Hurricane María in Puerto Rico, highlighting the natural world, the lasting impact of hurricanes, and the marginalization of Puerto Ricans. These poems also focus on the multiple sites of oppression in the United States, especially the racial, social, and political injustices that occur every day. The book is set to be published by this fall, November 2024. Yet I had the privilege of a sneak preview as well as a chance to talk about Dorsía’s writing process and ideas.

KS: What inspired you to write this anthology of poems?

DSS: I wrote In Inheritance of Drowning because I wanted readers to have a deeper understanding of Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico is too often depicted by glossy photographs of beaches and sunshine. Readers are probably unaware of the extent of the damage Hurricane María caused in Puerto Rico and that Puerto Rico suffered the longest blackout in U.S. history. It took about eleven months for all of Puerto Rico to have electricity. Over two thousand people died, and several flattened buildings and homes have never been repaired. The response for aid to Puerto Rico was and still is lackluster, so you can imagine the widespread devastation and the emotional, physical, and mental toll on us. The roots of Puerto Rico being under the thumb of colonialism with the U.S. are crushing. Some of the poems in In Inheritance of Drowning also explore the experiences of those that had to leave Puerto Rico after Hurricane María because they became homeless and jobless.

I also wanted to examine oppression in the United States, which was bubbling to the surface with police brutality, Black Lives Matter, immigrants’ rights, toppling of racist monuments, and COVID-19 while I was writing the book. In Inheritance of Drowning enters this conversation of how these moments can drown/undrown disenfranchised communities.

I think the poems In Inheritance of Drowning are essential. We need more BIPOC stories, and we need to tell our own stories that are intersectional and move across disciplines. So, In Inheritance of Drowning, is a story that I want to tell, and I hope readers enjoy it.

KS: Many of the poems are written in a first person narrative, such as “Widow” and “Ghost Talker Poem”. Are any of the poems based on your real life experiences?

DSS: A few of the poems are based on my life. For instance, “Ghost Talker Poem,” is based on a time when I wondered why there was a dearth of media coverage on missing Black and Brown girls. It was very hard for me to understand as a young child why the media would not cover our disappearances, especially when there were so many stories about white women and girls that had disappeared. I wondered, “Weren’t our stories newsworthy too? Why were our cases going untold? Where was our respect and justice?”

“How I Lost My Name” is also based on a personal experience when a teacher didn’t want to call on me because this person thought my first name was “too difficult” to pronounce. I was nervous about being stereotyped as the “difficult black girl” in class and the repercussions of telling the teacher something without being called on, so I politely waited to be called. However, I kept waiting for my turn to speak and I was kept waiting. Some readers may be able to relate to this experience and recognize the tactics to dismantle our identities, keep us silent, and try to make us feel invisible.

KS: In “Widows”, your use of enjambment is significant. What were you trying to convey through this structure? How does it enrich your poem?

DSS: In “Widows,” I wanted the poem to have a certain flow that would encourage readers to continue reading until they reached the end of the poem. I hope the effect creates more tension in the poem and builds a certain momentum and fluidity. The poem has some sprinkles of narrative qualities and colloquial language too, where I can envision the speaker contemplating disaster capitalism, social injustice, and violent hurricanes with others. Overall, I think enjambment emphasizes the important details of the poem and engages the reader in the beauty of the transitions, especially as the poem moves from the color black to FEMA’s irresponsibility, complex physical and emotional damage from Hurricane María, and drowning.

KS: Your book is named after “The Inheritance of Drowning”, why did you decide to name it after that specific poem?

DSS: I knew right away that the title of my debut poetry book would be In Inheritance of Drowning. I love the title because it encapsulates the confrontation of the survival of BIPOC communities and how we are constantly inheriting a world that unfortunately is grim—a world that keeps trying to drown our identities and blame us in the process. The title poem “In Inheritance of Drowning” was originally published in this journal in 2021, and I was beyond thrilled when it was accepted by Cream City Review. The poem delves more into the historical moments of how Black and Brown bodies have been drowned, such as the Taíno and African slaves, and links to our contemporary drowning when the poem asks at the end, “How many ways can we drown?” It is asking, “How many ways do the systems of oppression (try to) kill us?”

KS: There is a recurring theme of drowning throughout the anthology. It serves as the overall focal point. What does the concept of drowning mean to you? In your eyes, is it a physical or physiological burden?

