Category Archives: Book Reviews

Poem of the Week: Little Horse by W.S. Merwin


You come from some other forest
do you
little horse
think how long I have known these
deep dead leaves
without meeting you

I belong to no one
I would have wished for you if I had known how
what a long time the place was empty
even in my sleep
and loving it as I did
I could not have told what was missing

what can I show you
I will not ask you if you will stay
or if you will come again
I will not try to hold you
I only hope you will come with me to where I stand
often sleeping and waking
by the patient water
that has no father nor mother

Many thanks to Alison McGee for her curation of these beautiful poems.
For more information on W.S. Merwin, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/w-s-merwin

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing

Book Commentary: Solar by Ian McEwan

Ian McEwan, British author

Image via Wikipedia

Hmnn, not really quite sure what to make of this book and I say this only because Ian McEwan is one of my favourite writers. I have loved everything I have ever read by him – Atonement, On Chesil Beach,  A Child in TimeAmsterdamSaturday and Enduring Love.

Certainly Solar doesn’t lack what McEwan does very well – which is his gift and control of  language, unexpectedly dark, uproariously comedic moments and an ability to capture the emotional minutiae of a moment in life in all its glorious awful truth – yet somehow Solar is missing something for me.

Maybe the character at the center of Solar, Michael Beard the Nobel Prize winning physicist, is just too glutenous and shallow even for me. Maybe his endless affairs (he’s ending his fifth marriage having conducted eleven affairs in his five-year tenure as husband to Patrice) just gets boring and his love affair with overeating and drinking feels stifling – and his ability to ride the coat tails of his Nobel Prize that paves the way to him  sitting on bloated, self- important, academically ego -inflated committees that ultimately land him as head of an environmental agency to which he has no business since he is neither knowledgeable nor interested in the issue – maybe that reminds me a little bit too much of how much money people make doing not much of anything except shifting words and reputations – or maybe it’s that he ‘s just too plain abhorrent.

Really there  is nothing to recommend Michael Beard and that is likely the point. The book is intended as a comedic satire on something. There is no question that there were moments where I laughed out loud – hard. That was great. I loved that. But there wasn’t quite enough of that and maybe not enough of something else for me to think this book ranks with McEwan’s other works. It was okay. And as such I’m not sure that I would recommend it to someone as there are other better works out there particularly by the author. So I’d recommend one of his other books if you want to read great Ian McEwan.

1 Comment

Filed under Book Reviews

Poem of the Week: Two Countries by Naomi Shihab Nye

Skin remembers how long the years grow
when skin is not touched, a gray tunnel
of singleness, feather lost from the tail
of a bird, swirling onto a step,
swept away by someone who never saw
it was a feather. Skin ate, walked,
slept by itself, knew how to raise a
see-you-later hand. But skin felt
it was never seen, never known as
a land on the map, nose like a city,
hip like a city, gleaming dome of the mosque
and the hundred corridors of cinnamon and rope.

Skin had hope, that’s what skin does.
Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.
Love means you breathe in two countries.
And skin remembers–silk, spiny grass,
deep in the pocket that is skin’s secret own.
Even now, when skin is not alone,
it remembers being alone and thanks something larger
that there are travelers, that people go places
larger than themselves.


Many thanks to Alison McGhee for her curation of these beautiful poems.
For more information on Naomi Nye, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/naomi-shihab-nye

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing

Book Review: Dispatches by Michael Herr

Michael Herr Vietnam

Wow, well my first book after not reading for a year is Michael Herr‘s Dispatches and what a book this is. Michael Herr was a Vietnam war correspondent for Esquire Magazine from 1967 to 1969 and the book is based on his experiences during this time.

John Le Carre called Dispatches “The best book I have ever read on the men and war in our time.” If you’re looking for a political history or a book on war tactics, this is not the book for you. If you’re looking for a book on war – what it looks like to the men who are fighting it and reporting on it – how it changes their DNA -breaks them, alters them, gets under their skin in a way that leaves them fundamentally changed – then this is your book.

What’s even better, is that Michael Herr knows how to write – he delivers sentences that take you to the moral heart centre of war. The first chapter is entitled “Breathing In”, the last is “Breathing Out” in which he describes how men of war reconcile themselves to real life in some way.

“Back in the world now, and a lot of us aren’t making it. The story got old or we got old…We came to fear something more complicated than death, an annihilation less final but more complete, and we got out. Because (more lore) we all knew that if you stayed too long you became one of those poor bastards who had to have a war on all the time and where was that?”

But long before you get to this point he makes you familiar with the newness, then the oldness and then the horror of some kinds of deaths, the loneliness, the function and dysfunction, the fucked-upness, the innocence, the bravery and the not-so-brave, the friendships, the love, and yes, the glamour of war and how seductive and life changing it is. “I think that Vietnam is what we had instead of happy childhoods.” Well how crazy is that, but somehow by the end of this book you get it.

This book was written a long time ago – but it’s as relevant today as it was thirty years ago because for some reason we can’t seem to stop fighting stupid wars and a whole new generation of men and women are survivors of this kind of terrible glamour.

