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The Tunnel: Selected Poems of Russell Edson

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Edson is one of the most prominent poets working in the field of prose poetry; this collection contains some of his best work from many different books. The poems are short and often have a dark and absurdist feel to them, as in "The Damaged Ape" wherein a family discovers that the ape they recently bought has defects when a little piece of its nostril falls off. This is probably my favorite poetry book, I highly recommend it. There are some good web pages about Edson where you can read some of his work; he is IMHO one of the best-kept secrets in modern poetry.

Don't let yourself get all tangled in the arguments over what is and isn't a prose poem, or even if such an oxymoronic creature is possible. It doesn't matter what you call them, these things by Russell Edson are great fun and great reading.

Most of these pieces are about a page long, and many are considerably shorter. They are moments of dreams, newsreels from some surreal purgatory, portraits of impossibility. In this world, "Mr Is went into the woods to think about his wooden head," and "A woman had given birth to an old man." Within the oddity and amidst the strangeness are moments of tenderness, passion, horror. Read slowly and carefully, these words somehow seem to reflect the world we trudge through and the life we lead, and so add contours to our boring reality. There is a lot of melancholy here; it comes perhaps from the confusions and juxtapositions, but there is nothing to fear, and plenty to love, for, as Edson writes, "In such a world there is much sadness which, of course, is joy..."

I read this book with a poetry reading book club and it was one of the club's favorites. Edson writes often surreal philosophical fables which are easy to enter into because of their familiar, "There once was a woman who..." language. However, this river runs deep.

Although this book has its own special place on my favorite's shelf, I hate to put it back there, where it isn't admired, isn't read. I want it out, right here, open, so I can reread and reread and shout about it.

I refer to this book whenever I feel low, or seek inspiration, or just wish to bring some meaning into a numbingly humdrum day. I keep it on the back of the toilet so it will always be within easy reach. I have felt much more compassion for toilets since reading Edson's poem about a toilet sliding into a room like a snail, begging to be loved. (When it is denied, it slides back out, flushing with grief.)

My favorite is The Family Monkey. ("We bought an electric monkey, experimenting rather recklessly with funds carefully gathered since grandfather's time for the purchase of a steam monkey.")

Dip into this when you desire to be shaken free of the rut in which you find yourself. Unless of course, your rut is eccentric prose poetry, in which case, praise your hat and pass the ape!

Russell Edson is an accomplished master of prose poetry. Each of his poems are complete presentations of his uniquely expressed verse that has earned him the respect of his peers, academia, and readers. "The Tunnel: Selected Poems" draws from the poet's own chosen favorites among the seven previously published collections of his work and will aptly serve to introduce his originality and expertise to a whole new generation of appreciative readers. 'The Large Thing': A large thing comes in./Go out, Large Thing, says someone./The Large Thing goes out, and comes in again./Go out, Large Thing, and stay out, says someone./The large Thing goes out, and stays out./Then that same someone who has been ordering the Large Thing out/begins to be lonely, and says, come in Large Thing./But when the Large Thing is in, that same someone decides it would be/better if the Large Thing would go out./Go out, Large Thing, says this same someone./The Large Thing goes out./Oh, why did I say that? Says the someone, who begins to be lonely again./But meanwhile the Large Thing has come back in anyway./Good, I was just about to call you back, says the same someone to the Large Thing.

Suicide hotline operators should simply read from Edson. This is life affirming stuff. I insist you also get his new one, The Tormented Mirror, and anything by James Tate, especially Shroud of the Gnome. These two will startle even the most steadfast poetry-haters.

For those who have not yet had the pleasure of experiencing the surrealistic wonders of Russell Edson's prose poetry, THE TUNNEL presents the perfect introduction. The collection contains a large sampling of poems from seven earlier works: THE VERY THING THAT HAPPENS (1964), WHAT A MAN CAN SEE (1969), THE CLAM THEATER (1973), THE CHILDHOOD OF AN EQUESTRIAN (1973), THE INTUITIVE JOURNEY (1976), THE REASON WHY THE CLOSET-MAN IS NEVER SAD (1977), and THE WOUNDED BREAKFAST (1985). Though the earliest of these are quite good, the later ones are even better. If you have a friend with a penchant for things that are darkly absurd but who thinks he doesn't enjoy poetry, give him THE TUNNEL and you stand a great chance of waking him up to a brand-new world of odd and wonderful delights.

Edson reads like an asylum escapee. It's lots of fun. We'll probably read Edson to our kids in lieu of bedtime stories. But don't tell social services because they might take them away.

I generally loathe poets--but I'm fond of Edson because he's so unhinged and perverse.

My boyfriend loves Edson and I'm sure he has all sorts of smart things to say about how important Edson is to poetry and [insert astute observations here].

I say, basically, you'll love him or hate him. I love him. He's worth looking into.