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A review by brice_mo
Even the least of these by Anita Skeen
4.5
Thanks to NetGalley and Michigan State University Press for the ARC!
Anita Skeen & Laura B. DeLind’s Even the Least of These is a comfort food collection of poems and prints rooted in the interiority of COVID lockdowns.
I am skeptical of “COVID art” because it’s often ambitious in a way that simply doesn’t reflect how 2020 and 2021 were experienced. Let’s be real—most of us were withering, not learning to be our best selves or recognizing the power of the indomitable human spirit.
It was just an awful time.
That said, the smallness many of us retreated to had its moments—sourdough starters gone awry and then aright, gardens tended to in the early hours of the day, and endless weeks poured into Animal Crossing interior design. It’s a squeamish reality that a global trauma could still invite glimpses of joy, and that’s the space that Even the Least of These lives in.
These poems are ten-line routines. Normally, labeling a poem “routine” would be among the worst insults imaginable, but here it’s a strength. These are written and read as ritual, with the poet turning her gaze to the world that normally exists just outside our frenetic rhythms. These are celebrations of animal noises and seasonal textures and everything at its most alive. While reading, I was reminded of Simone Weil’s quote that absolutely unmixed attention is prayer—these poems feel like a prayer either to the world or for the world or both. They may not necessarily burrow into a reader’s mind, but they will almost certainly wash pleasantly over them.
Similarly, the artwork is simply gorgeous, showcasing all of the craftsmanship and care that printmaking requires. I always admire the medium because it’s precise but very human. One gets the sense that the artist is responding to the woodcut rather than controlling it, and that feels appropriate for this book and its themes. In conversation, these poems and their corresponding artwork offer a portrait of that singular—sorry, “unprecedented”—moment where contentment became the first priority after survival.
This book is a delight, and it's one that made me a little misty-eyed.
Anita Skeen & Laura B. DeLind’s Even the Least of These is a comfort food collection of poems and prints rooted in the interiority of COVID lockdowns.
I am skeptical of “COVID art” because it’s often ambitious in a way that simply doesn’t reflect how 2020 and 2021 were experienced. Let’s be real—most of us were withering, not learning to be our best selves or recognizing the power of the indomitable human spirit.
It was just an awful time.
That said, the smallness many of us retreated to had its moments—sourdough starters gone awry and then aright, gardens tended to in the early hours of the day, and endless weeks poured into Animal Crossing interior design. It’s a squeamish reality that a global trauma could still invite glimpses of joy, and that’s the space that Even the Least of These lives in.
These poems are ten-line routines. Normally, labeling a poem “routine” would be among the worst insults imaginable, but here it’s a strength. These are written and read as ritual, with the poet turning her gaze to the world that normally exists just outside our frenetic rhythms. These are celebrations of animal noises and seasonal textures and everything at its most alive. While reading, I was reminded of Simone Weil’s quote that absolutely unmixed attention is prayer—these poems feel like a prayer either to the world or for the world or both. They may not necessarily burrow into a reader’s mind, but they will almost certainly wash pleasantly over them.
Similarly, the artwork is simply gorgeous, showcasing all of the craftsmanship and care that printmaking requires. I always admire the medium because it’s precise but very human. One gets the sense that the artist is responding to the woodcut rather than controlling it, and that feels appropriate for this book and its themes. In conversation, these poems and their corresponding artwork offer a portrait of that singular—sorry, “unprecedented”—moment where contentment became the first priority after survival.
This book is a delight, and it's one that made me a little misty-eyed.