Missing Pieces: a Coroner's Companion by Kathryn Rantala (Ravenna Press, $10.95)

This book. Is it fact? Is it fiction? Somewhere in between? To be honest, I don't know and, to be honest, it really doesn't matter. The words cut. They caress. Kathryn Rantala has been blessed with THE VOICE.

The physical setting of Missing Pieces is Seattle in the 1930s and '40s. the mental landscape is much larger. Think of de Chirico as a writer, or Tanguy. There is mystery in these words, and melancholy, and a constant, unfocused sense of unease. This is the world you live in, but not necessarily the one you know.

Ordinary images are offered, but left unexplained. Characters are introduced, are given flesh, possibly names. Like any of us, they live in the HERE and NOW, beneath the shimmering clouds of an undetermined future. Like any of us, they live in a world of small moments, each one made MONUMENTAL by the emptiness that surrounds it.

The poems themselves are gorgeous, are unsettling. They exist simply because they need to. They move easily from one scenario to the next, punctuated by prose pieces and photos. And what about these photos? The endnotes tell us that they're forensics photos, but what crime has been committed is never made clear, or who has been harmed, or how. They seem to be telling an entirely unrelated story, or maybe just their own version of the facts. The lines between realities become blurred even further. It feels right.

So, is this book a mystery? Yes. No. Another unanswered question. More blurring. This tension is always present, a low subconscious hum, a small nagging voice. The details matter, but there are too many to keep track of. Moments in time are reduced to fragments of absolute clarity. Each one poses a question, each one offers its own answer. Truth, of course, is not a constant.

Maybe what we have is a travelogue. Maybe a history of the possible. A specific place is being excavated and reconstructed within these words, and a place in time, and a time independent from place. Again, think de Chirico, Tanguy, Magritte even. Surrealism in the best sense. Unsettling imagery that has meaning, but meaning removed from any context but its own. NEW meaning. WHO you are, as well as WHERE, as well as WHY. Do you see? This book is necessary.

You will find yourself in it.

You will find yourself to be lost.

You will consider yourself blessed.

-- Reviewed by John Sweet