Established in 2018, TBR [to be read] is a semi-regular, invitation-only interview series with authors of newly released/forthcoming, interesting books.
We don’t expect an elevator pitch from a poet, but can you tell us about your work in 2-3 sentences?
Amerigun brings together
the tragedy of my brother’s death and the cult of gun worship in this country,
where even children are gunned down in schools. Grief, disbelief, discovery,
gratitude and love, are what underpin these poems, as I try to hear my
brother’s voice again and make sense of his death.
What boundaries did you break
in the writing of this book? Where does that sort of courage come from?
I broke my own personal
boundaries in writing about my brother’s death. Over the years I have written a
few poems that never really captured the grief and shock surrounding his death.
I never planned on writing about him, he was buried inside me and I rarely
thought of him. But then the title poem “Amerigun” came to me in such a flood
that although I was in the middle of doing something, I had to sit down to try
to get down what I was hearing, feeling. That first poem began with anger. How
could he have done this to our parents? How could he have been so careless? Was
there any kind of death wish that led to this tragedy? Suddenly I had so many
questions. Over the course of two years I learned what most of my family
already knew about his death. As I wrote that first poem, the fact of him
shooting himself and the whole horror of our country’s love affair with guns,
came together. One seemed inseparable from the other. Tragedy after sickening
tragedy and we continue to protect guns over the lives of children, over all
Americans. My personal connection to our national shame gave me a way into the
subject of guns and helped me tell my brother’s story, helped me find a way of
translating, or bringing back, his voice after forty years of keeping him at
bay, of not really acknowledging my own grief. The word Amerigun just
came to me. I continue to be shocked by how relevant this subject is, now more
than ever.
Tell us a bit about the highs
and lows of your book’s road to publication.
I finished writing Amerigun literally
a few days before Trump’s 2024 election. At that moment the poems felt not only
personal, but timely. I didn’t expect what was coming, I thought we would
finally have a woman president. Once he was elected the poems felt even more pressing
and my publisher, Persea Books, agreed to bring out the book rather swiftly. In
all, the book, from writing it to its publication, happened rather quickly,
especially for me since I can be a slow writer.
What’s your favorite piece of
writing advice?
My advice for writing is also
for living. It’s a practice that writing encourages in me, though maybe it’s
harder in everyday life—and that is to rest in the unknown, to let work arise
out of mystery, out of questions, and not out of certainty or control.
Certainty is a killer of art and it’s not much good in life either, it cuts us
off from learning and possibility. It might create a sense of safety, but it is
illusory and even joyless.
My favorite writing advice is
“write until something surprises you.” What surprised you in the writing of
this book?
I was surprised that I had any
of these poems in me and then surprised that they kept coming. But especially
feeling that in some strange way my brother and I were speaking to each other
after forty years.
How did you find the title of
your book?
The title of my book, Amerigun,
simply came to me. I heard the word when writing the title poem, which is also
the first poem I wrote. It brought together in one word the personal and
communal tragedy.
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TBR STACK: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/amerigun-anne-marie-macari/1147872403
