Embryos & Idiots, Larissa Szporluk, Tupelo Press
Embryos & Idiots, Larissa Szporluk’s fourth book in ten years, creates a myth about the fall of a mythic creature, Anoton. The book’s title comes from Paradise Lost, Book III and refers to those who are immature or without intelligence. Remember, Paradise Lost, Book III deals with the fall of Satan. Here, though, Szporluk seems to be addressing the fall of demons. Her themes are destruction, atonement, evil nature, and relying on others. Though the book’s title and section markers come from Milton, the work stands on its own making the story readily accessible. Landscape apparently sparked Szporluk’s story more than Milton, when asked in an interview about the story’s inspiration she cited a small mountain, Monte Circeo in Sabaudia, Italy, that according to her “looks like a gigantic head staring up at the sky.” In fact, this gigantic head becomes the main character, Anoton. Anoton falls from grace by betraying his mother. He tells the king his Mother is harboring plant and animal life, a grave offense in the strictly mineral Kingdom of Od, and as a result, his mother is killed. In revenge, Anoton’s Father beheads him and from his severed head an island is formed.
The first section lures readers in by closely following Anoton and his story of the fall. In Boulders, the opening poem, we get a luscious description of the inside of the human body. Anoton knows that his Mother is hiding forbidden insect life:
He knew she was hiding a bee. He could hear it
zapping inside her, trapped in the amber
nook that led to her mineral uterus.
He had been born with that sound,
the rain of maracas, maraud of a rose, and so lived
in his mind with a wax city, silver hives
of see-through honey, …
Szporluk’s imagination is vibrant, turning the body into stones and minerals capable of encasing insect life. Her use of the words “zapping” and “trapped” evoke the buzz of a bee in closed quarters snagging readers with her vivid story and ideas.
She steps the mineral aspect up in Pornography, a poem where we truly feel the Mother’s pain summed up brilliantly in one word—pornography—and in one image—her brain in a jar. Here Anoton’s mother’s brain, “in a flask of boric acid,” is on display in the royal courtyard and has “zithered the air/like luciferin, a glowing warning.” In general, titles do not contribute significantly, but here the title is perfect for the poem fully resonating with the Mother’s pain and violation as it perfectly and succinctly describes this act of publicly displaying the brain, an intimate and private organ. The mineral descriptions caustically penetrate both the displayed and the viewer.
Anoton’s confession of atonement and remorse to his Mother in Stars and Marrow in a simple and touching way lets readers enter Anoton’s own brain. He explains to his Mother that:
There is so much good
in the worst of us, so much bad
in the best. I found succor in the devil
when the angels cooked my head.
Anoton is acknowledging how unexpected family betrayal is. Surprisingly he tells his Mother that he has suffered like she did. With the poem’s intimate letter style, readers feel privy to Anoton’s confession. While the book’s section one focuses primarily on Anotons story, sections two and three widely crack open Anoton’s myth, so that “everything starts talking,” ranging from the historical to personal. We hear from a mental patient, knight, a seed, God, clowns, Joan of Arc and witches. Szporluk should be applauded for her wide application of Anoton’s story, but it have been nice to have stayed longer in Anoton’s fascinating world and story. In any event, readers will be impressed by how Szporluk accessibly weaves Anoton’s fall through these different characters.
Readers will enjoy traveling to the kingdom of Od and experiencing the wild things that happen there as Szporluk’s language is honed and meaty. Like Anoton’s betrayal, Szporluk also deals with tough moments in life as seen in the last poem, Satan at Length. We glimpse miracles not only in Satan’s mouth, but also in the struggling introspective poet, giving promise of more stellar work to come, when Szporluk says:
I dream of the seaside,
of the lone ravine of my own
dead yawn, like a room
with nobody else, and I know
why I’m last in line,
after the cattle.
This is a poet truly capable of turning the ordinary into the fantastic and carving complete worlds on grains of sand.