Official Review: Peonies for Breakfast

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[Following is the official OnlineBookClub.org review of "Peonies for Breakfast" by Trinaa Mukherjee.]

Peonies for Breakfast, a collection of poetry by Trinaa Mukerjee, was a delectable read, though Mukerjee’s writing would perhaps be better served in a collection of short stories. The imagery was intriguing without being melodramatic; Mukerjee is a wordsmith whose tremendous talent would perhaps lend itself better to prose than poetry. The first stanza of “Armchair,” would better furnish the opening lines of a short story, “Wind had its way today. It brought in its wake guests of all shapes and sizes. Dust, disease and distrust.”

Indeed, many authors who attempt to achieve poetic prose fall fairly far or short, as it were, from creating imagery that is meaningful - their attempts are often marred by overt sentimentality and often silly similes, as though they are forcing literal images into our minds rather than permitting subtle language to unfold more figuratively. Mukerjee is not, however, afflicted with the aforementioned; her words illustrate themselves, “a short wick spread an effervescent glow.” Her use of personification is equally endearing, “the moon eavesdrops from behind the curtains.” The poem, “Pink,” for one, would be well served as a descriptive passage in a narrative or short story, in the form of a narrator captivated by the wallpaper in a room they have long known and are only recently revisiting after many years.

Granted not all the pieces were gems, I, for one, could have done without “The Bard,” which seemed oddly out of place among its better-crafted counterparts. My chief complaint with the book, however, was not that it was poetic prose marauding as poetry - which is in many ways perhaps an unfair estimation of mine insofar as I am more inclined to prose than poetry in general - I take issue with the organization of the poems, which seemed to revolve rather arbitrarily around the alphabet rather than any particular purpose. As aforesaid, I’m not a poetry person per se; it may very well be that this is not an uncommon means of organizing an anthology of poems, but it seemed to me rather crude that poems which were clearly very diligently crafted were without consideration, merely thrown together in the most convenient order. Having said that, a number of Mukerjee’s poems are down-right captivating; “Black Night,” follows a romance from its courtship to its disintegration, “The City,” recounts the minutia of city life in an evocative sing-song rhyme, I could go on and on...

All things considered, Mukerjee commands a rather remarkable way with words. While I cannot speak to her promise as a poet, she is most certainly endowed with a prowess for poetic prose.

I rate this book 4 out of 4 stars.
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