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144766
Author: Eleanor Wilner
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Eleanor Wilners poems attempt to absorb the shock of the wars and atrocities of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. In their litany of loss, in their outrage and sorrow, they retain the joy in life, mercy for the mortal condition, and praise for the plenitude of nature and the gifts of human artistry.As with her six earlier collections, these poems are drawn from the transpersonal realm of history and cultural memory, but they display an increasing horror at the bloody repetitions of history, its service of death, and the destructive savagery of power separated from intelligence and restraint. The poems describe a sordid drama in which the players wear eyeless masks, and the only thing time changes is the name of the enemy. Underneath it all, driving the art that in both senses keeps nothing at bay, swim the enormous formal energies of life, the transitive figure that moves on in the depths, something glimpsed in the first light, something stronger than hope.It is a relief to come across work in which a moral intelligence is matched by aesthetic refinement, in which the craft of the poems is equal to their concerns.--Christian Wiman, Poetry** Eleanor Wilners poems attempt to absorb the shock of the wars and atrocities of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. In their litany of loss, in their outrage and sorrow, they retain the joy in life, mercy for the mortal condition, and praise for the plenitude of nature and the gifts of human artistry.As with her six earlier collections, these poems are drawn from the transpersonal realm of history and cultural memory, but they display an increasing horror at the bloody repetitions of history, its service of death, and the destructive savagery of power separated from intelligence and restraint. The poems describe a sordid drama in which the players wear eyeless masks, and the only thing time changes is the name of the enemy. Underneath it all, driving the art that in both senses keeps nothing at bay, swim the enormous formal energies of life, the transitive figure that moves on in the depths, something glimpsed in the first light, something stronger than hope.It is a relief to come across work in which a moral intelligence is matched by aesthetic refinement, in which the craft of the poems is equal to their concerns.--Christian Wiman, Poetry** Eleanor Wilners poems attempt to absorb the shock of the wars and atrocities of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. In their litany of loss, in their outrage and sorrow, they retain the joy in life, mercy for the mortal condition, and praise for the plenitude of nature and the gifts of human artistry. As with her six earlier collections, these poems are drawn from the transpersonal realm of history and cultural memory, but they display an increasing horror at the bloody repetitions of history, its service of death, and the destructive savagery of power separated from intelligence and restraint. The poems describe a sordid drama in which the players wear eyeless masks, and the only thing time changes is the name of the enemy. Underneath it all, driving the art that in both senses keeps nothing at bay, swim the enormous formal energies of life, the transitive figure that moves on in the depths, something glimpsed in the first light, something stronger than hope. It is a relief to come across work in which a moral intelligence is matched by aesthetic refinement, in which the craft of the poems is equal to their concerns.--Christian Wiman, Poetry
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40398
Author: Michael J. Rosen
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Between the discovery that there is a design which only his poetry enables him to find as he confronts the world and the discovery that such a design is a snare, merely a means of keeping him from further discernment, Michael Rosen is wedged, is productively pinioned, [ should say, for it is just this pressure--of meaning discerned on one hand and of meaning distrusted on the other--which makes the tension of these poems, a new version of the old wars between mind and body, memory and hope, self and surround. How tender and inclusive are Rosens preoccupations, and how disabused his conclusions! One reads these playful, stricken poems with wonder--how will such ventures conclude, or even persist? What will happen next? Here is a poet who persuades us, as the saying goes, to stay tuned.--Richard Howard Originally published in 1985. The Princeton Legacy Library uses the latest print-on-demand technology to again make available previously out-of-print books from the distinguished backlist of Princeton University Press. These paperback editions preserve the original texts of these important books while presenting them in durable paperback editions. The goal of the Princeton Legacy Library is to vastly increase access to the rich scholarly heritage found in the thousands of books published by Princeton University Press since its founding in 1905. **Review The Age When Parents Dont Need Reasons Another Figurescape Artists Proof At Brunch We Entertain The Notion Of The Perfect Place To Blind Minotaur Guided By A Little Girl In The Night Calling Into Question Circling Columbus The Cutting Of Nijinskys Feet December, The Botanical Gardens Driving Past Morocco, Indiana A Family Tree The Fire Pond Freeway Flowers Hidden Pictures Ice Sculptures In Central Park In Exchange For Wood Next Notes Through The Winter November November, Again Our Places At The Table Outside A Milton Avery Exhibit Poney Penning Day Precipitation Primitive Examples Roadside Statuary The Same River Twice Spectacles A Late Spring Story Problem Strand Total Eclipse Vivarium Whats Wrong With This Picture The Woman In Ice -- Table of Poems from Poem Finder About the Author The editor of More Mirth of a Nation The Best Contemporary Humor, Michael J. Rosen has been called the unofficial organizer of the National Humor Writers Union, a pretty good idea for an organization that could offer all kinds of benefits to its struggling members (currently numbering more than 300 who have never been published in The New Yorker or aired on NPR). He has been called other things as well, like in third grade, and then in seventh grade especially, by certain older kids known as hoods, who made his life miserable, specifically during gym class, lunch period and after school. Later, much later, the Washington Post called him a fidosopher because of his extensive publications on dogs, dog training, and dog-besotted people. The New York Times called him an example of creative philanthropy in their special Giving section for persuading writers, artists, photographers and illustrators to contribute their time and talents to books that benefit Share Our Strengths anti-hunger efforts and animal-welfare causes. As an author of a couple dozen books for children, hes been called...okay, enough with the calling business. For nearly twenty years, he served as literary director at the Thurber House, a cultural center in the restored home of James Thurber. Garrison Keillor, bless his heart, called it (sorry) the capital of American humor. While there, Rosen helped to create The Thurber Prize for American Humor, a national book award for humor writing, and edited four anthologies of Thurbers previously unpublished and uncollected work, most recently The Dog Department James Thurber on Hounds, Scotties and Talking Poodles, happily published by HarperCollins as well. In his capacity as editor for this biennial, Rosen reads manuscripts year round, beseeching and beleaguering the nations most renowned and well-published authors, and fending off the rants and screeds from folks whove discovered the ease of self-publishing on the web. Last summer, Rosen edited a lovely book, 101 Damnations The Humorists Tour of Personal Hells while some critics (all right, one rather outspoken friend) considered this a book of complaints, Rosen has argued that humor, like voting and picketing and returning an appliance that worked all of four months before requiring a repair that costs twice the purchase price, humor is about the desire for change. Its responding to the way things are compared to the way youd like things to be. And its a much more convivial response than pouting or cornering unsuspecting guests at dinner parties.
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