Matthew Johnson’s comforting collection is a warm evening spent with family, chattering and laughing gutturally as aunts and uncles recount stories you’ve likely heard more than once before.
Far from New York State (NYQ Books, 2023) begins with meditations on living both in the state and city and lamentations on violence. Johnson writes, “I’m new here, / And New York is killing me too; / There’s not a soul willing to call my name” (29). On the next pages he writes, “Young black people, jailed, gunned down, or drugged up / Are reincarnated in rhyme and storytelling” (Johnson 29). These snippets, different as they may be, are excellent examples of Johnson’s masterful curation. Each poem in this collection creates the narrative environment of New York State and Johnson is successful on each page.
Allusions are prevalent throughout Johnson’s work. The speaker is enthralled by and constantly refers to various figures, Jim Boeheim, Paul Robeson, Reggie Miller, Larry Bird, and more. The speaker admits that these figures were critical to their experiences and development. When this moment of intimacy is taken into stride and the speaker’s trust in themself and the reader is established, the collection’s gradual build-up accelerates into suggestive, shyly revealed moments of youth. The two sides are not heterogenous. Johnson’s descriptions of the speaker and of the admired figures seem to melt into one another, painting everyone in a similar shade of risque.
Each poem whips the reader through a new story, new people, new scenes, and yet the ride is smooth and steady as Johnson’s transitions and attention to detail cushion the potholes of New York State. “Wrinkles have softened the face, but not the f-words, Which are still flung like one-liners in his young, nightclub age,” writes Johnson (19). “And come over here honey,” he writes later—“You ain’t about to leave here / Without me whispering / Something nasty in your ear” (Johnson 31). These pieces are a sample of the thematic consistency found in Far from New York State.
Music, often paired with the speaker’s narrative as an African American, is a major theme in Far from New York State. Whether it be an allusion, or the background of a nightclub or other scene, Johnson’s descriptions of Jazz feel so tender and real, we can almost hear it playing softly in the distance. He elegantly weaves together race, sorrow, and culture in “Mamma Sings the Prison Blues.” Johnson writes:
The wails of a mother,
Whose child had just been locked away,
Ring out like drunken night gunfire,
And are the kind of sound
That echoes in neighborhood heads for days…. (27)
In homage to a mother and this tragic moment, Johnson carefully crafts a collage or photo album of memories. While the title is enough to garner empathy, the inclusion of the neighborhood also adds to the feeling of community and tragedy, leaving us to truly mourn with everyone else. In just a few lines, Johnson has turned a poem relatively free of specificity into one full of character, unmistakably belonging to the speaker’s community and culture.
In “Listening to Illmatic” Johnson says,
Young black people, jailed, gunned down, or drugged up,
Are reincarnated in rhyme and storytelling,
But it’s only in here, in the grooves of music and my makeshift,
bathroom studio,
And not out there, where the world is not yours,
But is always sadder. (30)
Johnson intentionally avoids subtlety in this poem. His diction is direct and lyrical at the same time, leaving the reader with no choice but to revel the magnificence of Far from New York State.
Far from New York State is a cozy, ambitious collection in which the author’s purpose is clear: to introduce us to the quiet metropolistic traditions of New York State. Johnson takes us through it slowly, as though the reader is a great-niece or nephew from another state. The distance the author keeps between the speaker and reader twists the point of view curiously, leaving us wondering what our role as reader may be. Johnson presents with a surprising level of detachment. His matter-of-fact tone, even while writing on emotional topics, forces the reader to listen, and listen closely. The brisk pacing truly makes the reader feel as though they are being whisked through New York State, completely unfamiliar with the less-than luxurious landscapes and pressing nosiness, yet, at the same time, acutely aware of it.
Far from New York State is available for purchase at NYQ Books
Hedaya Hasan is a Palestinian writer and designer based in Chicago.
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