by M.J. Fievre. Coral Gables: Mango Publishing, 2019.
ISBN: 978-1-64250-136-0. 237 pp. paperback.
M.J. Fievre's latest work, Happy, Okay?, is described as “poems about anxiety, depression, hope, and survival.” On the one hand, labelling it as poetry might deter some readers who claim they "don't read poetry". On the other hand, labelling it as poetry might affront poetry purists. While it possesses poetic qualities, Happy, Okay? transcends traditional poetry by offering a prose-poetic narrative that feels like a pseudoliterary meditation, an exploration of depression, and a lyrical self-help form of resiliency. It is truly a “story” for those grappling with anxiety or depression, providing a vocal echo for their unspoken struggles, and help for loved ones who wish to understand and offer support.
Fievre's voice, through his characters, is direct and sincere, emphasising that happiness is a state of being that should be embraced, even amidst life's difficulties. The prose poems (I am referring to them as such) are thematically organised, guiding readers through moments of meaningful insight and vulnerability. In Happy, Okay?, readers are immersed in the inner world of Paloma, a woman grappling with mental illness. While the prose poems vividly portray the struggles of anxiety and depression, they are also layered with themes of hope and joy, suggesting the possibility of salvation in the end; thus the self-help quality of the work, as in: “I’ve learned to embrace/ the loneliness of being Catholic” (163). Or: “And I am free to create/ my own place with my own rules,/ separate from what / has been handed down to me” (134).
The book's structure is reminiscent of a Greek play, featuring a chorus of three characters engaged in a call-and-response format. Paloma and José Armando, two of the characters, are lovers striving to navigate their shared life while combating the shadows of Paloma's depression. The third character, Shadow, serves as a kind of a foil—or an unclaimed spirit in the Haitian Vodou tradition—sometimes reflecting Paloma's confusion and at other times celebrating her humanity despite her mental challenges.
In Happy, Okay?, Paloma's words often resonate with poignant simplicity and a contemplative utterance that borders on the descriptive qualities of a troubled character’s inner thoughts:
The water opens,
swallows me,
& I am drowning,
dropping, dropping,
the force of the water
dissolves my flesh
& leaves my bones
polished, white
—until I mirror the sky...
If I am to be brave
I want to learn
to swim
in these waters,
in their irresistible
chiaroscuro,
in the weight,
of their insistent
turbulence. (60–61)
This passage encapsulates Paloma's internal struggle and yearning for a kind of psychic endurance. The imagery of water symbolises her overwhelming emotions, with the desire to learn to swim reflecting a quest for strength amidst chaos. The mention of "chiaroscuro" an art term for the contrast between light and dark, underscores the complex interplay of hope and despair in her journey.
The deeper psychological component of these prose poems—which I will explain later— revolves around the themes of dependence, self-discovery, and emotional turmoil. José Armando’s “poems” reveal a psychological struggle with dependency and the need to care for someone despite the personal cost. Paloma's poems explore the journey towards self-empowerment and the reclaiming of identity, while Shadow’s poems reflect on the consequences of intense emotional entanglement and the necessity of letting go. A deeper psychological component emerges as each voice reveals their struggles and desires, creating an affecting pastiche of human experience. The following lines uttered by José Armando are indicative of such emotional turmoil: “Silence swallows /the apartment we share / & I’m suspended / in the dark / warmth of its throat” (85).
Throughout the first part of the book, balancing Paloma's wistful voice is José's grounding yet enabling presence:
I’ll help you
see beauty in things
you never
noticed before
that are all around you.
Look: a tender
sickle of grass bending
under the weight
of a bead of dew
with the moon
in its eye
a suggestion
of moonlight,
the Hialeah sky tiled
with rows
of rippling white. (65)
José's lines offer a counterpoint to Paloma's turmoil, emphasising the small, often unnoticed beauties of the world. His observations invite Paloma to find solace in the everyday wonders, suggesting a path towards healing through a renewed appreciation of life’s simple yet profound moments.
In Fievre’s collection, José Armando's long poem on Pages 37–40 captures a turbulent relationship marked by intense emotion and a desire to protect a loved one despite her volatility. The enjambments and line breaks, such as "When you're furious / at me for no good / reason", emphasise the instability and fractured nature of the relationship. The imagery of "deep grooves / carved under / your eyes" and "begging / it for the mercy / of an embrace" evokes a powerful sense of despair and vulnerability. The emotional tone shifts from desperation to a tender hopefulness, as evidenced by the yearning to taste "sun-ripened fruit" together, symbolising a desire for shared joy and sustenance.
In the poem on Page 45, José Armando expresses an overwhelming love, almost to the point of self-erasure. The line "I love you more / than a person ought / to love one thing" hints at an unhealthy intensity. The desire to "loosen the knot / between your brows & find / the soft place / within you" speaks to a longing to alleviate the loved one's pain and connect on a deeper level, suggesting a psychological need for emotional intimacy and validation. By the time we reach the end of the first part of the book, we encounter José’s voice with a deeper vulnerability, with a sense of inevitability (85). The poetic quality is in the raw expression of emotional pain, and we are provided with the depiction of a relationship's dissolution. The tone in that poem is somber and resigned, reflecting an impending and painful separation. The imagery of something "grown over, / tangled, / uncared for" conveys neglect and the difficulty of untangling long-standing issues. Even the line breaks emphasise the pain and inevitability of the separation, as seen in "I am also a fierce, / frayed knot / you are ripping / out at the root."
Paloma is ensnared in a tumultuous relationship with José Armando, struggling to untangle the complex threads of her depression and anxiety. By taking a closer look at a few exemplary poems in Paloma’s voice, one notices a being who is reflecting/deliberating on a kind of existential debriefing and a quest for purpose. In the poem on Page 41, the enjambment in "What was it / we wanted? / What were we / looking for?" emphasises a sense of fragmentation and confusion. Her yearning for "militance, / to strength, / to solace" and a manifesto that will "tingle / my bones" reveals a desire for empowerment and transformation.
Whereas in the poem on Page 45, Paloma contrasts her partner's affectionate promises with her own need for a more profound, self-determined sense of purpose. The line "Your words are pretty, / but they don’t ring / from within / me" starkly illustrates the disconnect she feels. The metaphor of words clanging "off-key, / like a bell / that’s been dropped / on a hard surface" powerfully conveys her inner dissonance and dissatisfaction.
Paloma's subsequent poem, on Page 47, delves into the theme of self-discovery. The metaphor of the "blank canvas" and the need to "dip my own / brush into a palette" suggests a reclaiming of identity and agency. The shift from allowing others to define her to taking control of her own image signifies a critical psychological shift towards autonomy and self-definition. The quest for autonomy and self-definition are at the core of Paloma’s self-healing journey. Contrastingly, the poem on Page 49 captures Paloma's sense of being trapped between conflicting desires and realities. The buoy metaphor, "tied in the calm water, / just beyond / the breaking waves", vividly depicts her liminal state. She is neither fully committed to deep self-exploration nor to superficial engagement, embodying a profound sense of stasis and potential.
The shadowy figure, the foil, the spirit, or the inner voice of Paloma, Shadow, uses second- person perspective, addressing an unspecified "you", creating an intimate connection between the speaker and the reader. However, in the context of the book, that “you” refers to Paloma, and it establishes a complicitous sense of knowing. On Pages 45-46, Shadow’s poem describes an intense, almost invasive intimacy. The detailed description of the physical and emotional closeness—"you’ve ridden / the waves of his veins"—creates a visceral image of interconnectedness. The foreboding tone, however, suggests an inevitable unravelling, highlighting the fragility of such deep emotional investments. In a sense, "Shadow" could also be read as the embodiment of Paloma’s depression that never lets her rest.
In the following poem on Pages 50-51, Shadow advises letting go of a relationship marked by instability and emotional volatility. Shadow becomes a psychologist, a mediating voice of reason who uses metaphor to illustrate his point of view. The metaphor of the river "forging / a new map / after a flood" suggests the uncontrollable and transformative nature of emotional upheaval. The imagery of the loved one as a "barometer" for peace underscores the unhealthy dependence on the other’s emotional state for personal stability.
In the first part of Happy, Okay?, which is also the best part of the book—for it can be considered the most aligned to a relatively decent literary work—holds a deeper psychological component with lines that are in some instances very poetic. These poems revolve around the themes of dependence, self-discovery, and emotional turmoil. José Armando’s poems reveal a psychological struggle with dependency and the need to care for someone despite the personal cost. Paloma's poems explore the journey towards self-empowerment and the reclaiming of identity, while Shadow’s poems reflect on the consequences of intense emotional entanglement and the necessity of letting go.
The quality of the poems—prose poems, really—is marked by their emotional depth, some vivid imageries, and the intricate interplay of voices. Fievre employs a resonating language and a call-and-response structure effectively to convey complex emotional terrains and psychological struggles; although more could have been done to show instead of tell. The use of enjambments and line breaks enhances the reading experience, creating pauses and emphasis that reflect the content's emotional intensity. Overall, the prose poems in the first part provide a productive and nuanced exploration of human relationships and inner conflicts.
In the second part of the book, set two years later, the author continues to channel Paloma, now presenting powerful “I” statements that form a manifesto of 26 numbered articles, reminiscent of commandments or self-necessities. This second section serves as a kind of personal “bible” (How-To) for those grappling with mental health issues. Fievre’s poems are lush with spiritual imagery, reflecting her unabashed Catholicism and frequent allusions to Church teachings. For instance, in Article XII: I Will Embrace Loneliness, she writes: "I’ve learned to embrace / the loneliness of being Catholic… / I am awed by centuries of ritual—& loneliness. / It rushes me with something dark & heady. / & I embrace it because I am / not alone in my solitude" (163-164).
Fievre's use of "I" statements in this section signifies a shift from a collective experience to an intensely personal journey. Each article functions as a declaration of self-acceptance and resilience, offering readers a roadmap for navigating their own struggles. The spiritual imagery throughout the poems, particularly in Article XII, underscores the deep connection between faith and personal identity. By embracing loneliness, Fievre acknowledges the duality of solitude as both a burden and a source of strength, particularly within the context of her Catholic faith. The line "I am awed by centuries of ritual—& loneliness" highlights the paradox of finding community and connection in shared rituals while also feeling isolated. This tension between connection and isolation is a central theme in Fievre's work, reflecting the complexities of mental health and spiritual practice.
The essence of these revelatory prose poems, or affirmations, is the understanding that self-compassion inevitably fosters compassion for others. According to Shadow, these poems transform Paloma “… into something / greater / than herself” (92). This transformation is rooted in her humanity and its inherent mutability: "She is human—mutable. / Nothing / in the world / is ever otherwise" (93). Ultimately, Paloma, Shadow, and José all disappear, leaving the reader with narratives that serve as guides (prosaic self-help) through life: "There’s a pain in the world / that follows people / like their shadows, / despite reason / and proportion. / But stories, / even sad ones, / keep the darkness / from wrapping us / in its long, barbed sleeves. / They spin us out / and back into their embrace. / We glide in their magic, / beaming, breathless…" (198).
In certain parts of the book, Fievre’s language, reminiscent of Sappho’s, is marked by its sparse essence. Her poems magnify “… the smallest things / a thin wind across a wire. A single leaf / in unsuspecting light, star-shaped, / with a pointed lobe, swaying" (205). In this literary medium, “poetry” transcends mere words, offering readers an interesting exploration of the human condition, spirituality, and the transformative power of storytelling. Together, these contrasting yet complementary perspectives create a discernible array of emotional depth and “resilience”, illustrating the transformative power of love and hope in the face of mental illness.
