​The poems in Sharon Olds’ The Gold Cell chart out a life in four parts: the impersonal beginning, reflections of the speaker’s father, early sex and love, and finally the speaker as a mother. The collection’s language and imagery are particularly striking in ‘The Food-Thief’ in which the speaker writes, “His lips are open to his brothers as the body of a/woman might be open, as the earth itself was/split”. What’s intriguing about this line and many others in the first three parts of the collection is a drive toward writing about sex—when the poem itself is about a man who stole and is on his way to be drowned. And not only sex, but taboo sex because line above implies the man intends to kiss his brother as if he were a woman.
 
Sex finds itself in many portions of the collection, and most strangely in poems about the father. Maybe the father is seen as a figure so imposing and important, that sex (an inherently power-driven action) is the only way to talk about the father. For example, in ‘Looking at My Father’, the speaker says, “I know [my father’s] a tease,/obsessive, rigid, selfish, sentimental,/but I could look at my father all day”. Then the speaker goes on to describe the father’s head, nose, teeth all in an unsightly way, comparing, “the irises” to “the lip of a live volcano”. Conceding that, “I know he is not perfect but my/body thinks his body is perfect”, which is followed by much more descriptions of desire for the father. The speaker is battling with how her father appears in her life (whether positive or negative) because even though parts of him are unsightly, she still wants him in her life. Sex is then brought into the speaker’s teenage life as she describes her first sexual experiences (i.e. a handjob she gave a boy in ‘First Sex’) to the more sensual descriptions in ‘It’.
 
Because the collection follows the speaker’s growth chronologically, this love transforms from sexual desire to maternal desire in the fourth part. This is where we see the worries of her son and daughters’ injuries against the backdrop of their dead pets. In this way, the speaker’s fears are manifested, even confirmed, when they have to gas the daughter’s gerbils in ‘The Prayer’ or care for their son whom broke him arm in ‘The Green Shirt’. The speaker fears are at their highest when she imagines her daughter being raped in ‘The Quest’ like what happened in ‘The Girl’. Though, in the end the speaker may not have a solution beyond providing her children as much attention and love as possible.
 
The collection’s controversy arrives in the first part with the poem ‘Outside the Operating Room of the Sex-Change Doctor’. In this poem, the speaker describes “a tray/of penises” outside the operating room. The penises then are given voices somewhat comically. One way to read the poem is it’s a critique on how, as a society, we value manly violence when the first penis says, “I am a weapon thrown down. Let there be no more/killing.” In which the speaker is making a comment on how the man and thus the penis is the epicenter of violence. And in the removal of the penis, there is a removal of violence.
 
This is a very generous reading because the last penis in the poem is described as “unhappy”. In this instance, does this mean the penis was forcefully removed from the patient? Is Olds implying people are having sex reassignment surgeries not of their own will? If so, that is a hefty and baseless claim which derives from right-wing fear mongering. Some may say the collection is “Of Its Time”, as it were published in the late eighties, and the politics back then were much cruder. Even still, it wasn’t like trans people didn’t exist back then.
 
Regardless, torrin a. greathouse critiques Olds’ poem noting its transphobia in, ‘In an Operating Room Outside of the Cis Woman’s Imagination’. greathouse notes how Olds’ poem uses language of removal and absence. That Olds states something—a body part—was lost. greathouse retorts by saying, “After anesthesia, nothing is removed. Nothing wasted. Instead, skin/budded inward, a rose blooming into its own mouth.” greathouse notes that Olds has no authority on how trans bodies undergoing surgery should be described and interpreted. Even if the poem’s intent wasn’t to provide an opinion on trans bodies, the poem’s image was then a sloppy choice.
 
In fact, the poem’s inclusion in the collection is strange with how out of sync its structure and satirical voice reads after ‘The Girl’. And even still, what’s interesting about this poem is how it speaks to another portion of the collection. If read in isolation, the poem is frankly not all that strong. It relies on the situation of penis’s talking to keep the reader’s attention. Like, isn’t it funny that this penis wants to be painted in a still life—oh and look at this penis, it thinks it’s a dirty dog and needs to be put down. However, if contextualized against, say ‘Alcatraz’, maybe there was reason for Olds to include it. The first line of ‘Alcatraz’ reads, “When I was a girl, I knew I was a man”. Following this line, the speaker is haunted by the idea of being imprisoned due to stepping out of line with her parents’ teachings. With the line in mind, is it possible the speaker feels trapped in how she wants to express her gender? This feeling of conformity that the last penis in ‘Outside the Operating Room of the Sex-Change Doctor’ conveys when, “He lies there weeping in terrible grief,/crying out Father, Father!” And as such, is the sex in parts three and four ways for the speaker to defy her parents through liberation? That while she had no active participation in how her parents employed her gender, now as an adult she does and fully embraces it.
 
