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Toward Evening and the Day Far Spent
"Stephen Frech's approach in these calm poems is Rilkean. A deliberate attention informs their beauty."--Don Bogen "In Toward Evening and the Day Far Spent, Stephen Frech takes a time-honored, traditional subject, the life of Christ, and brings it to life again. At the same time he deftly explores the divided nature of human beings--what it means to be spirit living in flesh, what it means to be incarnate. These fine, subtle, thoughtful poems again and again find the myth inside the real and the real inside the myth."--Andrew Hudgins
26 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
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July 13, 2011
Stephen Frech, Toward Evening and the Day Far Spent (Kent State University Press, 1996)
It's rare that I run across a chapbook in Kent State's Wick series that doesn't really do it for me, but this was one of them. And I am more than willing to admit that as much as I try to push aside considerations of subject matter (I do fervently believe that any subject can be made interesting given a talented enough writer), there are times when I just instinctively recoil. Anyone who's read enough awful religious poetry (and that phrase is pretty close to redundant) will probably know what I'm talking about. And yes, Frech gives us the life of Christ here, though abbreviated and impressionist (it is, after all, just thirteen pages). And Frech is a solid poet:
“...the peach, to bite into it, to discover
the too much for my mouth to hold,
feel it down my chin and through my beard;
to see like a bee, only the sweetness,
the whole world monotone except for
the spectrum of sugar...”
(“The Ninth Hour”)
but, man, do we need more Jesus poetry? I'm giving it the gentleman's C because there's no way I can even think about being unbiased on this one; I will leave it to the individual reader to judge for him- or herself. ** ½
It's rare that I run across a chapbook in Kent State's Wick series that doesn't really do it for me, but this was one of them. And I am more than willing to admit that as much as I try to push aside considerations of subject matter (I do fervently believe that any subject can be made interesting given a talented enough writer), there are times when I just instinctively recoil. Anyone who's read enough awful religious poetry (and that phrase is pretty close to redundant) will probably know what I'm talking about. And yes, Frech gives us the life of Christ here, though abbreviated and impressionist (it is, after all, just thirteen pages). And Frech is a solid poet:
“...the peach, to bite into it, to discover
the too much for my mouth to hold,
feel it down my chin and through my beard;
to see like a bee, only the sweetness,
the whole world monotone except for
the spectrum of sugar...”
(“The Ninth Hour”)
but, man, do we need more Jesus poetry? I'm giving it the gentleman's C because there's no way I can even think about being unbiased on this one; I will leave it to the individual reader to judge for him- or herself. ** ½
Displaying 1 of 1 review