REVIEW BY GABINO IGLESIAS

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I read a lot of horror fiction, which means I tend to take the term “hardcore” with a grain of salt because it’s something often used by writers who think gore or sexual abuse is enough to mask their lack of storytelling skills. That said, Mik Grantham’s Hardcore, which contains a fair amount of fear and bodily fluids, delivers on every implied promise made by its title. Funny, harrowing, personal, and dark, the poems in Hardcore delve deep into things most people would rather not talk about. In the first four poems, Grantham tackles pregnancy scares, losing her favorite underwear, vomiting on herself at the gynecologist’s office, drunk people, and being afraid of anthrax. And that’s just the start. Depression, the aftermath of abortion, the 2016 elections, and dark childhood memories are also present here, and Grantham’s straightforward approach brings them to the page raw and unfiltered.

Hardcore is a door into Grantham’s life. The poems talk about events with unfiltered honesty, and that makes the readers feel like they’re listening to a friend telling them about the stuff they experienced. Here’s “Stay”:

the dogs fucked all night long

we ordered chinese food

there were noodles?

covered in soy sauce

are you turned on??

you took my food away?

maybe you wanted to save some?

for later?

i always thought that was a weird move

do you remember this?

this was back when you disappeared

often?

here we are?

hey, where are you going now

While it might sound like a gloomy collection—and it is gloomy—Hardcore is unique and fun to read. Bizarre cohesive element like movies (especially ones with witches) and teeth (lost teeth, missing teeth, teeth falling out, ripping teeth out) emerge from the poems as testaments to the strange nature of the voice that created this book. Grantham’s style walks a fine line between deadpan gallows humor and the kind of honesty that comes out you without filter. Behind every poem here there is a story or a feeling, and the delivery often makes deconstruction or analysis unnecessary. I guess the word that fits here is blunt, but it’s a bluntness that’s strangely beautiful, that makes you nod your head in agreement. Here’s “riding my bike”:

wishing someone would?

hit me with their car while i’m

on my way to work

Hardcore is full of that weirdness that makes real life look scripted. For example, Grantham’s mom is a recurring character in the collection. She saw the devil and liked listening to Jewel. Her grandmother is also here, and the last poem, the longest in the book, is about spending time with her. And then there’s Grantham’s work as a waitress, which permeates the book and gives her stories to tell.

This isn’t a beautiful collection about perfect moments; it’s a rough, graphic, authentic, wonderfully humane collection about hating your job, eating eggs, past relationships, remembering your childhood, and peeing in parking lots. Grantham has a knack for bringing reality to the page with outstanding economy of language, and that makes this a must read for anyone who likes their poetry with a healthy dose of grit.

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Gabino Iglesias is a writer, editor, literary critic, and professor living in Austin, TX. He is the author of ZERO SAINTS and COYOTE SONGS. You can find him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias.