{"id":639,"date":"2019-07-08T15:13:02","date_gmt":"2019-07-08T19:13:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/?p=639"},"modified":"2019-07-08T15:13:02","modified_gmt":"2019-07-08T19:13:02","slug":"review-of-kill-class-by-nomi-stone","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/?p=639","title":{"rendered":"Review of Kill Class by Nomi Stone"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Nomi Stone. Kill Class. <\/em>Tupelo Press, 2019. 90 pgs. $17.95.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Occasionally a poet emerges whose personal experience or knowledge permits readers entrance into worlds they might never otherwise know. These poets write books that change our thinking about our lives and about how literature can intervene in the actual, material world. Think about Tarfia Faizullah\u2019s Seam <\/em>(which I reviewed here<\/a>) or Tyehimba Jess\u2019 Olio <\/em>or Fatimah Asghar\u2019s If They Come for Us<\/em>. Nomi Stone is one such poet, and Kill Class, <\/em>her second collection of poetry, is one such book. Stone is formally trained as an anthropologist as well as an accomplished poet; Kill Class <\/em>could not have been written otherwise. In these poems, the speaker is embedded on a military training base, observing <\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

observing and participating in \u201cgames\u201d intended to teach\nsoldiers how to make war. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though written primarily in free verse, the poems assume\nmany forms, taking advantage of the options for line lengths and line breaks\nthat free verse allows, and they range from very short (3 lines) to unusually\nlong (6 pages). Stone is skilled enough with craft, that is, to exploit the characteristics\nof language in order to explore her subject fully. By exploring such a\ndisturbing topic through a variety of forms, the poems continually surprise,\nstartle, and horrify. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The title poem is the longest in the collection. Details emphasize  the game-like nature of the soldiers\u2019\ntraining. \u201cThe story says we are in the country of Pineland,\u201d the poem begins,\neventually describing the speaker\u2019s role:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The story says I join the guerillas.
The story says I carry this tent in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three cages at the wood-line:
the goat, the chickens,
a solitary white rabbit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That rabbit, seemingly introduced here as simply a\nbit of local color, will become crucially significant, revealing the speaker\u2019s\ncharacter as one who refuses the false restriction of an either \/ or\npossibility, and therefore as one unsuitable for \u201cKill Class.\u201d But first, she\nreveals more about her role:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Commander: You are Gypsy, from Taylor-town, the widow of Joker, <\/em>
one of the fallen guerillas.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They make me a fighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One woman among 40 guerillas
and the 12 American soldiers
secretly training them to overthrow
their country\u2019s government.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Joker fell heroically, and our child\u2014there was a child\u2014they made
me eat his ashes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The syntax here is puzzling\u2014does the second \u201cthey\u201d\nhave the same antecedent as the first \u201cthey\u201d? Although it would seem so\ngrammatically, logically it would seem not; surely those forcing her to eat her\nown child\u2019s ashes must be the enemies. People identified as \u201cwe\u201d or \u201cus\u201d could\nnever behave so barbarically. Except. Except. This is a class that teaches\nparticipants how to kill, how to dehumanize someone in order to be able to kill\nhim or her, and in doing so, how to of necessity dehumanize oneself. I still want\nto believe the \u201cthey\u201d here refers to the enemy, but then I come to this line:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCommander: Do\nyou take hot sauce on those ashes?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Part of the point here is that there\u2019s little\ndifference between \u201cwe\u201d and \u201cthey,\u201d and that \u201cwe\u201d have little reason to\npersuade ourselves of any moral superiority. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here, Stone steps back, providing temporary relief\nfrom the story\u2019s intensity:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s May. Heat saps the water out of the body
as pines swoon in and out
and out. They have put aside the rabbit for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Commander: Gypsy,\nthis is yours. Feed it. For now, feed it.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some small choices in this excerpt are\nparticularly effective, an article rather than a pronoun for instance: \u201cthe\nbody\u201d not \u201cmy body\u201d as if the speaker is beginning to dissociate. The next line\nbreak, \u201cpines swoon in and out \/ and out\u201d emphasizes the heat\u2019s dizzying\neffect. When the speaker is instructed to feed the rabbit, readers understand\nthe possibility of emotional attachment but also notice the ominous \u201cFor now.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the poem develops, Stone emphasizes the\nrole-playing nature of this class, focusing on the necessity of remaining in\ncharacter. As the poem moves toward its climax, the significance of some\ndetails becomes clearer, and the speaker begins to understand her ethical\ndilemma. As an anthropologist, she might often be able to assert, accurately or\nnot, cultural detachment, but here she is embedded, playing a game that is not\nplay, within a culture that is at least to some extent her own. I am going to\nquote a long passage here in order to show how Stone conveys tensions among her\n\u201creal\u201d identity and her role, revealing eventually how little distinction there\nis between the two:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They bring me to the tree-line for kill class.
Gypsy this rabbit is yours. We have all been kind
enough to share our food and water out here.
We all have to help out so we can eat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is a pit for the un-useable
portions of the entrails.     Secure the goat, slit its neck over
the pit, and proceed with the chickens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This one is yours.
Use this stick. One time over
the head should be enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You have to, Gypsy, they say.
You can do it. Commander tries to give me
a fist bump to say We
are in this together. We are not in this together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They cannot make me lift
my fist. Gypsy
how can we trust you? If you can\u2019t kill
an animal, how
can you be a fighter?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m sorry. I will clean it after if you want.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They bring me over     the chickens warm and still
The flesh under
their feathers
the organs
pulled out \/ the pearled
interiors.     This is meat now. I turn them
into something<\/p>\n\n\n\n

we eat. I think I am done,
but Whisker says almost gently
Gypsy you need to kill the rabbit. Unfortunately<\/em>
you do not have a choice.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have a choice.     Let me be perfectly clear,
I say. It is not happening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men make a circle
The pines make a circle
You need to hold
the legs.     They are tying together
the legs     the animal
screaming     They raise
the stick     The legs are in
my arms     The legs are in my arms<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What a conclusion. As insistent as the speaker has\nbeen that she has a choice, that she is different from the soldiers, that her\nrole play remains more conscious than theirs, she discovers how implicated she\nnevertheless is, how implicated we all are. The most obvious sign that the\nspeaker is losing control of her situation is the absence of punctuation in\nseveral of the lines toward the end of the poem. In addition, the line breaks\nand extra spaces between phrases create a confused and abrupt pacing,\nsuggesting the speaker\u2019s confused thought patterns. She acknowledges that she abstracts\nanimals \u201cinto meat\u201d by participating in their preparation after the kill if not\nin the kill itself, but she continues to insist, \u201cI have a choice.     Let me be perfectly clear, \/ I say. It is\nnot happening.\u201d Again, Stone\u2019s reliance on a pronoun creates a useful\nambiguity. On one level, the phrase is used colloquially, the speaker meaning\nthat she is not going to follow the instructions she\u2019s been given. On another\nlevel, the sentence is a plea of denial\u2014this horror that is happening cannot\npossibly be happening. The poem ends with the rabbit not yet killed, though its\nimminent death is undeniable. The only question is whether the speaker will be\nable to remain a passive participant\u2014though the poem certainly implies that she\nhas already passed that point, that she passed that point even if unknowingly\nas soon as she entered this role play. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kill Class <\/em>is\nan unforgettable book. Its success depends on Stone\u2019s ability to describe this\nmaterial artfully, but as importantly, it also emerges from the speaker\u2019s\nrecognition of her own moral culpability in a world that repudiates any easy\ndistinction between \u201cus\u201d and \u201cthem.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Nomi Stone. Kill Class. Tupelo Press, 2019. 90 pgs. $17.95. Occasionally a poet emerges whose personal experience or knowledge permits readers entrance into worlds they might never otherwise know. These poets write books that change our thinking about our lives and about how literature can intervene in the actual, material world. Think about Tarfia Faizullah\u2019s […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[25,24],"class_list":["post-639","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-areviewaweek","tag-kill-class","tag-nomi-stone"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=639"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":640,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/639\/revisions\/640"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=639"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=639"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lynndomina.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=639"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}