Or it is possible the poem’s shallow exterior is all it has. Situation and humor. Simply gilded. Transphobia in the age when being transphobic was simply the norm. However, a poem does not necessarily make or break a collection—like a clay brick building, one or two can be faulty and the whole thing can still stand upright. Which in the case of The Gold Cell, both ‘Looking at My Father’ and ‘Outside the Operating Room of the Sex-Change Doctor’ are faulty bricks. Bricks that show the builder was imperfect; bricks that crumble with time, revealing the outdated politics of forty years ago; bricks that—as greathouse has shown—must be reformed and refired and rebuilt.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​Copper Nickel Issue 40 is a collection of poetry, fiction, and essays. There were a few poems I particularly liked, such as, ‘Man Bowls a Perfect Game with Father’s Ashes Inside the Ball’ by Matt Donovan, and ‘Spring Snow’ by David Hopson. Though, the sand-out piece was ‘Ritual’ by Yang Hao, in which a man helps dispose of dead bodies in the near future. Though, the rest of the pieces didn’t feel as full as the ones mentioned above.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​A Cold Winter from Idaho by Lawrence Matsuda is a collection of poems detailing his family’s experience during World War II as Japanese Americans were forced to relocate to an internment camps. It follows Matsuda’s childhood in Minidoka as well as reflecting on the crimes America had committed on its citizens during the war. I enjoyed poems such as ‘1942 Nightmare’, ‘Too Young to Remember’, and ‘Arc de Triomphe, 2003 Invasion of Iraq’. Though, as a reader having a base understanding of Japanese American culture, I felt at points the language and images catered to a white audience. Many of the Japanese terms are italicized, which signals to the audience that those words are exotic or different. And in the poem ‘Go Game’, one stanza reads, “Thumps and slaps transform/gohan into mochi,/a gooey white blob,/for the New Year’s Day’s feast.” While technically fine, the poem assumes the reader doesn’t know what mochi is, taking precious space to explain. Another instance can be found in ‘The Noble Thing’ where a line says, “Gaman, ‘endure the unbearable with dignity.’” It’s not that these ideas shouldn’t be mentioned, but rather their desire to be defined within the poem accepts the conceit that the reader doesn’t know these things. And the people who are less likely to know are folks that aren’t Japanese American. Also, there’s a recurring image of samurai that parallels the soldiers of the 442nd, and while I understand this connection, I would’ve liked one with more dimension and a little more complexity. It was an interesting read, however I felt disconnected from the intended audience.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie is a collection of interwoven stories about the people living on the Spokane Indian Reservation. The stories deal with alcoholism, generational trauma, poverty, and what it means to be Native American. I particularly liked ‘Amusements’ about a few friends who leave their passed out friend on a roller-coaster, ‘This is What it Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona’ about a man and his friend going on a trip to collect the ashes of his father, and ‘The Trial of Thomas Builds-the-Fire’ about a man on trial where he describes the atrocities his past generations have faced with white Americans. Though, my favorite story in the collection is ‘Jesus Christ’s Half-Brother is Alive and Well on the Spokane Indian Reservation’ which is about a man who has to care for an orphan with a head injury. The story goes on to describe the character’s desires, life, and interactions with the child who continues to grow but not speak. It reminds me of the grief found in Kenzaburō Ōe’s short story, ‘Aghwee the Sky Monster’.
 
