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    How to (Un)cage a Girl
    How to (Un)cage a Girl
    How to (Un)cage a Girl
    Ebook99 pages54 minutes

    How to (Un)cage a Girl

    By Francesca Lia Block

    3.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A celebration of girls and women in a three part poetry collection that is powerful, hopeful, authentic, and universal.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 6, 2009
    ISBN9780061971723
    How to (Un)cage a Girl
    Author

    Francesca Lia Block

    Francesca Lia Block, winner of the prestigious Margaret A. Edwards Award, is the author of many acclaimed and bestselling books, including Weetzie Bat; the book collections Dangerous Angels: The Weetzie Bat Books and Roses and Bones: Myths, Tales, and Secrets; the illustrated novella House of Dolls; the vampire romance novel Pretty Dead; and the gothic werewolf novel The Frenzy. Her work is published around the world.

    Read more from Francesca Lia Block

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    Reviews for How to (Un)cage a Girl

    3.5/5

    44 ratings7 reviews

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    • 3/5
      This is a collection of poems for young women. "for women who had been rapedand women who had never been touchedfor women who had been devoured limbs eatenand women who had sucked the bloodof their passive matesfor ladies who at one time or another consideredthemselves hideous monstersand who had at other times blinded their loveswith goddess gloryfor smart hungry sad creatures who disguisedthemselves as womenand wept in secret because they did not looklike supermodels" (from l.a. bacchantes p. 39)The collection is structured into three parts, loosely following the life of a narrator from girlhood to womanhood, and chronicles many painful moments such as death of a parent, eating disorders and struggles with body image, lost chances and secret regrets."she was the second person ever to make me poetrymaybe i had it all wrongmaybe i was the one who was supposed to fallin love with herand now I can't even remember her name" (p. 72)Interwoven throughout this semi-biographical narrative are snatches of fairy tales, magical creatures such as fairies and vampires, and even Shakespearian plays as one poem, miranda is an ode to the character from Shakespeare's The Tempest:"your father may burnhis books of magicand abandon the sprite once locked in a treebut not you mirandanot you" (p.89)This will appeal to, and speak to, many young women in a deeply empathetic and positive way. Block's message of loving who you are and feeling comfortable in your own skin is incredibly positive, and the darker and more painful snatches will be cathartic to girls going through similar experiences. The poetry itself is not brilliant, the structure is a little messy for my tastes and the poems feel unfinished (unpolished?) but overall it's a wonderful message and Block's personal, sympathetic style peppered with magical beings and colourful imagery is well worth a look.
    • 2/5
      Honestly...not a fan. I appreciate poetry and even dabble in it at times, but unfortunately this one was not really my cup of tea. It was interesting to learn where the cover image art stems from and there were two note-worthy poems that I will mention more in my blog post, but overall, it wasn't for me.
    • 4/5
      How to (un)cage a girl is a collection poems by Francesca Lia Block. It kind of feels like a coming of age story learning to love and take care of yourself.
    • 5/5
      I really wish I had had this book as a teenager, or heck, even a year ago when I was having a lot of body image issues. I think it really addresses that topic well for girls, particularly those of us who really enjoy women's magazines and popular culture and struggle with the images portrayed therein.
    • 4/5
      This slim volume of Weetzie Bat’s creator Francesca Lia Block’s poetry is a collection of subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages of feminism and what it means to grow up as a woman in this culture. The first section is a year-by-year series on the themes of sexual awakening and the need for independence from parents while still desperately needing parenting. The poems in this section give voice to the struggle to be an adult while still wanting to be taken care of, touching on the illness and death of a parent, body issues and sexuality, and the general goofiness of teens hanging out with their friends. The second section is on media images of women and the unfair expectations put upon girls in their adolescence. This short section is the weakest of the collection, full of references that are timely and relevant but will likely seem dated a few years from now. The third section (which makes up the majority of the book) is where the collection comes together, though. Titled "love poems for girls," they are exactly that, poems of empowerment and strength, of reassurance, of empathy. These are the poems that have the most useful, universal messages of valuing oneself and taking comfort in who you are.

      While Block's language isn't always poetic in a flowy, flowery way, and her rhythm is not a strict iambic pentameter (or anything else, for that matter), the rhythm of her words has a lyricism to it that never feels clunky or forced. Her poems do sound like an adult talking to a teen, but never talking down to the teen. Sometimes all a girl needs is to know someone else has actually been there and lived through it.

