Girl at the End of the World by Erin Carlyle

Caption

Girl at the End of the World by Erin Carlyle

Credit: Driftwood Press

 

 

Orlando Montoya: Coming up in this episode.

Erin Carlyle: It wouldn't have been a true book if if I had just told the nice things, you know.

Orlando Montoya: You can really latch on to things or you can you can make it a lot of what, of what you want it to be.

Peter Biello: I suppose poetry's not so bad every now and then. This podcast from Georgia Public Broadcasting highlights books with Georgia connections hosted by two of your favorite public radio book nerds, who also happen to be your hosts of All Things Considered on GPB Radio. I'm Peter Biello.

Orlando Montoya: And I'm Orlando Montoya. Thanks for joining us as we introduce you to authors, their writings and the insights behind their stories, mixed with our own thoughts and ideas on just what gives these works the Narrative Edge. All right, Peter, what do you have for me this time? Something spooky for Halloween, perhaps?

Peter Biello: Something slightly spooky, but not in the way you would expect.

Orlando Montoya: Nothing like Stephen King.

Peter Biello: I'm a big fan of Stephen King, but no, not Stephen King. But this is a first for Narrative Edge. It's a collection of poetry.

Orlando Montoya: I've been wanting poetry for a while.

Peter Biello: You have? Okay. I suppose poetry's not so bad every now and then.

Orlando Montoya: I love poetry.

Peter Biello: Do you read poetry?

Orlando Montoya: Of course.

Peter Biello: Who are you reading?

Orlando Montoya: I read Conrad Aiken.

Peter Biello: Of course, Conrad Aiken.

Orlando Montoya: He is the subject of much research of mine. I've spoken about him a lot. Of course he's born in Savannah. Died in Savannah. But, you know, he's my favorite.

Peter Biello: Do you read any — any modern poets? Poets alive and working today?

Orlando Montoya: From time to time. Especially if I go to, like, a bookstore and, like, I just see something that's like $2 on the shelf or $3. You know, they're not that they're not that cheap, but, you know, they're little thin ones, right?

Peter Biello: They tend to be especially chapbooks, right?

Orlando Montoya: Yeah. You can buy them and, like, read them on your way home.

Peter Biello: Yeah. Well, today's poet Erin Carlyle, the collection is called Girl at the End of the World. This is her second collection. She was born in Columbus, Ga., grew up partially in Phenix City, Ala. Moved to Bowling Green, Ky., when she was 12. Lives in the Atlanta area now, and she writes poetry that captures a moment. She's been telling a story in this book, which is why I think it qualifies for a podcast with the word "narrative" in the title.

Orlando Montoya: Well, we're going for "narrative" as, you know, "words." We like words, you know? 

Peter Biello: Yeah, but let me pause for a moment just to say that — that a lot of poetry, I think is academic, perhaps even too academic for, for my tastes. In other words, it's poetry written for poets, poetry in conversation with other poetry. And readers just cracking a random poetry collection published now may feel like they're entering a conversation at a party midway and they'll struggle to find the thread. And I guess maybe I'm speaking just for myself, but I'm pretty sure I'm not — you know, that I'm not the standard bearer for sophistication. But I will say that most lyric poetry goes over my head.

Orlando Montoya: Okay, let's explain lyric poetry.

Peter Biello: So lyric poetry. Have you ever encountered a poem that seems like it's — it's kind of made a nonsense or it's abstract? Like the words describe impossibilities are they are included in just kind of an abstract way.

Orlando Montoya: Yeah, all the time.

Peter Biello: That's the kind of poetry that I feel — I just have a hard time connecting with it.

Orlando Montoya: But I just love the words, the words, the way they make in your mind, the way they flow off the tongue.

Peter Biello: And to some extent, I'm jealous of you then, because this can be life-changing kind of work if you can click into it. And I have a hard time doing that.

Orlando Montoya: Okay, fair.

Peter Biello: That's not to say it's bad or not worth doing. It's just — it's one of those things that I have a hard time with. In this book, this is a collection of poetry, maybe for my type of reader, right? There's a story in each poem and a story over the course of the collection. So the whole thing really does cohere. And the story is about her father and the opioid crisis as a whole. Her father died of an overdose, a victim of the crisis. He had heart disease, a quadruple bypass. He was in legitimate pain. And she writes about the man she knew, the good and the bad. And in another first for this podcast, I wanted to actually play her reading a poem. We spoke on GPB and she read a few poems for us. So here's Erin Carlyle reading her poem "Airspace."

Erin Carlyle: Airspace. Ghosts sit watching planes lifting liminal space. A long time ago, my dad took my brother and I to an airport just to ride the shuttle from one end to the other. We watched people board their flights and then we watched other people claim baggage from the carousel. My dad, fresh shaved, in his 30s, grabbed my face in his hands, so excited to teach me about traveling somewhere else, only to come back home.

