Bring Down the Chandeliers by Tara Hardy (A Review by Brian Fanelli)

Write Bloody Press

85 pages, $15

Bring Down the Chandeliers is not a collection of poetry for the faint of heart, prude, or squeamish. At times, Tara Hardy’s poems can be unsettling, as they address rape and incest, using raw, forceful language to do so. But in telling such a story and using poetry as the vehicle to do so, Hardy has crafted a collection that highlights how important having a voice is after surviving a tragedy.

Family is at the center of Hardy’s poems, specifically the father who raped the central female speaker. The reader is introduced to the father immediately in the opening poem “Hummingbird.” Here, the father is presented as villainous, as he tries to silence his daughter’s voice.

In the orphanage of my voice box

my father sits, fork and knife upright

on the table before him. He’s already cut

off my hummingbird and fed it

to our dog.

Despite the unsettling language and haunting image, there is hope by the conclusion of the poem because the young woman finds her voice and realizes “all the children I ever/wasn’t but was meant to be/break open the roof, take wing/and I speak/speak.”

One impressive aspect of the collection is the multi-dimensional character Hardy created in the father. In the poem “Daughter,” the father takes on several layers. The speaker, while talking to her own daughter, admits that her father “burned his name into me,” but that he also “did the dishes, cooked; taught me how to fish.” Still, though, the speaker’s pain is evident, especially toward the end of the poem.

Six years ago, crossing the state’s line

caused my body to clutch itself so completely

I couldn’t pee for three days.

Except in a long thin terrified stream.

The poem concludes with one final confession, that the speaker is not “the road of tar,” but was only “stuck to it” and was “a wingless, but determined beast.” The hope that punctuates the end of the poem is similar to the conclusion of the poem “Hummingbird” in the sense that the speaker is going to break free and find her voice, no matter the circumstances.

Hardy also addresses several other social and political issues throughout the collection. In the poem “Sand,” she takes on the persona of sand to speak out against the U.S.-led wars in the Middle East. The sand confesses that in some nations, it is not much more than a “partially closed mass grave,” and it was meant to be something else. The sand persona also wishes that it could “open my mouth and swallow” when soldiers rest their guns on it. Hardy’s decision to write about war from the point of view of sand is a fresh, innovative way to present an anti-war poem.

Another issue Hardy addresses is eating disorders, and in the poem “Hunger,” the poet presents a speaker who tries to justify having an eating disorder. “Thin is power. Hunger is/but a way to keep razors from/my wrists,” the speaker confesses, adding later that “Hunger is a way to get over him.” The constant use of enjambment adds to the unsettling effect created by some of the rationale the speaker gives for starving herself.

Hardy also offers sound advice for anyone who tries to date a trauma survivor.  In “Advice to Anyone Loving a Trauma Survivor,” she refers to some people as tourists and imagines they “press palms up to the glass, despite the zookeeper’s/’Warning!’ Don’t feed the G-Spot or she’s likely to/rip your arm off!” The poem is filled with some other funny and absurd lines, but by the second stanza, the speaker advises anyone loving a trauma survivor to “stay still” and “do not approach until she beckons.”

Hardy has a knack for developing an extended metaphor, such as a hummingbird, as a statement for finding one’s voice after surviving a tragedy. She also successfully crafts different voices and personas to address a slew of political and social issues. A few of the collection’s other poems could have benefited from stronger poetic techniques, such as extended metaphors or well-crafted personas, to prove a point more tactfully than blunt language. But like a lot of other slam/performance poets, Hardy uses direct, forceful language and stark images to convey her points. The language may come across as offensive or too raw to some readers, but Hardy does make clear how important it is to find one’s voice after surviving a tragedy. And at times, some of her lines will draw a laugh or two from readers.

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Brian Fanelli is the author of the chapbook Front Man, published in late 2010 by Big Table Publishing. His poems have also been published by The Portland Review, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, Word Riot, Blood Lotus,Chiron Review, and they are forthcoming in Yes, Poetry, San Pedro River Review, andEvening Street Review. He has an M.F.A. in creative writing from Wikes University, and currently resides in Pennsylvania. Visit him at www.brianfanelli.com.