Happy, Okay? feels deeply personal despite being a work of fiction. Much like a memoir or personal essay, it invites readers to connect and breathe through its poetic form, offering them the space to relate. The story centers on Paloma, a young Haitian-American woman from Hialeah, Florida, who appears normal and healthy to her friends and co-workers. She maintains a façade of normalcy, yet internally she battles overwhelming anxiety and depression. Her physical symptoms, such as a churning stomach, aching spine, and difficulty breathing, reflect her constant state of near-panic. Fievre's skillful characterisation draws readers into Paloma's and Jose's lives, eliciting empathy for both. We experience Paloma's torment and recognise Jose's futile efforts to help.
Despite its raw honesty, Happy, Okay? is neither depressing nor self-serving. Paloma remains clear-eyed and unsentimental, determined to overcome her depression. She seeks stability and refuses to succumb to hopelessness. Readers could gain a profound understanding of living under the tyranny of uncontrolled emotions; however, this is not a book of poetry. This book, while important, is too much of a self-help guide, too didactic, too deliberative.
Poetry, according to Terry Eagleton, “is something which is done to us, not just said to us. The meaning of its words is closely bound up with the experience of them.” He elaborates that poetry is an active, transformative experience: “Poetry is language in which the signified or meaning is the whole process of signification itself” (21). By this, Eagleton means that, in poetry, the meaning of words goes beyond their literal definitions; it encompasses the entire process of creating meaning through the rhythm, sound, and emotional impact of the language. Poetry engages readers in a way that elicits a deeper, more visceral response, making the act of reading it an experiential process.
Poems are not natural linguistic occurrences or historically unique verbal acts. In fact, a poem cannot be considered an event at all and cannot be said to have transpired in the conventional sense of an “occurrence”. When we read a poem or hear it read aloud, our response to its linguistic structure is guided by specific conventions. Recognising these conventions is what differentiates a poem as a verbal artwork from ordinary speech or prose. The main point here is that poems exist in a realm separate from everyday communication and historical events. Unlike natural occurrences or spoken events that happen and then pass, poems are crafted works that do not "occur" in the same way.
Their significance and meaning come from a set of unique conventions and rules that govern their interpretation and appreciation. According to Eagleton, poetry “is a kind of phenomenology of language—one in which the relation between word and meaning (or signifier and signified) is tighter than it is in everyday speech” (21). When we engage with a poem, we do so with an understanding that it is a constructed artifact, distinct from natural or spontaneous speech. A poem shows, it does not tell. A poem suggests and gestures, it does not dictate in a didactic way. This understanding is crucial in distinguishing poems as forms of artistic expression, setting them apart from regular discourse. In Article IV, “I Will Reparent Myself,” the narrator presents us with a series of longings or mis-opportunities for a father-daughter connection through a storylike narration structured in poetic forms, yet the language offers us a discourse which is regular: “I am happy / for this moment—my father breathing the same air / I breathe, our hearts beating to the same rhythm” (119).
While Fievre's work is largely original in its assemblage and thought-provoking in its essence, there are moments where the language veers towards the familiar or clichéd. The repeated references to butterflies in Article III might feel overly symbolic to some readers. However, these instances are rare and do not significantly detract from the overall emotive impact of the collection. What works really well in Fievre's collection is the emotional honesty and the vividness of some of the imageries. The author's willingness to confront painful memories and complex emotions head-on is both courageous and compelling. The use of cultural references and personal anecdotes adds a bit of depth and authenticity to the work.
On the other hand, the collection occasionally suffers from a lack of cohesion. The transitions between different articles can be jarring, and the shift from highly personal themes to broader cultural reflections is not always seamless. Additionally, the experimental form might not appeal to all readers, particularly those who prefer more traditional poetry. The poetic scarcity is evident in the following poem slated as a manifesto:
Whether you stay or not,
You can love them.
Whether you stay or not,
—people are born, people die,
people eat, drink, sing in the shower,
clip their nails, wipe their asses,
do the everyday things people do
as they live. Petunias nod yes, yes
to the wind. Brown-winged butterflies
mingle, & bees scribble
over the pistils of hibiscus flowers.
