From Publishers Weekly
Each of these vivid essays probes the mystery of encounter, that is, the impermanence of what our five senses tell us, despite the constancy of memory. Vivian, a playwright and poet whose work has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review and New York Quarterly, divides his collection into three parts, "Rootedness," "Women," and "Signs." Each is set in the Midwest, and in each, the author displays his uncanny ability to identify the fading present. In "Rootedness," which treats childhood memories, a lake in northern Michigan is remembered by its smell, "the quicksilver lightening scent of the lake after it rains;" but the remembrance is ephemeral: "I smelled the lake two days ago in a wet oak branch, though when I picked it up the lake was gone." The title essay recounts vivid childhood impressions of a snow storm, which similarly escape him the moment he steps indoors: "The furnace hums, my clothes drip, my hands droop over my knees whatever I was looking for was lost long ago. Whatever I find is gone the moment I find it." Vivian's women all are mysterious crones, bag ladies and widows; all are just barely out of reach, and most are disappearing one way or another. Only the elderly Katherine, a stalwart neighbor, survives; she is "dug in for the final long haul." The essays in "Signs" treat encounters in adulthood, where strangers and birds, music and rivers hint at, but never quite enclose, some great presence: "You couldn't contain the spirit of this river in any painting or symphony, any poem. It's too deep down for symbols, or the colors of a palette."
Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Library Journal
Poet and playwright Vivian, whose work has been included in Best Women's Stage Monologues and Best Men's Stage Monologues as well as in various national journals, celebrates his hometown of Omaha, NE, in his first collection of essays. In "The Tides, the Tides," he enumerates all the reasons he imagines people might have for moving to this city, which, he admits, even among Midwestern cities does not have much cachet: "Maybe people come here to lick their wounds, start over in a safer place, resign themselves to the small shadows of a place that will not mock them." This collection is divided into three interconnected sections. The essays in "Rootedness" reflect the landscapes in the author's memory of childhood, those in "Women" feature older women struggling for dignity against isolation, and those in "Signs" use the POETRY of city noises, city life, and the loss of nature as backdrop for the author's observations. While the language is often poetic and the life of the city is acutely observed, the author should have worked harder at giving the reader some relief from the cold. Recommended for both Midwestern academic and public libraries. Pam Kingsbury, Florence, AL
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.