DSS: Someone told me that drowning functions as an extended metaphor throughout the book. I really like this explanation of how drowning links throughout the book. Overall, drowning is a physical and physiological burden. It is what keeps us shrouded in doubt. It weighs us down, so that we never reach our potential. It keeps us from achieving our dreams. It overwhelms us. It robs us of our identities. It rips apart communities and families. It keeps us tied to complex trauma and oppression. You can think of the literal history of how people drowned during The Middle Passage, and how others drowned as victims of police brutality in In Inheritance of Drowning. There is also how certain places like Puerto Rico are drowning in debt because colonial oppressors have exploited them and stripped them of making decisions that would give them autonomy.

KS: A lot of the poems deal with heavy topics such as death, oppression, and trauma (as seen in poems like “Ghost Talker Poem” and ““The Inheritance of Drowning”). I am curious to know what your headspace was like when writing this. What was the most challenging aspect of writing this book and why?

DSS: I have been told that I am very serious as a writer and poet. In keeping with what I think is an accurate description of myself, I wrote in the mindset of creating protest poetry. Therefore, In Inheritance of Drowning is not light verse. I would not be true to myself, if I trivialized the impact of Hurricane María in Puerto Rico. Many people died, and others lost their homes and businesses. Puerto Rico’s colonial relationship to the U.S. was also strongly enforced, as Puerto Ricans got tired of waiting for aid and started removing debris and trees on their own; people started looking after their own neighborhoods because FEMA’s response vacillated between slow and non-existent. Puerto Rico is still recovering in many ways, and Hurricane María was almost seven years ago. There is also no way for me to address the current state of oppression in the United States without a solemn mindset. The current state of events makes me apprehensive for historically marginalized people. I wonder what the landscape will look like as there have been more barriers—more drowning—for BIPOC communities.

KS: There are many themes of generational trauma and family within your work. Are these themes important to you? How have they shaped your writing?

DSS: Yes, generational trauma and family are very significant themes to me and influence my writing. For example, I have edited and co-edited several texts on mothering and motherhood, including Latina/Chicana Mothering (Demeter Press), and a part of my research on Maternal Studies has been exploring how the trauma that the birth mother carries—this may be done consciously or unconsciously—can impact the child. I write about this cycle of trauma in In Inheritance of Drowning as inherited trauma that is largely due to the sinister legacies of discrimination and oppression. I think many of the poems reflect the harm of generational trauma and how “we wake up drowning.” Of course, there are ways to have something more than a promise of coping and achieve actual healing. I am exploring how these tensions become resolved in some new poems.

KS: What was the process of writing this book?

DSS: Hurricane María hit Puerto Rico on September 20, 2017. We lost electricity a few hours after María struck, and we lost water a few days later. I started keeping a journal as a way to record my feelings and unravel what had happened. I had many questions that had no answers— When would the electricity be restored? When would the birds return? How were others coping? Eventually, I had filled several notebooks, and I revised these initial thoughts/manifestations of the mind into poems.

Then, there were movements like Black Lives Matter, several high-profile cases of police brutality, and the pandemic. I started writing poems that grappled with these topics, and asked more questions, such as where is justice for those that have been historically marginalized and when will society be ready for a social transformation.

When deciding the structure for the book, I knew that I had wanted the poems about Hurricane María to frame the book, and to be the first and third sections. The other poems that focused on the different forms of oppression in the United States would then compromise the second section of the book.

KS: Your poems present a history of colonization, racism, and feminicide, leading to a legacy of “drowning”. You seem to raise questions about generational trauma —and by extension, the inheritance of pain. With all that being said, what would you like readers to take away from this book?

DSS: My hope is that readers are prepared to have a candid conversation about the need for social transformation. By the end of In Inheritance of Drowning, it would be wonderful for readers to demand an end to what drowns us and call for what enriches and sustains BIPOC communities and Puerto Rico.

Dorsía Smith Silva’s debut poetry collection, In Inheritance of Drowning, with a foreword by Vincent Toro, will be published this fall (November 2024) by CavanKerry Press. It is now available for pre-ordering at  https://www.cavankerrypress.org/product/in-inheritance-of-drowning/.

BIOs

Dorsía Smith Silva is a Pushcart Prize nominee, Best of the Net finalist, Best New Poets nominee, Obsidian Fellow, poetry editor of The Hopper, and professor at the University of Puerto Rico-Río Piedras. Her poetry has been published in the Denver Quarterly, Waxwing, Cream City Review, and elsewhere. She is the author of Good Girl, editor of Latina/Chicana Mothering, and the co editor of seven books. She has a Ph.D. in Caribbean Literature and Language, and her primary interests are ecopoetry, social and racial justice, mothering and motherhood, and migration. She has also received scholarships and fellowships from Bread Loaf and Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing and is a member of the Get the Word Out Poetry Cohort of Poets & Writers in 2024.