Peter Biello: What did you make of that?

Orlando Montoya: It's it's an image. I can see it in my mind. I can smell it. I can hear it. It's — it's at the airport and it's sort of giving like a tense kind of vibe, like, what — what — what's coming next? What is she there for?

Peter Biello: I'm glad you mentioned smell, too, because I can almost smell the pavement. You know, there's a unique airport smell you don't even have to mention. And there it is. And I thought it was a pretty sweet poem, you know? I mean —

Orlando Montoya: Is that the extent of the poem or does it go on?

Peter Biello: That's it? That's — that's the poem. I mean, it's just a slice of life, right? But it's a story. Like they're going to the airport. They're having an experience together, right? This is a — this is a cute. I think we all have kind of memories like that with our parents going somewhere. Maybe they're excited about it, maybe you're excited about it. But it's a shared experience and it's a, it's a worthwhile memory. So he had been in the Air Force, Erin Carlyle's father, and she explains a bit about the origins of this poem.

Erin Carlyle: This was a moment after his first heart attack, after his first surgery. Sort of before I knew anything about pills or anything like that or anything about his — anything. And I just remember him being so excited. And to me, back then, I was looking — when I looked at him, I thought he was just like this older man and this, like, just so silly and like, just my father. But now that I'm older, he was — I just think about how young he was and just how having that heart attack and just how he was at the very beginning of — of his addiction. Gosh, how that really detoured his life completely and what maybe what he could have been, you know?

Peter Biello: So all of that buried in just a short scene of a trip to the airport.

Orlando Montoya: So her father was addicted to opioids; that can be very difficult for a family. Was it difficult for her family?

Peter Biello: Yeah, it was. Her dad's addiction put a strain on the family. There are few scenes in this book where her dad is siphoning gas from other people's cars. So, you know, bad financial decisions going along with addiction. He's also at times insensitive and really crucial ways. Some of these memories were painful for Carlyle to write about, but she wanted to make sure that she painted a complete picture of her father.

Erin Carlyle: He had undiagnosed bipolar, undiagnosed ADHD until he was way older, and he just made a lot of decisions that made things harder in the long run. And that really kind of put a rift between myself and him. And so the — all of that was true, you know? And I love him, but that was my — my experience of him. So it wouldn't have been a true book if I had just told the nice things, you know?

Orlando Montoya: So is the book just about her dad? Are there other subjects?

Peter Biello: Well, it's mostly about her dad. There are three sections in this book. The middle section is a long poem called "What I Read as a Child," in which the speaker is coming to terms with his death by going into the underworld of books.

Orlando Montoya: And how are books connected to her dad?

Peter Biello: Well, when we spoke, she explained that connection.

Erin Carlyle: Well, I mean, there were many moments of thinking about just being silent next to him and reading. They both encouraged that. They they both bought me books even though we didn't have a lot of money. And that was one place that I could really tell him about things that I liked. He had dyslexia, so he had a harder time engaging with books, but he really liked to hear about them. And so that's sort of how that came about. But again, it became like a place for the speaker to really come to terms with that he's gone.

Orlando Montoya: So the first section was "Dad." The second section was about books. Is the third section this spooky thing that you promised at the beginning?

Peter Biello: Yeah. I mean — yes, there are elements of spookiness throughout, but I would say especially at the end is where it really comes through. And I asked her to read another poem while she was in the studio with us. And this is one that I feel like really embodies that spookiness. So let's hear it.

Erin Carlyle: Look into a dresser mirror darkly. In my old teenage bedroom, I sit drawing words with my finger in the air. And then I try to send those messages through my dirty dresser mirror to the other side. I'd write. Who was there? Do you want anything? What can I do? And I'd get nothing. This was before I had a cellphone, before quick connection. Alone for hours, I'd try to reach through. I'd stare at the glass and imagine my face turning into someone else's face. My round cheeks switching to long, gaunt, practical effects. A horror show, skin peeling, revealing more skin. Though I'd beg for a word, this new girl would never speak to me or tell me anything. She'd watch as our face stretched. Uncanny. Almost real.

Peter Biello: So I think this is spooky, obviously, because talking through a mirror, right? I also like that there's this sense of being alone, which is always when the scary stuff happens in the horror movies, right? When you're alone. She's got that skin peeling line in there. I don't know. What were your thoughts on it?

Orlando Montoya: Well, I — I thought it — it's like a mirror. It's like watching a mirror. Looking at a mirror. And you don't really know what exactly we're looking at here, but it is something. It is something slightly eerie. It is.

Peter Biello: Have you done or when you were a kid, did you hear about that Bloody Mary thing looking into the mirror where you look in the mirror and say, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary?

