Today for the last Mario Monday of National Poetry Month, I have something special to share with you. I've just finished reading If All the World and Love Were Young, a collection by Irish poet Stephen Sexton. Sexton grew up playing Super Mario World, and finds himself revisiting the game as a way to cope with his mother's illness and then her death. Each poem has the title of a Super Mario World level, in order of progression from the beginning of the game through the end.
In the opening note of his book, he explains that the Super Nintendo (SNES) on which he played the game is a 16-bit console — that 16 bits is "how much memory the system can process at one time." He has hit upon such a precise metaphor for grief. So much of grieving is about memories, and there certainly is a limit to how much the griever can process at any given time. He reinforces this point by allowing himself exactly 16 syllables in each line of poetry. (If you've ever counted syllables to write a haiku, this effort is like that, but boss level.)
I have never played Super Mario World, but it was a game Rader really enjoyed. The original SNES version came out in 1990, but the game was rereleased for the Wii and Wii U virtual consoles. Rader likely discovered it when he was about 9, the same age as Stephen was.
Points of appreciation:
💭 The ending of ‘Donut Plains 3’:
One thing must become another chop chop the tree becomes a bridge
forest becomes a labyrinth whose prospect one climbs higher for
and from the falling dream you jolt somehow having landed having
been nowhere but long in front of the beautiful television.
💭 A couple of references I thought I caught in ‘Vanilla Fortress’ (but am having a hard time confirming in the Credits section): riffing on lines from ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,’ by Robert Frost, and ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner,’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Sexton is a brilliant and highly educated poet. I knew while I was reading that much of what he was drawing from here was going over my head. So I was excited to “get” these two.
💭 A couple of lines in ‘Wendy’s Castle’ reminded me of when Rader died, how incongruous it seemed that while my life had exploded, outside my door the world kept spinning:
Hippocrates in his white coat brings with him a shake of the head
brings with him the word for sorry which is the word for we have done
everything within our powers we have shaken out our potions
we have cast our shining magic and where we cannot do some good
at least we must refrain from harm. And the traffic lights are changing
and the traffic will dribble on along the busy carriageway
towards the beach or barbecues because it’s the summer solstice.
💭 Similar concept in ‘Valley of Bowser 2’:
Some things we choose to disregard: the cruelty of newspapers
the casual chat of holidays the world and how it now appears.
I deeply appreciate this book (it always seems weird to use the word "enjoy" when grief is involved).