Book Review: Disabled Monsters (John C. Mannone)

Reviewed by Erin M. Kelly

In the world of poetry, there are those who paint intricate pictures with simple words—and those who hone their craft, serving a greater purpose with their pen. In Disabled Monsters, John C. Mannone does both, creating bold displays of imagery while depicting how the human race deals with physical, mental, emotional, and behavioral disabilities.

The opening poem in the book, entitled "Empty Shells", starts off with a quote from John Donne. The quote reads, "All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book but translated unto a better language."

From there, Mannone opens the floodgates of imagery for the reader. In "The Dogwood" he writes:

The tree sways
its arms, crossing them, fingers
moving in the weave of its hands,
as if to sign. You can read
the quaking of leaves telling us
the quiet truth — we are not
the children of a lesser God.

Here, he conveys a generalized sense of humanity, yet you still know he's writing about disability. That's a feat in itself. The fact that he's also able to make each poem relatable to everyone—not just readers with disabilities—speaks to the element of humanity he weaves into his work.

I'm also impressed by all the different aspects of disability that are beautifully addressed in this book. Several of his poems including "Leaving Shadows" and "Hauntings" address disability resulting from the violence of war. In "Reality TV" he writes:

The soldier coming home from Iraq,
the newsman said, wasn't an IED victim,
but I could see her cratered eyes, her spirit
blown to smithereens. Fragments

of her memory sifted her wet eyes:

But the author also includes a variety of other disabilities, as suggested by such poem titles as 'Blindness," "Depression," "Hospice," and "Alternative Medicine." One particularly ironic and effective poem, "The Doctor's Daughter" turns the usual table by taking the physician out of the role of objective diagnostician and moving him into the realm of those who understand disability experientially as he says, "If only the diagnosis were wrong or plaintive prayers answered right now;/ if blurring tears would wash away with whiskey."

Nevertheless, Mannone writes in such a way that the reader doesn't feel alienated or overwhelmed by the sheer heaviness of disability. I think the biggest difference between his ability to be humane and the pictures he paints with his words is the amount of grace that each individual reader can come away with.

Mannone addresses many of the same emotions that we all have as human beings. It's not like he's writing about something completely foreign there. However, it almost feels as if he wrote Monsters knowing that every disability is different and unique to the individual who has it—thus, allowing everyone who picks this book up to react to each poem in their own way.

As a writer and poet with cerebral palsy, I think that is Mannone's greatest achievement with this particular collection of poetry. His sharp, savvy wit, coupled with his level of humility and resonance make this one of the best books I've read in quite some time. It's not only a great read for the modern, well-rounded bookworm, but it's also a celebration of the diverse, wondering soul.

Title: Disabled Monsters
Author: John C. Mannone
Publisher: Linnet's Wing Press
Publication Date: 2015

Erin M. Kelly is a columnist, writer, and freelance editor with Cerebral Palsy who wants to be recognized for her work rather than her disability. She's a 2009 graduate of Penn State Altoona, majoring in Letters, Arts and Sciences. She is a columnist for The Altoona Mirror. Her column entitled, "The View from Here," runs monthly and addresses the challenges she faces daily. She is also the social justice editor of The Good Men Project and a regular contributor to Real Talk Magazine.