asphaltmonkey's review against another edition
5.0
It is very much just a stereotype, but often we have the impression of poetry as soothing, grass bank river flowing, bright moon in the sky. But this is a different beast altogether. Tender Delirium is explosive, akin to of setting off a grenade inside you and chronicling the blood and guts, rage against the machine style.
Tania compiles a mixture of prose and poetry, charting childhood memories and trauma alongside love and loss. "Stuff your jellybean kisses back into your pockets," she says, unapologetic. In others, she details the bitter tang of regret that stays with you through the years. "No rewind button for the soul, no second chance for the petty player, no backup plan for those who risk everything on nothing, all at once."
In Keep we bear witness to her complication relationship with her own craft. The act of keeping, collecting and recording can be terribly tiring and traumatic. She "tortures photos into paintings", "keep [...] time to footsteps walking away from me". It's a a chronicle of one's life, gazetted into sections, like a small town record of who's who.
There were passages in there so cutting, so poignant, powerful and human and relatable. She takes longing and memories right from the tip of her tongue, setting them down with tender precision.
Somehow Tania manages to walk that line between being honest and transparent and authentic without spelling the end of privacy. We see her personal growth through her writing, and there is a softening of attitudes towards the end. It evolves into something less chip on the shoulder and more relaxing into the arms of a lover. It is a journey of exploring identity, finding love and relationships, loss, reconciliation, coming home and leaving forever.
Tania compiles a mixture of prose and poetry, charting childhood memories and trauma alongside love and loss. "Stuff your jellybean kisses back into your pockets," she says, unapologetic. In others, she details the bitter tang of regret that stays with you through the years. "No rewind button for the soul, no second chance for the petty player, no backup plan for those who risk everything on nothing, all at once."
In Keep we bear witness to her complication relationship with her own craft. The act of keeping, collecting and recording can be terribly tiring and traumatic. She "tortures photos into paintings", "keep [...] time to footsteps walking away from me". It's a a chronicle of one's life, gazetted into sections, like a small town record of who's who.
There were passages in there so cutting, so poignant, powerful and human and relatable. She takes longing and memories right from the tip of her tongue, setting them down with tender precision.
Somehow Tania manages to walk that line between being honest and transparent and authentic without spelling the end of privacy. We see her personal growth through her writing, and there is a softening of attitudes towards the end. It evolves into something less chip on the shoulder and more relaxing into the arms of a lover. It is a journey of exploring identity, finding love and relationships, loss, reconciliation, coming home and leaving forever.
"When you leave, the sun will shine on us at different times."
julziez's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.0
rowan86's review against another edition
4.0
This was AMAZING; finished it in half an hour or so. WORTH EVERY DOLLAR.
fina_reads's review
4.0
I’ve always love poetry books written by different authors about the perspective that they have towards life, love, family and etc ..
And tender delirium is the first poetry book that i have read from tania ,it gives me the feel to keep on reading to know more of what she has written and i will definitely read her second book
And tender delirium is the first poetry book that i have read from tania ,it gives me the feel to keep on reading to know more of what she has written and i will definitely read her second book
p0stc4rds's review
emotional
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
edit : some singaporeans have felt love. they did not keep it.
heteroglossia's review
5.0
after i finished reading the last poem of this book (i was in bed), i sunk into my pillow & said "wow that was good" The first poem in the book:
What You Are
I want to write you a poem that unravels
from the gut, hurls itself towards you
like a slap across the mouth. Let my words
unleash themselves upon you like dogs
looking for a fight, like seeds bursting
from overripe pods. let every vowel
explode in your face like cruel laughter,
every consonant pronounce itself like
death into your ear, every comma
trip up your speech, every full-stop
prevent you from finding your way
home. I hope you were not expecting
sweet nothings, loves songs, cherished
cliches; the heart that triumphs over
adversity, finds strength in the adoring
eyes of a child, realises that we are
not so different after all. Surely you are
not so naive, not thinking I am going to turn
this into some love poem, waxing lyrical
about secrets whispered between sweethearts,
or about hands held on crowded trains
at dawn. Or about you, as if you take root
at the base of my spine, fingers climbing
each vertebra one by one. This is not
some ode with your name on it. I want
to write you a poem that drives a bullet
through your beliefs, plagues you
with your own reflection, smashes every
illusion like bricks through a window
pane; let it stir the birds in your chest
so hard they burst through your flesh
in a spectacle of sound and despair. I
want to write you a poem that lingers
on your breath like cigarettes, stings
your eyes like salt, a finger pointing
unflinchingly: this is what you are
_
It's a good start to her book because not only does she set the tone, she gives you a sort of matric to understand her poems. She wants us to be moved; to be forcefully thrown into her poems & then into ourselves. We must be emotionally implicated. Her words she sets to us like dogs, every vowel explodes in our face, etc etc. Already, we see how the decentered self ("... every comma trip up your speech, every full-stop prevent you from finding your way home") is also ironically the locus of finding our true Self ("a finger pointing unflinchingly: this is what you are).
