Where I find myself enjoying Pinard the most is where I can sense the poetic voice that ribbons through the essay. Those poetic moments shine in her use of repetition: “turned and turned upside down,” “up, up, and away,” and “pump, pump…” The moments embodied, for me, the action of flying and feeling. The first pump was read, the second felt, and the third found me pumping up and down in my chair. The poetry in this essay is ringing in the author’s description of the mud smeared robin, and the glittery, dark haired, trapeze artist. These images become clearer and clearer through the rhythmic build of descriptions that compound themselves into a song. We return back to the woman, and the bird at the end. We see them.
Pinard has also done a great job in anchoring the tragedy in her story. I feel at risk of downplaying her loss by talking feeling it through the lens of writing technique, but those historical lessons really helped me keep composure as I read this essay. I could sense that darkness surrounded her need to fly—especially in the section where we, the readers, discover that flyers come to the exhilaration of flying, ofthen, through trauma. This essay’s ingenuous payout was both emotionally and intellectually enrichment. I would imagine that a writer has a hard time moving through those two voices—one of history/the other of passion and personal tragedy, but Pinard’s confidence and reflective virtuosity made this essay candid, sad, hopeful and at times fun.