In reading this collection, I have reflected on how Alexie’s sexual harassment has tainted his reputation and his writing. In part, I was curious as to the merits of his writing, which in the case of this collection to be substantiated. Though, also I am conflicted with reading and supporting work from a person who abused his power. For this reason, while I enjoyed the writing and the stories, I have felt that giving it a lesser rating makes the most sense.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​Iron Horse Literary Review 26.1 is a collection of poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and interviews. The story I enjoyed the most in this issue was ‘All B’s and One C’ by Patrick Font which details the life of a flunking student trying to get by in summer school. He takes weed from his father’s stash and sells it to his classmates. I liked how the voice of Joey comes through, the way he views María, and the lengths he will go to cover for himself.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​In this issue, the month I was born, there were a few poems I enjoyed reading. Namely, ‘One Possible Meaning’, by Charlie Smith with the final lines, “The park is dusty, dark, yet the children, / ignored all day, play on, convinced their dedication / releases a magic that changes everything.” Another poem I enjoyed was, ‘Veterans’, by Mark Wisniewski. Though, I was a little taken aback at John Brehm’s, ‘At the Poetry Reading’, which accounts a night where the speaker goes to a reading, but isn’t interested in the poems, but rather the wife of the poet. It is hauntingly misogynistic, which makes the speaker somewhat of a distasteful voice. If this was what Brehm was trying to go for, he hit the mark with the lines, “I’m imagining / myself slide up his wife’s fluid”. The poem itself seems self-indulgent with the final lines referring to the speaker as a better poet than the subject of the poem, “once she leaves him, / leaves him for another poet, perhaps, / the observant, uninnocent one, who knows / a poem when it sits down in a room with him.” All in all, there were some hits and misses in this issue.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​In the 1970 March issue of Poetry, there were a few poems I enjoyed. ‘The White Hotel’ by Richard Shelton has the lines, “that memory is the only / kind of loss we ever know”, which I thought was a strong way to end the poem. The only other poem that I found held me was ‘On Earth’ by Michael Benedikt which has an interesting indentation. However, on the whole I found it a little lackluster. Some of the commentary was interesting, but didn’t bring the pizzaz I associate with late 60’s / early 70’s type poetry.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​Rumble, Young Man, Rumble by Benjamin Cavell is a collection of nine short stories all centered around masculinity, pride, misogyny, homophobia, violence, and desire. These stories are brash at times, with uses of the N-word and the F-slur, which make sense in the context of the characters, but are at times grating and overwhelming. The first story, ‘Balls, Balls, Balls’ is about a man who works at a sporting goods store who competes in a paintball team and thinks himself as an over-the-top macho man. He talks about how large his penis is, about how he is better than everyone else—especially the new guy on his paintball team, and his experiences with violence and sex. Though, what’s particularly revealing about this story, is that the narrator, while not explicitly stated, is unreliable and is even bested by the new guy who used to be in the military. With this story, and many of the other stories in Cavell’s collection, all the men believe themselves to be super masculine and go to great lengths to show that being the case. It however is simply a façade, and deeper down they are all insecure men. In ‘All the Nights of the World’, the speaker’s father talks about these violent tales while the speaker idolizes him. In ‘Killing Time’, a boxer is prepping for a fight against a man he says he can beat, but is intimidated. ‘Evolution’ is about these two friends doing worse and worse things to people in preparation to kill the father of one of their girlfriends. ‘The Art of Possible’ is about the artifice of being a politician. Though, the story I thought was most developed was ‘The Ropes’ about a boxer who nearly died in a fight, so has to pick up the pieces of his life after.
 
These stories are gruesome, sometimes ridiculously violent, and abrasive. I think I did have trouble with some of the stories, for example in ‘The Death of Cool’, the last paragraph is unneeded, while another story features a black man saying the N-word with the hard R (which seems like a very wrong way to write that type of character). It is a collection that I can see how it got published in the early 2000’s, but feels dated with its language now.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​The Kenyon Review Spring 2023 is a collection of poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and translations which heavily focused on translations edited by Jennifer Croft, Jeremy Tiang, and Anton Hur. Overall, I thought it was a decent issue, and there were some wacky stories, such as ‘Tumbleweed’ by Ao Omae and translated by Emily Balistrieri which follows the life of a movie star tumbleweed who had once been a person. Another strange story was ‘The Aspiration for Cha-Ka-Ta-Pa’ by Bae Myung-Hoon and translated by Sung Ryu which is about a futuristic time where people go to a library to be immersed in life of the 2020’s and the language/spelling is not like I’ve seen before. There were two stories that I enjoyed which were ‘A Field Guide to the Bear-Men of Leningrad’ by Sam J. Miller and ‘Two-Headed Dog’ by J. T. Sutlive. The first story features a town in which people fear bear-men who come in at night and eat the villagers, but it turns out that the speaker realizes they’re one of the bear-men. And the second story is about two men, one American who teaches English, the other a Japanese man who works construction/clean-up after a tsunami. The two men are gay and grow close and have an on/off relationship. And I enjoyed the subtlety of the emotions between the two when one of them grieves the loss of his brother in the tsunami. Overall, I enjoyed the short stories, albeit they were a little weird, but didn’t connect too much with the poetry.
 
Final Rating: 3/5

​Dryland Issue 11 is a collection of poetry, short fiction, nonfiction, and interviews focusing on the people and experiences of South Central LA. There were a few poems that I enjoyed, particularly, ‘We’re Still Too Close to Mexico, Still so Far from God’ by Antonia Silva, ‘Watching the Sunrise from the Second Story’ by Angel Cerritos, ‘A Car Crash is not a Poem’ by Lupita Limón Corrales, ‘Amá Teaches Me How to Whistle’ by Moncho Alvarado, and ‘Newlywed in a Pandemic’ by Samantha Rivas. I also enjoyed the nonfiction piece, ‘My Dad Who Bakes Bread’ by Cecilia Caballero because of how it ties their family history to food and how that changes and alters how they see the world. I enjoyed the issue overall, though found the short fiction to—at times—be a little too simplistic. (Note: Dryland was renamed to sin cesar after this issue.)
 
Final Rating: 3/5