Poetry Review: Wooings: Book I
Some clues to “Wooings”
Paul Chipkin, Senior Peer Advocate, Staten Island Peer Advocacy Center
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Sam Pirro is part of my intimate circle of friends. We are family.
His book, “Wooings,” is an important work because we’re at a point in history where mentally ill people are starting to come out of the closet in terms of offering our stories to the public.
Though there’s also “Wooings: Book II (poetry)” (The Blind Press, 2006, 17 poems), this review is of Book I. One of his poems, “Beggarman Reconnoitering Beggarman,” is posted at http://paulchipkin.cgpublisher.com/diary/.
Sam writes of elements going into the construction of what is considered sexual perversion—mental barriers to a healthy sex life, or any sex life at all, for that matter. That makes for fascinating reading—understanding that humans are hypnotized by sexuality. Are all human beings are obsessed with the subject of sex? To an important extent…
Sam’s protagonist, Peter, is, anyway. Mommy turned him into some sort of perverted animal. Grandma “Nonna” did her part. Daddy just wasn’t around. Actual girlfriends just added up to so many traumas for Peter. It was a recipe for sickness—for weirdness.
In the first couple of pages of the book, Sam declares that he’s no big fan of biochemical explanations for mental illness. You can see the argument: Peter’s whole world “put its back heavy” into “making him nuts.” One must, at least, be sympathetic.
The first part of the book is about sex and the formation of a sexual perversion that controls the psyche of the character. The second part of the book, which moves very, very slowly, extends that idea of obsession to his therapist; he wants acknowledgment from her that he’s a great writer.
In “Wooings,” Peter asks his heartthrob therapist, “Leah, if we’re so much alike, how were you able to get it together so much sooner than me?”
“I didn’t have your sexual problems,” she answers.
Peter pinned too much of his life’s hopes on his strange preoccupation with this early female therapist. It happens that one can use any type of diversion to avoid addressing the real purposes of our lives.
Reading about Peter made me think: Why were we born? Was it to wait 20 years for a letter from Leah? Was it the intention that I carry the letter to “the pearly gates” declaring, “I am victorious! Leah thinks I’m a talented writer!” Does adulation even matter? What does? Is it sex? Is it “young girls?” Or has yet another person “missed the boat?”
It’s possible “Wooings” will be used in a New York University psychology class next fall. It is a remarkably illuminating case study. The fact is that mentally ill people are emerging as an important part of society. There are good examples of us walking around.
An aspect that brings home a special realism to Peter’s story is that it does tell a tale of the waste of a life. This person really had very little going once he got older. A lot of mentally ill people live that waste. There is, nowadays, a recovery movement where many of us have finally managed to find great meaning and purpose. Also, some of us are artists and writers, and can find a way out of the waste.
I myself went through many years of waste—having no friends and being closed down— and that’s part of mental illness for so many. In my work at the state hospital, I see many people who do nothing for themselves, and that’s part of the deal until you get out of it. One is in charge of one’s own destiny—no matter what path one is on or what tools one commands. Writing can be very helpful as an avenue for growth. Sam and his main character are writers, and that is a way to develop if you can do it. Development is synonymous with recovery.
To buy a copy, contact City Voices, or obtain through Samuel Pirro at 16 West 102nd St., 4C, New York, N.Y. 10025.
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