Title: A Book of Lamentations
Author: James Goldberg
Illustrator: Camilla Stark
Publisher: Independently published
Genre: Poetry
Year Published: 2020
Number of Pages: 161
Reviewed by Christopher Angulo
Disclaimer: I don’t like poetry, I don’t profess to know how to read it, nor do I read it often. I like multitasking and doing things fast. Poetry has always been too slow for me. 2020 has allowed us multitasking, overburdened go-getters to realize that there is a point of too much non-stop action; that breaks (especially from children) are nice and good for the soul. James Goldberg’s A Book of Lamentations forces you to slow down, to pause, to know and live in the now.
To be honest, I purchased this book because of Camilla Stark’s artwork, not for the poetry. I have been an admirer of her approach to Mormonism for some time (I mean, look at the burning bush/tree of life linocut on vellum she posted on Twitter (@camillaguh) on October 2, 2020. Wow!). The illustrations were haunting and a wonderful companion to the poems. The artwork helped set the tone for the book and to transport a reader, like me, into the poem’s world. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to read the poetry when I purchased this book. I have read some of Goldberg’s books in the past, and anyone who has read his books knows that Goldberg approaches the ordinary in extraordinary ways. I decided to give it a whirl.
James Goldberg has somehow successfully managed to bottle up all of the pain, despair, worry and loss of 2020 in a short, 109 page book. However, instead of providing succor with sweet water, Goldberg gives us Listerine. As Chris Kilpack told me before reading this book, “James doesn’t hide his meanings. Rather, he smacks you in the face with it, in a good way.” This statement proved true with almost every turn of the page.
The book starts off with a sobering observation:
This is the truth
he buried beneath
us: that we are
so very capable
of choosing death
and choosing it
and choosing it
and choosing it
until we grow numb
until even beaten,
broken, breathless,
our bodies will
strain toward
the consuming
violence of a
total
self-destruction
With these few words, Goldberg thrusts you into a world that is both the inevitable future and the unavoidable now. I was shocked into a state of self-reflection. With each poem I contemplated my own actions, measured my own feelings, and pondered my effect on the world- am I adding to the suffering?
Lamentations isn’t your early-2000’s emo poetry. Goldberg doesn’t wallow in misery for the sake of wallowing; Goldberg embraces the hurt, allows the hurt to exist, then provides it as an offering for grace. Poems from several different authors are woven between Goldberg’s own writings. These authors added a different perspective from Goldberg, and from my own worldview. The additional voices were the biggest strength to this book. In particular, Nicole Goldberg’s “1 May/29 May2020” and Madison Beckstrand’s “I’ve never had the pleasure” made my inner punk rocker want to stand up and fight. Beckstrand tragically illustrates the effect that racism has one’s spirituality, “No, all is not right in Zion,/ but we’ve wrestled with enough in this world by design/ that we have no time to do so with the divine.” These lines have shut my mouth to my complaints for a lack of charity from those fighting to survive.
I’m not good with words, and I don’t remember words for long periods of time. While I may not be able to quote any of the poems come tomorrow, my life was changed through this reading. The experiences of others that I have felt, experienced, and remembered have become a part of me. This little reminder to slow down and live has proven to be invaluable in these tumultuous times.