The Ocean in the Next Room

The fascinating debut from Schweig interrogates disconnection, labor, language, and meaning against the backdrop of late-stage capitalism. In “Toward the Great Unity,” Schweig explores the futility of seeking meaning in a utopian vision: “I thought I’d find The Great Unity. It seems there is none.” The poem aptly juxtaposes personal grief and historical weight: “Rarely, he flickers before me, that boy, whom I could never fully record in poetry, in history.” The speaker’s search for transcendence reflects the limits of language and the impossibility of utopia. “The Tower” expands these themes into an allegory of modern labor: “Every morning was identical to every other/ as if the first morning had gone viral forever.” Schweig’s use of anaphora and repetition creates a hypnotic rhythm, drawing readers into the recursive nature of her speakers’ thoughts. Yet for all its inventive form and verve, the collection occasionally leans too heavily on familiar, stale critiques of capitalism and alienation. In “Waves,” for example, a privileged speaker checks into a resort with her infant son and husband: “Maids come imperceptibly while we’re at breakfast/ and make our bed. Privilege is the dream of not having/ to make one’s bed.” Beyond the well-worn frameworks of postmodern ennui lies a well-devised, cohesive collection. (Jan.)