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Indecency
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Review
Winner of the 2018 National Book Award for Poetry Finalist for the 2019 Kate Tufts Discovery AwardFinalist for the Lambda Literary Award in Gay PoetryLibrary Journal, “Best Books 2018”“Reed’s visceral and teasingly cerebral debut probes black identity, sexuality, and violence and is inseparably personal and political. He displays a searing sense of injustice about dehumanizing systems, and his speakers evoke the quotidian with formidable eloquence . . .” —Publishers Weekly, starred review “[Reed’s] poems take up the body in desire and violence, and they do so by thrusting the reader into a stark visceral encounter with their material.” —The New York Times“Raw, nervy, reverberant, densely packed language whose import simply can’t be reduced to easy explanation . . . One-of-a-kind brilliant.” —Library Journal“Indecency made me stand up and applaud.” —The Millions“Reed’s poems are formally inventive, especially when he works in concrete ways on the page. . . . The reader winds up in a new place without realizing they were being moved there.” —The Rumpus“Rich with musical echoes and sonic ironies.” —Vulture“Reed’s wit and formal experimentation, quicksilver and luminous, shows the world as it is, while detailing how the very people that society most devalues, demeans, and seeks to destroy are its true visionaries.” —The Adroit Journal“Reed wrestles with finding the language to convey the pain of that double oppression and still manages to create terrible beauty.” —Signature “Reed’s love of language is ever-present in his joyful play with words throughout his poetry.” —The Root“In his debut poetry collection, Indecency, [Reed] wrestles with self-perception, intimacy, and placement.” —St. Louis Magazine“An unflinching exploration of power, race, sexuality, gender, the personal and the political.” —Vox “As we grapple with issues of equity and inclusion, insights that Reed invokes are essential. They expose a treacherous legacy, an inheritance we all must own.” —The Manitou Messenger“Within the containment of mostly invented forms, Justin Phillip Reed’s Indecency is the ‘carnal weight’ I’ve longed for in poetry. It’s the guttural dream of utterance that strokes and pokes the body. Reed’s deft craft is so rare, so precise, and driven by language whose surface is texture like teeth, that it seems like freed speech into the ache of repressive histories, white gazes, and uninvited invasions. Violence in Reed’s hands is no longer a thing somewhere out there but is inside the heart, as close as any black desire. Indecency is the new duende. It is like no other book I’ve read; Reed is an extraordinary talent.” —Dawn Lundy Martin“In this gorgeous first collection, there is no separation of sound from the language it travels in, from the body that produces it, from the experience that evokes it. Justin Phillip Reed achieves an impressive unity of form and content, never obscuring meaning in its varied violences inside the poems’ luxuriant unfolding—the ‘absent-present’ rich with tough phantoms and the fragile living, and underneath: an unwillingness to buckle under unwanted and unasked-for burdens. In conversation with Frank O’Hara and Dawn Lundy Martin, with Michael Brown and Ezell Ford, with Ralph Ellison and Harryette Mullen, with the named and unnamed populace who understand sufferance but also resilience, pain but also sweetness, Indecency is a refusal of pretense, a celebration of possibilities within human complexity—and the hard-earned freedom inextricable from the public and private histories from which it is wrought.” —Khadijah Queen“Don’t avert: Justin Phillip Reed demands we witness that who’s missing was taken, who fell was dropped, and who died was murdered. Witness, too, that who done it will claim everything but responsibility. That obscenity drives the poet to fracture language into the exquisite shrapnel of lyric paroxysms, leaves a ‘body / . . . deboned of its irony.’ That indecency triggered these devastating poems. Fuck what they claim; here’s what Reed has seen.” —Douglas Kearney“It would be a mistake, in heeding Reed's outrage and his sense of urgency (and heed it we should) to hurry past the beauty in these poems, of which there is plenty to be found: potent word play, intricate rhyme, and stray lines like ‘a smeared sweet on his cheek in the parenthesis of a grin’ or ‘the dense streets clapped into a quick-descended stillness.’” —AssignmentPraise for Justin Phillip Reed:“More than their beauty, what the poems of A History of Flamboyance flaunt is their insistence, a restless and, finally, necessary intellectual rigor that demands as much from the reader as it will delight and trouble her. But don’t be tricked in thinking these are consequently too-stiffened poems, lacking blood. There’s blood moving in every line of Reed’s poems, and there’s nerve, which is only to say that here is also honest if sometimes painful feeling, vulnerability articulated with power. If these poems are confessions, then Reed’s many formal interventions mean to break up, down or apart, reveal and revise, perhaps, the performance of those confessions, an effort to expose their inner makings, motives, our histories, these ‘constructed rituals’ of shame and desire. I’d say this fits a mind that seems at turns insatiable, wanting more of our world and of the poem; at other times more reserved, wanting less; but at all times is a mind nevertheless committed to the poem’s queerest possibility, evoking its many traditions just as it disrupts or rewrites them. So these poems teach me. Justin Phillip Reed is a productive new voice in contemporary poetry, ‘rose up like a hard new fact,’ and one that feels in every way as irrefutable.” —Rickey Laurentiis“To be re-born inside these poems of chasm is a rigor not quietly undertaken. Justin Phillip Reed undoes the sonnet’s deep organization with the violent abandon of a boy become object in the stink of rapture. A ripping of form occurs. A cataclysm of self. And what do we find in these body ruins? I, for one, hear the hunt of masculine desire beating through—familiar, a known place—calling like a rustling of trees in night’s black thought. These poems at once trouble this bringing forth and grieve the ‘softness’ become ‘satchel.’ Indeed, how do we ever re-gather ourselves? When I read these poems by Reed, I’m left energized, bereft, and altered. They will forever live in my imagination.” —Dawn Lundy Martin
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About the Author
Justin Phillip Reed was born and raised in South Carolina. His work appears in African American Review, Best American Essays, Callaloo, the Kenyon Review, Obsidian, and elsewhere. He received an MFA in poetry from Washington University in St. Louis. The author of the chapbook A History of Flamboyance (YesYes Books, 2016), he has received fellowships from the Cave Canem Foundation and the Conversation Literary Festival. He lives in St. Louis.
