“Like a store for the too-well-off / and unashamed, it is uncontained / as the fists of tulips breaking through / the last crust of snow.” These words begin Ander Monson’s new chapbook, Our Aperture, and in many ways set the tone for what follows: a group of “uncontained” and sometimes sweeping poems that hope to navigate the intricacies of the modern world.
At first glance, Monson’s work may appear off-putting to those skeptical of any perceived inclination towards the corporatization of poetic focus. After all, images of the retail marketplace and pop culture abound here, with references to Mariah Carey, BlackBerry phones, Suave shampoo, and even actor Wil Wheaton (just to name a few) making appearances early and often.
Upon a closer look at Our Aperture, however, one finds a chapbook that subtly investigates the media-saturated, consumerist culture within the larger historical and natural context. Moreover, the subject matter, which could initially appear cold and distant, actually feels surprisingly authentic, largely as a result of Monson’s poetic style. Thus, it somehow works when Monson writes lines like “Maybe it’s all the same – // vanishing, a dress, a rustle in the woods, / wrestlers seeming to inflict pain / on TBS” (“Nihilist Desire”) or concerns himself with characters whose chief worry is that of being stranded “with no mail / service or expiring magazine / subscription notices” (“Rich World”).
This shouldn’t suggest that the effort here is perfect. The occasional poem rambles unproductively to the point of puttering out at the end. And “Availability” – a work that is included in three separate manifestations and which seems to be the intended foundation of the chapbook – feels uneven and somewhat unsatisfying.
Of course, the irony of Our Aperture is that, despite its seeming expansive and sprawling aims, Monson more-or-less manages to keep the picture in-frame. Readers who are looking for a compelling investigation of contemporary culture should take note.