Mantle by C.S. Carrier (A Review by Brian Fanelli)

$12/ 82 pgs

As a poet who started out as a prose writer first, I’ve always been drawn to narrative poetry, work that is character driven and uses some of the tropes of fiction, while still elevating language as only poetry can. C.S. Carrier’s second full-length collection of poems, Mantle, is not work I am typically drawn to. However, as early as the first page and first poem, Carrier’s book grabbed my attention and didn’t let go until the final page. His lines are gorgeous and wild, his images surreal and sometimes deadpan, and his language a reminder of the energy a single poem can contain.

The book opens with the haunting poem “Back in the Day.” Here Carrier blends surrealism, history, and child memories all in a few short stanzas. In one stanza, the poem contains an image of a praying mantis with a Bible wedged in its mouth, and in another God, labeled as an absentee ballot, floats away “on a bowl of magma.” These lines are balanced with references to politics, including Tehran and Ronald Reagan. Other imagery is apocalyptic, even in the first stanza: “I climbed the oak in the yard/The oak began dying/Blood was fermenting in Iran.” Though the poem’s bizarre images and references to childhood and politics make little sense at first, there is much to enjoy, especially the strange, juxtaposed images.

In the following poem, “My Life as a Sandwich Artist,” Carrier’s images are just as dazzling. Much like the book’s opening poem, this one begins rather matter-of-factly with the simple line, “I drank Coke.” However, like the other poem, the images build, especially in the second and third stanzas:

A voice said to not try too hard
To hear bells
Our gazes met above the condiments
I looked at her hands for silk

I wanted to drink her forehead
To read her cloud atria
I wanted to rattle her apple blossoms
To fashion her into taper
To illuminate the sun.

By the end of the poem, I wasn’t sure if the speaker was referring to an actual woman, or a can of soda, but that didn’t matter. I enjoyed the poem for its twists and turns, how each image is stranger than the last.

One of the most interesting poems in the collection is “Q & A,” not only for its language play, but also for its form. In each stanza, a question is posed regarding everything from poetry to nationalism, and then an image is given in response. Some of the deadpan responses had me laughing out loud, especially when a question is posed about whether or not nationalism is best expressed in tattoos and bumper stickers. The response is, “Bulldog tattoos, bumper stickers, movie posters, and Christmas ornaments.”

In another poem, “What’s the Word,” Carrier acknowledges that in tragic situations, no language can suffice. He repeats the phrase “what’s the word,” highlighting the struggle to find the right word to encompass big events. Some of his lines reminded me of recent tragedies, such as Hurricane Sandy and other weather calamities caused by climate change, especially the line “What’s the word for the ocean sloughing downward, abyssward?” and “What’s the word for the buffalo & goats foamswept?/For the sound of bodies?” I envisioned rising sea levels swallowing towns.

In “I Come,” Carrier again makes every line matter with fine-tuned sounds, especially consonance and some repetition that create wonderful language play. Like some of the other poems, “I Come” is at times absurd, at times humorous, and at times raw and sexual, and like “What’s the Word,” the poet mashes words together, creating interesting verbs.

I come cruising in a Hummer
subwoofers subwoofering
neon neoning

I come sleep beside her
I’m not reincarnated

I come
hyena among other hyenas
I rescue her from their parlance
only to pretzel her with mine

the milk festering
I come
she bewitches me with a Manhattan

Mantle is a collection that will pull you in from the first page, hook you with its array of odd images, and keep your attention with its vibrant language and word play. Carrier’s collection will make you laugh in one line and make you ponder politics and poetry in another. His poems bend and twist and can leave the reader feeling puzzled at times, but delighted in the surprises and finely-wrought sounds and images.

Brian Fanelli’s poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has been published by Boston Literary Magazine, Portland Review, Solstice Literary Magazine, Harpur Palate, Red Rock Review, and other journals. He is the author of one chapbook, Front Man (Big Table Publishing), and his first full-length collection will be out later this year through Unbound Content. Brian teaches creative writing at Keystone College.