Forever Love

Sam Riviere, Kim Kardashian's Marriage

Faber, 112pp, £10.99, ISBN 9780571321438

reviewed by Frith Taylor

'When did poems start having to fuck with people constantly?' Sam Riviere, 2014.

With Kim Kardashian's Marriage, Sam Riviere continues many of the themes of his earlier collections, 81 Austerities (2012) and Standard Twin Fantasy (2014). An uncompromising examination of contemporary life, this collection explores ideas of celebrity, artifice, performance and voyeurism, with the humour and irreverence that has become characteristic of Riviere's poetry. Charting Kim Kardashian's 72-day marriage with 72 poems, Riviere has divided this collection into several parts, each named for a stage in Kardashian's make-up regimen: the first is 'Primer', the second, 'Contour', and so on. The allusions here are clear – we are to see Kardashian's make-up routine as her defining creative effort, something that is both an elaborate craft and an exercise in concealment, a comment on the elements of performance and image curation in celebrity culture. Although often beguiling, this bleak vision of contemporary life has a sharp edge. The use of 'Primer' exemplifies this, being a joke for the reader who knows that as well as a cosmetic product it is the base layer used when preparing a canvas. There is a clear distinction between those who warrant being in the public eye (artists) and those who do not (celebrities).

As with 81 Austerities there is a complex interplay between subject and composition: much of the content is created by entering and re-entering terms into search engines. The resulting poems' unusual syntax enacts the experience of rapidly consuming vast quantities of information. There is an uncanny sense of multiple voices; inappropriate words and phrases interrupt the lines like foreign bodies. As always, there is a lightness of touch, Rivere's poems confident yet delicate, each achieving a sense of completion while somehow left open. There are several interesting features in the collection. The two-word titles are made up of lists that are shuffled to create new and unusual combinations. This matrix of constantly interchangeable titles acts as a kind of moodboard of the 'now' featuring words such as 'infinity', 'hardcore', 'thirty-three' and 'berries'. The obvious matches are never made: 'infinity' should go with 'pool' but is paired with other words instead. The titles reflect the conspicuous consumption, health fads and image obsession that define much of celebrity culture. By deliberately obscuring the messy detail of everyday life, and presenting us instead with a seamless carousel of empty words, the poems reveal an anxiety around this mindless acquisition, alerting us to the limitations of such a life.

This 'moodboard' theme continues throughout the collection. Riviere shows how much can be communicated without being formed into recognisable lines in a poem. From 'beautiful hardcore':

for all things sexy and beautiful
those that are hot and dirty
everything hardcore and raw

if it were all wrapped up in a box and sent to you
that box would read …
Beautiful Pornstar Cleopatra Hardcore Orgy

This list of desirable attributes explores the commodification of sexuality, drawing on the often callously minimalist language of internet searches, tweets and hashtags. The collection is littered with 'like' and 'I mean', Riviere continuing the self-effacing poetic persona developed in earlier poems. The language of internet exchanges is under scrutiny throughout the collection. In 'infinity sunsets' Riviere apes a blogger's response on a message-board, in what seems to be his version of William Carlos Williams' 'this is just to say':

You have stalked this blog,
you must really like me.
Message me anytime
even if it's just to talk.
I blog about whatever I want.

This poem neatly encapsulates many themes of the collection. Ever present is the sense of invasion, here in the elision of intrusion with interest: 'you have stalked this blog', ergo 'you must really like me'. The lower-case letters of the title give a sense of adolescence, driven home by the brilliantly bratty 'I blog about whatever I want'. The deliberately precocious tone runs throughout Riviere's poetry. In his earlier work his perpetual references to ice-cream and chocolate milk had a decidedly Sebastian Flyte flavour, a wry sideways glance at the reader reminding us that he is, after all, very young. In this collection it morphs into something else entirely, a kind of anti-Proustian moment: instead of an intoxicating sense memory returning one to a moment in childhood, there is a hyper-stimulus with no connotations or context, just instant gratification. Riviere presents us with poems that return to the same subject in only subtly different words, a circular narrative that is without meaning. The language deliberately obfuscates, and what remains is truly uncanny. In 'spooky berries', the first poem of the collection, Riviere takes on the voice of the paparazzi:

and my little lens wasn't cutting it.
So I popped on my big lens
and got it all.

