“Beauty in Filth, Rot in Divinity:” Stigmata by Scott Jackshaw

15. Intimacy that didn’t reduce to authenticity. Sound that 
didn’t reduce to voice. Dysphoria that didn’t reduce to
body.

There’s more room to be found in ambiguity; in the imprecision of being. It’s bearing witness to the highs and the lows—emotionally, carnally, physically and spiritually. But there are still limitations. And these restrictions are also worth exploring in an attempt to test them, push against and see what would happen if they were to break.

With a PhD in English from Brown University, Scott Jackshaw is a poet, scholar and editor from Edmonton, Alberta. As such, their debut poetry collection, Stigmata, illustrates their prowess in queer theory, apophatic theology and poststructuralism that not only examines the tension between sexual deviancy and religion and how these two subject matters can have their own version of the profane, but also their thoughts and trying to make sense of their own being.

Honestly, it took me a bit of time to read Stigmata despite its short length. I liked it, but I also wanted to gather my thoughts properly so I re-read it, multiple times, each one coming up with new conclusions and interpretations but still garnering that visceral feeling of surprise and intrigue. I wanted to make sure that whatever ideas I had were, in part, close to the vision that the author had for their collection. That’s how sincere Stigmata felt. I was confused for some parts, then unsure, but it only inspired me to research and analyze their stylistic and word choices or the inclusion of different religious acts like benediction – personally a favourite poem of mine in this collection — contrition, intinction just to name a few. Each choice played a vital role and uncovered more to the poem’s meaning. Even now, I feel as if I’m missing something within this review. But in no way does it mean that I didn’t enjoy it.

Gore and body horror usually go hand-in-hand. Sprinkle in the graphic nature of bodily fluids, sex accidents and blowjobs with a little contemplative musings and you got yourself the makings of mental images that last a long time. The intricacy of blood or sex creates another layer to Stigmata; the unabashed and candidness is something necessary. The beauty and horror of blood caked between knuckles, the disgust of vomit and the expulsion of fluids — from oneself or from another — the author finds body horror, gore and sex something to delve through and worthwhile to be covered in that “filth.” There’s a new sense of freedom and vulnerability, fear and grief found in that “dirtiness” and the melding or tearing of flesh. None of it is used for shock value, nor to attract readers. The emotions are raw and, ironically enough, so unerringly human that it feels as if we’re stepping into something that we weren’t meant to read. The author pours their heart out—a gory, but skillfully calculated bloodletting—that’s not only an intimate act but something akin to having us watch them so we get to the guts of the matter.

The beauty and horror of blood caked between knuckles, the disgust of vomit and the expulsion of fluids — from oneself or from another — the author finds body horror, gore and sex something to delve through and worthwhile to be covered in that “filth.”

I liked how Stigmata is in first-person and sometimes addresses another —a “you” that feels almost like a monologue. The author mentions in their notes at the end of the collection how this use of first-person, the “I”, works to “break down” these ideas and feelings—a garburator or garbage disposal, rather than a confessant. Keeping this intention in mind, I believe they achieve their goals. Each poem feels as if there’s a breaking down of its meaning, of feelings—not to make it more digestible to readers—but to look deeper into themselves.

In the same breath, it also feels as if we, the reader, were forced into the position of narrator alongside them—which I thought was interesting. We revealed parts of our innermost selves; our blood seeps into the pages of Stigmata and stains it. There were some moments that one might’ve wished weren’t in first-person to distance ourselves from the narrative, but we’re all locked in that position. Using first-person strips us of a mask to hide behind; revealing our soft underbellies that are susceptible to wounds and pain from exposure. But it’s necessary.

We revealed parts of our innermost selves; our blood seeps into the pages of Stigmata and stains it.

Stigmata is gut-wrenchingly brutal. You can tell the author enjoys writing in the way they paint vivid imagery through their words. There’s an interesting exploration on the views of sex, blood and body fluids. Some may want to repress, to hide or keep private. Instead, Scott Jackshaw sheds light onto the messiness that it truly involves. With a sort of pained beauty found in the filth, the blood, the wound, and the body, this poetry collection brings out a different version of the profane and it flourishes across the pages.

Scott Jackshaw is a poet, scholar, and editor from Edmonton, Alberta. Their poetry and prose have appeared in journals including The Capilano Review, CV2, and Jacket2. They hold a PhD in English from Brown University.

Publisher: Talonbooks (October 21, 2025)
Paperback 9″ x 6″ | 83 pages
ISBN: 9781772016918

Alicia Beggs-Holder

With a BA in English from Toronto Metropolitan University, Alicia Beggs-Holder has experience editing and reviewing various literary works. Possessed with boundless curiosity, she’s an avid pursuer of anything interesting. From folklore to insects, she’s a “spooky” enthusiast with a passion for all literature and writing short stories or dabbling in traditional art.