|
||
A
NEW INCLUSIVENESS, a heady freedom, grounded in the facts of mortality,
inform Gail Mazur’s recent poems, as if making them has served
as both a bunker and a promontory, a way to survive, and to be exposed
to, the profound underlying subject of this book: a husband’s
approaching death. The intimate particulars of a shared life are
seen from a great height—and then there’s the underlife
of the bunker: endurance, holding on, life as uncompromising reality.
This new work, possessed by the unique devil-may-care intensity
of someone writing at the end of her nerves, makes Figures in a
Landscape feel radiant, visionary, and exhilarating, rather than
elegiac. Mazur’s masterly fusion of abstraction with the facts
of a life creates a coming to terms with what Yeats called “the
aboriginal ice.” |
University
of Chicago Press |
|
|
||
|
|
|
|
|