Éclat

Caroline Bergvall, I love you.

I read Éclat a few years ago, and I remembered liking it-- as well as the visual/formal aspects, which I also liked-- but couldn't remember what it was "about." It was a pleasure to revisit, and I love Caroline Bergvall and everything she does.

The form of the book (should probably mention I read it downloaded as a pdf on my laptop, though it was originally presented as a guided tour then published in book form but is now available to the masses on ubuweb) is beautiful-- nearly each page (save only the penultimate, I think) operates within, transgresses, subverts, distorts, etc. the space of a box-- literally, a square box drawn on the page. This is a really beautiful move to express the limits of the page-- the confines she's already sort of working in (though I suppose if these were originally projection, perhaps they were serving then to mimic the page, but again, same idea)-- anyway, drawing attention to the form, to the artifice, to the constraints we take for granted. The colors are simple: mostly white (page) black or occasionally grey typography, yellow accents. I would decorate my house with these colors, speaking of: much of the first part of Éclat describes a house, the progression through a house, the spatial relationships w/in (another gorgeous choice, where content and form seem to determine each other).

She also plays with language, jamming words together to make new words (below, water rare let us move back ... I LOVE her bilingual wordplay)

Andbreakingwateràreculons&asthoughwewerent

And in other instances, she removes letters (but often leaves a period in the place of the stricken letter, so you know she's doing "found" or erasure)--

WELL is an occupation COME to the foreign guided a short round of observations. now you s.. now y.. don'

Which reminds me a bit of the beginning of her "Say: Parsley," though in Say: Parsley the goal seems to be to render the English language (mother tongue to a lot of her audience) foreign, other, or to distort it, make you stumble over it-- which ties in nicely to the theme and context of the poem. Here, it seems that she wants us to recognize the pieces of language she's picked up and repurposed-- inside this box, these are the tools she has and we see but she's made them say something different.

The entire time I was reading the beginning of Éclat, I kept thinking, there's something really sexual about this, am I really pervy? she's talking about a house and language and there's so much great play with language and space etc. Then it starts to become more apparent-- she's playing with ideas of 'normativity' and what was starting to feel like a guided tour of a vagina explodes into a scene where a gay son is bargained for a daughter then masturbation then sex ('was a sist a mist' echoes as a refrain through these scenes) which climaxes in prayer liturgy

You fill your throat and think of Mary immaculate Your saintly unvaginal envelope bless me the saintly silence of blessed be as I traverse bless me the saintly bloodless of Your bless me Your saintly lipless lopsided you fill your bless me Mary throat Your saintly vacated throat saintly vacated occupancy bless me bless me I move to bless me occupy some profound Mary occupation Mary she un fuck fuck she un she un she unpacks Your saintl I Marymary slitless I discharge charge banged across the plastered all over the banged across the throb from every piece of banged all over her banged all over her beat into her all over her bang bang bang what bliss what splendid c.... I say blast what splendid cunts Mary saintl never let it be never let it be said are inward inwarded so bless me bless me Mary pleine de grâce for to extend inout one’s outsides out

then ends with this:

Your

skin

pops

back

to its

curr

ent

conv

entio

nal

dime

nsio

ns

with

a

shlu

rpy

soun

d

(next page):

schlurp

(final page):

In the landfill of your fr... the landfill of your frock there is occupation which in the landfill of your frock there is occupation which occupies occupies there is occupation which occupies. And the sight of no pussy cat is so diff e rent that a tobacco zone is white and cream.

A thinker once said girls make a gorgeous margin, did you believe that, crmonies of sweat ‘n .isibility. I did. (But really). Behavioural accumulation. Adjectival distentions pooled into spectacles recombinant, now that’s what I’d call morphing. What I’d call. Morphing. And a sightly occupation at that.