Poets these days often shade into either of two camps: those who recreate narrative scenes and those who focus largely on expressing largely non-narrative imagery and metaphor. There are, of course degrees of talent in both arenas, and the dividing lines are far from sharp. But Moberly Luger seems to be a stand-out in the latter category. Her book Ragtime for Beginners is a feast of inventive imagery and insight.
The book begins with Luger near her most abstract use of symbols in “Crane Story.” She depicts herself and her siblings as origami figures that their parents fold with one another. In fact, the surreal metaphors and birth/childhood concerns of several of the first pieces bring to mind the innovative work of short story writer Judy Budnitz.
“On the train” is a lovely meditation on being in transit that implicitly brings out its contrasts–sitting perfectly still yet careening toward a destination; being, as Luger puts it, a “half read novel…staving off a destination” (p. 7).
But lest the poet establish too firm a statement of her own outlook and experiences, this poem has its own contrast in “Calling home,” which depicts a less flattering take on travel:
“Sleep was impossible in cold
plastic chairs, hands twined protectively
through loops in our backpacks – and yet
the voice persists:
this is the time of your life.”
(p. 
“Railway Station” nicely captures the sense that a childhood town revisited can seem toy-like, unreal. Since we have grown larger and more experience, real buildings and settings seems flimsy compared to our memories. Luger distills her own reactions incisively:
“I want this town like a diorama. I do not want
to take it like a photograph, but really to hold it,
for keeps, my arms around all four shoebox walls.” (p. 9)
Luger seems to be entranced with memory and the passage of time. Childhood therefore becomes a recurring interest here; but it also leads the poet to draw out some worthy perspectives on aging. “Inventory of aging” is a stand out, with such nuggets as:
“These are not simply mistakes anymore, mountains left unclimbed; they are habits, identifiers, my place at the table, what I have come to represent to friends who, their places
also set, sit back in chairs, predicting my response.” (p. 36)
The poems are interspersed with pieces whose sentences are not broken into separate lines, but which look more like short short stories. They provide vignettes that share many of the concerns and finely-tuned imagery of the poems. Here the author’s inner verse speaks to her as she frets about a piano recital:
“Listen. Don’t be afraid to sink your fingers into the keys. Take your time. Listen. To the story of the song, not the stories that made you cover your ears last night as you hid under the blankets singing over and over when I am king dilly dilly you shall be queen . . .” (p. 15)
The pieces in this book are largely connected thematically, so that the other poems and shorts provide a context for interpretation. Thus, coupled with the mentions in prior poems of an unhappy household, the segment quoted above provides insight into the writer’s neuroticism about the recital, and evokes something of the rush of thought that is anxiety.
As one might suspect from the book’s title, pianos and the playing of them is a theme uniting many of these works. One of the most striking appearances the instrument makes is in “They gave me their piano.” There the piano, as a piece of furniture, serves as something like the static image in a sped-up film, life whirling around and across it.
This gift piano reappears in several poems. It becomes, as they are so inclined, a repository of both intended keepsakes and things that remind unintentionally. An old boyfriend’s hat, homemade china, one of the layers of scarves in which her mother hides herself, “as if she were a secret.” (p. 11) As does the poet Lyn Lifshin, Luger often uses objects as a memory trigger–real furniture used to reveal the furniture of the mind. Luger is also aware that a piano can also serve as a social instrument, in both senses of the word:
“The old music book was open to “Blues Etude” because I wanted to appear as someone who can play. To appear as though, at any moment, I just might break into song.” (p. 40).
Occasionally the imagery and accompanying assertions seem to defy interpretation. “Diptych of the whole world,” for example, clearly seems to be imbued with meaning, but what it expresses seems as inscrutable as other people’s dream narratives can be. And this is not necessarily a drawback of such pieces, but rather suggests that their reward may lie with some insight the reader experiences upon a future re-reading.
And Ragtime for Beginners certainly seems to invite re-reading. It has the kind of richness of ideas and themes likely to survive a reader’s own evolution. Good stuff.
Reviewed by: Geddy Gibson
Ragtime for beginners by Moberly Luger
Format:Trade Paperback
Published: March 11, 2008
Publisher: Creative Book Publishing
List price: $14.95
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