Amazon.com Review
Richard Wilbur, who won the Pulitzer Prize in 1989 for his
New and Collected Poems, has occasionally been pilloried for the twin sins of being too immaculate and too optimistic a poet. (Randall Jarrell, for example,
noted that he "obsessively sees, and shows, the bright underside of every dark thing.") But surely these are peccadilloes when measured against Wilbur's formal mastery and unsentimental pathos. Both qualities are on display in
Mayflies, which collects his work of the 1990s. Not surprisingly, there are more than a few gestures toward mortality, starting with the title poem's evocation of "those lifelong dancers of a day":
In somber forest, when the sun was low,
I saw from unseen pools a mist of flies
In their quadrillions rise
And animate a ragged patch of glow
With sudden glittering...
There is, perhaps, an extra quotient of Frost-like gloom to some of the work here. And indeed, "A Wall in the Woods: Cummington" seems like a deliberate updating of Frost's Yankee pastoralism, although Wilbur imparts an elegance all his own: "What is it for, now that dividing neither / Farm from farm nor field from field, it runs / Through deep impartial woods, and is trangressed / By boughs of pine or beech from either side?" Here and there Wilbur runs out of steam, or bogs down in his own gentility. But he's an appropriately flinty mouthpiece for Dante in "Canto XXV of the
Inferno," which originally appeared in a
1998 round-robin translation, and poems like "For C." or "Icons" or "Fabrications" show him at the top of his game. Formalism could hardly find a more accomplished figure for its standard-bearer, and like the spider web that Wilbur celebrates in the latter poem,
Mayflies handily demonstrates "the bright resilience of the frailest form."
--James Marcus
From Publishers Weekly
Two-time Pulitzer-winner Wilbur remains America's reigning master of poems in traditional forms, creating flawless, balanced, charming and even profound couplets, sonnets, sapphics, and intricately custom-made stanzas. This first volume since the 1989 New and Selected brings together 22 new poems, six renderings of lyric poems from French, Romanian and Bulgarian, and two longer verse translations--from Moliere's Amphitryon and Dante's Inferno. The new short poems (many of which have appeared in the New Yorker) include some of Wilbur's best. The touching, clever and Frostian "A Barred Owl" shows how the owl's cry ("Who Cooks for you?") can soothe or disturb, depending on circumstance and interpretation; "At Moorditch" accomplishes a brief and visionary defense of imagination. Several poems apply Wilbur's careful sensibility to the rigors of tanka and haiku. Wilbur admires order, control and grace while looking toward the voids and terrors they counteract: the couplets in "Crows' Nest" give new life to the old figure of maturity as a bare field, while the extended "This Pleasing, Anxious Being" looks back on remembered childhood with the apprehensions and glimmerings of old age. In "For C." Wilbur finds in a long happy marriage the virtues we might ascribe to his own verse: "A passion joined to courtesy and art/ Which has the quality of something made/ Like a good fiddle, like the rose's scent,/ Like a rose window or the firmament." (Apr.) FYI: Wilbur's Responses: Prose Pieces 1953-1976 was reissued last month in an expanded edition (Story Line, $16.95 paper 352p ISBN 1-885266-82-0).
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