Orlando Montoya: No.

Peter Biello: And then it's supposed to — I don't know, maybe this was just a Massachusetts thing, but like it was supposed to be — That's kind of what it reminded me of, especially since, like Erin Carlyle and I are similar age. We grew up — kids in the '80s and '90s, and this was a thing back then. Mirrors were —especially in the dark, like in a dim room with a mirror, like, "who's behind you in that mirror!"? So anyway, that, that felt like inherently spooky.

Orlando Montoya: I think the spookiness of it here is just that you don't know exactly what she's talking about.

Peter Biello: She's got this alone moment where anything could happen. It feels like there's a lot of possibility and not many of those possibilities are good.

Orlando Montoya: Okay, so that's our yammering about the poem. Why does she say about the poem?

Peter Biello: Okay, so here's what she had to say about that poem.

Erin Carlyle: I was just alone a lot when I was a kid because we moved around a lot. I did have friends, but my dad maybe wouldn't — couldn't pay the rent or whatever, and we would move school to school. And so I was just alone a lot. And I would just think and you know, you're still at that age, even when you're like 15 or 16, where you have a connection to more magical thinking. And that's sort of where that poem came from.

Peter Biello: So yeah, so this is the quote unquote, "witchy" teenage world of magical thinking. Not exactly a safe space. And the loneliness, that's a huge part of it.

Orlando Montoya: And so I just love the poetry in part because you can take a lot of different interpretations to it. It's a lot, lot less literal than a story.

Peter Biello: Yeah.

Orlando Montoya: And so whatever you're feeling at that particular moment, you can really latch onto things or you can you can make it a lot of what of what you want it to be. So what gives the book the Narrative Edge for you?

Peter Biello: Well, for me, the bar for poetry is pretty high, in part because I am seldom in the mood to read poetry.

Orlando Montoya: Now wait, you had the word "befuddled" here, okay?

Peter Biello: I'm revising myself.

Orlando Montoya: How are you befuddled by poetry?

Peter Biello: Well. I guess because poetry takes more work, right? And sometimes I'm just not there.

Orlando Montoya: Okay.

Peter Biello: I will admit that I am. I am more literal-minded than I want to be. And this has been a problem my whole life.

Orlando Montoya: All right. Fair enough.

Peter Biello: And poetry kind of exposes that. So — so I'm more inclined to, like — let's say if I'm doing some leisure reading, I'm going to pick up a novel. And it's not always going to be a novel, but —

Orlando Montoya: Oh no, it's just the opposite for me, it's the opposite for me.

Peter Biello: Really?

If I don't want to think, I will read poetry.

Peter Biello: When you don't want to think, you read poetry?

Orlando Montoya: I just want to feel.

Peter Biello: Man, you are so tapped in. I'm jealous.

Orlando Montoya: Okay. All right.

Peter Biello: But. But I will say, like, even with my feelings about poetry in general, like, I, you know, I did my MFA in fiction, and they make you take classes in other genres. I took a poetry class because I was basically forced to. I learned some things about it, and I've had friends over the years who turned me on to the Double Dactyl form of poetry, which is, I guess the the lowbrow form of poetry that that my brain can handle. We can get into Double Dactyl some other day. But this poetry I liked because it was that storytelling element, because I felt like I could get into it fairly easily. I hope that Erin Carlyle takes that as a compliment. I wanted a human person in each of these poems that I could attach to a story that I could follow and hear and could empathize with. I guess, for example, seeing your parents do unwise things and to be along for that unpleasant ride. I think the care she takes with crafting an image, it's really admirable. I think the mood that each poem establishes really does fit the subject. So I just want to play this as well, because Erin Carlyle summarized her own book quite nicely.

Erin Carlyle: If people want to read a book that's sort of sad but also a little spooky, I'm your girl.

Peter Biello: So that's it. Sad, but spooky. Sign me up.

Orlando Montoya: All right. I'm glad we've — we've broken the poetry....uh

Peter Biello: Our poetry virginity, we can say it.

Orlando Montoya: I was trying. I was trying to think of, like, maybe getting past the gate or something, but we've broken the poetry virginity.

Peter Biello: Maybe our producer will cut that out, but thanks. Thanks, Orlando. This is great.

Orlando Montoya: All right. The book is Girl at the End of the World by Erin Carlyle. Peter, thanks for sharing it with me.

Peter Biello: Happy to.

Orlando Montoya: Thanks for listening to Narrative Edge. We'll be back in two weeks with a brand new episode. This podcast is a production of Georgia Public Broadcasting. Find us online at gpb.org/narrative edge.

Peter Biello: You can also catch us on the daily GPB news podcast Georgia Today, for a concise update on the latest news in Georgia. For more on that and all of our podcasts, go to GPB.org/Podcasts.