The Kid by Ai
"The Kid" by Ai is a haunting poem that explores the unsettling transformation of a seemingly ordinary fourteen-year-old boy into a figure of violence. Set against the backdrop of a farm, the narrative unfolds in a chilling first-person voice, revealing the boy's initial mundane activities, such as hitting tires with an iron rod. However, the tone shifts dramatically as the boy commits horrific acts, beginning with the brutal killing of his father and mother, followed by even more shocking violence against animals and his little sister.
Despite the graphic depiction of violence, the poem delves deeper into the boy's psyche, presenting his chilling self-awareness and unsettling bravado. The juxtaposition of his youthful innocence with his capacity for brutal actions raises profound questions about the nature of childhood and societal expectations. The poem invites readers to grapple with the ambiguity of empathy, as it challenges the notion that violence in youth is solely a product of external circumstances. Instead, it posits that even children can embody darkness, prompting reflection on how society perceives and responds to such complexities. Overall, "The Kid" serves as a stark commentary on the duality of innocence and monstrosity, leaving a lasting impact on its audience.
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The Kid by Ai
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of American Literature, Revised Edition
First published: 1976 (collected in Vice, 1999)
Type of work: Poem
The Work
“The Kid” is perhaps the most disturbing of Ai’s poems. Told in the first-person voice, this is the story of a boy of fourteen who is far from ordinary. The poem begins in a fairly straightforward way. The boy clearly lives on a farm; he is busy whacking the tires on the family’s truck with an iron rod. His father calls to him “to help hitch the team,” and then his mother calls him. He tosses a rock at the kitchen window, but he is unsuccessful in making his point in such a tame manner.
In the second stanza, this boy has given up whacking tires, and he splits his father’s skull open with the iron rod; when his mother comes running, he bludgeons her as well. He then proceeds to abandon the rod for a gun and starts shooting, first killing horses and then his little sister. The short poem is, however, more than a mere picture of bloody violence. It is the boy’s attitude that gives this poem its power: “Yeah. I’m Jack, Hogarth’s son./ I’m nimble, I’m quick.// I’m fourteen. I’m a wind from nowhere./ I can break your heart.”
There is no attempt by some outsider to justify the boy’s acts. The reader is not told about overly stern parents, about a “disturbed” child, or any such situation. Yet, obviously, something is wrong.
After the boy has killed his family, he puts on his father’s best clothes, packs his sister’s doll and his mother’s nightgown in a suitcase, and heads for the highway. It is as if, by taking his family’s belongings and symbolically identifying with his father, he has somehow justified his actions.
The most terrifying aspect of the poem is that the reader is compelled to identify with the boy and, in some strange way, to feel sorry for him. Modern culture tends to assume that a boy of fourteen who murders has somehow been mistreated by society. The point is that even a child can be a monster, and perhaps the way in which children are viewed is a large part of the problem. As the poem opens, there is a tendency to picture a cute, innocent-looking boy who is merely being hassled by his parents and annoyed by his sister while he is trying to play. The fact that this play turns to grisly murder hardly changes that opinion. Readers can hardly excuse the boy’s acts, but they wish they could, somehow.
Bibliography
Cramer, Steven. Review of Fate, by Ai. Poetry 159 (November, 1991): 108-111.
Kilcup, Karen. “Dialogues of the Self: Toward a Theory of (Re)reading Ai.” Journal of Gender Studies 7, no. 1 (March, 1998): 5-20.
Monaghan, Pat. Review of Fate, by Ai. Booklist 87 (January 1, 1991): 902.
Ostriker, Alicia. Review of Sin, by Ai. Poetry 144 (January, 1987): 231-237.
Seidman, Hugh. Review of Killing Floor, by Ai. The New York Times Book Review, July 8, 1979, 14.
Seshadri, Vijay. Review of Dread, by Ai. The New York Times Book Review, May 4, 2003.