Memories take Enni Harlan back in her first poetry collection, Remember the Flowers, and we are on the journey with her. Over the course of forty-two concise and vividly descriptive poems, the reader is taken through seasons in the United States and South Korea. Each detail embodies a different personality applied to it, like “the face of some unknown celebrity” in a magazine, which Harlan, age five, unceremoniously vomits on as her plane lands in South Korea. No detail is insignificant to the narrator, who turns a simple event into her next important adventure. The series of autobiographical poems tell a story that features no damsels in distress, dragons, or talking fish that happen to live in a lake at the top of a mountain. Harlan has shown that a book does not have to resemble a blockbuster movie to keep a reader interested. The only ghosts in Enni Harlan’s poetry are her everyday haunts: the remembrance of family stories that have been passed down through generations, worries about herself and her family, and her lacking Korean vocabulary (“I don’t get half / The teacher says. / They talk in Korean, I’m only half / And most / Of my vocabulary’s food: / Bulgogi, kimchi, subak.”) Harlan’s poetry is rhythmic and flows naturally. For example, in her poem “In the Evening:” “The sky darkens All around. Still we walk Past the lamp posts, Past the tree I fell from once last summer.” In a conversational tone, Harlan lays out one of her main themes—imagination—and she makes sure that people know who she is. The sentence “I was Mary Lennox’s long-lost twin, / walking into the secret garden” starts Harlan’s poem “My Secret Garden.” In this simple sentence, Harlan shows that imagination is important to her—and so is who she is in her daydreams, because that is one of the places where she feels like herself. Another example of her use of imagination is in the poem “Beneath the Fruit Tree:” “Our teeth crashed down on seeds, not flesh. / The trickle of juice was painfully bitter. / Only we and the parrots ate from that tree, / feasting/ on imagination.” While many of the poems are playful, some poems are more serious. Remember the Flowers questions the “American dream.” This question is not asked and answered bluntly, but it is hinted upon through many poems and descriptions. For example, in her poem “Balcony:” “We journeyed to Anyang, where Umma grew up— Where they’d moved from house to house. The first house, a mere Shadow in her memory, Shared with her cousin’s family. There she played with her cousins till they Went to live ‘The American Dream.’” Here, the “American Dream” is not something happy and inspiring; it inflicts a feeling of separation and gloom. Harlan translates the sadness of family breaking apart. The stanza portrays the feeling of loss. In this case, one is left with a feeling that leaving family for the United States for a hazy vision of the promising future is almost a betrayal. In her poems, Harlan also expresses her empathy for humans and other animals. In “Fumigated,” Harlan’s Appa (father) rushes to get Umma’s (mother) mirror table from their house, which was going to be fumigated because of termites. Coming home, Appa says: “I saw the termites and they said, ‘Hi.’ ‘Get out of here,’ I said. ‘You’re about to die!’” Then, in the following sentences, Enni Harlan continues: “I laugh at him. A ridiculous story but I almost want to believe it.” Harlan finds the story funny, but she also wants the story to be true. This leads the reader to assume that the narrator somehow either feels connected to these termites—she feels sad about them dying because they have become a part of her house—or that she is unhappy about killing other creatures, no matter how small. Here, as in Harlan’s other poems, the events that may seem minuscule and insignificant gain a greater meaning. This is exactly what good poetry is meant to do—zoom in on small details and change the way people look at things. Remember the Flowers is a captivating read, every poem full of hidden pockets leading to a bigger (or smaller) subject. Near the end of the collection, as Harlan begins to speak about the Covid-19 pandemic, the poems are the most relatable (“We walked a while, / six feet apart. / Each time I smiled / I forgot / she couldn’t see it.”), but the rest of the poems are also easy to understand and relate to. All in all, Enni Harlan offers us a touching and thoughtful collection of poems about belonging, family, cultural differences (and similarities), and the world around us. Remember the Flowers by Enni Harlan, winner of the Stone Soup Book Contest 2021. Children’s Art Foundation, Incorporated, 2022. Buy the book via our Amazon storefront.
