Tag Archives: book reviews

Gratitude

Fountains of gratitude are flowing in my heart today despite the gray, humid weather that seems to set off every imaginable ache my body could have. ❤

Wow, that was a sentence of hyperbole and cliché, for which I apologize; let me begin again. I’m grateful for a number of reasons that I want to mention so I can give appropriate and public thanks to the people who have added to today’s happiness. The list starts with Dave Fry of Godfrey Daniels Coffeehouse & Listening Room in Bethlehem PA, who hosted an evening of poetry–with musical interludes and conversation–this past Wednesday evening. Two members of my long-time writers group and I read our poems and talked about a few poetic forms (haiku, waka/tanka, tanka prose, and short forms generally). Dave supplied some comments to encourage audience reflection and performed interludes on guitar. One observation he made is that the classic blues song follows a structure that has similarities to a short poem form: Line, Repeated line, Commentary line (often like a poem’s “turn”).

It was a lovely event and great to share the writerly camaraderie of a long & successful critique group onstage: Marilyn Hazelton and Susan Weaver are often the first readers of my own poems. I’m grateful for their support and for the way Dave gave us the opportunity showcase poems and maybe teach a few audience members new things about poetry. Another plus was that I sold a few books! Grateful to those folks, too. That’s one way to support the arts.

Thank you as well to my Best Beloved, who attended despite feeling a little lousy from allergies, and to those of my local friends who came out to hear us. The venue charges a cover, and not everyone’s willing to shell out for poetry. Therefore, I bow deeply to you all who do.

Today I also received a kind gesture from poet, scholar, educator, and blogger Lesley Wheeler. On her blog (which you really might want to follow), Lesley wrote a mini-review of my book The Red Queen Hypothesis and Other Poems, last summer. I’m thrilled that this week she included a mini-review of my brand-new book, Abundance/Diminishment (“ectoplasmic micro poetry reviews“). My book was in such good company! See the link above, between parentheses, for her comments on books by Diane Suess, January Gill O’Neill, Elizabeth Savage, and Jen Karetnick.

For promotional reasons, (ha!), I’ll close with what Lesley says about the collection:

“I have a similarly eerie sense of connection with a sympathetic mind reading Ann E. Michael’s Abundance/ Diminishment. This book tallies losses and bounties: it’s full of mathematical and scientific language, but what it counts and categorizes is deeply emotionally freighted. In ‘Filling Out Forms at the Gynecologist’s Office,’ she subtracts the number of her children from the number of times she’s been pregnant. In ‘Tongues,’ a child of six, mocked by classmates for the tongue sandwich in her lunchbox, prices out peanut butter–even as she loses her immigrant mother’s language. Also like Seuss’s book, this is poetry of maturity, from a time of life when a person has to begin giving it all away. I’m especially grateful, these days, for books from midlife and beyond. I learn what I need to know by reading them.”

I’m grateful, too, Lesley!

Promotional

I keep forgetting to mention a few nice happenings regarding my recent book, so I may as well stuff them all into one post here in case anyone is interested. Have I mentioned how much I hate doing promotion for my poetry? Why yes, I believe I have. And since these days I feel no career ambitions related to my work anymore, why does it even matter?

I think there is an answer to why it matters. Sort of an answer, anyway–that without some form of prompting to the World at Large, my poems will be reader-less. A sad fate for a poem or book, and a common one. I don’t write just for myself: I keep a journal for that. I write as a form of communication, a way to connect with a reader I may or may not know.

Sometimes no one connects because the poems don’t work for them. Sometimes no one connects because no one knows the poems exist. The first lack is unavoidable–there is no kind of artistic creation that works for everyone. The second lack I cannot do much about, but I can do a little. Hence, this post.

Some months ago, a current student at one of the colleges I attended called to ask a few questions about my new collection. I did not expect it to be more than one of those “here’s-a-thing-an-alumna-did” paragraphs, and no one got back to me to make sure the piece is accurate (and, yes, a fact or two are incorrect and no, I didn’t say I believe “anyone can write poetry because anything can be poetry; people just have to look for it,”); but it’s a nice little promo bit all the same. Link here.