The sun shoots black spots
into your eyes when you forget to blink,
while the wind moans
like a low fire. (127)
A poem does not simply mirror reality; instead, it crafts its own context within which its meanings are shaped and understood. This places a significant burden on its linguistic structure. Poetic language is inherently richer, more suggestive, and more evocative than everyday language precisely because it invites the reader to actively engage in the creation of its meanings. The reader is not just a passive recipient but a co-creator of the poem's significance. What Fievre has presented above is pure telling, pure rapportage.
Given this, the poet must push the boundaries of language to its utmost limits. Poets will leverage every expressive resource available and, at times, innovate entirely new ones to convey their vision. This relentless pursuit of expression means that poets are constantly experimenting, stretching the conventional uses of language, and inventing fresh, impactful ways to communicate complex ideas and emotions. The takeaway here lies in understanding poetry as a dynamic interaction between the poet, the language, and the reader. Unlike other forms of writing that aim for clarity and directness, poetry revels in ambiguity and a multiplicity of meanings. Each word, each line, is carefully chosen not just for what it says, but for what it suggests, what it evokes in the reader's mind. This is what makes poetry so powerful and enduring: its ability to transcend ordinary communication and touch upon the universal human experience in a deeply personal way.
By immersing themselves in the nuances and intricacies of poetic language, readers are offered a richer, more profound engagement with the text. They are encouraged to explore their own interpretations and emotional responses, making each reading a unique experience. This collaborative creation of meaning transforms poetry into a living, breathing art form, perpetually evolving with each new reader who encounters it. In this way, poetry serves as a manifestation to the limitless possibilities of language and the boundless creativity of the human mind. It reminds us that the true power of words lies not just in their ability to convey information, but in their capacity to inspire, challenge, and transform our understanding of the world and ourselves.
A poet must transport their readers to a context that is not only distant in space and time but might also be entirely fictional. This imagined world is crafted through the poem’s words, allowing the reader to build it in their minds. Additionally, the poet must convey the experiences, attitudes, and emotions—and even the identity—of a speaker unknown to the reader, relying solely on the poem's linguistic structure. This includes indicating its pacing and intonational features to ensure that the essence of the poem is conveyed accurately in performance. “A poem,” Eagleton reminds us, “can be the occasion for an emotion, as when those who are grieving the loss of a child find comfort in some lushly sentimental verses. But ‘literary’ feelings responses to poems, not just states of emotion which occur in the presence” (114-5).
A poet's challenge, then, lies in her ability to evoke vivid imagery and deep emotional resonance within these constraints. By meticulously selecting and arranging words, a poet creates a bridge between the reader and a world that exists purely within the confines of the poem. This world can be as rich and complex as any real or historical one, teeming with nuanced emotions and diverse experiences. The poet’s skill in suggesting the subtleties of a speaker’s identity and perspective, without explicit description, adds layers of depth and engagement for the reader. The rhythm, intonation, and pace prescribed by the poet shape the listener's experience, making the poem not just a static piece of writing but a living, evolving art form. The poet must craft his or her work with an acute awareness of both the silent reading experience and the auditory performance, ensuring that the poem resonates across different modes of engagement.
Happy, Okay? is a courageous work by Fievre. Through Paloma's journey, she illuminates the impact of mental illness on personal relationships and the arduous path to healing, involving therapy, medication, and time. Fievre guides readers to a point of relative clarity amid darkness, portraying Paloma's authentic journey toward recovery. The narrative emphasises valuing small, joyful moments, avoiding any sense of contrivance.
Happy, Okay? offers an unflinching look at depression and anxiety, making it an important book for anyone seeking to understand these conditions. However, this is not the book for someone who wants to enter into a literary landscape with awe and wonder. Instead, it serves as a raw and honest exploration of mental health, providing valuable insights and fostering empathy. Ultimately, Happy, Okay? is a powerful resource for those looking to deepen their understanding of the complexities of mental health issues.
Work Cited
Eagleton, Terry. How to Read a Poem. Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2007.