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Family continues to be a wellspring of inspiration and learning for Blanco. His third book of poetry, Looking for The Gulf Motel, is a genealogy of the heart, exploring how his family's emotion legacy has shaped--and continues shaping--his perspectives. The collection is presented in three movements, each one chronicling his understanding of a particular facet of life from childhood into adulthood. As a child born into the milieu of his Cuban exiled familia, the first movement delves into early questions of cultural identity and their evolution into his unrelenting sense of displacement and quest for the elusive meaning of home. The second, begins with poems peering back into family again, examining the blurred lines of gender, the frailty of his father-son relationship, and the intersection of his cultural and sexual identities as a Cuban-American gay man living in rural Maine. In the last movement, poems focused on his mother's life shaped by exile, his father's death, and the passing of a generation of relatives, all provide lessons about his own impermanence in the world and the permanence of loss. Looking for the Gulf Motel is looking for the beauty of that which we cannot hold onto, be it country, family, or love.… (more)
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The images and the emotions are strong in this very approachable collection.
from the title poem of the collection:
There should be nothing here I don't remember
My brother and I should still be playing Parcheesi,
my father should still be alive, slow dancing
with my mother on the sliding glass balcony
of the The Gulf Motel. No music, only the waves
keeping time, a song only their minds hear
ten-thousand nights back to their life in Cuba.
My mother's face should still be resting against
his bare chest like the moon resting on the sea,
the stars should still be turning around them.
First, I would tell Richard that some of the poems in Looking for The Gulf Motel are dazzling perfection: 5:00 AM in Cuba,
Then, I would say something that poets in workshops always seem to say: "Throw away your babies." Even as I swoon, I believe that many of Blanco’s poems would be better if he chopped off the last line or two.
So. Richard Blanco, please — Trust your readers! We don't need to be told that you are “a boy afraid of being a boy” (Afternoons as Eldora). We understand that “you are one” (Queer Theory) without explanation. And we get that you yearn for your brother to “believe someday” you’ll glide down the mountain together. Terminal lines like these add a layer of sentimentality and dilute your otherwise powerful work. So, stop it!
Next, I would gently inquire whether Richard Blanco has, perhaps, written enough “It’s not this, but that” poems — as in “Not Ricardo but Richard” and “Not a study or a den, but El Florida.” Starting with a negative is a nifty device, but it does wear thin after awhile.
Finally, after spouting my opinions, I would flutter off (remember, I’m a fly) and try to write my own poems. Wish me luck with that. Richard… would you give me some tips?