About ‘BACKLIT’ by Liz Robbins (and how this 2025 RATTLE Chapbook Prize Winner bruised a poetry hang-up of mine)
Rattle organizes the largest and most prestigious annual chapbook poetry prize there is. Period. By quite a margin, too. Submitting a manuscript comes with a yearlong subscription to the printed zine, 4 issues in total, and included with every issue is one of those winning chapbooks. 10000+ people get a copy this way. … Yeah. Madness. I’ve entered my manuscript this and last year (duh!) and as a result read through a couple of those winners. Out of genuine interest, sure, but just as much on the lookout for what made these volumes stand out to the judges to be honest? How these poets sold themselves, and their work… So, when I read that this specific poet, Liz Robbins, interviewed several sex-workers and had based the entire volume on their stories, I felt… cheated? This wasn’t fair… You can’t do that. Not unless you’ve had to… stay afloat that way yourself. Bet SHE hadn’t. You write about what YOU know. There’s unwritten rules and all? Couldn’t possibly really feel… personal, this. I started reading the first poem and must admit I gloated. Tricks. All tricks. Too… explanatory, while not really piercing skin. Got pleasantly high on being right, then wanted to perpetuate said high so I kept on reading:
Okay. … Damn. That one did hit home. Hard. How’s there no choice at all. Not really? Family, however dysfunctional, or even destructive, is everything. And we CAN trust our family to be the first to screw us up! Surely, though, they couldn’t continue to all be this good, could they? Spoiler: they don’t. Not ALL of them, but, a bit like within a family, there’s usually a dim one, or the opposite brainiac, an over-bearing presence or one that doesn’t care enough, and when you’re particularly unlucky someone that loves any excuse to ‘toughen you up’? Usually this occurs under the guise of love, but sometimes not even that:
I believe these 2 poems alone justify the entire chapbook, and it winning said poetry prize. It’s hyper personal, and yet equally as… detached. And maybe, just in this case, the poet not going through what she writes about herself actually helped with getting to this level, I mean, the things we do for love and to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror, eh? It’s dirty work, for sure, but work that needs doing none the less. Better learn to survive! Better learn to hide those weak-spots as good as you can. As you must. For allowing yourself to come across as vulnerable is dangerous, as so many of these girls (and boys) know all too well. Hence the sarcasm. All they can do is hope that they can keep accessing those hidden parts of themselves when they’re alone. To be able to remind themselves these feelings exist at all…
I’m still of the opinion that the best poetry comes from personal experience, and like I said, there are quite a few poems in there that do miss the mark, for me at least. Those written in 3rd person, for example, miss the heart wrenching detachment I was talking about earlier, making the exceptions to this formerly unshakable rule of mine even more incredible. And me fucking jealous. Couldn’t write them like that myself if I dared to... And I don’t. For more about the other two winners of the 2025 Rattle chapbook competition, follow this link? Cheers.