Book Reviews
Book Review: The Book Thief
The Book Thief was an intriguing read from start to finish. The minute I opened the cover and saw the words “Death and Chocolate” at the top of the first page, I was curious. The Book Thief is about a girl, Leisel Meminger, growing up in Germany during World War Two. When I say that, you probably are thinking “she was Jewish” or “she stood up to the Nazis, and fought bravely, but was killed.” But Leisel is a regular German girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes, with nothing that directly sets her apart as a Nazi target. But just because she’s not a target of the Nazis doesn’t mean that her life is perfect, or even normal. But still, growing up during World War Two, especially under the watchful eye of Adolf Hitler, was never easy. And Leisel’s life has its own share of troubles aside from the war. In the very beginning of the book, she witnesses the death of her younger brother, Werner Memminger. This is of course a horrific thing for a young girl to watch, but what comes after is just as heartbreaking. Leisel’s mother abandons her, and allows her to be adopted by another German family. Leisel is sent to the Hubbermans, who live on Himmel Street. They are to be her new family, but even from the beginning, she keeps an important secret. She is a book thief. She stole a book right after her brother’s funeral. It is called A Gravedigger’s Handbook. Thus starts Leisel’s book-thieving journey, and with it the journey of a little girl, growing into a young woman, surrounded by Adolf Hitler’s men. Her and Herr Hubberman, who she calls Papa, are very close, and she loves him dearly. Rosa Hubberman, who she calls Mama, often calls her pig or other language, but she loves Liesel, she just has a funny way of showing it. Then, there’s Leisel’s best friend, Rudy. Rudy wants to be an Olympic athlete, like Jesse Owens, but he’ll settle for a book-thievery or two with Leisel. The Book Thief is told from the perspective of Death. But it is as if Death is like a Greek god, a sentient being, not just a thing that happens. And most people think the book will be horribly violent, and Death will gloat over the bodies of the deceased. War and death always go hand in hand, don’t they? But Death is exhausted by the war. He’s angry at the people fighting for causing him so much work. He does not rejoice when someone dies. He is not evil. This book’s unique perspective gives it a whole new feel that I have never found in any other book. It is different and exciting. And Markus Zusak writes in a way that keeps you hooked from the first word to the last. Zusak is also a master at interesting characters. From the main character, Leisel, to Rudy to Rosa Hubberman to Max, Liesel’s other best friend, each character has complex personalities and layers, and the combination of the select characters is part of what makes the book so good. There are some parts of the book that get a bit dark, considering the time period. But overall, the good parts definitely outweighed the bad, and made The Book Thief a unique and memorable read. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Alfred A. Knopf, 2007. Buy the book here and help support Stone Soup in the process!
Amulet: The Stonekeeper (Book One), Reviewed by Pragnya, 13
Amulet: The Stonekeeper by Kazu Kibushi is the gripping first installment of an eight-part graphic novel series about Emily and Navin Hayes, who, after the death of their father, move into a new house, which soon turns into a house full of secrets after Emily discovers a sentient amulet in the library. Soon after, her mother is captured by a creature beyond the realms of realism and the siblings embark on an adventure to save their mother, and with the help of robots like Cogsley, Miskit, Morrie and Theodor, uncover a legacy far more mystical than they could ever imagine. I especially enjoyed how Amulet managed to subvert popular fantasy tropes like that of “the chosen one,” while not drawing away from their core themes. Every character has their own quirks and I particularly enjoyed Miskit’s characterization as the alluded-to most faithful member of Charon House. Amulet also does a masterful job of using “show not tell,” while also having a world that is easy to understand. Using elements of drama, suspense, dialogue and character expressions, I found myself getting rapidly attached to the premise, as well as everything inside it. The twins’ personalities found me rereading the book constantly finding more of myself and people I know, their dynamic with each other very relatable and refreshing. With vibrant character design, succinct world-building, and a fascinating narrative, Amulet is a graphic novel that is easy to latch onto but very hard to let go of. Amulet: The Stonekeeper by Kazu Kibushi. Graphix, 2008. Buy the book here and help support Stone Soup in the process!
