Mangravite, Andrew. A Book of Cinquains. US: Xlibris, 2005. ISBN:1-59926-246-0. 163pps. no price provided. Reviewed by Terrie Leigh Relf, December 31, 2007   Andrew Mangravite's A Book of Cinquains is divided into five sections, perhaps to reflect-and honor-what has come to be known as the traditional Crapsey form. There appear to be three-hundred-and-twelve poems in this collection, which span from April 18, 1976 to December 31, 2001. The first two cinquains on the very first page do not have dates ascribed to them, while many, if not most, of the ensuing poems do. There are two cinquains per page (with the exception of the end of one section), and each are the traditional five-line variety with which many cinquain writers-and readers-are familiar. Curious as to whether any additional numeric patterns might exist, I counted each section, and believe there to be seventy-three poems in Section One, eighty-four poems in Section Two, forty-eight poems in Section Three, twenty-nine poems in Section Four, and seventy-eight poems in Section Five. Perhaps a numerologist or a more mathematically inclined person would detect a pattern in this-or perhaps I'm making too much of the numbers. . . I found it intriguing to have the dates, and what may function as an occasional title, placed after, rather than before, each poem. There's an element of discovery inherent in this for me, which I particularly like, as if Mangravite didn't want to label, or otherwise categorize the poem, leaving it up to the reader to add his or her own meaning. After all, regardless of the poet's intent, readers will still make of a poem what they will. While I don't ascribe to any one school of poetry, it has been my personal experience that sometimes, even when I really want to write in a particular form, the poem doesn't want to "fit" within it. The reverse is also true. While many poets contend that forms can be liberating, others may view them as a constraint. That said, I find myself wondering if Mangravite experienced this at all while penning this impressive collection of cinquains. There are several tanka-esque cinquains, for example, and I wonder why he didn't draft them as such. I would definitely encourage Mangravite, if he isn't already doing this, to explore linked cinquains, such as the mirror and the butterfly, which can essentially go on for as many stanzas as a poet desires. I would have liked to have an author's note, an introduction, and/or a preface-even an afterward would have been a welcome addition. While collections of poetry don't have to possess a table of contents or section headings, I tend to favor them, especially in a collection of this size and scope. I enjoyed reading this collection, especially since to the best of my knowledge, this is the first time I have encountered Mangravite's work. He is quite versatile and doesn't limit himself to any one topic, mood, or style, which is commendable given the brevity of the form. For example, I particularly like the multilayered story in following poem: Down there you see a man leaning against a pole on a street corner in Yeadon waiting. 07/10/97. "Self Portrait as Satellite Photo." (52) After reading the poem, we discover, through the title, that this is a self-portrait apparently taken (or imagined as taken) via satellite, so many possibilities unfold. Who is this man? Why is he standing there? For whom-or what-is he waiting? And why is he being watched via satellite? Another poem that particularly appeals to me is the following untitled cinquain: Like blood oozing from wounds the Japanese maple has let go its leaves grudgingly, in pain. . . 11/14/97. (74) The personification in this poem is quite visual and visceral for me-both as a horror writer, and as someone who grew up with Lafcadia Hearns' translations of Japanese Strange Stories. In Section Three, this untitled poem also appeals to me for similar reasons, and I am reminded of The Birds. . . Spatter in evening sky a flock of sparrows wheel crazily and everything revolves. . . 11/99. (108) Mangravite has an obvious contemplative side which is evident in this tanka-esque poem: Whipping across the park it hits everywhere at once-a bucket of cold water thrown- this wind. 03/14/01 (132) There's a Zen-esque humor quality to this untitled poem: Dried, trod underfoot, even dog dime changes, looks dead. . .no longer bursting with shit-ness. 09/15/01 (149) Here is another poem that resonates with Buddhist teaching for me-and definitely reminds me of those nights when I write and write and write and write until I can write no more. . .It is also reminiscent of those nights when "nothing" I write seems to be "any good". Moist night, a great big womb giving birth to nothing. . . walking around in it I feel empty. 11/29/01 (159) I definitely recommend Mangravite's A Book of Cinquains for the reader-and the writer-of poetry. If you are a poet who hasn't written a cinquain yet, I seriously suggest that you do so, with this book nearby to see the wealth of theme and variation which is possible given the supposed five-line and syllabic count constraints.

Return to the front page of this issue:   Amaze   Vol. 5, No. 4   Go to the Poets & Authors page for the poet's biographical sketch and email link. All poems are copyright © 2007 by their respective authors.