Through her first published book of poetry Library of Small Catastrophes, Alison C. Rollins takes the stage to interweave a library of tales involving racism, female experience, religion, environmentalism, and universal pain. Although her poems are crafted with a beautiful intricacy—each word delicately chosen like a book plucked from a shelf—her poems are not for the faint of heart. Rollins gives you “permission to enter—/ the opulence of this rabbit hole” (“A Woman of Means”).

Rollins uses her background as a librarian to her advantage; crafting poems in the form of dictionary entries and alluding to historical events. From the very first poem, she begins with the image of “Venus Hottentot in a convex mirror/ an interior coagulation of disembodiment” (“A Woman of Means”). This thick use of precisely picked words is characteristic of the book, as well as the reference to black, female bodies abused or put on display by white oppressors. For Rollins, these experiences create a painful community; a painful catalogue of human experience.

A blind poet takes up the pen

in the same way the sun eats fire. Self-destruction a form

of craft, an illustration of what a stanza can withstand.

All religion is art. Art is pain suffered and outlived.

                                                            (“The Path of Totality”)

She also connects to her audience through Christianity and the use of Biblical allusions in poems like “Report from inside a White Whale” and “born [again].” The use of this widely understood religion and the fact that it was forced upon black slaves in early American history marks a point of suffering that Rollins internalizes and outlives. In “born [again],’ Rollins questions the efficacy of abortion in light of Christian beliefs. Except, the light she casts does not illuminate the answer to the question: is it right or is it wrong? Instead, Rollins seeks out the pain and the truth of reality—she does not play at judgement but instead catalogues the experience.

There are periods in her book where Rollins uses colloquial language specific to that of African Americans or other races such as “We is throats constricting and the grape juice of Jesus” (“Why Is We Americans”). This brings the reader crashing down to earth amidst the elevated language—a realization that this poet is not only well educated and intelligent, but that she has had the same experiences as many normal African Americans around her. In another piece, she references the assassination of Berta Cáceres, a Honduran environmental activist, in “Water No Get Enemy.” This poem is another example of colloquial language: “if you wan to/ go wash, na water you go use.” By quoting Cáceres and reflecting her natural tongue and shape of her words, Rollins makes her a frighteningly real figure which brings the reality of her assassination terribly close.

As a widely read African American woman, Rollins finds her knowledge and memories a repository not only for the mistreatment of her race and gender but others as well. Library of Small Catastrophes is catalogued proof of the universal pain outlived by Alison C. Rollins and groups historically persecuted and destroyed. Such deep pain can only be dealt with by sharing it with others, and Rollins has done just that in an attempt to heal and understand years of her own suffering as well as others.