If Alfian Sa'at's poems in The Invisible Manuscript, as I described in a previous review, show that identity formation or realization is a discursive discourse or process, Tania De Rozario's Tender Delirium shows us how identity formation can come from a painful & bewildering process of confronting, questioning, testing & even crossing boundaries. Constantly she'll disrupt our expectations through the structure of poems (she's amazing with this!). She will shatter cliches ("I hope you were not expecting sweet nothings, loves songs"), present moments where stereotypes are confronted, where lines are blurred and situations where one is so disarmed with unfamiliarity & so removed from their comfort zones. Every self-constructed barrier & mask you put up in social situations, every subconscious lie you tell yourself is peeled away & you are left only with your true self, raw, vulnerable & naked.
In fact, perhaps it's not so much about identity formation as identity realization. Our self is already inside us. So what is left is a sort of anamnesis; realizing or recalling knowledge that we already know. Like a midwife, she shows us how we can go through this process of recollection. She shows us how she bled, which wounds she kept open so that the light will always get in and the assurance that this emotional & psychological violence has a tender, fulfilling reward -- knowledge of who we truly are. After writing that last line, I just realized how apt the title "Tender Delirium" is.
What You Are
I want to write you a poem that unravels
from the gut, hurls itself towards you
like a slap across the mouth. Let my words
unleash themselves upon you like dogs
looking for a fight, like seeds bursting
from overripe pods. let every vowel
explode in your face like cruel laughter,
every consonant pronounce itself like
death into your ear, every comma
trip up your speech, every full-stop
prevent you from finding your way
home. I hope you were not expecting
sweet nothings, loves songs, cherished
cliches; the heart that triumphs over
adversity, finds strength in the adoring
eyes of a child, realises that we are
not so different after all. Surely you are
not so naive, not thinking I am going to turn
this into some love poem, waxing lyrical
about secrets whispered between sweethearts,
or about hands held on crowded trains
at dawn. Or about you, as if you take root
at the base of my spine, fingers climbing
each vertebra one by one. This is not
some ode with your name on it. I want
to write you a poem that drives a bullet
through your beliefs, plagues you
with your own reflection, smashes every
illusion like bricks through a window
pane; let it stir the birds in your chest
so hard they burst through your flesh
in a spectacle of sound and despair. I
want to write you a poem that lingers
on your breath like cigarettes, stings
your eyes like salt, a finger pointing
unflinchingly: this is what you are
_
It's a good start to her book because not only does she set the tone, she gives you a sort of matric to understand her poems. She wants us to be moved; to be forcefully thrown into her poems & then into ourselves. We must be emotionally implicated. Her words she sets to us like dogs, every vowel explodes in our face, etc etc. Already, we see how the decentered self ("... every comma trip up your speech, every full-stop prevent you from finding your way home") is also ironically the locus of finding our true Self ("a finger pointing unflinchingly: this is what you are).
If Alfian Sa'at's poems in The Invisible Manuscript, as I described in a previous review, show that identity formation or realization is a discursive discourse or process, Tania De Rozario's Tender Delirium shows us how identity formation can come from a painful & bewildering process of confronting, questioning, testing & even crossing boundaries. Constantly she'll disrupt our expectations through the structure of poems (she's amazing with this!). She will shatter cliches ("I hope you were not expecting sweet nothings, loves songs"), present moments where stereotypes are confronted, where lines are blurred and situations where one is so disarmed with unfamiliarity & so removed from their comfort zones. Every self-constructed barrier & mask you put up in social situations, every subconscious lie you tell yourself is peeled away & you are left only with your true self, raw, vulnerable & naked.
In fact, perhaps it's not so much about identity formation as identity realization. Our self is already inside us. So what is left is a sort of anamnesis; realizing or recalling knowledge that we already know. Like a midwife, she shows us how we can go through this process of recollection. She shows us how she bled, which wounds she kept open so that the light will always get in and the assurance that this emotional & psychological violence has a tender, fulfilling reward -- knowledge of who we truly are. After writing that last line, I just realized how apt the title "Tender Delirium" is.
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