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Donald Hall: The Old Life. An autobiography in verse by the venerable, witty, and always edifying poet and essayist. (Houghton Mifflin)
She had strong views on Mrs. Humphry Ward, The Brontës, poor souls, women called George, Novelists known as A Lady. There was always An edginess. Whenever we went too far, Children or parent, she’d flare Oh you Fanthorpes! As if at some foreign breed. She lost some magic when she married us….
for X— When cabbalists declare Each deed we do affects Beings in other worlds, My thought turns round to sex, As it inclines to do, As needle to true north, Considering our case, Weighing it back and forth. What if we had undressed That chaste July, and what If we were being watched…
Robert Pinsky: The Figured Wheel: New and Collected Poems 1966-1996. This graceful, welcome collection gathers four of Pinsky’s books, as well as new works. (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
from In the Houses of the Good People When I was a girl I had a place in the stable I’d go to be alone. I cleaned it of all the spider webs and laid down a layer of fresh straw. When Mother began her travail with Elizabeth, I went there to get away…
i. To His Savior in Christ If I did not, as I do, know well to love you first, I’d love my voice instead, cause you to yield the throne whose impossibly precious batting I could sing all day and never start to know—it is blasphemy or worse even to think it (Domine, me— ut…
Christopher Tilghman: Mason’s Retreat. Tilghman’s arresting, much-anticipated first novel traces several generations of a family from its roots in England to a farm in Chesapeake Bay. (Random House)
note: Italicized sections of the text are quotations from Johann Goethe, Rosa Luxemburg, Johnny Cash, Alfred Döblin, Antonio Gramsci, Vladimir Lenin, Benito Mussolini, Adolf Hitler, Karl Koch, and the Bible. It never happened. It could not have happened. It could not have happened that at a crowded congress of the Second International held in…
Inside the White Star it was warm, ironed clothes, and humming revolution of unsteady washer-dryers. It was whirling blur of red black blue yellow that Beatrice watched like a TV, next to her lover. Last night she’d looked into lighted windows bitterly, as if she’d been evicted, things thrown out on the sidewalk, cracked…
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