Sundress Reads: Review of lithopaedion

Intimate and sorrowful, Carrie Nassif’s lithopaedion (Finishing Line Press, 2023) captures readers in the small, dark womb of motherhood, taking us on the slimy and tender journey to birth and be birthed.

This poetry collection opens with an echoing burst of emotion. The speaker introduces an unnamed subject which they constantly and vaguely refer back to as “you.” The descriptions of this character as a wincing toddler with a “clenched tooth smile and pin curls,” along with other parts including the “tang of [your] injuries,” “paw at them curious,” “flimsy husks,” and “grimy coins,” lead readers to feel protective, almost maternal, over the character (Nassif 1). Only at the end is it revealed that the poem is addressed to the speaker’s own mother. And so it begins: the thirty-four page roller-coaster ride through heartbreak and sweetness. Nassif’s flashes of compassion and endearment sharply contrast whetted moments of conflict to create a stunning collection which seems to reflect on itself as it reflects on motherhood from the perspective of a daughter. 

Each poem is a punch to the gut; so quick in its succession, Nassif’s lithopaedion barely leaves room to recover before grabbing readers roughly by the collar to stand for the next poem. In “the unmothering,” Nassif describes the speaker’s innocent curiosity surrounding their own birth. The speaker of the poem is wise, describing scenes of birth as only a mother would know, such as, “how your beats would wane,” and “feather breath on ours” (Nassif 5). The poem ends with, “then twisted rubber bands so tight around / we fell away unnoticed” (Nassif 5). Nassif begins the next poem by saying, “you who had been so content to rest within my ribs would come convulsing from me on hands and knees” (6). The transition flows so smoothly; if heard aloud, we may wonder when the last poem ends and when the new one begins. Not only is lithopaedion thematically rich and consistent, the speaker’s perspective is, too. Even when the poem is seemingly from a child’s point of view, the speaker’s narrative distance dominates elegantly with the sage reflections and intimacy that only comes with age. 

The collection unabashedly climaxes at several points. The conclusion comes too soon with several poems towards the end finishing their own movements strongly; readers are led into gutting false ends. Each ending leaves readers wondering if what Nassif presents afterwards could possibly top it. “Iterations of collapse” concludes with:

This allusion to the Bible is the first in the collection. The themes of sacrifice and pleasure that Nassif plays with throughout the collection are encapsulated perfectly in these lines, due, in part, to the allusion. Again, Nassif plays with the passage of time, taking us to the conception of the child. Here, the post-birth reflection meditates on the speaker’s personal pleasure, detached from motherhood. The lack of personal pleasure enjoyed by any woman in this collection goes mostly unnoticed until this point, serving as a metaphor for reality. In a few short lines, Nassif has presented us several purposes and interpretations, just one example of many in lithopaedion.

Nassif’s carefully crafted ending leaves us with no doubt that she is a master of diction and a greater master in the art of affliction: “reverberations of afterbirth spiraling within us all” (30). Here, Nassif describes motherhood as it is endured by women who become mothers after first being a daughter. As the speaker in these poems is flawed and suffers greatly, struggling to find space to forgive themself for some far away sin, the speaker also takes on the biggest burden of all: forgiving their own mother. Through motherhood, the speaker seems to find a freshness in empathy. It becomes more difficult to admit that mothers cannot bear everything and easier to understand why their own mother suffered as she did. Nassif’s vulnerability on the page shows us that mothers never stop being daughters and motherhood rips daughterhood away from women, both at the same time. To be a mother is to give and sacrifice. What better way is there to encapsulate this experience than through lithopaedion?

lithopaedion is available for purchase at Finishing Line Press

---

Hedaya Hasan is a Palestinian writer and designer based in Chicago.