Kirjahaku

Cassie Pruyn’s Lena asks new questions: why we love, why we grieve. We’veread elegies before, but not like this. A lush and unsparing first book, Lenaasks readers to understand love—crucially, a first love, an erotic love—inthe context not of a love lost but instead of an identity gained: we must consider not only “was she worth it?,” but also “who has she made me?” Pruyn lets us feel what lovers feel—the magnetism, the physicality, the tenderness, the rage, the wondering—with language both musical and visceral. In these poems, the landscape is a character in itself; the past is as tangible as the present. Pruyn takes us to the “Lost Love Lounge,” we ride in a “car / red as a dragon,” and we observe the beloved “stick herself in the belly with a needle” in the way “she used to attach her cufflinks.” This is love and grief raised to the highest power; it is a debut not to be missed.

Bayou St. john played a significant role in the neighborhood of the same name, fueling debate over the waterway's use, control and ownership for centuries. Native Americans first used it as a trade route. Later, it became a backdoor entrance for settlers to the present-day French Quarter. As commercial use declined, residents witnessed a progressive shift toward recreation. Following the Civil War, tourists flocked to witness Marie Laveau's voodoo ceremonies. The early twentieth century brought two amusement parks. And events like the Bayou Boogaloo music festival draw thousands of visitors. Despite its many costume changes, the bayou continues to be the Crescent City's most beloved waterway. Author Cassie Pruyn reveals this evolving story.

Cassie Pruyn's Lena asks new questions: why we love, why we grieve. We've read elegies before, but not like this. A lush and unsparing first book, Lena asks readers to understand love--crucially, a first love, an erotic love-in the context not of a love lost but instead of an identity gained: we must consider not only "was she worth it?," but also "who has she made me?" Pruyn lets us feel what lovers feel--the magnetism, the physicality, the tenderness, the rage, the wondering--with language both musical and visceral. In these poems, the landscape is a character in itself; the past is as tangible as the present. Pruyn takes us to the "Lost Love Lounge," we ride in a "car / red as a dragon," and we observe the beloved "stick herself in the belly with a needle" in the way "she used to attach her cufflinks." This is love and grief raised to the highest power; it is a debut not to be missed.