Junkies, "The Wizard of Oz" (1939), mezuzahs, prostitutes, Buddhism, multiple divorces, breastfeeding and drugs only begin to make up the list of the broad, darkly funny American landscape in Tufts alumna Melissa Broder's (LA '01) first book of poetry, "When You Say One Thing But Mean Your Mother," published in February 2010.
Broder's poetry collection consists of 54 flippant, skillful, dark wonders. It is the kind of book that shows the sheer entertainment value poetry can still bring, as well as its overwhelming power to reveal the anxieties and obsessions of a generation.
The collection is not just a set of randomly thrown together poems that were previously published in various magazines; the poems fit together in a way that creates a satisfying unity.
Read straight through, Broder's work is as gripping as a novel, with recurring characters and ideas whose increasing interactions culminate into some of the most interesting of Broder's poetry. The poems become increasingly obscure, but also more impressionable over time, so that the best way to read the book is from beginning to end.
The poems contain significant tension between traditions and new ways of doing things in the world. The first poem, "Jewish Voodoo," perfectly exemplifies this conflict between old and new. The poem's playful and brilliant alterations of phrases, such as "ovum mezuzah," reflect the melding of Jewish traditions and culture in Great Neck, N.Y. With the budding fertility of a young woman's dark wit, Broder's poetry can bring laughter as easily as chills.
Mothers are among the central figures of this dazzling work. Their presence drives poems such as "Your Mother is Dying and I Want Details" and, of course, the titular poem. As one reads poem after poem in which Mother in one guise or another appears, a complicated love−hate relationship between the narrator and her mother begins to emerge, adding layers of nuance to the joke from which the title gets its name (the title is the answer to the question, "What is a Freudian slip?").
The jokes and laughter within the collection do not disguise the fundamental pain and difficulties that coincide with complicated relationships. Two of the best poems in this book, "The Wait for Cake" and "Tradition," join together laughter and agony to form two exuberantly honest love poems. "The Wait for Cake" manages to begin with the topic of suicide prevention and end with a marvelous celebration of the joys in life. Its twin, "Tradition," is a love poem about divorce, and in its bittersweet honesty, it truly captures a kind of love not often discussed, and it does so brilliantly.
One of the reasons this book feels complete as a work of art is that the poems work together to create a sense of place so vibrant one can taste it. Fast food chains have characters as unique and personal as Big Ro, who has the poet's initials burnt into his arm.
The poet's obsession with junkies drives more than one poem. Also in the poems are characterizations of aging hippies and a dying man living on "Jewish penicillin" (soup). Vibrant and almost hallucinogenic images and portrayals bleed together, exploring more facets of Broder's America than can be contained in a review.
The worst way to read this book is to read it alone. This is the kind of work to share with a group of friends and avoid midterms for a couple hours in order to talk about it. The humor and the language will keep eyes pinned to the pages, but it is the richness of the poet's voice and energy behind the words that will make this collection something to remember for a long time to come.
