Poems exploring the theme of sexual, emotional, political, and spiritual desire through the eyes of a poet's characters examine the age in which we live, where dreams are not as easy as they once were.
Jorie Graham was born in New York City in 1950, the daughter of a journalist and a sculptor. She was raised in Rome, Italy and educated in French schools. She studied philosophy at the Sorbonne in Paris before attending New York University as an undergraduate, where she studied filmmaking. She received an MFA in poetry from the University of Iowa.
Graham is the author of numerous collections of poetry, most recently: Place (2012), Sea Change (2008), Overlord (2005), Never (2002), Swarm (2001), The Errancy (1997), and The Dream of the Unified Field: Selected Poems 1974-1994, which won the 1996 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.
Her many honors include a John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Fellowship and the Morton Dauwen Zabel Award from The American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters.
She has taught at the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop and is currently the Boylston Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory at Harvard University. She served as a Chancellor of The Academy of American Poets from 1997 to 2003.
For me, every book Graham wrote prior to this is preparing for these large poems. These days, they remind me especially of Ashbery, though I would also include the Bishop of North & South and Stevens. What this means is that she approaches the occasion for any individual poem knowing it will be impossible to just state explicitly what the poem is about. Good poems attempt difficult subjects, and difficult subjects continually fail to yield to some simple explanation. And so Graham's poem drives at explaining, even while she's aware it will not really be possible. I find her grasp of detail, and the potential any detail has to explain the overall scene, to be the driving force of many poems. And I'm continually fascinated by the execution.
This book took me a long time to get through. Part of it was needing to read slowly, and re-read, as Graham (in this book, at least) uses long lines and long poems to explore the minutiae of both the external and internal worlds. Her ability to see into things borders on the molecular, and her attention to detail is astounding. That said, some of the poems here went on so long they seemed to droop a bit in the middle, though her ends were always clear. I especially enjoy her titles. The endnotes are interesting and helped with some poems I struggled to understand, but I enjoyed most of these, and would have even without any explication. I will keep and re-read this one in particular for my studies on poetry, attempting to learn more about how to write well in longer forms, use longer lines, and not be so afraid to include a wide range of seeing and motion in work, how to make it breathe and become more expansive.
At the height of her powers may be strong for this book (she'd already written The End of Beauty) but it is an increadible feat to encompass so much in such a little book. This book is all 'spinning apart' to such a degree that many, dare I say most poets would get lost in the nebula. But not Graham. She spins apart in such a way that we seek to see just how far the pieces will go before their energy is transferred to some other object, force, emphatic power.
when i first graduated college, i started buying poetry books without the help of loan money -- so each book was a luxury.
the first two i bought after graduation were "Wakefulness" by Ashbery and this bomb by Graham. Wakefulness thrilled me; this scared me. it took years for me to go back to grad school 'cause of jorie graham.
Would that it were possible to give 2.5 stars. I find Jorie Graham difficult. Needless obscurity needles me, but I'm not sure if this is needless or not. I know she's well thought of. Maybe I should try harder.
“the hand i placed on you, what if it didn’t exist, where it began, shaking, the declension of your opening shirt, dusk postponed in each glazed and arctic button, pale reddish shirt — what if it doesn’t exist —“
One of the contemporary masters of the form writing at the height of her powers here. The book as a whole is wonderful, but the poem "Le Manteau de Pascal" is a tour de force.