From Publishers Weekly
A translator of Euripides, Giacomo Leopardi, Sandro Penna, Leonardo Sinisgalli and others; a careful critic who has produced three books' worth of essays on modern art and poetry; and the author of six previous collections of poems, Stanford University professor Di Piero is as an imposing a masculine representative of tradition on the West Coast as J.D. McClatchy is on the East. But where McClatchy freshens his old school gin-and-tonics with bare bones carnality, Di Piero consistently injects Kleinzahlerian whimsy into his (here 35 plus) short lyrics, along with pathos-laden descriptions of depression's quotidian: "Medicated to this willowed balance,/ I don't weep now to see dogs run/ or wild fennel bend to winds/ kiting a tern from its brilliant marsh." This solemn attention to nature can mutate into Bocaccio-like satire ("Widowed young, renting country-cheap,/ she could have, he swore, anything she wants./ Dried figs, fiery banana fruit, or half a pig.") or a more man-made gravity, as in "My Message Left Next to the Phone," a near-suicide note describing the spirits (prevalent here) who nearly lured the speaker off a bridge: "`figures'/ ...scissored into life, gauds flint-struck/ from the half-dark and sunlight and panic.// I felt they'd come for me." Some readers will want to dismiss this work as well-trod emotional and imagistic ground, but Di Piero never quite descends into easiness, and his ear is a great deal sharper than most poets chronicling their art- and writing-centered lives. (May 30)Forecast: Di Piero has received a Guggenheim fellowship, an NEA grant and a Lila Wallace-Readers Digest award, but hasn't yet taken one of the big three NBCCA, Pulitzer or NBA though this book should make at least one shortlist on career momentum alone. Recommendations to fans of Marie Howe and C.K. Williams would help crack Di Piero's restrictive highbrow aureole.
Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
From Library Journal
The central motif of this collection is careful watching of urban landscapes of "pitch and bus fumes," "splintered Sears and Pep Boys doors/ down the block," "stone housefronts," and the Schuylkill River in Southwest Philadelphia (where Di Piero was born). Poet, translator, art critic, and professor at Stanford, Di Piero master of impressionistic candlelight, with his "grassy onion-dome shadows" and "patchy shades" sometimes gets "fogged in" pursuing elusive shapes of "the invisible life of things." When he finds a scene that stays in focus city neighborhoods and parks, bonds among family and friends, the death of his parents Di Piero is precise and emphatic, like a woman in one of his poems who paints "as if it's she/ changing for real the sky's face." Di Piero's dimay at this messy world ("scrap-metal cubes/ and racked junkers") is redeemed by his ardor to record urban landscapes in "exacter, plainer" poetry. Between the everyday ("car wash, tar-shingle roofs,/ U-rent lockers, and tap-rooms") and the lofty ("We take what's given and word/ with that"), illuminated by "mildly crazed words," these thoughtful poetic compositions combine serious imagery with "truth in words" "changing for real the sky's face." Refreshing poetry that gets better with rereading. Frank Allen, Northampton Community Coll., Tannersville, PA
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.