Love Language: Review of knot body by Eli Tareq El Bechelany-Lynch
Eli Tareq El Bechelany-Lynch, knot body.
Metatron Press, 2020. $17 CAD
Buy a copy from Metatron Press.
In knot body, queer Arab poet Eli Tareq El Bechelany-Lynch writes “For some writers, the memoir is a space of control, a way to reveal the facts they want to reveal, to share their stories so other know they are not alone. I try to learn from other writers, and give small parts of me” (23). This conflict – both the affliction for and resistance to intimacy – persists throughout this text. Published by Metatron Press in the summer of 2020, knot body blends essay, poetry, and letter-writing as a means to incrementally let the reader into their world.
knot body begins with an address that forms an immediate connection between the speaker and reader: “Dear friends, lovers, and in-betweens” (15). Though it feels like maybe we are voyeurs rather than the actual addressee, there is a comfortable acceptance on both ends. “It is unclear to me who is reading and who is not, so we must live under the assumption that you are not the intended audience. We must also live under the assumption that you are” (38), writes El Bechelany-Lynch. This unique dynamic allows for a playful and raw energy to thrive within the text. There is no “getting-to-know-you” period, the reader immediately slips into the world of the speaker as a friend, lover, or someone in the middle.
The intimacy in knot body centers around the bed. Sometimes the speaker’s – “Okay, wait, actually, we are in my bed again, and I take several drops of CBD, and lean in deep into my cushion-topped bed” (66), and sometimes another’s. The bed is a place of warmth and comfort–where the speaker is able to let go, but also a place of strife: “Sometimes I just sleep over at your house so you can help me get up in the morning. The number of times a loved one has made breakfast for me is innumerable. How do I redistribute the weight of those acts?” (44). This question lies at the center of the text entirely: what is the price of comfort? Of love for strangers, for the world? What does it mean to open your place of rest and vulnerability to an audience?
In addition to the image of the bed, pain plays a central role in knot body: ‘But this pain works deeper than a knot / it recirculates in my body” (34). Throughout the text El Bechelany-Lynch makes it known to the reader that this work would not exist without the presence of the pain, both living through, and finding dignity and comfort within. The reader is given the benefit of the doubt, and is trusted with confessions that hurt and heal: “Often when that tension is released, one might feel extreme moments of pain” (94). We see the push and pull of choosing to vent. Like after burning your hand under too-hot water, the scalding takes a second to set in. knot body articulately explores the conflicting affect in the pain of healing, letting in whoever feels moved to, and allowing them to be trusted.
Ultimately, all listeners of the confessions that take place in knot body are judged equally. There is no screening to decide who is allowed to witness this work. At its heart, this is a text about egality: the power in trusting and loving one another, and radical openness. The bed is a space for the speaker to confess to the reader, but the reader is not simply a wall for words to bounce off. The reader themselves are implicated: “Please know that when I am in bed, I am thinking of you” (103). El Bechelany-Lynch expertly loops the reader into the work from its conception, and encourages a journey of self-discovery on both ends. When reading the speaker’s letters, a sense of community is evoked. The letters are not merely a stream of consciousness, but an opening for dialogue. The ending of the book speaks to the loving tone that persists throughout: “Maybe one day we’ll know how to love each other in all our dignity” (104).
In knot body, El Bechelany-Lynch hits the ground with a running start, using the language of pain to form a bond between speaker and the “you” who reads the words, whoever that “you” may be. The reader is not only made aware of the speaker's knot of pain, but experiences it as it circulates through the body. This text is unflinchingly real, and never strays from the powerful choice to be unquestionably open, and brimming with love.
Olive Andrews (they/them) is a poet and scholar located in Tiohtià:ke (Montréal). They are currently in their final semester of a BA in Creative Writing at Concordia University. Their work has been published in a number of magazines, including PRISM International, and their debut chapbook, rock salt, was published with Baseline press in the fall of 2020. They are currently working with Sina Queyras as a curatorial assistant for Writers Read Concordia.