Then, Michael Escoubas of Quill & Parchment reviewed The Red Queen Hypothesis. Somewhat to my surprise (I don’t think of myself as very “edgy”), he writes, “Michael’s latest collection is edgy; chock full of poems that challenge everyday assumptions about life.” He does recognize that often what I try to do in poetry is exactly that: confront assumptions, observe from different angles. Less surprisingly, he adds that my poems are “sensitive to analogies between the natural world and human experience.” Um, that would be me. That review can be found here.

I know that in a previous post I mentioned Lesley Wheeler’s generous mini-review of the book, which can be found here; she’s an especially insightful reader. I’m thrilled that she writes: “Michael’s second full-length collection is meditative, witty, and smart, with a scientific and sometimes philosophical bent. Also like her blog, it’s closely observant of the more-than-human world in flux…The Red Queen Hypothesis suggests the advantage of sexual reproduction, and there are plenty of seductively “soft persuasions” in this collection. Like the “Stew Cook” speaking to her beloved, this is a book to “fill nooks with aromatic hours.” Shout-out to all the tasty slant-rhymes amid a profusion of traditional forms.” Thank you again, Lesley!

Another little thing to celebrate is Highland Park Poetry’s nominating my poem “Game” for a Pushcart Prize. By the way, that poem appears in The Red Queen Hypothesis!

Finally–or maybe, down the road, there’ll be more to add to promotional posts–I have been getting out and around to readings a bit, in person and virtually. The latter is easier, since many readings are in the evening; these days, I am not too terrific most evenings thanks (ha! as if!) to fibromyalgia fatigue and symptoms. But I do enjoy in-person events and have been glad to read at the Easton Book Festival, at Nowhere Coffee in Allentown PA, and at Bethlehem’s Sun Inn, to mention a few. I was featured in a Mad Poets “OK Zoomers” online reading (love the pun) virtually and will be participating in a group launch of Inlandia‘s most recent issue online on November 19th (info below).

That’s about all the energy I can spare right now for self-promotion. And no, I don’t use Instagram or Tik Tok or Substack or YouTube, at least not yet, so this is all I got, folks. Thank you for bearing with me. Less promotion and more poetry and philosophizing and nature/gardening next time.

If you join the Inlandia event–make sure you account for the time zone! That’s 1-3 pm PACIFIC time.

Pebble in the well

Thanks to WordPress for its “Hokku” image.

A pebble is dropped into a deep well, and 3.0 seconds later the sound of a splash is heard as the pebble reaches the bottom of the well. The speed of sound in air is about 340 m/s. (a) How long does it take for the pebble to hit the water? (b) How long does it take for the sound to reach the observer? (c) What is the depth of the well?

https://www.physicsforums.com/threads/pebble-being-dropped-into-a-well.611630/

~

Indeed–what can we determine based upon the little we know for certain? This physics problem came to mind when I was listening for responses to, say, a short poetry collection that came out recently. (Yes, Strange Ladies.) And I recalled a visit in 1984 to Goodrich Castle in Ross on Wye, Herefordshire, England, where we did just that–dropped a small stone into the well–and waited what seemed a long time for the sound to reach us. From what I understand, tourists can’t do that anymore; the National Historic Trust has upgraded the ruins to make them safer to visit. The tourist board doesn’t want anyone falling down wells.

But I digress. I meant the metaphor to apply to how writers listen eagerly for response to their work once it is published. Will anyone review it? Will anyone read the review? Will anyone post about it on social media? Will anyone contact the writer to say those words we want to hear: “I love your book!” –?

Sometimes, yes. And for those who have done so already, a million thanks.

~

According to family records, some of my maternal grandmother’s family were related to these Goodriches; but as the castle’s later owners were Normans (and then, Parlimentarians), it’s kind of hard to be certain. I can vouch for the depth of the well, however.