Exploring Human Relationships

For its Spring 2008 issue, Bayou brims with essays, short stories, and poems that address how effectively or not so effectively humans navigate relationships. Issue 49 showcases connections from all conceivable angles: a sister and brother, a mother and daughter, a celebrity and her country, and so on. No matter the pairing, this issue reveals how complex and skewed human ties are.

The first piece in the issue, "Anamnesis," sets the pace for all the work that follows. This poem's brilliance lies in how it heralds or summons the diverse works contained within Bayou's pages while pointing to its own immediate drama. From its start, the poem intrigues: "My summer house is empty now. / You may know the house. / I built it one night in a sugared dream." Perhaps the greatest feat of the poem is in how the speaker entreats us to "come in. / Because nothing is empty," and by explicitly inviting us "in," we gain access not only to this poem, but to the other pieces within this issue as well.

The short story "The Best Days" exposes how cumbersome the relationship between an older sister and her younger brother is. Underlying the tension surrounding their relationship is a rift revolving around their slight age difference, a rift that surfaces whenever the two interact: at a restaurant, while riding the Ferris wheel, etc. They seem, regardless of the venue, fated to clash in their world-views. We learn that the two most often communicate over drinks--tequila and beer. Their disconnect seems vast, as illustrated in the final scene when the brother decides to remain on the Ferris Wheel while his sister departs from the ride and stands, holding her baby, staring up at her brother's disappearing figure. The ending leaves us wondering whether the brother will ever seek out help for his addiction and if the sister will ever succeed in aiding her brother in receiving the assistance he needs. 

In the essay, "Ideal Conversion," we find ourselves grappling with the nature of prejudice and how prejudice as a mindset can influence others' lives. The author chronicles how her daughter, a young Jewish woman, reacts to a letter passed on to her by her fiancé, a non-practicing Catholic. The problem arises when the young woman finds herself the victim of the grandmother's ill will. This essay should give us pause to reflect that in regard to moral matters, it is often difficult to determine in absolute terms what makes one set of religious values more valid than another.

Arguably the most divisive ingredient in human relations, the most explosive agent for stirring people's passion, race as a topic emerges in this issue. The discussion of race, though, is somewhat tempered by the fact that race gets addressed through the vehicle of celebrity. It is, in fact, the twentieth century entertainer, Josephine Baker, who is the subject of the poem, "Josephine Baker in Paris." Part of the appeal of this poem is that we can revel in the fact that we are reading about a figure who, at one time, was beloved on the world stage. Many might admire Ms. Baker, particularly for the glamour she exuded throughout her illustrious career. But the poem highlights some of the more disturbing aspects of her life as a performer: namely, how she was discriminated against in her native land, America.   

In "Folk Song for Luna," one lone human being is featured among various elements of nature: "The calico girl, as the pine bough creaks, is scarecrow still / Below the heavenly gargoyle that decants glistening beams." The mood here is eerie, as  "the pine bough creaks" and a girl who appears "scarecrow still." The girl, in fact, becomes dehumanized in her state, rendered immobile. Hence, we gain the sense that nature has subdued the girl; that she has become subject to nature's power. What cements the girl's subordinate status is her physical place, the fact that she is stationed "Below the heavenly gargoyle that decants glistening beams." 

Another poem that substantiates the idea that humans struggle in their relationship to nature is the sestina, "Roses Arose." At the start of the poem, the poet relates how she toils, removing "old roots and rocks" in her quest to make flowers "grow"--the words "rocks" and "grow" being two of the key words that sustain the sestina. In the end, the speaker triumphs, mastering rocks to achieve the effect of producing roses that flourish in her garden.