The Poetry of a Rural Upbringing: an Interview with Alexandria Hall

Graphic by Lauryn Alejo

Graphic by Lauryn Alejo

[UNPUBLISHED:] Have you always known that you wanted to be a writer? Was there something about the writing process that particularly intrigued you when you were a kid? If so, do you still find it to be equally interesting now?

[ALEXANDRIA:] I’ve loved writing for as long as I can remember. Even before I could write, I used to make books by drawing pictures and stapling pages together and telling a story about them. My third and fourth grade teacher had us read a lot of poetry, and I remember really falling in love with writing poetry then. It felt like a way to communicate something, but also to play with the sounds of the language. And that is definitely still something that I find just as interesting now. 

[UNPUBLISHED:] Your debut book, Field Music, talks about life in Vermont through poetry. What is it about the state that serves as such a wonderful muse for your writing?

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[ALEXANDRIA:] I love Vermont, but I think it was most inspiring for me in writing this book because of the fact that I grew up there and I was living there when I first began writing it. I think there are moments, sounds, and images from childhood that stick with us for a long time, sometimes for obvious reasons, sometimes for reasons that are unclear, and returning to those images in writing feels like following a train of thought through to (or towards) its conclusion. Since my childhood was in Vermont, those images are often from the farms, fields, lakes, and homes I knew as a kid, and from the sounds of the way my family spoke, their particular ways of pronouncing certain words. In Field Music, I was writing and thinking through a lot of those sounds and images. 


[UNPUBLISHED:] In what ways do you hope people who didn’t grow up in Vermont will be able to connect with Field Music?

[ALEXANDRIA:] Much of the book is set in Vermont, but a lot of it is set elsewhere too. While I think some of the images and sounds in it will be very familiar to someone from Vermont, it’s not exclusively about Vermont or exclusively for Vermonters. The main concerns of the book are the way one comes to know oneself in the world and in language and the sense of danger and instability in that, as well as the possibility of playfulness and creation.

[UNPUBLISHED:] One poem that particularly struck me was “On Taste.” In it, you say, “it’s true/ there may be others who’d be full/ with me where you are wanting.” That line is so poignant. How can a relationship like that, where someone embraces and can’t get enough of parts of you that others have had their fill of, impact your work? Is that impact always positive?

[ALEXANDRIA:] That poem is a tricky one because it explores some pretty complicated feelings about how the speaker wants to be wanted and what the person she’s addressing wants. The lines you pointed out can also be taken to mean something like the opposite if you read “wanting” as lacking (like “left wanting”). There’s this tension in the poem of wanting to strive towards being more for the other, but also recognizing who you are and what you want. That’s also playing along with the other stuff going on in the poem about the sort of “refinement” of taste. In the end, the speaker is able to say what pleasure is and to remain “unrefined,” and I think that’s important. So to answer your question, I think the positive impact comes from a sometimes difficult and complicated relationship that requires you to grow and learn, but also allows you to define yourself for yourself in spite of the desires of someone else.

[UNPUBLISHED:] Your voice is so distinct in your work. It’s hauntingly insightful, really. (In the best possible way, of course.) Is that something that you’re going for? Are you sitting down to write with an idea of the specific emotions that you want to evoke from the reader? Or does that all come about naturally?

[ALEXANDRIA:] Thank you! Usually when I sit down to write it’s because I’ve got a line or a thought in my head and I want to see where it takes me. Sometimes I write because there’s something difficult I need to think through and it feels like I can’t think through it without writing it. So I’m not usually thinking about what I want the reader to think or feel, but I’m working through a thought or a feeling or acting it out in a way.

[UNPUBLISHED:] I always find it interesting to peek into writers’ bookshelves, specifically when they’re working on a project. Can you recall what sort of books you were reading as you worked on Field Music? Did they impact the way the poems came out?

[ALEXANDRIA:] I worked on Field Music for close to 8 years. I read a lot of books during that time and I’m sure some of them had huge impacts on my work, and others probably impacted me in ways I’m totally unaware of. Here’s a disorganized and nonexhaustive list of some of the poets and writers I was reading during that time: Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Rainer Maria Rilke, Yusef Komunyakaa, Clarice Lispector, W. G. Sebald, Anne Carson, Paul Celan, Romantic poets like Wordsworth and Keats, Zbigniew Herbert, Robert Creeley, Maggie Nelson, and so many more. I also always love reading my friends’ work and getting their feedback, which had a huge impact on me and on the book during my MFA. I’m inspired by movies and music too, and I think what I watched and listened to probably had a big impact on the book as well. 

[UNPUBLISHED:] Obviously, Vermont has played a large role in your work thus far. Do you think that where you lived would play such a role in your writing, had you been from somewhere else?

[ALEXANDRIA:] Absolutely.

[UNPUBLISHED:] Should readers keep anything in mind before diving into Field Music? If you could give a message to someone just before they’re about to start reading it, what would that message be?

[ALEXANDRIA:] No, I wouldn’t want to preface it with anything. It’s nice reading a book or seeing a movie without knowing too much about it beforehand.


[UNPUBLISHED:] And, finally, what is up next for you? I know that life is a bit unpredictable at the moment because of quarantine, but what can the readers of Unpublished expect to see from you in the future?

[ALEXANDRIA:] There was a pretty long period between when I finished Field Music and when I felt like I could write again, but I’m back at it. I’m currently working on a second book of poems and a collection of short stories. They’re still works in progress, but I’m really excited about them. 

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Emma Henaultbatch 2