From Publishers Weekly
The poems of this sixth collection vary from near-religious ekphrases on Marc Chagall paintings (from Stations in a Dream) to the poet's not exactly sensitive "Mojo Mamba" ("My johnson got a reputation"). If most of the poems don't reflect such poles of subject matter and dictionAtending much more toward the formerAthe possibility of having them together seems to be the point here. Having put in 15 years of factory work before earning a B.A. and M.F.A., Weaver now holds an endowed chair at Boston's Simmons College. Many of the poems are well-constructed free-verse autobiographies, delving into the speaker's misspent youth, conditions on the steel mill floor, or simply describing "The Poet Reclining" or "Going to Church with C.W." Together, they describe a late '60s-early '70s coming of age and intellectual awakening, one that culminates in a series of "Lamentations" and in the book's final poem, from a section of new work. "Composition for White Critics Who Think African American Poets Cannot Work in Contexts of Pure Concerns for Language ," (its full title clocks in at 60 words) is dedicated to Jorie Graham, and attempts to parody the long-lined style and circumlocution of her recent books: "such/ burdens as being less than an adult require the synthesis of forms, this grove of pointed hedges where all time/ changes and gain or you lose or you understand there is no death." While the book as a whole is not quite a successful challenge to the literary powers-that-be, Weaver's stories of hardship and joy ring clear and true. (July)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Paperback
edition.
From Library Journal
Weaver (Timber and Prayer) is quite possibly the most highly touted unknown poet working today (witness an introduction by Arnold Rapersad and blurbs from Amiri Baraka and Sonia Sanchez). Five previous volumes of poetry have passed almost in obscurity and are mostly out-of-print. Just as those faithful to his work have witnessed his name change (with earlier books, he was Michael S. Weaver), readers watch as, during the 15 years this volume spans, his acceptance of growing up black in America turns into African American pride. Compare, for example, the early lyric "A Young Aristocracy," (where the poet finally appreciates those fathers who labored 16-hour shifts for "the grand feeling of buying a new row home") with the recent poem, "Enemies," (in which he quotes a co-worker: "Nigger is not really/ a person's color. A nigger cannot be a person." The only place these poems disappoint is in some of his newest work, where the spirit of play overshadows sensitivity. Highly recommended.DRochelle Ratner, formerly with Soho Weekly News, NY
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.