"Not To Be Forgotten: A Review of Kelly R. Samuels' 'Oblivescence'" by Lizzy Burch

Car keys, memories, grocery lists, errands that need to be run — all of these factor as things we are in the process of forgetting. Kelly R. Samuels’ upcoming collection, Oblivescence (Red Sweater Press, 2024), centers on her mother’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s and what it means to remember, which Samuels explores through nature imagery, clinical psychology, and snippets of her life as her mother’s caretaker. Samuels’ previous works include Talking to Alice (Whittle Micro-Press, 2023), All the Time in the World (Kelsay Books, 2021), and Words Some of Us Rarely Use (Unsolicited Press, 2019). MORIA Literary Magazine has featured her work in two different issues: "Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (4)" and "Note from Fantine to Her Daughter, Cosette: (5)" in Issue Three (Spring 2019) and the suite of poems, “Karenin on . . .,” in Issue Ten (Fall 2022).
Samuels dedicates this book to her mother. In an Instagram post to announce her upcoming chapbook, Samuels writes, ”I began writing these poems five years ago as my mother’s struggles with Alzheimer’s became more pronounced. Doing so was a way for me to cope as I served as her caregiver, as well as a way to honor her. I also felt it was important to become part of the dialogue — to speak of what so many are going through, and, yet, what so many seem uncomfortable discussing” (September 3, 2023). As the reviewer of this book, I felt a personal connection to many of the pieces in Oblivescence, as I’ve been in a similar situation with my family, and I’m sure it will hit close to home for many readers.
The first line of the first poem, “The Alpha Privative,” is my favorite line in the whole book: “Days and months are nonsense, non- / sensical.” With Alzhiemer’s, and similar diseases such as Parkinson’s and dementia, there is no sense of time for the patient or for the caretaker, since your days begin to run together. This was a strong choice as the opening piece of the book as the poem ends with, “All the dates are nothing now. And where / the poppy is planted — a map is needed. / Here. / This mark / on this page.”
Half-way through the book, Samuels inserts an essay titled “What Rises to the Surface.” This deeply personal work delves into her mother’s condition, and Samuels’ caregiving experience. One paragraph in particular caught my attention: “I am told not to grow impatient and chastise her for repeating herself. I should never say, ‘You said that already.’ I am to keep an eye on her and mark if she mentions getting lost again. Keeping notes — for both her benefit and mine — is fine; it isn’t cheating.” Anyone who has had to take care of a parent or a grandparent knows this process all too well, but the line “it isn’t cheating” echoed in my head afterwards. There’s a sense of guilt that comes with cheating. Guilt for growing impatient. Guilt for lashing out after listening to someone repeat the same story over, and over, and over, again. Guilt for not being “good enough” at managing this experience.
Overall, this collection is relatable and sheds a new light on caregivers. Several times while reading this, I teared up and was reminded how it was to take care of my grandfather in his final years. The ways Samuels is able to connect nature to the deteriorating mind is beautiful to say the least. Her writing and experiences speak for themselves throughout the book and will not soon be forgotten.

Lizzy burch

Lizzy Burch is an Interdisciplinary Studies major at Woodbury University in Los Angeles with a concentration in film, professional writing, and media studies. She is the Co-Managing Editor of MORIA Literary Magazine for Issue 12. In her free time she travels, writes, and reads screenplays.

Headshot: Diana Burch