Sundress Reads: Review of World

Ana Luísa Amaral erases borders in World (New Directions 2023), translated from the original Portuguese and published posthumously. Amaral’s scope is vast, ranging from refugees traversing the Mediterranean to ants trekking across blades of grass. She inspects the global and the minute, the wild and civilized, all with cool intellect, attentiveness, and wonder. These poems are especially poignant with the context of her passing from cancer in 2022. As a cancer survivor myself, I consider where my focus should be with each page-turn, how to make the most of my life, and what my understanding of the world really is.

From the first page, Amaral seemingly reads my mind: “Is it good? you will ask” (3), implying a categorical moral compass for my worldview. Good and bad. Right and wrong. The rest of this poem, “About the world,” consists of her reply, primarily inviting me to be observant, to take ownership of my life, and find the answer myself. Lines such as, “Notice my hat, an invented halo,” Pay attention to my eyes, / closed,” and “What does it taste of” (Amaral 3) center around the senses. Amaral further encourages me to look at life without assumption or motive. In doing that, I realize the world is full of grace, seduction, and joy—more than I ever could have imagined.

The first section of World, “Almost eclogues,” plays with macro and micro realms of nature. The tradition of short, pastoral poetry goes back to Ancient Greece and Amaral’s work satisfyingly continues centuries of classical bucolics with a contemporary style. The “Almost eclogues” are akin to persona poems but are more expansive in allusion and meaning, including flash references to Milton, Dickinson, and Bishop in “The peacock,” “The bee,” and “The fish,” respectively. In “The ant: peregrinatio,” the small, familiar insect is a complex female character with emotions. The ant walks far from her home (unlike other ants), as she must provide nourishment for her community. Always on the lookout for danger in her difficult life, she soon finds food in a moment of bliss:

Amaral gifts this ant with personal narrative and personality through the use of adjectives and interiority. Additionally, the story grows to a global scale in the last few lines. The diction of “pilgrim” and “her people” invite me to consider who this ant might represent. Is this a woman delivering sustenance for her impoverished family? Where have they traveled from and why are they in a position of near-nothingness? Perhaps reality weighs on her each night when she goes to sleep, scrambling for solutions for the next day. In just a few words, a seemingly simple poem expands to a vast cultural context of mass global migration and the depth every person carries every day.

Even more, Amaral’s natural subjects in “Almost eclogues” curiously balance optimism and existential dread as they reflect on existence. In “The peacock: on flying and usefulness,” the awkward flyer’s “fan is a reminder of paradise” (Amaral 25), even though it’s a paradise lost. While it’s a bittersweet moment, the peafowl still falls for his colors and bravado despite the lack of utility in his dramatic feathers. I can’t help but cheer on the peacock, who’s only doing what’s necessary to survive. Amaral further emphasizes this point by bringing a prolific scientific mind into the conversation, noting how

“Darwin knew,

even though he didn’t write poetry,

that beauty is just that:

useless, with no apparent reason

to sustain it.” (25)

This peacock simply wants to mate so as to continue his line, yet Amaral textures the narrative. She doesn’t invent falsehoods to entertain readers, instead guiding our attention to places previously overlooked. Seemingly pessimistic, the peacock recognizes his poor flying ability; on the other hand, he knows of paradise and beauty—both worth fighting for, no matter how imperfect. Amaral, therein, promotes a shift in focus, asking: reader, can you embrace the world, no matter how unexpected?

For the ant, the peacock, and countless other fauna from World, Amaral does not suggest pursuing survival without care for others; the desire to live unites all living beings, no matter how different in appearance or belief. She also considers what is left behind: what has humanity inherited from history? And when each of the nearly eight billion people on Earth dies, what will be left for future generations of all species? A large epistemological pondering is brilliantly made metaphor in “Sunflower.” In this brief poem, Amaral asks,

Within nine lines, Amaral advocates for a total embracing of light, to metaphorically stare at the sun and be curious about the unknown. While far, the sun keeps us alive and should not be deemed distant. World reminds us of the preciousness of life, and to embrace interior and private worlds (truths) as equally as the shared planet (interconnectedness). For Amaral, to live is a marvel, a miracle.

World is available at New Directions Publishing

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Livia Meneghin (she/her) is the author of Honey in My Hair and the Sundress Publications Reads Editor. She won Breakwater Review‘s 2022 Peseroff Prize and earned a 2022-2023 Poetry Fellowship from The Writers’ Room of Boston. Her writing has found homes in Gasher, Solstice Lit, Thrush, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She earned her MFA from Emerson College, where she now teaches writing and literature. She is a cancer survivor.