Less Is Moore Less Is Moore
Observations is one of the great verbal works of art of the 20th century, in part because of Marianne Moore’s infectious devotion to everything small.
Mar 31, 2016 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Silver Swan Silver Swan
The streets were old, but all the people were young, Striding forward with great purpose, Girls smiling openly in the faces of boys. Not every boy noticed, but we all kept walking…
Feb 18, 2016 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
How Patti Smith, Punk Chanteuse, Became the Irresistible Siren of Middle Age How Patti Smith, Punk Chanteuse, Became the Irresistible Siren of Middle Age
Her latest memoir, M Train, feels guided simultaneously by determination and serendipity.
Oct 8, 2015 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Drawing a Frame Drawing a Frame
In his music and his prose, Virgil Thomson perfected a whimsically deadpan sensibility.
Oct 28, 2014 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
James Joyce’s Untamable Power James Joyce’s Untamable Power
Censors thought it dirty and rebellious, but what makes Ulysses radical is its dramatization of the unending conflict between good and evil.
Jun 3, 2014 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Demon and Craftsman: On D.H. Lawrence Demon and Craftsman: On D.H. Lawrence
The process of discovery, not their profundities as such, is what makes Lawrence’s poems so gripping.
Oct 1, 2013 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Irritable Reachings: On John Keats Irritable Reachings: On John Keats
A new biography of John Keats is no match for Keats’s poetic inventions.
Jan 9, 2013 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Among the Tufted Canes: Twentieth-Century Italian Poetry Among the Tufted Canes: Twentieth-Century Italian Poetry
Geoffrey Brock’s anthology of twentieth-century Italian poetry offers the risk of a counter-eloquence.
Apr 11, 2012 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
Complaint Complaint
Walk out the front door, the dog tugs Boyishly at the leash. I sit at my desk. A breeze Floats up from Oakdale on the hottest day of the year. This is the climate of reason. But in the climate of no reason I look out the window at midnight. My mother appears in a red coat, raking the leaves. Always she wore that coat in autumn, The tattered wool, the large Black buttons, But only to rake leaves. Why my house was built on the dividing line I cannot say. Walk out the front door, Somebody dies. Walk out the back, The rabbit jumps out of his hole. Bedroom in one world, kitchen in another— You could say it’s always September here, Every day the first day of school. The bus is waiting. I’ve got books, my lunch, My gym clothes in a plastic bag.
Jan 25, 2012 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach
This Is Just to Say: On William Carlos Williams This Is Just to Say: On William Carlos Williams
A new biography shortchanges the poetic achievement of William Carlos Williams.
Oct 26, 2011 / Books & the Arts / James Longenbach