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              Phrasebook for the Pleiades 
          Lorraine Doran 
          Cider Press Review 
          2014 
          81 pages 
                      In Lorraine Doran's Phrasebook for the Pleiades, the sense  of wonder and discovery that excites the speaker is infectious in the reader.  This discovery, though, is entwined with a yearning that resurfaces throughout  the speaker's exploration, and the reader feels the simultaneous joy and  acceptance in the speaker's reflections. The frontispiece,  "Promenade," concludes, "Her dress was the shape of crickets. It  said / I am the perfect shade of green." This statement begins the  speaker's discovery of beauty, a repeating theme in this collection that is striking. 
             
              This discovery takes a keen turn in  "Satellite Photos of Our Former Homes," a group of poems in which the  speaker has grown and must make sense of beauty from a distance. These poems as  well as the "Postcard" poems detail moments of trying to make sense  of past experiences in the speaker's hometown and elsewhere. In "(200 Mt.  Pleasant)," the speaker ponders what our shared unconscious experiences  might be: "I like thinking there's this one dream everyone has: / it makes  me feel more human. Last night I had the dream / about falling. And the night  before that / the one where you hit the deer with your car." The romantic  and desirable feeling of being one with humanity is undercut by tragedy, which  Doran handles beautifully. 
   
              Soon, the speaker's understanding of  tragedy reflects a mature understanding of the world, as in "Snow  Machines, Astor Place:" 
   
              The truth is: this snow will not  melt in my hands. 
              The truth is making me cold. 
              I huddle under an awning with  strangers. 
              We reach out our tongues, ignore the  relentless humming. 
              It means nothing. 
              Things just die sometimes. Birds,  for example. 
   
            Doran's  tone is fascinating; as her speaker experiences the world, a sense of  fearlessness begins to form as the collection develops. In "Lazarus,"  the speaker tries to understand the natural world: "Seeing, I knew the  names of things / but not the trouble in them." 
             
                       My favorite poems in Phrasebook  for the Pleiades are those contained in "The Damascus  Encyclopedia," where the speaker discovers and rediscovers objects like  circles, tadpoles, and salt. The speaker reflects in "(Salt):"  "Water / moves through our fractures, singing. We learned this as /  children: to brave the sting. What hurts the wound will / heal it." Each  prose poem in Doran's encyclopedia focuses on the speaker's renewed interaction  with what would otherwise seem commonplace, and the images in these poems  characterize the speaker's persistent desire to know more throughout the poems  in this collection. 
             
              The moment that reveals the  collection's title in the final poem, "Leaving Barcelona," is  particularly touching: 
   
              Language is a strange religion when  you do not have the words. It becomes 
              exhausting to contemplate travel in  space, where moons have moons and 
              none of them have the same word for umbrella. 
                      Who will write the phrasebook for  the Pleiades? Who will order dinner so 
              we do not starve? 
   
            The  speaker's riveting question about the Pleiades seems to suggest to the reader:  who will continue to further our understanding of life? How will we pursue the  thrill of adventure while realizing our limitations? Doran's juxtaposition of  the next question is simply brilliant in that it makes the desire for more as  critical as survival, and this theme is truly what makes this such a memorable  collection of poetry. The speaker implores the reader to look for more in  everything, even and especially the ordinary, because Doran's speaker  understands the worlds within what each of us has already experienced. 
             
          --Sarah Dravec 
          Sarah  Dravec is a graduate student in the NEOMFA in Akron, Ohio, where she studies  poetry. She is a poetry editor for Barn Owl Review. Her work has  appeared or is forthcoming in And/Or, Blast Furnace, Dressing  Room Poetry Journal, *82 Review, and others.  | 
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