The Zodiac

by James Dickey

In the first major long poem of his career, James Dickey finds inspiration in the experiences of a real-life Dutch sailor, Hendrik Marsman, who during a lifetime at sea was bedazzled by the constellations and possessed by the mysteries of the zodiac. On the verge of madness, he wrote bits of poetry, and it is from these fragments of Marsman's verse that Dickey has fashioned his most masterly work to date.

Genres: Poetry

62 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1976

About the author

Dickey was born in Atlanta, Georgia. After serving as a pilot in the Second World War, he attended Vanderbilt University. Having earned an MA in 1950, Dickey returned to military duty in the Korean War, serving with the US Air Force. Upon return to civilian life Dickey taught at Rice University in Texas and then at the University of Florida. From 1955 to 1961, he worked for advertising agencies in New York and Atlanta. After the publication of his first book, Into the Stone (Middletown, Conn., 1962), he left advertising and began teaching at various colleges and universities. He became poet-in-residence and Carolina Professor of English at the University of South Carolina.

Dickey's third volume, Buckdancer's Choice (Middletown, 1965), won the prestigious National Book Award in Poetry. From 1966 to 1968 he served as poetry consultant to the Library of Congress. In 1977 Dickey read his poem 'The Strength of Fields' at President Carter's inauguration. The Hollywood film of his novel Deliverance (Boston, 1970) brought Dickey fame not normally enjoyed by poets.

Dickey's poems are a mixture of lyricism and narrative. In some volumes the lyricism dominates, while in others the narrative is the focus. The early books, influenced obviously though not slavishly by Theodore Roethke and perhaps Hopkins, are infused with a sense of private anxiety and guilt. Both emotions are called forth most deeply by the memories of a brother who died before Dickey was born ('In the Tree House at Night') and his war experiences ('Drinking From a Helmet'). These early poems generally employ rhyme and metre.

With Buckdancer's Choice, Dickey left traditional formalism behind, developing what he called a 'split-line' technique to vary the rhythm and look of the poem. Some critics argue that by doing so Dickey freed his true poetic voice. Others lament that the lack of formal device led to rhetorical, emotional, and intellectual excess. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two assessments, and it will be left to the reader to decide which phase of Dickey's career is most attractive.

Dickey's most comprehensive volume is The Whole Motion (Hanover, NH, and London, 1992). His early poems are collected in The Early Motion (Middletown, 1981). Recent individual volumes include The Eagle's Mile (Hanover and London, 1990) and Falling, May Day Sermon, and Other Poems (Hanover and London, 1982). Dickey has also published collections of autobiographical essays, Self Interviews (Garden City, NY, 1970; repr. New York, 1984) and Sorties (Garden City, 197 1; repr. New York, 1984).

From The Oxford Companion to Twentieth-century Poetry in English. Ed. Ian Hamilton. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Copyright © 1994 by Oxford University Press.

Reviews

[Jennifer Collins · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dickey's Zodiac is breathless--a rhythmic long poem that has the potential to hypnotize readers with its lyricism and sounds, and which strikes hard through each series of images. From moment to moment, it's not necessarily an easy read, but it is engulfing. For poetry lovers, this is something of a treasure to be read and re-read. It won't be for everyone, but there were so many moments here that struck me, and that sucked me into the world of the poem, that I can't help but look forward to re-reading it in whole, and recommending it to other poetry-lovers.

[DW]

A drunken ramble. An argument with God. A letter of sympathy to all of creation for how difficult it is to make the stars. A mess!

It works and that is rare for messes. When poetry gets excessively messy it tends to lean towards the unpolished, so this was a real treat. A trip into madness!

Here is the start of Poem II (line breaks are messed up, but blame GR).

II.

A clock smash-bongs. Stun. Stun.
A spire's hiding out in the sound tower-sound and now
Floating over him and living on the nerve

Of the instant, vibrating like a hangover:

Time.

He waits. God, I'm going to ask you one question:
What do wheels and machinery have to go with Time?

With stars? You know damn well I've never been able to master
A watch-maker's laugh.

[Laura Hackett · Rating 5 out of 5]

Stunning lines written with a velocity that only grows more fervent. Dickey cuts to the bone, examines the pieces, and stays there.

[Dave · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here are a few of the lines that struck me:
(Time is) just an uncreated vertigo busted up by events.
(Man must) bleed for its images: make what can of what is.

[Patricia N. McLaughlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

In “The Zodiac,” much like Marsman in the original poem of the same title, Dickey “tries desperately to relate to himself, by means of stars, to the universe”—

“He moves among stars.
Sure. We all do, but he is star-crazed, mad
With Einfuhling, with connecting and joining things that lay their meanings
Over billions of light years
eons of time—Ah,
Years of light: billions of them: they are pictures
Of some sort of meaning. He thinks the secret
Can be read. . .
through all the stupefying design,
And all he can add to it or make of it”

in the microcosm of this poem.

[Mills College Library]

811.54 D551z 1976