"Earthly Delights: Poems"

Troy Jollimore teaches philosophy at Chico State and, in his new book of poems, celebrates a world that contains movies. And yet, even in the theatre, "in the very temple of Delight," as he quotes Keats saying, "Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine."

Listen: "A friend who left for the East Coast two years/ ago has flown back to Chico to take photos/ of Mount Lassen exactly one hundred years after/ its catastrophic eruption. For a while/ it feels as if everything is a reenactment of something that has already happened: even dumping/ a skitter of Raisin Bran into a bowl/ ... or trying on sneakers takes on/ the aura of a ritual." 

Well, "Are you trying/ to deny time and change, to say that death/ will have no authority here, or are you/ celebrating the fact that everything is/ in flux and ungraspable, or is the season/ doing one or the other of these things for you?"

In "Earthly Delights: Poems" ($17.95 in paperback from Princeton University Press; also for Amazon Kindle) melancholy seems ever present for something lost or just beyond the horizon.

So, in "Early Morning, Upper Bidwell Park," the poet writes, "When God made the world he did it like this/ world-making in the daytime/ world-undoing at night// And it has occurred to me that we might be living/ in one of the undoings...."

Elsewhere, "When the Senator Theatre closed in 1999 in Chico, California,/ the last film to be shown was 'American Beauty,' and so I went, for the last screening./ I went to take in the last images, to feel the last light, to be a part/ of the end of something, to be, I suppose, a kind of witness, and to be a part/ of that crowd of others...."

Then a postscript to a poem called "Fire": "The world will end in fire, not ice,/ William Tecumseh Sherman said,/ as we, horizons glowing red,/ inhaled the ash of Paradise."

Now the poet sings of the "melancholy night, sagging with the heaviness/ Of summer, and of silence, of things we cannot guess,/ Rocked gently on the azure by the wind's caress,/ The trembling tree, the nightingale's mournful address."

"Lily's Lament"

Chicoan Dick Cory, retired science and health teacher, continues his environmental activism in his thirteenth self-published book. This one is for kids, but also for adults, with a narrative by a long-tailed lemur.

"Lily's Lament" (approximately $20 at Made In Chico) features full-color illustrations by Steve Ferchaud which bring lemurs to life with a distinctive tail to tell. There's a bite to this tale as it's the story of what's happening to the lemurs' home in far-off Madagascar.

"What bothers me most," Lily notes, "is I'm getting old at 17, and as leader of my troop (alpha female), I may not be able to protect and care for my family much longer. Our living space has been squeezed down to the ... southwest corner of our country. Although we spend about one-third on the ground, we still need the forest for food."

Lily is eighteen inches tall; though she weighs but five pounds, "don't sell me short on brain power. I've been able to learn simple arithmetic, understand patterns, and pick the right tool to do a job (sequencing)." As Cory writes in the introduction, non-human animals have ways of communicating, even "the ability to select, create, and use tools."

For Cory, "watching long-tailed lemurs hop, skip, and jump across open ground in Madagascar is so much like children playing on a school playground during recess. There must be some common emotions, pleasures, and need of expression." Humans should not forget.

Lily's country is poor; the most important export is natural vanilla, but the consequences for Lily are stark: "I like awake at night in my cave bed wondering what value we have to our country. Is the wood and natural vanilla so valuable to drive us off the island? Our lives are at stake (endangered) not only by this lost ground ... but by hunters for food, and pet collectors. We live on the edge of 'no more' (extinction)."

Could tourism be an answer? Kids coming to Madagascar "could watch us jump from tree to tree, climb the rocky sides of steep mountains, and hop, skip, and jump" along the ground. It's an optimistic dream, and Cory leaves readers with much to think about.

"InSanity"

"Our connection evolved into a salacious summer fling," writes Chicoan Robyn Alana Engel in her new memoir. "Between romps, there were frequent 'I’m here for you' phone calls. We’d stroll along the creek at Bidwell Park hand-in-hand and laugh about absurdities like a chihuahua chasing its own tail." But "'Jeff' wouldn't commit to an exclusive partnership with anyone.... I slipped into a bout of depression. I didn't realize this then, but my brain was screaming for balance."

The screaming continues throughout "InSanity" ($11.99 in paperback, self-published, with more at rawknrobyn.blogspot.com; also for Amazon Kindle), a dark and mordant work of creative non-fiction which explores in gritty and fairly explicit detail the tension Engel feels between self-care as a single and an insatiable desire for sex.

"Am I oversexed," she wonders in print, "due to a lack of touch throughout my childhood? Or am I oversexed because I'm trying to make up for lost time--having been such a late bloomer?" Her introduction to "Justin," her prince charming, came only in her late thirties, but the marriage didn't last. Then, later, Engel receives news that her ex had died by suicide.

Memories of growing up in an outwardly successful but inwardly psychologically abusive family flood in (never hugged by mom, ignored by dad). And guilt about how poorly she treated her middle brother. Depressed, schizophrenic, Glenn died by suicide in 1988.

Engel's own will to live is fed by a need for constant emotional and sexual stimulation ("loneliness makes me feel crazy"). Her hookups over the years (with Jeff, Twig, George, Mr. Scorpio, Fred, Paul E., Troy, Eldee S., Paul Revere, JT) and run-ins with roommates, neighbors and bosses reveal a blushingly hilarious acid tongue, a person who can't stand boredom--but also someone deeply wounded.

A licensed therapist, Engel played Annie Bidwell, shook Bernie Sanders' hand when he came to Chico, helped Camp Fire victims. For Engel, "you have to choose life, in order to inspire others to do the same.... I choose life, and I intend to give my best to the whole of it. I arrive home, in sanity."

(Please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 for 24/7 free and confidential support.)

"Sunroofs And Shoeboxes"

For Chico State journalism graduate Jaime Mathews, now living with her husband and kids in Danville, her life as a single person was, well, frustrating. "I was thirty-one years old," she writes, "and I always thought that by then, I would be married with children.... Instead, I was living with a roommate, my dog, and two cats, working at my dad's business while I was also growing the hair salon I had purchased (and already disliked)."

She felt stuck. So she started writing "on January 7 because beginning on January 1 seemed way to cliché for me" and "committed myself to writing every day for six months about the things I was grateful for. You see, I knew about the power of mindset. I had studied it constantly during my master's program in holistic health and nutrition."

Though the resulting "gratitude journey" opened many personal and professional doors, the point is to express gratitude for what you already have (and may not realize it). 

Those daily posts are contained in Mathews' upbeat "Sunroofs And Shoeboxes" ($12.99 in paperback from The Sweet Life Co., thesweetlife.co; also for Amazon Kindle). Subtitled "train yourself to find happiness in a coffee mug, joy in the laughter of a stranger, and fulfillment in the beauty of a sunset," it's like opening the sunroof on a car: "There is a distinct feeling of expansiveness."

Noticing a little extra around your mid-section? Well, your intuitive sense is called a gut feeling and "because of this, having a more visually present gut can actually be a very healthy reminder to pay attention." (Though a too-present gut can indeed pose a health risk.)

Need creative inspiration? Try Chico's Thursday night market "which showcased the uniqueness of this college town: kettle corn ... fresh herbs, and the most amazing breads."

Sad, scary, or dangerous situations can stimulate gratefulness for others: "We are not meant to live this life on our own." 

"So the next time you fail your New Year's resolutions, forget about them" and loosen up; set a goal whenever, and go for it, being kind to yourself and those around you. 

Readers will find Jaime Mathews a cheering companion along the way.