Another Word for Hunger by Heather Bartlett Review by Isaiah Vianese

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Another Word for Hunger by Heather Bartlett

Review by Isaiah Vianese

Publisher: Sundress Publications

Publication Date: June 13, 2023

ISBN: 1951979486

Pages: 102

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In the prologue poem of her debut poetry collection, Another Word for Hunger (Sundress Publications, 2023), Heather Bartlett writes, “this is the root of hunger:/ reaching for the thick slice/ of your cheek… is this meant for me to take (will you come).” This invitation sets the tone for a remarkable book about desire: for affection, to understand one’s queer place in a straight world, and to learn from the stories we tell about our longing. Bartlett wants us to consider how we talk about what we want, because desire reflects our identity back to us.

In the first section of the collection, the poet is concerned with ars poetica, or the art of poetry, specifically considering how we tell stories and what the act of creating narratives reveals to us. In “These Lines,” she writes that poems:

are not linear  look:

this line is where you come out

this line is also tomorrow

tomorrow is also the girl

from yesterday

this is what she says:

your memories are also

my memories wrapped

in silk and sewn

into the seams  remember

The idea here reminds me of a lyric in Martha Wainwright’s song, “Don’t Forget” (from her self-titled debut album), in which she sings, “Cause time moves in circles and can leave you anywhere.” Our memories are not chronological: in one moment we can recall being closeted and repressed, followed by memories of liberation; sometimes we are connected to our present reality, and sometimes we are thrown back to our previous selves, all within the same day and in the same mind.

This trend of naming and building stories continues throughout the section. “Etymology” considers our obsessions with origins and histories. “Lexapro, 10 mg” explores how we retell our lives in therapy sessions, written as a call and response between a counselor and a client. In this poem, the patient says:

I’ve been dreaming of a woman.

She puts one hand

behind my head

and pulls. She puts

her lips over mine

and inhales

every word.

She chews them

swallows them

and smiles.

Perhaps the speaker is seeking treatment with Lexapro, an anxiety medication, because she worries about the loss of her own autonomy as a storyteller. Storytelling is a way to harness her feelings, and loss of that power is horrific. The horror is perfectly captured by the image of a woman sucking the words out of her like a monster in a possession film. The section concludes with “Ars[on] Poetica,” which ends with: “Haven’t you ever/ read by the glow of bone/ turning to ash?”  It is difficult to write well about writing, but Bartlett succeeds because her poems are not merely about creation. Instead, they portray storytelling as an act of survival. There is drama in the poems—fire, worry, dread, and dreams.

The middle section of the collection is a series of short poems built out of “titles and endings,” according to the author’s note. These pieces are preoccupied with how relationships begin and end—again reinforcing the collection’s interest in how we frame narratives. If there is a criticism to have, it may be that some of these pieces feel slight in comparison to other poems in the book; pieces like “This Body is Temporary” and “Mother(s)” may leave some readers wanting the speaker to say more. That said, this section also delivers some lovely lyrical moments, such as the line, “didn’t you see me/ hands cupped and// ready to catch//what you let//drop,” in the piece “Remember What She Told You;” these lines deftly capture that feeling of anticipation when you hang on a crush’s every word and everything they say is golden. The poem, “As a Girl,” is another high point in the section; here it is in its entirety:

it’s like the way

our muscles ache

from preparing

instead of starting

like the way

the body mistakes

thirst for famine

I won’t say your name

but I’ll write it

Bartlett has a skill for writing about romantic longing. This poem hurts for touch and companionship; the loneliness is palpable.

The final section of the book delves further into romance and coming out. Here, the hunger named in the collection’s title comes into full realization. In “Mockingbird,” the speaker says, “I wanted to scoop myself out/ to make room/ for you.” This theme of wanting more—more connection, more time with the beloved, more understanding, more touch—recurs. In “Dear Eve,” the speaker says, “the body knows two things:/ how to recognise itself in the dark/ & when to beg for more.” Connecting to Eve’s experience, the speaker gives a history of desire by claiming we have always craved pleasure. “Nectar” begins, “… It’s been a long day of trying// not to name the things// we cannot have, and now we’re stripped// of anything that was left.” This piece exemplifies the kind of love we see throughout the section—a love that is often tied to pain and longing.

One of the best poems in the collection, “Perseids, August,” is featured in the final section; it captures this balance of hurt and heart. In the piece, the speaker talks about a long-distance romance:

We are both outside

waiting past midnight for the meteor

shower that neither of us

can see.

Over the phone,

in the dark, we tell

stories of our day–

a short walk across

the small bridge and

through the empty

parking lot, an hour

of writing and deleting lines

about your body, the bitter

smell outside a downtown

coffee house, a longer walk

home, a glimpse

of you, but

it wasn’t you,

crossing the street–

until we both

go quiet in searching, letting

our eyes adjust to the dark,

waiting for something

to streak across the sky.

The poet accomplishes an interesting trick with this poem. She places us in a very specific scene with the speaker—on the phone with her love and waiting for a meteor shower—but then the poem wanders, just like the speaker’s conversation wanders as she waits for something “to streak across the sky.” In her chat, she revisits her lonesomeness, including quiet walks and a moment of thinking she sees her beloved, only to be disappointed. Then the poem swings back to the present with both the speaker and her lover quiet, still waiting for something to happen. It’s a smart, sad ending because the waiting is not only for some astronomical phenomena, but also for something to change in their relationship, like shrinking the emotional or physical distance between them. Bartlett draws us into such a distinct time and place with this piece, and she teases out each fiber of its feeling. It’s the thing she does best throughout the book.

Another Word for Hunger helps us hold our wanting. Often, we experience need coupled with suffering. In “Notes on Coming Out,” the speaker says, “I want to keep/ building stairways.// I want more/ worthy exits. Take my hand,// I should have told the boy./ Take my pulse.// But please./ Don’t shoot me.” This piece captures the ethos of the book: we want to build our way towards meaning and pleasure; we want to find our escape, and that escape is often holding the hand of another person. Hopefully, the world will allow us the freedom to make those choices without persecution or judgment, but that is not a guarantee for queer people. Heather Bartlett’s book is about how we keep wanting and trying anyway.

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Heather Bartlett holds an MFA in poetry from Hunter College. Her recent work can be found in Barrow Street, Carolina Quarterly, Nimrod, Ninth Letter, PoemMemoirStory, and other journals. An English and Creative Writing professor at the State University of New York at Cortland, she teaches in the Professional Writing Program as well as directs Distinguished Voices in Literature, Corland’s visiting writers series. Heather Barlett is also the founding editor of Hoxie Gorge Review, the online literary magazine. 

Isaiah Vianese (he/him) is author of the poetry collection, Men and Music (Coyote Creek Books 2016). His poems have mostly recently appeared in Impossible Archetype and Let Me Say This: A Dolly Parton Poetry Anthology (Madville Publishing 2023). You can read more of his work at isaiahvianesepoet.com.

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27 September 2023