Keinana Shah is a UWM graduate of English Literature and Cultural Theory, and Business Administration. In pursuit of exploring her various passions, Keinana is learning skills through many types of creative mediums, with a focus on her dream of pursuing art and history.

Book Review: The Band by Christine Ma-Kellams

By: Alanda Jackson

Former Cream City Review contributor Christine Ma-Kellams’ latest novel, The Band, is a satirical page-turner that explores K-Pop, cancel culture, and fandoms.

In this novel, we meet Duri, one of five members of The Band, everyone’s latest K-pop obsession and rising boy band. After Duri releases his latest solo single, he finds himself at the head of a controversy that leaves him being canceled by the overzealous fans. On the run with nowhere to go, he meets a psychologist, a married Chinese American woman with two children at a Los Angeles H-Mart. Against her better judgment, the nameless psychologist decides to take Duri into her home and offer him shelter from the brewing storm.

Safe from the public eye, Duri begins his exile and contemplates his relationship with The Band and what it means for him. With the help of the psychologist, Duri dives deeper into his mind and works through the deteriorating state of his mental health that threatens to overcome him. Through his journey of self-help, Duri and the psychologist find themselves getting closer, as a bond begins to grow just as one is threatened to break apart.

Meanwhile, the past comes back to haunt the music producer of The Band. In the wake of spiraling events, he recalls what happened to the original girl group, predecessor of The Band, and the tragic fate that befell them. As long-buried memories resurface, a ghost from the past threatens The Band and the music industry forever.

In The Band, Ma-Kellams examines the world of superstardom and the pressures of the entire world watching your rise to fame. From obsessive fans to cancel culture, she takes these elements and uses them to explore mental health and the effects it has on the minds of her characters. I found myself becoming entranced with the mental state of her characters, and in turn, mental health itself. I wanted to know more about what was going on in their minds and how their environments shaped them into the kinds of people that they are.

Like most mental health struggles, it takes a lot of courage and strength to acknowledge that something is wrong, let alone ask for help. The relationship between Duri and the psychologist emulates this very well, so much so, that we get to learn things about Duri that he otherwise would not have admitted himself. As for the character of the psychologist, Ma-Kellams utilizes her background in cultural psychology and gives agency to one of her most important characters. It’s through the viewpoint of the psychologist that we get to see Duri’s transformation firsthand and understand just how complex he is as a character.

The world that Ma-Kellams has created in The Band is filled with complexities that surround mental health and the inner struggles that accompany it. It may feel like a never-ending battle that you have to fight alone. In the words of the psychologist from Ma-Kellams novel:

“Spend enough time around people with classified mood disorders and you realize that what the suicidal person really wants is not to die per se—it takes effort to die these days, at least in the first world, where we generally lack lions and tigers and bears and random aerial drone attacks and cartel assassinations and civil wars—but rather, just to cease to be for however long or short of a period of time it takes for them to get some relief from the compulsively addictive thinking going on inside their own head” (Ma-Kellams 86).

If there is anything to take away from this story, it’s that mental health looks different for everyone, and you may never know what someone struggles with. It’s important to be there for people when they are at their lowest because you may just be the lifeline that they need. A credit to Ma-Kellams, who employs humor to talk about mental health in a sensitive but effective way, raising awareness towards a lived experience, and making her characters all the more attuned with reality.

Bios:

Christine Ma-Kellams
When she isn’t writing short stories or novels, Christine Ma-Kellams is a social-cultural psychologist and college professor at San Jose State University. Her other writings can be found in HuffPost, Salon, Wall Street Journal, Psychology Today, Electric Literature, ZYZZYVA, Kenyon Review, the Rumpus, and elsewhere. Since its publication, The Band has appeared in and been recommended by the New York Times, People Magazine, and Public Radio.

Christine Ma-Kellams’ The Band is out now and available for purchase here.

Alanda Jackson
Alanda Jackson is an undergraduate student at UW-Milwaukee majoring in English with a focus on rhetoric and professional writing. Wanting to hone her craft, Alanda is learning how to write across all forms of literary mediums in the hopes of pursing her dream of becoming a writer.