From Library Journal
North Dakota enjoys a strange kind of fame: no one wants to live there, given its apocalyptic climate, and even fewer actually visit. Murphy, a Scholar of the House in Poetry at Yale in the early 1970s and author of The Deed of Gift (Story Line, 1998), rejected an academic career in the East and decided to farm, as his grandfather and father did, the Red River Valley. Ancestry and hunting aside, natural disasters are his major narrative markersDhis book closes on a hopeful note with the flood of 1997 that destroyed downtown Grand Forks: "everything I feared has come to pass, but most everything I hoped for has happened, too." He does not give uppity coast-dwellers a reason to relocate, refusing to romanticize his "native patch of hell." In distilling the harshness of his environment, however, Murphy accidentally forms a strain of beauty: "What ancestral curse/ prompts me to farm and worse/ convert my woes to verse?" Although he writes of love, loss, and family, Murphy's ode will resonate best with fellow North Dakota farmers. An essential addition to Midwestern literature collections.DHeather McCormack, "Library Journal"
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
The horizon is "as flat as a ruled line" in the rich farmland of the Red River valley on the North Dakota^-Minnesota border, where Murphy has lived most of his life. He attended Yale, studied poetry with Robert Penn Warren, stayed East a while for a lover and to ponder an academic career, but then heeded Warren's advice to go home. In 1997 he published
The Deed of Gift, from which the poems in this book are drawn. Prose covers more page-acreage, though, with memoirs of farming, hunting, and family history that honor a way of life that Murphy fears won't outlast him. He concedes that farming is chancy and proves the point with the stories of his grandfather's, father's, many friends', and his own booming and busting at it. But the virtues of friendship, hardihood, equanimity, and canniness that farming fosters, and the deep farmers' fellowship of hunting, are qualities Murphy mourns to see passing. With his spare diction and loving sincerity, he compels a reader to mourn--and better, to admire--with him.
Ray Olson
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.