| Consoling
and intense interaction with the natural world abounds in the forty-three
poems of Pulitzer Prize-winner Mary Oliver's collection Thirst.
From Publisher's Weekly:
Consoling, and intense interaction with the natural world abounds
in the 43 poems of Pulitzer Prize–winner Oliver's new collection,
as her many readers might expect. The trees whisper, a ribbon snake
imparts lessons and the poet is likened to a swimming otter. What
has changed, though, is that Oliver's new work reflects her faith
in God and her grief over the death of her longtime partner. Those
who do not share her brand of faith may or may not find its terms
difficult to accept–"Everything is His./ The door. The
door jamb"–but the loss of a loved one is more universal:
of grief, she writes, "I went closer, / and I did not die."
Still, many of these poems mention or court cataclysmic loss while
refusing to dwell in it. At times, Oliver's will-to-gratitude can
feel like preaching or admonishment; Oliver describes a luna moth
with "a pale green wing whose rim is like a musical notation,"
before adding, "Have you noticed?" The role of danger
or evil in this Eden is mostly unacknowledged: "... the things
of this world / ... are kind, and maybe// also troubled."
|
