From Publishers Weekly
Culling from four chapbooks published over nearly 30 years, this full-length collection commemorates the work of Dekin (1943-2001), who taught at Loyola, Northwestern and Stanford. The poems chart the everyday life of an angler, woodsman, teacher and sometime visitor of bars, but begin as their speaker's "oxygen machine chuffs and weezes," while he calmly asks: "Who are You that inhabit so many forms? Who exists in leaf mold, gill, and splash Of locust branch Caught in the stream, In tiny golden egg-suns dripping upon the stones, In the hooked, lake-run steelhead gasping for breath? Who are You But the cry of anguish and joy?"
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
A year before the publication of this, his first book-length collection, Dekin died, 58 hard years old. His life had been full of family problems, alcoholism, and sickness, but it also contained enough literary learning and practice to enable him to write the best Hemingway poems Hemingway never wrote--or, given Dekin's facility with rhyme and meter, the best Hemingway poems Edwin Arlington Robinson never wrote. One thinks of Hemingway because Dekin wrote big, important poems about fishing (in Michigan!) and because his poems in general are about coming to terms with oneself, like Nick Adams does in Papa's fishing stories. In Dekin's case, the terms reached involve a near-religious surrender to love, whether the great love of the "Lord of forms" in the thrilling fishing poem "It Used to Be," or needy love for his dying father in "The Condolence," or hopeful, avuncular love for the son of welfare-dependent parents he meets while fishing again in "Woodmanship." Dekin's work stands honorably in the mournfully insightful, masculine tradition of Robinson--and Robert Frost.
Ray OlsonCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
--This text refers to the
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