The Taste of Gruel
By Joseph D. Reich
Joseph D. Reich’s “pain diary,” written during a spell of hospitalization, is as free of illusion as it is freely nostalgic. Across seventy-odd numbered sections interrupted by case studies, figures, alternative proofs, bulletpoints, and clinical conclusions, Reich turns the language of institutional care back on itself. A virtual nurse practitioner hovers invisibly to ask whether he is feeling moody or depressed; a dietitian arrives in the middle of the night with egg salad; higher-ups hold meetings about meetings about meetings. Beyond the window are the mountains of Vermont, and farther, an America ruinously engraving its distorted self-image on its own remains.
And yet, in bed—for Reich as for Proust, the poem’s dedicatee—memories come unbidden: sugar packets at a bed & breakfast, baseball cards wrapped in wax paper, childhood AM radio, ragtime saving a broken soul in New Orleans, a girl with green Irish eyes… Reich sets all that life has managed to keep warm against the brutal systematic indifference we inflict on each other. Amorous, funny, furious, tender, The Taste of Gruel is about what survives.