“I See a Garden in My Head” takes the reader on a soul-expanding journey of grief, loss, and letting go. During these uncertain times, Phuong Huynh harnesses the power of words to instill hope and invite one to sit with their emotions, no matter how harrowing they may be. This Saigonese poet’s poignant and beautifully vibrant poetry also sheds light on pertinent topics like cyberbullying, adulthood realizations, healing, collective trauma, and more. Above all, Ms. Huynh reminds us that “Eden’s the present- a bridge to Tomorrowland / Embroidered by yesterday’s hands.”
*** Please note: This is a well-crafted lyric poetry book. This is not narrative poetry.
“I See a Garden in My Head” takes the reader on a soul-expanding journey of grief, loss, and letting go. During these uncertain times, Phuong Huynh harnesses the power of words to instill hope and invite one to sit with their emotions, no matter how harrowing they may be. This Saigonese poet’s poignant and beautifully vibrant poetry also sheds light on pertinent topics like cyberbullying, adulthood realizations, healing, collective trauma, and more. Above all, Ms. Huynh reminds us that “Eden’s the present- a bridge to Tomorrowland / Embroidered by yesterday’s hands.”
*** Please note: This is a well-crafted lyric poetry book. This is not narrative poetry.
Life’s about twists and turns, your faith keeps you sane...
Two more days till the old collide with the new
you wake up in the morning, headlines hit you
“getaways put off, and gatherings called off”
suddenly everybody’s in a playoff
where the homebound tickets smell like a trophy.
One more night till the old give way to the new
you walk out of the door, the silence strikes you
a stage is ending, and a decade’s starting
recently everybody’s been listening
to the rhythm of life caught in a crisis.
I knew I was going to relate to I See a Garden in My Head from the moment I read the dedication: “For my dog, who constantly wins me over with his manipulating puppy eyes.” Has a sentence ever been more relatable? Well, yes, in fact. Many of the beautifully crafted, lyrical sentences in this book struck a chord with me that carried me through the book in one sitting.
I See a Garden in My Head is a book of grief. But grief is not just death; it is the many losses of life. The loss of friendship is touched upon early on, an all too painful reality for many. Sometimes we outgrow our friendships and, other times, we realise that friends are no longer a source of joy, but a drain on our emotional wellbeing. Phuong Huynh captures this truth beautifully in the poem Scar. She emphasises the self-doubt, the uncertainty that initially accompanies these feelings of hurt, which are all too real for a reader who has lost a friend before; after all, how can we convince ourselves that our friends are hurting us, manipulating us, prioritising themselves to our detriment, when we love them so?
Grief also manifests as the process of letting go. In the opening poem, Twists and Turns, Huynh gives us an intimate insight into the ups and downs of life. The abruptness of the poem is well suited to its title, as the poem weaves the reader through almost jarring deviations from its train of thought, moving from one to the next. The line “your faith keeps you sane” could not be more apt, as the flurry of insights into the narrator/speaker’s life borders on dropping us over the cliff of their sanity; the mind has cliffs from which to fall and it seems this narrator is at the very precipice. Perhaps all that keeps them from plummeting is their ability to let go, to grieve changes and losses and move on.
I feel that what did lower my rating was the craft rather than the content of the poems. Huynh relies heavily on rhymes throughout the book and, though this is absolutely a matter of personal preference, I must admit that it didn’t make the book sing for me. I personally find the use of rhyme to sound slightly juvenile, as well as limiting the writer’s word choice. Luckily Huynh did not rely heavily on cliché rhymes, which I was very grateful for. Additionally, I did feel there was an occasional abruptness within the poems that halted the smooth lyrical voice that dominated the book. In some instances, as with Twists and Turns, it seems intentional and stylistic, working well to use literary techniques to augment the poem’s impact. However, in other places, it seemed more inharmonious. Occasionally I felt the book relied too heavily upon cliché imagery, such as in Roses, which spoke of lost love. I found the use of roses as a metaphor for love to be a little uncreative and thought there was opportunity to put a more creative spin on a well-worn subject.
Overall, however, I found the book to be full of beautiful and relatable quotes, such as “On the train to adulthood, you hide your sorrow cursing the one-way ticket the farther you go.” This grief of lost youth, the naivety and comfort of childhood is very familiar, especially as a twenty-five-year-old finishing her MA and stepping foot into ‘the real world’. I think what Huynh excels at is having a grasp of shared human experience, which is, in my opinion, one of the most important elements of being a poet or a writer. She understands the various types of grief we all experience and how to convey them in a way that creates a strong connection between her words and the reader’s own experience. I think, for a first collection of poetry, Huynh has done an excellent job of accessing a well of collective experiences and encapsulating them into beautiful poems. I can only imagine what she’ll be capable of in future books!