缅北强奸

Injustices of the American Prison System: Review of Susannah Nevison's听Lethal Theater

Marisa L. Manuel

搁别惫颈别飞别诲:听Lethal Theater听by Susannah Nevison (Mad Creek Books, 2019)

Lethal Theater, winner of听The Journal鈥檚 Charles B. Wheeler鈥檚 Poetry Prize (Mad Creek Books, 2019) is Susannah Nevison鈥檚 second poetry collection, and it鈥檚 unflinchingly critical of the American prison system. Written in three parts鈥攕imilar to the three-act style of a play, as well as the three drugs administered during an execution鈥攖he poems lead the reader through accounts of torture and experimentation on prison inmates, crescendoing with the botched execution of Claude Jones. In each section, the executioners have a role to play; the witnesses have a role to play; the condemned have a role to play, too. But putting on a good performance isn鈥檛 the same as administering justice, and sometimes, the play goes off script: an execution goes awry, or the public learns of some behind-the-scenes 鈥渨ar game鈥� they weren鈥檛 meant to see. In these moments, the truth is finally visible, and undeniable: by participating as viewers, we are complicit in these prisoners鈥� abuse. We are part of the lethal theater.

Early on in the first section, Nevison鈥檚 poems connect very purposefully, line by line. The poem 鈥淸The bars lash light across his body, and he]鈥� ends with the line 鈥渉e becomes a stripped and weathered cross.鈥� Two pages later, the poem is titled, 鈥淸He becomes a stripped and weathered cross],鈥� and it begins with the same refrain. Several other poems follow a similar setup, suggesting that each is a variation or related component of the same fundamental story. Different prisoners or different prisons, perhaps, but all part of the same theatrical production. The cruelties these prisoners suffer are shown in detail, from binding to electrocution. And in each instance, there is the suggestion of more to come, of worse to come:

believe the chill鈥檚 enough to make a man

talk to cure his conscience so that he gives

himself up, before you bind his arms to a board

again, before you bind his arms to his legs

again, a position that reminds you of tying

hogs, how it renders a man useless (鈥淸The winter field has forgotten what it knows]鈥�)

Nevison鈥檚 use of repetition and wordplay is dizzying鈥攕o dizzying, in fact, that the reader never knows what to expect next. In 鈥淏arrel,鈥� Nevison leads the reader from a barrel used as a hiding spot to the barrel of a gun. In 鈥淐hamber,鈥� she repeats this concept of barrels by connecting heart chambers and grave chambers to 鈥渕usic... barreling down.鈥� Her narrative play induces a dreamlike quality, which seems structurally intentional; based on the three-drug cocktail used in executions, it is here that Nevison inserts anesthesia, which will leave us sedated, drowsy, and numb to the prisoners鈥� suffering. However, while the reader is made to experience this dreamlike state in full, Nevison has purposely denied us the complete effects of her sedative; we feel each injustice as if we鈥檙e personally watching it, or even living it. And we鈥檙e made to endure these tortures because, so often in executions, inmates don鈥檛 receive the right sedative, either.

The second section of Nevison鈥檚 collection homes in on experiments conducted on prisoners by prison complexes. Here, Nevison inserts a paralyzing agent鈥攖he second drug of the execution cocktail鈥攚hich makes it impossible for us to move; we are literally asked to stay in the poem 鈥淓uphemism,鈥� and it becomes even harder to leave when 鈥渙ur shadows鈥� pin us down鈥� in 鈥淧arables.鈥� We鈥檙e trapped in a cycle of repeated injustice and suffering, unable to escape, which culminates in the section鈥檚 final poem, our 鈥淐onfinement Prayer.鈥� And through our paralysis, our eyes open on an even larger scale. These are not individual injustices; these are systematic injustices, perpetuated time and time again because we allow them.

In this second section, Nevison also calls upon the idea of a prisoner鈥檚 cinema, which is a hallucinatory 鈥渓ight show鈥� that appears to prisoners who have been confined to dark, empty cells. By highlighting these hallucinations alongside the executions of Saints Catherine and Lucy, the poem 鈥淧risoner鈥檚 Cinema with Saints Catherine and Lucy鈥� martyrs the victims and sheds light on their abuse, by forcing us to view 鈥渁 spectacle of light you cannot fathom / until you fathom it.鈥� In 鈥淧risoner鈥檚 Cinema with News from Home,鈥� the speaker adds, 鈥淚 thought of the distance / we touch without seeing one another.鈥� This idea of seeing and being seen resonates throughout Nevison鈥檚 poems.

Nevison鈥檚 collection is filled with descriptions of eyes. Some of these eyes refuse or are unable to see, while others view all and choose to ignore what they鈥檙e seeing. In 鈥淭apetum Lucindum,鈥� the speaker says of a dead cat, 鈥渁 veterinarian shows me how it works鈥攈ow to shine a light in the animal鈥檚 eyes鈥� I want to see what the cat must have seen鈥�the eye says what it can.鈥� And in 鈥淧risoner鈥檚 Cinema with Saints Catherine and Lucy,鈥� the speaker states,

you understand the fabled bowl

a saint carries, its hollow lit

by the eyes it cradles and the saint

eyeless and God-filled. You are not

eyeless, and God is nowhere

These images of broken and missing eyes highlight the dual nature of our role as viewers. We watch the executions and view the prisoners鈥� abuse, but we don鈥檛 see or acknowledge them for what they truly are.

In the final act of Nevison鈥檚 three-act play, we鈥檙e forced to confront the executioner鈥檚 heart-stopping drug. We literally see this drug administered in her titular poem, which serves as an indictment against all who read and watch but do nothing more: 鈥渢his is how / a man dies. This is how we kill him鈥� (鈥淟ethal Theater鈥�). Her third section ends with an account of Jones鈥檚 botched execution, in which it took 30 minutes for executioners to find a vein. Real witness accounts are used alongside fictionalized executioner narratives, which are further juxtaposed against the interior musings of anesthesiologists who administered Nevison鈥檚 own anesthesia during past sicknesses. None of these voices are speaking to each other, but these small poems are essentially one big poem, delivering a larger commentary on medicine and incarceration.

As a whole,听Lethal Theater听has, perhaps, a few too many threads. Nevison鈥檚 attempt to compare the inmates and the torturers to different animals was hard to parse, and the metaphor seemed muddy. Perhaps the muddiness was her point, that at different times both the condemned and the condemner are animals. If so, her hallucinatory, dreamlike way of writing鈥攚hich is so effective elsewhere鈥攄idn鈥檛 quite work. Other themes, like her gamification of torture, do more to show the sadism of the prison system. For instance, in 鈥淎merican Icon,鈥� an electrified prisoner is described as 鈥淟ike a real live / wire, he jumps. Like hopscotch / or rope. Like nothing a child / couldn鈥檛 name. Hasn鈥檛 seen. / Like nothing, like a game.鈥�

Nevison鈥檚 collection ends with the proclamation, 鈥淒ear You, Dear Wrong and Forgotten, / everywhere I look, I am looking for you鈥�" Here, the poem goes beyond all past injustices, all individual accounts, any one name. Now, the subject is any and every 鈥測ou鈥� who has ever been wronged by the prison system鈥攖ortured, executed, or otherwise forced to entertain us.

While I don鈥檛 personally know anyone in prison or on death row, Susannah Nevison鈥檚 collection made me realize I have a connection all the same. We all do. Societal injustices are society鈥檚 injustices. We can鈥檛 continue to ignore the lethal theater, and we can鈥檛 pretend we have no part in it. The more we turn a blind eye to these injustices, the more we perpetuate them, and the more lethal they become.