That Book Is Kind Of Dark – Guest Post by Matt Nagin

My brother read my third poetry book, Notes From The Bonfire, recently. His response? “That book is kind of dark, man.”

While the reviews and feedback on Amazon has mostly been positive, others have had similar responses. “I thought you’re a comedian,” someone told me, “you’ve got a lot to be thankful for.”

These are all valid criticisms. I do have a lot to be grateful for. And I am a comedian…or was before the only option in terms of performing became some creepy Zoom show. What is more, in retrospect, I do come across as a bit whinier than I would have wanted.  

 All that being said, I do think Notes From The Bonfire is an accurate depiction of how I was feeling while suffering with Covid-19. This sadness, this malaise, these feelings of powerlessness and resentment, exploded to the surface. What I’m trying to say is Notes From The Bonfire, which was written during the first few weeks of the outbreak in New York City, at a time when I thought I might not survive, was dark for a reason. There is some evidence that infection with SARS COV-2 can increase your depression and mental anguish, that it impacts your brain chemistry. Whether that was the case with me or not, I just know I was really in the dumps and needed some way to respond to all that was taking place.

Writing this book allowed me to reclaim my voice, to feel like a person again. It was as integral to healing from coronavirus as drinking hot soup or taking pharmaceuticals. I’d retreated to my empty parent’s house since they were in Florida, and after watching a Cuomo Press Conference, would write for an hour or so before I started becoming too tired. Weeks went by where I slept eighteen hours a day. I had a headache that lasted ten days. I’d stand up and feel like I was about to pass out.

Owing to my asthma, above all, I really struggled physically. The strained breathing and chest pain were perhaps the worst components. There was a morning when I was lying on the floor, after taking a shower, unable to reach my inhaler. My heart started pounding in my chest. I couldn’t get oxygen. I struggled but had no ability to get any air. Finally, I got a little, gathered strength, hurried to the bedroom, took my inhaler and improved. It was scary. All alone in that house…I might not have made it. I was convinced, in fact, while on the floor, that this was the end.

A week or two later, I landed in the E.R. My breathing really became problematic. Chest pain. Dizziness. Lightheaded as all hell. The higher dose of steroids they gave me helped. I finally started improving. I’d made it through the most difficult part.

Today, the tendency seems to be to try to cancel anything that challenges us. This often seems misguided. I think part of the role of the creative individual is to present a divergent perspective, to challenge, to be, at times, really dark. That is part of the human experience. Instead of cancelling, perhaps we could all profit more from trying to understand. From contextualizing and explaining the flaws in anything that goes against the mores of the day, sure, but not in silencing.  

Affirming and listening are really the keys to self-development and a more advanced society. Anyway, that’s how I look at it. The good part of it all, in this case, was writing poetry was almost a Zen-like practice for me. I went at it every day and felt renewed. I was affirming and listening to myself, to whatever was buried inside, and trying to articulate it as lucidly as possible.

I think it has been hard for all of us to get our heads around the changes to our daily lifestyle and the unimaginable loss of life that has taken place as a result of this virus. I guess this book was my way of processing it all. In other words, it was also dark because we are living in a very dark era. It is hard to remember quite how dark it seemed last March. There was no telling just how horribly it might go. It really felt like our lives had become a recreation of Stephen King’s The Stand. So I prefer to think of the book less as dark and more as realistic.

I collected the poems into a book because I thought that poetry, which tackles matters from all angles and is highly immediate, was perhaps the best form for dealing with an event of this magnitude. The illustrations by Natasha Yearwood and photos by Andrzej Jerzy Lech were a way to perhaps bring in other audiences and add visual flair. Half the profits go to Doctors Without Borders.

 Finally, my next book, which I’m working on now, will be much more upbeat, livelier, and more comedic. Perhaps it might even be called “not dark enough.” Who knows? Matters change. Rapidly. You never know what’s just around the bend.

Recommended Article – Notes From The Bonfire – a Review