Brenda
Coultas, A Summer Newsreel, Second Story Books, San Francisco,
CA, 1999. 23 pages.
The threshold of
Brenda Coultass chapbook-length poem/prose piece A Summer Newsreel
is an invitation for and an hesitation toward a revealing of Americana.
For Coultas this takes form in a vocabulary of moving pictures. Like a
locomotive moving alongside glowing wheat fields, A Summer Newsreel
transits through a landscape in the heart of American farm country, hunting
peculiar nostalgic imagery ("So many people would like to be her
making taffy all summer and living near Holiday World where everyday is
a holiday. So many would like to be her living near Abe Lincolns
farm near the replicas of Abe Lincolns boyhood."); ("Hey
poem, you, Gods poem, what is happening today in Bloomfield?")
God, and notions of the self/poet ("Is there something Brenda Coultas
can do for you? She would like to help you. She is reading and writing
and stopping to serve you"). Her work is built up from the projections
of rural life ("What will the Coultas family do today?/Mom will fry
bacon./Dad will work a crossword puzzle./The entire family will mow again/and
plant one mum."). These scenes are captured without framing the imagery
in sweetness or coy hipness. While the writing exhibits the idiosyncratic
and banal side-by-side, Coultas never allows her projections to devolve
into kitsch. A listing of oddities is not the focus here. In fact, the
poet goes a long way in debunking such postmodern cynicism. She is not
just showing pictures of a quirky tableau, rather, she is seeking to expose
a varied backdrop to her own competing writer-selves. The conflicting
selves who cannot place "home" in one location, the competing
selves who must check in and check up on each other in the making of poems,
"What day//is it Brenda? Its a holiday I reply. Alternate parking/
rules apply.//So much reading and writing has already gone into this/
poem. This poem wanted to imitate a piece of smart and/ beautiful writing.
This poet wanted to write a piece of/ writing."
A Summer Newsreel
is a film about the making of a film ( her first book, Early Films,
was published by Rodent Press in 1996). The poets own little "Hearts
of Darkness" (a film about the making of "Apocalypse Now").
All secrets are out, "This poet wanted to write a piece of/ writing."
A Summer Newsreel captures the life that goes into the making of
this writing. It is the fantasies ("so nude the farmers on John Deere
combines, reapers of/corn now reapers of men/foolish nudes among the yarrow")
and desperate needs ("In first grade I prayed for God to send me
a friend. It took/almost a year to receive a friend from God.") of
a poets history. It is an attempt to report honestly. It is the
footage of this reportage. The succession of individual images is held
together by Coultass urgency to connect out into the world, a world
that is beyond the writing of poems but essential to that writing. She
is urging us to read on, "Ive stopped writing, but keep reading,
Reader, open your/ vessels and keep reading." She is asking us to
read on honestly and help her continue to imagine a life of writing poems.
The entry point for the book is a call to singing something true, "Is
singing a song, an American song, an American folk song allowed?"
This is not a rhetorical question. Brenda Coultas would really like to
know.