When I was in elementary school, I wrote an overly dramatic story about Sally and her grandmother. Sally was just a kid when she found out her long lost relative, whom she barely knew, had suddenly died. It was full of tears, screaming, and gut wrenching grief. (Well, kind of.) The one thing I appreciate most about Sally’s story, besides from the good laughs it offers now, is that it ignited in me a love of writing.
Throughout elementary and junior high, I wrote for fun. My nine-year-old self never thought about a future career, other than being a professional clown, but when I grew up and started high school, a whole new opportunity opened up for me.
It all started with Ms. Gautreau’s creative writing class. My sister, who is three years older than me, took the class first. She would come home with life size diagrams that outlined the things she loved, worried about, and dreamt about. I could not wait to take the class myself. And, once I was able to take the course, I was not disappointed.
In Ms. Gautreau’s class, I was free to be my weird self. I could write poetry that focused on love, longing, and ridiculous observations, without judgment. My seat in Ms. Gautreau’s class was one of freedom and insight. It was during high school that I found out that one could major in creative writing in college. So, that’s what I ended up doing, eventually earning my M.F.A. in poetry.
Ms. Gautreau played a large role in solidifying my love of writing and the desire to make a career out of it. That’s whymher review of Home is a Sweater means so much to me.
Thank you Ms. Gautreau, not only for taking the time to review my chapbook, but for showing me there was validity in a life of words.
Thank you to everyone who generously reviewed my book and offered such kind reviews.
Review of Home is a Sweater by Anne Gautreau:
Practicing the craft of writing presupposes a balance between universality and singularity. Well written poems maintain that balance as they string a taut tightrope between writer and reader.
Home is a Sweater, a chapbook of poems, by Stefanie Wielkopolan, does not disappoint the reader keen to engage with good poetry. It’s always intriguing to speculate as to how a particular poem sparks imaginative energy and attentive action on the part of a poet. One singular, four-line sequence may capture something significant about Wielkopolan’s personal writing process:
We fly around Black Mountain at night
hang out in the trees by the railroad track
and make a nest from scraps
collected at Dairy King
Her poems are littered, in a positive way, with the detritus of her own existence. Small, concrete, apparently mundane details illuminate the careful observation of a good poet who is always watching and wondering, listening and contemplating.
My stomach is a pink balloon
weighed down
by Petoskey stones
and a thin layer of Lake Michigan sand.
From time immemorial, poetry has been meant to be shared, to be read aloud, to move metrically and with grace. It honors the auditory impact of language, and Wielkopolan is skilled at playing musical riffs :
a rum running strait
crystal ferns and sugared grass
a creamy pink
Knox block
of attention
Like most poets, Wielkopolan possesses a metaphorical mind. She apprehends her world in comparative transformations and estimations of life’s core meanings. A cherished collection of arresting, singular images links insights full of bravado to the readers of her work.
Michigan is a tight sweater
not the proverbial mitten! She declares her:
brain is a gelatin mold.
My heart is a red velvet couch.
We are the Pine Trees
She is the aluminum chair
we became the particles of paint in the air,
We are the corners
where nothing clean ever collects
Lots of attention and regard are paid to specific family members across generations with their genetic imprints upon her very existence:
Dissect my cornea,
beneath the glaucoma
and macular degeneration
are my grandfathers.
Although she can make observations with a droll, self-deprecating wit,
surrounded by expensive cars, leathery women,
and overly fit parents
her narratives inevitably will impact her readers’ own emotional queries.
Let’s say none
of this makes sense.
Except for the emotion
of absence,
by which there is too much.
She is particularly successful when both writer and reader share an experience with the kind of transformation she describes as the place:
where my breath
and heart are filtered
Although she often hints at dramatic tensions, one senses a tentativeness about Wielkopolan, a reluctance to engage with searing honesty. Of course, exposure of one’s inner being can be the most daunting aspect of writing. Many readers will leave this chapbook wanting to know more about the edges she skirts, the dark places she refuses to fully illuminate, the disappointments she harbors, and the pleasures in which she indulges. Repeatedly, however, the theme of connection asserts itself as the primary focus of this particular collection.
The open sign,
a reminder that we all need
a place to belong.
Abundant within the pages of this chapbook are love, family, and community, with all their human contradictions, shortfalls, evolutions, and joys. Readers won’t be disappointed with the generous helpings Wielkopolan serves as she clarifies and amplifies the singular nature of memorable life moments.
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Review by Jan via GoodReads:
“This short book gives so much in details, feelings, images, in direct and precise language. I can feel the writer’s voice as though she’s in the room with me. And whether the poems are set in Michigan, Pittsburgh or elsewhere, as readers we’re never lost. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed poetry, so I really appreciate ‘Home is a Sweater’ for reaching out and taking hold of my interest this way.”
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Review by Atina Guidetti
“Stefanie Wielkopolan’s ‘Home is a Sweater’ is a powerful collection of poems that are represented by the metaphor of home-wherever you are. Wielkopolan’s writing is raw and honest, and her vivid imagery brings the reader deep into the pain of her experiences. The poems are reflective and introspective, and also acknowledge the sorrows of the world around us. She captures the complex emotions of life, and the turning points that can define our lives. Like a sweater, the darkness of life cycles with the seasons, but her words give us hope for the future and remind us that we are not alone in our struggles. Home is a Sweater is an emotionally powerful and thought-provoking collection of poetry.”
Stefanie Wielkopolan 