Review
Erotic Distance describes the unstable, but unquenchable connectedness of man, woman, and child. Once the head is lifted off the pillow the triangle begins to spin. Occasionally the angles soften into curves, into circle. The body rests and the song unburdens itself. The terms of entanglement are set among plain nouns--room, light, mirror, horse, birds, tree, apple, body--that describe the complexity of our interior geography. But autonomous space, in other words, 'sitting unopposed in the trees outside thinking,' is a privileged, impermanent position. The poems admit the losses only mercy can sustain and forgiveness relieve. The singing burns and yet the days open into one, 'Now, reach into the quiet for the name of the beloved/ Into the mouth of the apple.' Who can refuse this chastened exhortation to love. C. D. Wright Barbara Campbell is one of the best younger poets to appear in recent years. In its sensual understanding of states of anxiety, her work reminds me of the uncanny tone of Peter Handke novels, in which a leaf skitters down a highway or someone holds his hand in ice water for the texture of the experience. The heart is 'a fist of linen' and 'a red house comes in and out of focus for hours.' Formally diverse, the pastorals, ghazals, tyrannies, and aubades of Erotic Distance strike at the emotional center of experience--'They love and a field burns, circled by dogs'--with sympathy, and ardor. This is the poetry of desire and lyric intensity, complex in detail and ideation but also unbearably physical. --Paul Hoover
About the Author
Barbara Campbell is a graduate of the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop. She has published widely in journals including New American Writing, Indiana Review, Iowa Review, Denver Quarterly, and most recently, Verse. Campbell was winner of the 1993 John Logan Poetry Prize and the 1990 Eileen Lannan Poetry Prize, and has been awarded four residencies at the Ragdale Foundation.