This collection of James Dickey's poems and prose includes choice selections of the author's poetry, fiction, and essays, as well as some early unpublished poetry and excerpts from his unfinished novel Crux. Organized chronologically by genre, this is the definitive collection of works by one of the twentieth century's most important talents.
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From Publishers Weekly
Brassy, raw and, at times, enduringly powerful, the poetry of James Dickey (1923-1997) made big waves in the 1960s and '70s; he's now best known for his first novel, Deliverance (1970), a tale of male trauma and violence in the Georgia wilderness and the source of John Boorman's 1972 film. Dickey's other productions include the mammoth novel Alnilam (1987) and several books of criticism. Hart, a professor at the College of William and Mary, has assembled excerpts from all of Dickey's novels, along with his yearning, provocative essays and 116 pages of Dickey's poemsAearly, Roethkeish apprentice stanzas; disturbing, prizewinning '60s poems like "Buckdancer's Choice" and "Power and Light"; and the all-but-unreadable long-lined narratives of Dickey's final phase. Dickey's anguished celebrations of destructive extremes, hard men and hard drinking can make his work seem dated, even embarrassing ("God man hunter artist father/ Be with me.... Give me my spear"). But Dickey's best poems make his frustrations, and his mythographic ambitions, sources of memorably tormented potency. No one else could have created "The Sheep-Child," whose speakerAthe impossible offspring of farm boys' bestialityA"saw for a blazing moment/ The great grassy world from both sides... My hoof and my hand clasped each other,/ I ate my one meal/ Of milk, and died/ Staring." Dickey's essays, reflections on the lives and goals of modern American poets, stand up surprisingly well. After Dickey's son's memoir, Summer of Deliverance, has darkened the South Carolina poet's image, this generous compilation does much to bolster his literary prominence. (Aug.)
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Review
Pat Conroy Who wrote better than James Dickey in this century? I think he was in a league of his own. His poems are simply better than anyone else's poetry. His criticism cuts to the bone. His novels sizzle when they hit the fire. This book captures the untellable genius of James Dickey. Pick it up and on any page you get perfection and the most breathlessly fully alive writing ever done by an American.
Gordon Lish Only death could exhibit the cheek to think it had the reach to get a grip all the way around James Dickey. Life gave up, reckoning it would never have the arms for it. In any event, James Dickey is not dead, and shall not be, as this book notifies us, sampling by sampling. Indeed, the thing that beats in him -- the heart of none other than the unrepeatable man -- must make the gods puny and afraid.
Gordon Lish Only death could exhibit the cheek to think it had the reach to get a grip all the way around James Dickey. Life gave up, reckoning it would never have the arms for it. In any event, James Dickey is not dead, and shall not be, as this book notifies us, sampling by sampling. Indeed, the thing that beats in him -- the heart of none other than the unrepeatable man -- must make the gods puny and afraid.
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8 of 9 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
His Poetry Is The Real Thing,
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This review is from: The James Dickey Reader (Paperback)
First off, as in all my reviews of Dickey's work, or work on Dickey's work: a disclaimer. I knew Dickey from 1991 until his death, and thus my opinion of him must be biased in some way, though I'm not sure in which direction, if any. I simply consider him now, after his death, as I did before our meeting in 1991 and our many phone conversations following our meeting, as the last great poet in America. Hart has done a good job of editing and my hat, if I had one on at the moment, would be off to him.-I don't want to belabor the point. Either you get great poetry or you don't. Hart's selection of the best of Dickey's poetry is exquisite. In particular, "The Sheep Child" a poem written from the perspective of the few seconds of life of a product of bestiality is what Dickey is all about:"...In the summer sun of the hillside, with my eyes Far more than human. I saw for a blazing moment The great grassy world from both sides, Man and beast in the round of their need, And the hill wind stirred in my wool, My hoof and my hand clasped each other, I ate my one meal Of milk, and died Staring. From dark grass I came straight....." This is Dickey at his best, in perfect tune with the wondrous and terrible insights combined with the visionary traumas of what we call "Nature," but which we are tremblingly unsure about, just like the sheep child in his (her?) moment of existence. A must for lovers of true poetry.-A rarity in these days.
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