Alluding to the popular media's insatiable appetite for capturing images, the poem has a haunting quality. Seemingly uncomplicated monologues are snagged by unnerving resonances.

In terms of examining celebrity, one cannot fault Riviere's choice of subject. Kardashian's life has all the hallmarks of fame that have become so familiar. From romantic entanglements with sports stars and rap artists to the leaked sex tape that secured her notoriety, Kardashian's life has been lived largely in the public eye. Keeping up with the Kardashians, the television series following her family, has run multiple seasons and has become synonymous with the excesses and image obsession of celebrity culture. Her 2011 wedding to basketball player Kris Humphries, the subject of Riviere's collection, cost an estimated $10 million and was commemorated by a wax figure of Kardashian in the Madame Tussauds in Hollywood. Riviere uses her fame as a point of enquiry, seeming to pose the question: What are we looking at when we look at Kim Kardashian?

The collection opens with a quote from Kardashian herself, dated from 2012, after the end of her relationship with Kris Humphries: 'I want that forever love'. There is something perversely pleasurable in reading about Kardashian's hopes for a lasting relationship when she has been married several times. This does, however, amount to little more than schadenfreude, and Riviere makes an implicit judgement in quoting her in this way. Modern celebrity is an extraordinary cultural phenomenon, and Kardashian's interaction with the media is fertile ground for any contemporary poet. However, the transformation of Kim Kardashian into a metaphor is problematic to say the least. Riviere uses her 72-day wedding as a 'point of ignition', an entry point for his examination of contemporary mores. Ultimately this collection tropes her as a heady conflation of narcissism, consumerism and easy fame. Rather than engage with the strangeness of celebrity culture, Riviere is inviting us to laugh at her. There are moments in Kim Kardashian's Marriage where a glimmer of the wit, charm and satire of his earlier work can still be seen. In other parts, however, Riviere is in danger of becoming sneering and mean-spirited. Kim Kardashian is fair game because she courts publicity, because she is regarded as trivial, because she is staggeringly wealthy. It is difficult to see what is gained by using poetry to make simple criticisms already so well covered by gossip columnists. While often deploring the instant gratification of rampant consumerism, tireless commentary via social media, and the vast array of pornography so readily available, Rivere's poems are compulsive perhaps because they are so instantly gratifying themselves. There is also the gender disparity in Riviere's poetry to consider: in the majority of his poems, women are girlfriends or pornstars. Riviere is parodying a kind of male response to women in writing these poems, and they do hold an element of criticism. It is difficult not to wonder if Kim Kardashian would be made to seem quite so ridiculous if she were male. To put it another way, what are we laughing at when we laugh at Kim Kardashian?

Whatever Riviere's limitations might be, there is something compulsive about his writing, and something appealingly indulgent about the way in which his collections are packaged. Kim Kardashian's Marriage has its own 'trailer', a garbled video of Riviere himself that uses some kind of visual disturbance to give his face a solarised quality while pretend hashtags like '#fansonly' and '#postflarf' roll over the screen. The trailer serves principally as an in-joke for Twitter-savvy yet Twitter-sceptical readers. Riviere takes Confessionalism sideways: instead of the messy poetry of the early Confessionalists, we have staged exposure, affected, aestheticised mock-despair. Perhaps the seductive quality in Riviere's work is its sense of permissiveness. You're allowed to write about anything; everything is fair game – thinking about a girl who doesn't fancy you any more, mournfully considering your enthralment to pornography. Crucially, it is all inflected with a wryness that suggests the author cannot be held accountable. If readers get wrapped up in particulars, it is because they don't get it. Riviere's work is seductive because readers get to be part of the joke. Riviere's experimentation with shuffling titles and repetition gesture towards interesting ideas, not least his wryly morbid vision of modern society; and examination of what remains when language is relieved of all particularity, identity and emotion. Riviere seems to suggest that we cannot be in the midst of so many strange images, so much empty verbiage, and remain unaltered.
Frith Taylor is a writer and researcher based in London. She is currently writing a PhD on 18th-century queer domesticity at Queen Mary University of London.