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Product details
Paperback: 112 pages
Publisher: Coffee House Press (May 8, 2018)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1566895146
ISBN-13: 978-1566895149
Product Dimensions:
6 x 0.3 x 8.9 inches
Shipping Weight: 4.8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review:
5.0 out of 5 stars
4 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
#117,922 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
The 2018 National Book Award for Poetry was given to Indecency by Justin Phillip Reed. Reed is a young poet living in St. Louis. Indecency is his first published collection; he had published a chapbook, A History of Flamboyance, in 2016.“Indecency†is not an easy collection to read. I suspect it was not an easy collection to write. It’s filled with raw scenes and language. It’s about race. It’s about a black man, a gay black man. It’s about the violence inflicted on black people. It’s about relationships. How Reed uses language in these poems reflects the violence of experience. It’s as if he’s walked up to you and grabbed you by the lapels of your coat, demanding that you look. Don’t just turn your face away, pretend to look somewhere else, or drive your car quickly by. Stop, he says, and look. See what’s here.Black Can Sleepon a nail bed. Black bequick as catch can. Cornerhanger-on, black as a deadcell waiting to low-ceiling its emptybelly down on a mop-dragged floor.Lure of draining, black goesto ground. Rain dangle: black hitcheslike hick cargo. Call round. There it isa thumb in the milk, trunk junkstrewn across a killingof lilies. Oh Lord,black the valley. Wise meslather mirth, lip the gum. The newstheir black tomb of tooth sucks outwon’t news. Black know: Popsa stone stopped quiet(of all sounds) in the rolling.Black cancer. Black sugar.Black pressure. Black takenoff life support’s hollow leg. Useto be an hour visitedon us, stained Colt & wildaround the neck, exof auntie, blackest one yet,picked up only after zip,pockets just a snatch of ayyoung black, how you live?The 38 poems in the collection are jarring, always. They’re also disturbing and demanding. For someone like me, who’s lived in St. Louis for 40 years in two of its more prosperous suburbs, to read St. Louis poems like “Gateway†and “About a White City†is to see another city you barely acknowledge but that you know exists. The poems of “Indecency†were born on those streets. They’re as haunting as the streets they come from.Born and raised in South Carolina, Reed was expelled from high school three times and dropped out of college once. He eventually earned a B.A. degree in creative writing from Tusculum College and his M.F.A. in poetry from Washington University. He received fellowships from the Cave Canem Foundation, the Conversation Literary Festival, and the Regional Arts Commission of St. Louis. His work has been published in several literary journals.To read a collection like “Indecency†is to disabuse yourself of those notions you hold as “part of the background.†These are hard words, expressed in long and short poems, about a young man’s life and experience.
Justin Phillip Reed's INDECENCY is not an easy read, and I mean that as a huge compliment. Formally, intellectually, and emotionally, it makes us work, and the payoff is tremendous. I tend to put a check mark in the table of contents beside titles of poems I like, and I felt silly after a while because I really liked (too mild a word) pretty much all of them. No two poems in the book are quite alike, and yet the collection develops and coheres with an urgent intensity of purpose, interrogating issues of race, sexuality, intimacy, and self in powerful ways. It's a remarkable debut, well-deserving the accolades it has received. I can't recommend it highly enough.
Justin Phillip Reed returns to the question of how language can represent the experiences of the oppressed. Is language itself a structural barrier that prevents the accused from pleading their case to the public jury? Reed plays with form and language to dig toward a meaning for readers to apprehend, even as he speaks of the apprehension of black bodies on the street and the unwillingness of others to comprehend what is going on
it isn’t unusual to have to re-read some poems within a collection several times before they are appreciated. not to say that poems are intended to be understood, many poems are written as mysteries, containing the unspoken, what the poet believes can’t be said, events that must be approached by circumspection, which must remain in the arena of circumspection, leaving the reader to tease out what happened, and failing, to wander as if in a dark labyrinth, full of fraught feelings.given that caveat, our poet goes to lengths to dwell in dark spaces, before which we wonder, what occurred there, the news stories, the generalities of historical sufferings, homophobia and hatred, criminal acts and stories from one’s childhood and adolescence which only felt like a crime—what really occurred, we are to ask, to wonder, and left without answers.then finally some inclination detected, some promising clue. in indecency we arrive at the intertwining of two unspeakables finally spoken, the whippings by the narrator’s mother when he was a boy and the maschochism of gay sex as a man as that intertwining opens new spaces. of the old spaces, the result of erasure, the structural, the slender thread that stretches through this collection begins with poems marked by much touching, classrooms, workshops, other poets, who listened, read, suggested, edited, pared into those earlier mentioned mysteries which define many published poets out of mfa programs these days. much to his credit, the young reed, gifted, reminds me of eliot and his Wasteland under the pen of pound. amid so much assistance, having the singular talent. one’s voice, to go on and do his own thing. the new spaces of material of disappearance and abduction and the negotiation of familiar material made new are what reveal the making a remarkable talent.take time to read these poems.
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