Absolutely subjective

And possibly rambling.

A few days ago, someone asked what I thought of A Village Life, the new book of poems by Louis Gluck. I had taken it with me on my trip, saving it until I had time to stretch out in the sun and immerse myself in it.

After a first reading, I felt a little disappointed. Like when you eat a really good meal, but it wasn't what you were hoping for. J.W. Marshall once said that a book of poems is like a record album—you might buy an album and if one or two songs are fabulous, you're happy—even if you skip most of the rest of them. That makes sense. Still, I felt something was missing.

I figured maybe I wasn't being fair. Maybe I read it through to quickly. So I started through again.

And I realized that some of the poems really took me with them. And others didn't. I took a closer look.

To me, the poems that feel strongest, the most satisfying, speak from the strongest voices. When Gluck is writing in a persona, as in "At the River," "Walking at Night," and "A Slip of Paper," the poems feel genuine, and I can feel a part of the poem.

The poems that are written more generally, such as "Pastoral," "Tributaries," and "Earthworm," first struck me as kind of detached but without any reference to the detachment, to why the poem is written in the voice of an outsider, often with an outsider's syntax. Even those poems are fierce, but the discord between their ferocity and their detachment wasn't working for me. As the speaker is outside, it put me outside of the poem.

Yes, I'm making a hell of a lot of assumptions here. Like I said, it's subjective.

And as I'm reading them over and over, they are growing on me. I'm starting to wonder whether my initial reaction was based on just a few words.

I'll keep backpedaling: It probably isn't fair for me to expect a poet, even a favorite poet, to write the poems I want him or her to. And that might be what I'm asking for—as though I hoped for the voice from Averno and the milieu of this village. Who do I think I am?

And maybe those are the poems that I need to write.

I'll keep reading through it, and I've learned a lot more about voice—or, at least, what I'm looking for in voice. Maybe even more about the you.

Have you read it? What do you think (about the book, about voice, about expectations, about life)?

Poems in a series

I've been reading through more of Louise Glück's work, first Ararat, then The Wild Iris, Meadowlands, and now I'm starting Vita Nova. I admit I'm not reading as closely or carefully as I would like—that's a skill I'm still trying to build.

But I think I shall have to come back to The Wild Iris—even more than the others, it begs multiple readings. I'm intrigued with what she has done—and the way that she has extended it to a full-length book.

First, she has multiple conversations and angles going on, all focused around a central theme (Eden). In the book (if I'm reading this right), plants address people, and people address each other, and the sky addresses God. Sometimes, God (if I'm reading this right) addresses the reader, or the people. Interleaved between these poems are vignettes between members of Glück's family, as well as several poems titled "Matins" and several more titled "Vespers." At the same time, the book moves through the year—through spring and summer to Autumn.

I've struggled with writing full-length works. In my own one full-length manuscript, I have a collection of poems about Pandora, and then other poems mixed in, but they relate more in tone or in general idea (middle age!) than in actual theme. Chapbooks are a more natural length for me, and I'm impressed with the focus that Glück maintains, especially in this book.

I admit that I'm not entirely comfortable with Glück's voice (and here maybe I'm mixing in impressions from Meadowlands). Her poems are taut, or fraught, with a ferocious longing, all contained in an intellectual discourse. Generally, I prefer a little less discourse and more imagery. (Startle me!) But I'm intrigued and continue to believe that this work has much to teach me.

Have you written a full-length manuscript completely centered on one theme? How did you maintain the theme for that many poems without losing energy or focus? How did you vary the poems, vary the theme without losing it?



P.S. In this morning's Seattle P.I.: a nice write-up of Open Books.