The Island of Lost Luggage
by Janet McAdams
University of Arizona Press, 2000
Janet McAdam's The Island of Lost Luggage is about landscapes--both exterior and interior. McAdam's successfully transposes each upon the other, forcing the entire collection to hum with a beautiful resonance. The exterior landscapes are almost always worse--war torn central America, an environmental wasteland, the fearful terrain of childhood. Against this external world, the internal landscapes are much harsher. In "Boulevard of Heroes", the poet describes a scene of revolt and agression, but sets it against the conflicts of betrayal. In "Leaving the Old Gods" McAdams explores the turmoil of abortion:
In don't know what world you inhabit,
swimming there, baby, not-baby,
part of my body, not me,
swept aside like locks of hair
or toenail parings.
Many of the poems in the collection, like the one above, deal with varieties of loss--people, places, things. In the title poem "The Island of Lost Luggage", McAdams writes-- In these poems, lost things are at the same time recoverable and unrecoverable. The environment engendered in each poem only increases the sense of loss.
At the head of the line, a clerk
hands you two sets of car keys, a single glove,
an unopoened letter mailed many years ago.
Kevin, some things are lost forever,
and at the Island of Lost Luggage, they line up:
the dissappeared, the lost children, the Earharts
of modern life.......
In the third section of the book, "A Map of the Twentieth Century", McAdams revisits the threatening landscape of childhood where--
In it, the trees of childhood make a terrible sound ("The Monster
of Childhood").
McAdams successfully intertwines childhood with references to twentieth-century culture, including the famous William Shatner Twilight Zone episode. The poet skillfully weaves the details of childhood with those of pop culture, with starling results. In "The Venus Thread," McAdams explores the bonds between children through the medium of children's games like "Rock, Paper, Scissors" and "Red Rover":
Stranger, if they send someone over,
Will our hand shold fast or will we break apart
ready to welcome them, to change
who we are, what we will become?
The adult landscape is no less fraught with danger. In the next
section, "After the War", deals with hazardous terrain of adult
relationships--
The heart is lonely
And thumps in its separate cage,
cage we call body. My heart is lean and can run
for miles without my body, but your heart
runs on hunger, a solid muscle
over its four empty, fragile chambers.
Despite the harsh realities presented in the collection there are moments
of startling beauty--the power to transcend the horrible world around us.
In "Our Lady of Good Health", the poet asks--
What if my heart grew scales and swam like fish through my body?
Are there breaking points in the continent of my body?
Or in "Advice to Travelers"--
When it is late enough,
the moon will rise. Then carry
the lantern in your left hand,
an orange in your right.
The orange is for scent.
Hold the orange to your face.
The lantern is for balance:
never light it. Wait
for the moon. Then:
you will find your way. Then:
you will grow light enough
to vanish.
The tranposition of the beautiful with the harsh is what makes this collection such a triumph. Infused with rich historical background and contemporary emotion, McAdam's collection is highly recommended. The book, winner in the First Book Award Series of the Native Writer's Circle of the Americas and of the Before Columbus Foundation's American Book Award, has recieved the just recognition it deserves. The author, who teaches English, Native American Studies, and Women's Studies at the University of Oklahoma, has previously been featured in journals such as Poetry, TriQuarterly, and the North American Review.