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The Analyst : Poems
by Molly Peacock


Overview -

When a psychoanalyst became a painter after surviving a stroke, her longtime patient, distinguished and beloved poet Molly Peacock, took up a unique task. The Analyst is a new, visceral, twenty-first century "in memoriam" of ambiguous loss in which Peacock brilliantly tells the story of a decades-long patient-therapist relationship that now reverses and continues to evolve.  Read more...


 
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More About The Analyst by Molly Peacock
 
 
 
Overview

When a psychoanalyst became a painter after surviving a stroke, her longtime patient, distinguished and beloved poet Molly Peacock, took up a unique task. The Analyst is a new, visceral, twenty-first century "in memoriam" of ambiguous loss in which Peacock brilliantly tells the story of a decades-long patient-therapist relationship that now reverses and continues to evolve. Peacock invigorates the notion of poetry as word-painting: A tapestry of images, from a red enameled steamer on a black stove to Tibetan monks funneling glowing sand into a painting, create the backdrop for her quest to define identity.

From "In Our Unexpected Future" ...for frocks outlast pillars. But feeling outlive frocks. The immaterial storms through a force beyond years (a mere four since yo were nearly felled). It isn't what happened that lasts Not art, either, but the savory core. What's felt


 
Details
  • ISBN-13: 9780393254716
  • ISBN-10: 0393254712
  • Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company
  • Publish Date: January 2017
  • Page Count: 128
  • Dimensions: 8.4 x 5.7 x 0.7 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 0.6 pounds


Related Categories

Books > Poetry > American - General
Books > Poetry > Women Authors

 
Publishers Weekly Reviews

Publishers Weekly® Reviews

  • Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
  • Review Date: 2016-12-19
  • Reviewer: Staff

In her seventh poetry collection, multigenre writer Peacock (The Second Blush) explores, through frank and tender portraits, the post-stroke life of her longtime psychoanalyst. She uses verbal collage to capture childhood memory and textures the poems with the realities faced by a brilliant, yet newly impaired mind. Peacock describes the pauses while she waits for her analyst to recall simple words: the burnt edge of the memory gorge/ you have to make a path around/ starts to crumbledont fall in! Weaved among these quiet accounts of conversations, visits, and the occasional outing together are the ups and downs of the One thousand two-hundred and ninety-four hours that Peacock spent in sessions over the course of her life. Working through trauma, despair, and failed relationships on her analysts couch, Peacock reflects on these moments in third person: Thank you for waving goodbye as that young woman/ set off to cohabit with a man who wore a bathrobe/ till 5 in the afternoon and smelled of Balkan Sobranies. Yet what exactly is the relationship between analyst and patient? But you paid her, didnt you?/ How that question endures, Peacock confesses. Whether justifying existence, addressing memory, or pondering a lack thereof, Peacock notes that it isnt what happened that lasts./ Not art, either, but the savory core. Whats felt. (Jan.)

 
BAM Customer Reviews