      This slim volume of poetry didn't always light my world on fire, but many of the poems are things I think I would have appreciated reading when I was in high school.
    • 4/5
      This poetry lives in the adolescent, in that its focus remains for the most part superficial. Since this book of poetry is directed toward a young adult audience, this is not a bad thing.

      Many of the poems center on body image, fashion, popularity, finding self, boys, and the like. They revel in the insecurities of the teenager. If I had read this when I was in high school, I would have been amazed, thinking, This is me. She knows. I would have believed.

      Even the language itself remains very on the surface. The breaking of the lines often seems arbitrary, and the descriptions tend to be repetitive (the first things to be noticed are the shade of the eyes or the color of the hair).

      There is no punctuation throughout the book, except the odd question mark. Sometimes it helped the poem, allowing the thoughts to run into one another, the way they actually do in our minds, undeliniated. Other times this was a hindrance, causing confusion in the lack.

      Block brings in mythology and fairy tales to help bring these poems depth and life. And every once in a while, she breaks away into something sublime, and I find myself wanting to linger over a line. I reread it, savoring it on my tongue. And there are those few poems where I have to pause and be still for a minute after finishing, because I just need to be there for a moment before I go back to read the poem again.
    • 3/5
      Block's collection of poetry almost reads like a narrative, opening the floodgates of adolescence with 120 pages of verse. Her style is confessional, raw, and at times racy, but ultimately her work is refreshing. It's not the pinnacle of the poetic tradition, and it's certainly gimmicky, but considering the audience, the gimmicks make the work more accessible for non-connoisseurs. How to Uncage a Girl is an enjoyable read, and current teenage girls will certainly find this tome a treat, as it was written just for them.

    Book preview

    How to (Un)cage a Girl - Francesca Lia Block

    PART 1

    years at the asylum

    thirteen: the little oven

    i thought my teacher was a nazi

    with hair slicked to the side

    short and germanic

    he lectured about hitler

    spittle

    in his voice

    boys with greasy scalps

    drew cartoons of me

    with a witch’s nose

    my body was so thin

    i had chopped off

    my pretty brown hair

    my skin charred and blistered

    red bumps broke out

    there was blood between my legs

    is this junior high school?

    hell?

    or somewhere worse?

    fourteen: europa

    in florence i saw the most beautiful

    man in the world

    standing by the botticelli

    birth of venus

    as if the painting had split open to deliver him

    he even smiled at me

    white teeth golden cheekbones

    on the top of the hill was david

    huge marble perfection

    exposing his penis to me alone

    can you imagine in america

    god made flesh

    but without the blood or loincloth?

    by the trevi fountain in rome

    pan himself made an appearance

    curls and a gap between his teeth

    when he grinned at me

    a hairy, cloven mystery

    lurking

    in his jeans

    the hotel overlooked a square

    the walls were thick and ghost

    white with moonlight

    shadows streaked the room

    i woke to hear my father growling to my mother

    get onto me

    and saw their bodies moving in the bed

    beside my tiny single

    cot

    that was when i too turned to stone

    my mouth sealed shut

    they packed me up and took me off to greece

    to introduce me to some marble goddesses

    without pubic hair

    as if that might make me feel better

    my parents with good intentions

    rolled their new caryatid onto the white sands

    of the beach

    a million perilous pulverized

    petals of pearl

    the water was such a sheer blue

    you could see right through it

    to the wavy patterns on the ocean floor

    like aphrodite’s hair

    i knew i should be grateful for this opportunity

    to see the birthplace of the goddess

    but how could i ever speak of it?

    the greek boys came to play with me

    they frolicked around

    brown and curly full of life

    when night fell and the ouzo glasses

    lit up like lanterns in the taverna

    my mother said, "kiss him, darling, it’s easy

    so natural"

    and i thought to myself, not with lips of stone

    dear mother

    not with lips of stone

    fifteen: the canyon

    steamy hot night in the eucalyptus rainwater-forged

    canyon my friend and i discovered a ruined house

    the wildflowers growing over the foundation and a

    silver ring with a king a queen a snake and a rose

    then as we walked home a boy on a motorcycle

    zoomed to a halt leonine face tall rambling body

    somehow the next thing i remember he was sliding

    his hands up and down my legs i hadn’t shaved and

    was prickly but he didn’t seem to mind later we

    kissed in my friend’s shag-carpeted bedroom with

    the water bed and beanbag chairs his hands moved

    higher i wonder where the parents were i know a

    few months later my mom dropped me off at his

    apartment in west hollywood his mother was gone i

    imagined she was very beautiful young and blond

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