What Kind of Daughter? by Rayanne Haines

Poetry Review by Bryn Robinson

maybe, this entire book – all of my wondering and condemning and
judging and missing and trying to make sense of myself, my body, my
growing up – this great big loss, is my way of trying to write her back
into being.

While specifically referencing the loss of her mother, Rayanne Haynes could be saying that about all of the women she fiercely wraps in the words of this bold and emotive memoir.

A collection of poems and short essays, What Kind of Daughter? takes no prisoners as it explores the fight women have to share their voice and preserve their authentic selves.

Haynes first reflects on general expectations for “femaleness”; that, to be seen as “good”, women learn at an early age to pretend (“i cried into that teen magazine and learned being a good woman meant being silent”). She is fierce in her observations, reminding us that our choices have “always been an act of war” and how even we, as women, are not comrades in the fight for equality (“we are busy so burying each other, we can’t see our decay.”)

As the works progress, the author focuses in more about how she is expected to be in various roles - a daughter, a single mother, a remarried wife, a “hag”, a creator - while discussing ideas on things like hoarding (be it animals or arguments or cancerous growths or another’s emotions), inheriting others’ worlds before we are ready (or ever want to), and our continued relevance as time continues to unroll (“the snowfall/that should be poetry but only means/we’re a winter closer.”) Indeed, we’re never truly ready for the next role, the next phase.

every fault line holds a fissure, makes
room for the eruption, fashions a chance to flourish into
something new.

Relatable in the authenticity of the beautifully painful experience of growing up and taking up space as a woman, Haynes presents a collection here that I thoroughly enjoyed. My own tastes for poetry and prose lie in the sweet spot of clear but vivid expression - sharing ideas simply yet in ways that make you strain with the weight of the world that the writer is sharing with you. This collection hits right in that sweet spot, and I look forward to re-reading it for further treasures, as well as sharing with the good women and hags in my own life.

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About the Author

Rayanne Haines (she/her) is an award-winning hybrid author and pushcart nominated poet as well as a cultural producer of films, stage shows, and panels. Rayanne has penned three poetry collections – The Stories in My Skin (2013), Stained with the Colours of Sunday Morning (Inanna, 2017), and Tell The Birds Your Body Is Not A Gun (Frontenac, 2021) which won the 2022 Stephan G. Stephansson, Alberta Literary Award for Poetry as well as being shortlisted for both the BPAA Robert Kroetsch Award for Poetry, and the National ReLit Award for Poetry. She hosts the literary podcast Crow Reads, is the president for the League of Canadian Poets, and is an Assistant Professor in Arts and Cultural Management at MacEwan University. Rayanne has been published in the Globe and Mail, Minola Review, Fiddlehead, Grain, FreeFall, Prairie Fire, and others.

About the Reviewer

Bryn Robinson (she/her) lives in New Brunswick, Canada, where she uses her PhD in experimental psychology to help her support mental health research in the province. She prefers contemporary fiction, narrative non-fiction, graphic novels and poetry that is emotional, reflective, and if it can do it with humour, all the better. Bryn shares her own work on her website, Campfire Notebook.

Book Details

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ Frontenac House (Oct. 15 2024)

• Language ‏ : ‎ English

• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 88 pages

• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1-989466-84-1 (Paperback)

• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1-989466-83-4 (PDF)