Reviews

In language as precise as it is restrained, Tara Carnes' Built to Last is a testament to Carl Jung's theory of the individuation process-that process each of us must move through in order to become the human beings we were intended to become. Carnes shines a vivid light on scenes of shame, despair, abuse, and terror and on scenes of courageous attempts to help others who have experienced the same. Despite the physical and emotional traumas these poems explore, Carnes shares with us those moments when she has finally taken ownership of her power, enjoying unabashedly her comeuppance. Always, though, at the core of this trilogy of suffering and survival, there is a deep reverence for those both Divine and earthly who have journeyed with her in the darkness/ sharing [their] wisdom and faith.-Cathy Smith Bowers, Poet Laureate of North Carolina 2010-2012
Domestic abuse victims hide their bruises. Their stories generally remain hidden-unspoken and unwritten. Fear. Fear will take a voice. Fear will do that. This collection of poetry empathically speaks their truth. And more than their truth, it records their hard-won transformation from victim to survivor. Grit. Grit will keep you alive. Grit will do that. Survivors have a voice. They unapologetically tell their stories with the hope of giving strength to those who follow. Courage. Courage will give a voice. Courage will do that. This. This is what they know. -Ingrid Knox
I am struck by the number of sensory nouns Tara uses in this compilation of poetry. It stands to reason, since it's about domestic violence, which we feel, touch, taste, smell, hear. The horrible words directed at us, the smell of a Teddy bear who brings solace, the taste of a salad which reminds us of times we felt safe, the touch of a friend's hand or our head resting on our arms in the presence of Mary as a girl. The feelings: terror, fear, anxiety, worry, embarrassment, shame, self-blame during the time of entrapment, and, conversely, feeling the joy of freedom and the freedom of joy, the capacity to breathe deeply and laugh from the belly (and play the saxophone, once again), the freedom to cry the tears of leaving (not the tears of waiting for him to come home to torture), the strength to de-program one's self from all that was dumped into us and on us by our abuser(s). Tara also uses many present progressive verbs, which suggests to me that the process of recovery from domestic violence is not a once-and-for-all event; rather, recovery happens over time, in time, during experiences that recapitulate the original abuse, through conversations with friends who love us, and in the silence of being in the heart of Creation. You cannot read this poetry and not be affected by it. May it affect you and help you commit to intervening when you witness domestic violence or are told about it by someone you know. -Mary Kay Hunyady, RSCJ, PsyD