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The Meter Reader: Austin Smith's听Flyover Country听employs "a nagging nostalgia"

Amie Whittemore

搁别惫颈别飞别诲:听Flyover Country听by Austin Smith (Princeton University Press, 2018).

尝颈办别听, I grew up on a small farm in Illinois (though in my case it was corn and soybeans, not dairy cows), and I suspect, based on the poems in his second collection,听Flyover Country, that we share a nagging nostalgia for the Midwest, for landscapes covered in 鈥渘ameless creeks swollen / with ag runoff and rain and sleep,鈥� where 鈥渞edwing blackbirds accost you鈥� (鈥淭o go to Lena鈥�). Nostalgia is a risky muse鈥攊t would be easy to erase the 鈥渁g runoff鈥� from those creeks, to see them as a child sees them鈥攕hining and sleepy. Smith, however, provides both sentiment and criticism in these narrative poems, investigating as much as cherishing 鈥渇lyover country,鈥� a term which comes to encapsulate not only the Midwestern United States, but also other landscapes and lives, raising the question: can we really know that which we 鈥渇lyover?鈥�

Many of Smith鈥檚 adjacent poems form partnerships in this collection, entering into dialogue with each other: 鈥淭he Raccoon Tree鈥� and 鈥淐at Moving Kittens鈥� form such a pair in the first section, and point to one of the key questions听Flyover Country听raises: how do we handle the tension between personal responsibility and human shortsightedness? Both these poems address this question through a collective first person composed of prepubescent boys, providing a foundation for the second section, which deepens its analysis of masculine performance. In 鈥淭he Raccoon Tree,鈥� the boys approach an oak tree at night to meet

鈥�this creature

Who every winter

Hid in fear of us

Boys who came without fail

To fill its world

With breath and darkness.

听

While Smith鈥檚 speaker(s) is able to articulate the raccoon鈥檚 fear, the boys are less able to articulate their purpose for causing that fear: what does it mean to provide 鈥渂reath and darkness,鈥� neither of which is inherently sinister? The boys seem not to know, driven less by malice than by a ravenous curiosity about the natural world, about the uncanny night.

The boys demonstrate more empathy in the next poem, 鈥淐at Moving Kittens,鈥� which begins 鈥渨e must have known,鈥� the cat would move the kittens after听 鈥渨e鈥檇 found them // shut-eyed and trembling / under a straw bale / in the haymow.鈥� The poem closes with the mother cat:听

She made a decision

Any mother might make

听

Upon guessing the intentions

Of the state: to go and to

Go now, taking everything

You love between your teeth.

听

Here Smith conflates the boys with the state, pinions them to patriarchy, to power: his speakers admit their lack of innocence in the first line鈥攁nd their empathy for the cat鈥檚 choice in the last stanza. Thus one of the central tenants of听Flyover Country听emerges: one can be complicit and empathetic at once and one is culpable for one鈥檚 actions, even when one doesn鈥檛 fully understand the impact of those actions (a point poignantly made in 鈥淭he Windbreak,鈥� where the speaker, on learning of his father鈥檚 potential cancer diagnosis burns brush, un-homing small creatures, only to find out later the diagnosis was a mistake).

The stakes are raised in the second section, which moves beyond the first section鈥檚 exploration of boyhood to a more head-on critique of the state. One of the most powerful poems in this section is 鈥淐ottonpicker,鈥� in which the speaker examines the casual racism of the men around him: 鈥渋f it hadn鈥檛 been / For us boys being there they might have / Said听motherfucker听instead.鈥� Still, even though the 鈥渕eaning had faded鈥� with use, the word was like the men鈥檚 鈥減ocketknives, / soft, oft-handled things / In which a blade was folded.鈥� Violence is systemic, casual, and perpetuated in everyday actions, often without thought, Smith鈥檚 poems indicate, making the terror of state-sanctioned violence all the more intractable, as in his scathing portrayal of former Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, in 鈥淭hat Particular Village.鈥� In this poem, through the use of persona, Smith criticizes Rumsfeld鈥檚 response, 鈥淚 cannot deal with that particular village,鈥� to questions regarding a bombing of Chowkar-Karez, a farming village in Afghanistan in 2002. In the poem, the personified Rumsfeld states, 鈥淚 can鈥檛 deal with that particular / Village in this life nor shall I be made to answer for / What happened there in the next,鈥� indicating a frustration simmering beneath many of these poems: is justice or reprieve from violence possible, or must we always carry what we love in our teeth?

Flyover Country听does not offer a satisfying answer to that impossible question as the third section retreats to a more observational mode, returning largely to the farm and childhood scenes prevalent in the first section in its catalogs of needful animals, humorous distractions (鈥淥de to Flour鈥� is a gem), and search for solace. The crisis these poems point to but can鈥檛 resolve is most fully realized in 鈥淐ountry Things,鈥� which begins with a list of animal acts of violence: 鈥淚n the rafters of the barn the starlings are / Pushing the owls鈥� eggs out of the nest, / While the owl herself is out hunting.鈥� These acts obviously differ from human-on-human violence, which can be disassociated from survival; the speaker notes, having heard the snap of a mousetrap, that 鈥淵ou are met with your own small act / Of cruelty, your contribution to the whole.鈥� At the end of the poem the dead mouse, thrown into the backyard by the speaker, is devoured by the housecat that releases a bird, 鈥渨ho was only stunned, /And whose song you woke to this morning.鈥� Thus, one life is saved by the sacrifice of another: there is no escaping this disturbing arithmetic. Yet, this reality is too much for the speaker of these poems, an unbearable paradox, and the speaker longs to be 鈥渁lone / as some feathers / In the bed of a pickup,鈥� 鈥渢o be forgotten / that way, to drift鈥� (鈥淔eathers鈥�). Or, in other words, there is a longing to听fly over听the complex problems of the modern age, even as the poems acknowledge and examine the impossibility of such an exit.

I admire Smith鈥檚 craft鈥攈is music, surprising similes, and expert use of the narrative form^1;听still, I am quizzical about the collection鈥檚 treatment of class and gender issues, which paradoxically seem at once to be central and peripheral issues in the collection: poems like 鈥淐ottonpicker,鈥� 鈥淭hat Particular Village,鈥� and 鈥淒rone,鈥� for instance take these issues head on, whereas poems like 鈥淐at Moving Kittens鈥� take a more slanted approach. Other poems, such as 鈥淲hite Lie鈥� reside more firmly in the personal. In reflection, I found myself wanting more poems like 鈥淐ottonpicker,鈥� more examination of whiteness, class, and gender roles in the Midwestern United States鈥攂ut this urge for听Flyover Country听to be a somewhat different collection of poems is based more on my anxieties as a writer and less about the book itself.听

I do not think any one collection of poetry can鈥攐r should鈥攂e all things to all readers; nor do I think a collection that incites a singular response (I loved it! I hated it!) is the only measure of worth, even though such responses are seductive in their clarity; indeed what I like best about听Flyover Country听is how it has invited me to engage with the complexity of my response to it, to take time with its strengths and weaknesses in order to investigate my own biases and anxieties as a reader/writer. So, I return to the advice to 鈥�:鈥� what I love is poetry that invites me toward questions and ambiguities rather than pedantic resolutions. Certainly听Flyover Country听accomplishes this and more.

¹听I am also curious about the way Smith鈥檚 formal choices and use of narrative interacts with the issues of nostalgia in his work, but alas, this review cannot go on forever. Reader, I encourage you to consider this issue on your own.