4 Comments

Filed under Book Reviews

Poem of the Week: Meeting at an Airport by Taha Muhammad Ali

You asked me once,
on our way back
from the midmorning
trip to the spring:
“What do you hate,
and who do you love?”

And I answered,
from behind the eyelashes
of my surprise,
my blood rushing
like the shadow
cast by a cloud of starlings:
“I hate departure…
I love the spring
and the path to the spring,
and I worship the middle
hours of morning.”
And you laughed…
and the almond tree blossomed
and the thicket grew loud with nightingales.

…A question
now four decades old:
I salute that question’s answer;
and an answer,
as old as your departure;
I salute that answer’s question…

…And today,
it’s preposterous,
here we are at a friendly airport
by the slimmest of chances,
and we meet.
Ah, Lord!
we meet.
And here you are
asking—again,
it’s absolutely preposterous—
I recognized you
but you didn’t recognize me.
“Is it you?!”
But you wouldn’t believe it.
And suddenly
you burst out and asked:
“If you’re really you,
What do you hate
and who do you love?!”

And I answered—
my blood
fleeing the hall,
rushing in me
like the shadow
cast by a cloud of starlings:
“I hate departure,
and I love the spring,
and the path to the spring,
and I worship the middle
hours of morning.”

And you wept,
and flowers bowed their heads,
and doves in the silk of their sorrow stumbled.

Many thanks to Alison McGhee for her generous curation of these mighty fine poems.
For more information on Taha Muhammad Ali, please click here: http://www.poetryinternational.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=3181

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing

Poem of the Week: From New Hampshire by Rosanna Warren

  It’s not your mountain
     but I almost expect
     to meet you here

I think you have taken a long late evening walk
Your heavy shoes glisten with dew
I hear your footsteps pause on the dirt road

     and I know you are picking out
     the dark mass of the sleeping
     mountain from the dark

mass of night and testing the heaviness of each
Your hands are small but they know weights and measures
You are a connoisseur of boundaries

     You loved the bears
     because they pass between
     leaving their stories

in fat pudding turds on the grass
Here it’s raspberries they’re after not our
sour Vermont apples     No matter     You will find them

     When they hoot in courtship
     you always hoot back
     more owl than bear

They don’t mind     They always answer you
And tonight I imagine you’re out waiting up for them
by the berries, which is why you don’t cross

     the dew-sopped lawn
     don’t press open the
     warped screen door

of the kitchen where I sit late     by a single glowing bulb


For more information on Rosanna Warren, please click here: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/188

Many thanks to Alison McGhee for her thoughtful curation of these beautiful poems.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing

A Poem for Emily by Miller Williams – Poem of the Week



Small fact and fingers and farthest one from me,
a hand’s width and two generations away,
in this still present I am fifty-three.
You are not yet a full day.

When I am sixty-three, when you are ten,
and you are neither closer nor as far,
your arms will fill with what you know by then,
the arithmetic and love we do and are.

When I by blood and luck am eighty-six
and you are someplace else and thirty-three
believing in sex and God and politics
with children who look not at all like me,

sometime I know you will have read them this
so they will know I love them and say so
and love their mother. Child, whatever is
is always or never was. Long ago

a day I watched awhile beside your bed,
I wrote this down, a thing that might be kept
awhile, to tell you what I would have said
when you were who knows what and I was dead
which is I stood and loved you while you slept.

Thanks to Alison McGhee for curating these beautiful poems.
For more information on Miller Williams, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/miller-williams

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Twitter: alisonmcghee

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

1 Comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing

Poem of the Week: Autumn Begins in Martin’s Ferry, Ohio by James Wright



In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each others’ bodies.

A big thank you to Alison McGhee who generously curates and shares these beautiful poems.
For more information on James Wright, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/james-wright

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews

Poem of the Week: A Time Past by Denise Levertov


The old wooden steps to the front door
where I was sitting that fall morning
when you came downstairs, just awake,
and my joy at sight of you (emerging
into golden day –
the dew almost frost)
pulled me to my feet to tell you
how much I loved you:
those wooden steps
are gone now, decayed
replaced with granite,
hard, gray, and handsome.
The old steps live
only in me:
my feet and thighs
remember them, and my hands
still feel their splinters.Everything else about and around that house
brings memories of others – of marriage,
of my son. And the steps do too: I recall
sitting there with my friend and her little son who died,
or was it the second one who lives and thrives?
And sitting there ‘in my life,’ often, alone or with my husband.
Yet that one instant,
your cheerful, unafraid, youthful, ‘I love you too,’
the quiet broken by no bird, no cricket, gold leaves
spinning in silence down without
any breeze to blow them,
is what twines itself
in my head and body across those slabs of wood
that were warm, ancient, and now
wait somewhere to be burnt.

A big thank you to Alison McGhee for curating these lovely poems.

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing, Uncategorized

Poem of the Week: From Blossoms by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.


For more information on Li-Young Lee, please click here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/li-young-lee

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/Alison-McGhee/119862491361265?ref=ts

Thanks to Alison McGhee for her generous curation of these lovely poems.

Blog: alisonmcghee.com/blog

Manuscript Critique Service:
http://alisonmcghee.com/manuscript.html

1 Comment

Filed under Book Reviews, Random Musing