By Audrey Fong
Lee Ann Roripaugh’s poetry collection #stringofbeads opens with the lines of poetry that inspire its title: “String of beads, if you must break, break; / if you last longer, my endurance is sure to weaken.”
These opening lines not only inform the reader of the origin of the collection’s name, but also tell the reader the poet whose work influences the collection: Heian-period Japanese poet Princess Shikishi. Like Princess Shikishi’s poetry, #stringofbeads chronicles daily life and its multitude of experiences. It is particularly interested in questions of place: the poems span across North America, moving from Alaska to Canada to Nebraska City.
In “#nyc-esque,” Roripaugh captures the frenetic energy of New York from a multitude of places within the city such as Hotel 17, Tompkins Square Park, and the deck at St Dymphna’s. The poem opens with a description of the Holland Tunnel, the major entrypoint into New York for those who fly into Newark International Airport: “a long paper towel tub :: but shiny inside / like streaked abalone shells :: graffitied red headlights.” Resisting the urge to romanticize New York, “#nyc-esque” does not shy away from the daily experiences of living in the city such as “a constipated lab pup trying to poop in :: the middle of the crosswalk.” One stanza that particularly interested me was:
there’s nothing to do :: in south dakota / mansplains :: the shuttle driver
the way to LGA :: any city’s big to you
This stanza begs the questions: How do we measure a city’s worth? What makes one place better than another? While these questions aren’t asked or answered outright, “there’s nothing to do” implies that the shuttle driver finds little value in the whole state of South Dakota. By mansplaining that “any city’s big to you,” the driver both downplays the factual largeness of New York (it’s the 11th most populated city in the world) and attempts to make the narrator feel small and out of place during her time in the city, as if she is nothing more than a country bumpkin. This attitude is a performance of blase-ness; simultaneously, the driver is stating New York is better than South Dakota, while also pretending as if the city is only of interest to those who haven’t experienced more or something better.
The juxtaposition of “#meteorology,” a poem largely about nature, right after “#nyc-esque” is Roripaugh’s way of fighting against the shuttle driver’s presumed disdain, or at least unimpressed attitude, towards South Dakota and places like it that are typically thought of as less cosmopolitan or worthy than New York.
bare honeysuckle :: bristling with squeaking sparrows :: occasional burst
of quarrelsome confetti :: like mushroom clouds of winged spores
the day gets woolly :: dollops of snow-gritted fog :: machine-spun sugar
carnival-flossed / vortexting :: the thin cardboard sticks of trees
While these two stanzas have imagery that hints at war (mushroom clouds) and filth (gritted), the overall tone of these stanzas are of awe. The descriptors, “confetti” and “carnival-flossed,” evoke a sense of celebration. While the aforementioned lines evoke fun, there are also more mundane lines such as: “it’s april 18 :: 31 degrees / the noon :: thick with wind and snow / and fog / chastened grackles hunch :: silent in the trees / whiten,” which through color and imagery depict a quieter world blanketed and softened by snow. Through the use of nature, Roripaugh demonstrates two attitudes towards the world: awe and mundanity, asking readers through which lens they will view the world. Ultimately, Roripaugh chooses the former, writing that “if you could, you would :: spend the whole day watching snow.” Unlike the shuttle driver who belittles South Dakota, Roripaugh embraces the everyday world around her and finds magic in the little things in life such as honeysuckle and snow.
The poems in #stringofbeads traverse North America and together, they document North America as it is. “#ontheroad” particularly captures the U.S. and reminded me of an oft-laughed-at photograph (above) of a highway exit in Breezewood, PA that went viral because as internet users noted, it could be anywhere in the U.S. Roripaugh’s poem, without citing this image, immediately brings to mind this photograph through the listing of U.S. highway markers and physical attributes: “mile marker posts,” “cherry pit stop gas,” “jesus saves,” “wet yellow makes the center line brighter,” and “day-glo orange safety cones.” All of these can be seen along the highways of the U.S., no matter where one is. They are largely responsible for the turning of every place into the “anywhere-ness” that Roripaugh details.
As someone who has spent the majority of her life in one place (Southern California), I have a general fascination with American culture and how it changes from region to region, how areas of the country can be so different despite the presence of national corporations that contribute to the monoculture we see across the U.S. (think: McDonald’s, Hilton hotels, 7 Elevens, etc.). #stringofbeads helped me explore parts of the U.S. I’m unfamiliar with (“#homeralaska,” “#nebraskacity,” etc.) while also reaffirming my belief that we have more in common across the nation than we are led to believe (“#ontheroad”).
At only 40 pages, #stringofbeads is a quick read. However, due to the poems’ unique form that reads more like images, ideas, or feelings strung together by colons, feeling much like the poetic version of staccato, shooting each idea briefly and quickly into the reader’s mind, #stringofbeads is a collection that begs to be read again. But this time, slower. It is easy to skim this collection and feel confused (I certainly was the first read), but trust Roripaugh and go through each poem again, letting each image appear before you until you too are seeing the U.S. unfold before you.
Audrey Fong is your stereotypical Southern Californian. She loves the beach, drinks more boba than the doctor recommends, and has an Insta-famous dog. She is the co-founder and co-editor of Soapberry Review.