My reading habit when it comes to poetry books is very seasonal, or moody, to be exact.
I remember picking up a poetry book for the first time when I went through a heartbreak decades ago (decade with an S – oh God, am I officially old??). Though I didn’t remember the book or the author, it provided solace that I kept returning to it as a paperback pillar whenever my Universe felt too wobbly.
The last time I went on poetry-binge-reading was during the lockdown. I went through poetry books almost as fast as I went through the wine bottles – more often than not, indulging in both simultaneously.
This time though, I picked up Maxine Beneba’s How Decent Folk Behave because it was the book for our March book club.
I only needed to read one of her poems to be reminded of how powerful words can be.
Her beautiful writings cut through the soul, sometimes in fiery ways, other times almost like lullabies.
Some read like prayers translated into a language one would easily understand.
One of my fave phrases from the book:
Art
Is the memory
of your better half
I went to the book club with the book in my tote, purple tagged and (once I ran off the tag) dog-eared, on too many pages. There were heart doodles, marginalia and red liners. The book looked so beaten down that I hesitated for a second to ask her to sign it. (yes, I met the writer; this was the rare case where the advice “never meet ur heroines” didn’t apply because Maxine was all that!). She was humble, warm and passionate about her art.
We discussed the book, from the ideas for these contemporary poems to the title. I also read a snippet of her Generation Zoom piece while holding back tears (let’s blame it on the wine). Meanwhile, Maxine, at the request of a fellow book club member, read Bridge 🧡
How Decent Folk Behave is a must-have on your self-care arsenal – and no, you don’t have to wait for your world to get wobbly to read it.
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