Review – ‘Cartoon Logic, Cartoon Violence’ by Alexus Erin

I’ll start by saying that I’m about to break one of the “rules” of writing a book review, i.e., I’m going to bring myself into the equation…but Alexus Erin’s debut full-length  poetry collection, Cartoon Logic/Cartoon Violence, is a book that breaks a lot of things, rules included. So, here I go.

While there are many, many, many people who are more well-read and better-educated than I am–in my 58 years I’ve read a lot of poetry, a lot of fiction, a lot of non-fiction, watched A LOT of movies, and listened to thousands and thousands and thousands of song lyrics. Which means it’s generally difficult to surprise me. I’m easily and willingly delighted by words and images and music…but not easily surprised. Cartoon Logic/Cartoon Violence surprised me from the first poem and never let up.

“It is more like being converted and being and being to convert,
than creation as the sole, dizzied hope
for tapered suffering – 
that is, more Brady Bunch than Mudville Nine.”

I also know that as a reviewer I’m supposed to tell you what I think this book “is about.” Well, if I’m honest, I don’t really know. And that’s OK because I don’t think understanding is the point. Rather, it is the desire to know that is important.. A relentless quest for revelation. 

Erin tackles big subjects: God, Faith, Family, Memory, Grief, Racism, Violence, Love. We move from poem to poem like moving from scene to scene in a movie or television show… but not in a straight line. Logic fails us. Our preconceived notions of narrative and reality and gravity are challenged. Anything can happen and we cannot look away. Like Wile E. Coyote, we follow the speaker of these poems off the edge of the cliff over and over again. 

“I pace a few feet away, small and grim
Already begging for creature comforts in the afterlife.
Is this grief, or a parade? A postcard with the image
Of a big snail in a tiny wooden boat, hovering ominously above the sea?
Is it a nightmare only real people get to have?
In another world, my thighs are made of pixels–”

This is a book I will return to. Its elusive nature is compelling. Erin’s voice is unique, and her poetic craft is well-honed with a graceful touch. 

Available April 2022 from Baobab Press. https://baobabpress.com/  

Reviewed by Beth Gordon