Linda Hogan’s The Book of Medicines is another one of those books that I am surprised I have only just read. I actually finished reading it last week so right now I have no specific details to offer here, but that during my reading of it, I kept contrasting Hogan’s poetics and/or craft to Joy Harjo’s. I suppose as they are both Native American women authors, the comparison is bound to happen? Anyway, what I love about Hogan is that her wording feels upon first read very plain spoken (almost like a coaxing to not be afraid of this language, a reassurance that you reader can access this), but that I see that she really does employ a figurative poetic register, or mythical (mythological) register and litany like repetition. Much like a lot of old story from the mouths of elders, there are all these unexpected turns in the narrative and language. So she never gets to overstating the importance of the story, which is something that has disappointed if not annoyed me about Harjo’s writing in two of the three books of hers I have read, namely She Had Some Horses and A Map to the Next World: Poems and Tales.