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A Swale a Sort of Swaddle
by Abby Walthausen
51 Poems ~ 89 pages
Format: 6 x 9 ~ Perfect Bound
Price: $18.00
Publisher: Spuytenduyvil.net
ISBN: 978-1-963908-61-9
To Order: Bookshop.org
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
In the early years of our marriage our doctors informed my wife and me that we would never have children by normal means. Accepting their pronouncement, we adopted two wonderful sons. However, after twenty years of marriage and, in our mid-forties … guess what … a lovely daughter was born. She is now thirty-five with her own burgeoning family. While the above story is by no means unusual, it certainly was a sea-change for us. The surprise of pregnancy was no easy road to travel given the assumptions noted.
I returned to those distant years as I contemplated my review of Abby Walthausen’s intriguing collection, A Swale a Sort of Swaddle. Within these poems I hear notes of ambivalence, a touch of darkness, as well as ambiguity about the reality of motherhood and her experiences within it. I also sense a singular commitment to growth and maturity.
The collection’s cover image is a drawing made by Abby’s son aged three. In Abby’s words, “It depicts a “magical, anthropomorphic car he imagined and named cherry red. The words were an early attempt to write cherry red, the boy’s name for the car.” I had previously inquired about the cover’s design:
The main reason I included the text and image is because the two side-by-side represent to me this leap from pictograph to letter, literal to abstract expression as vehicles for the imagination.
Indeed, movement within the “literal” and the “abstract” is a prominent feature of the whole.
Definitions from the Title
“Swale” is a low-lying or depressed and often wet stretch of land, more commonly known as a bog.
“Swaddle” means to wrap someone, especially a baby, tightly in a blanket or in pieces of cloth. Swaddling gives the child a sense of comfort and security.
Source: Webster’s online Dictionary.
Over the years my wife and I have noticed both the “swale” effect; and the “swaddling” effect. This poet speaks to that which is real in life and does so with her own unique originality.
Organization and Themes
A Swale a Sort of Swaddle is organized in four divisions: 1) Once Around, 14; 2) Vines and Bines, 15; 3) Vessels for Weaning With, 6; 4) Re-Homing, 16.
In her endorsement of Swale, writer Kim Young notes that Walthausen’s interests span “motherhood, religion, domesticity, displacement, and the natural world with dark humor and sonic virtuosity.”
Each section is open with the words: In this Reliquary. A reliquary, for Abby, is a manila envelope in which treasured memories are stored. Here is the first one:
Reliquary #1
In this manila pocket I have placed
sand caked together with zinc
from your first visit to the beach
clipped nails, a cowlick hardened
clipped hair, a crescent limp
and the meteor your navel brought,
a little oxblood stone.
Shocking, all this sloughing, so soon–
though when we stand still
we see these tidbits shed
to honor growth.
I am moved by the poet’s studied devotion to life processes such as “growth.” Each item in the pocket has a reason for being there. From the same section the poem “Flyby” captures Abby’s heart:
Life is long but can be thicker when I try
I am happy, but can only live one strand at a time.
Pluto’s huge valentine showed us no life
and since still water is still poor viewing,
we watched The Wrong Man, Hitchcock’s plainest,
hoping to find an unseen eddy there.
Old quips get lost in the dishwater
of one long and glowing noir.
Westerns too dissolve their crackling filaments
and constellations shed their nets and names.
But now night and day are the same frontier,
chaperoned by light as dim as dimmest screen,
ragbag now presents a roll, a kick, a muscle, a curl.
And someday, maybe a word.
This just new! Life’s labor
to sift and save a few.
I looked forward to entering each new section to learn exactly what items made the “Reliquary.” No matter where I turned in this collection, I wasn’t disappointed. Abby Walthausen is a fresh, energetic force in the world of letters. Her approach is borrowed from no one. A Swale a Sort of Swaddle, gets five stars from this reviewer for a collection that lives up to Kim Young’s observation of sonic virtuosity.
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