May 16, 2011
Buddhism and aphorism, outdoor delights and indoor wisdom have all attracted readers to Hirshfield's spare and approachable lines; the poet navigates securely between praise and advice, mostly in clearly quotable form. "Wrong solitude vinegars the soul,/ right solitude oils it." "How happy we are,/ how unhappy we are, doesn't matter./ The stone turtle listens. The famished horse runs." Allegorical scenes like bare stage sets introduce elegant observations in conversational free verse, in words drawn from common American speech: sometimes the results sting, sometimes they end up sweet, and sometimes they end up too sweet, faux-profound ("Hearts stop in more ways than one"). More often, though, Hirshfield (Nine Gates) can speak to many lives in just a few phrases, mixing in ancient fashion the fires of consolation with the lights of warning, as in her three-line poem "Sonoma Fire," which ends on "The griefs of othersâbeautiful at a distance." Admirers of Mary Oliver, of the early works of Louise Glück, and even of Kay Ryan might find more pages to cherish.
August 1, 2011
Early in her career, National Book Critics Award finalist Hirshfield (Given Sugar, Given Salt) became interested in Japanese literature. One can see this influence in her latest work, a collection of generally short nature poems with an epiphany in which the poet manages to get to the heart of an experience. The best of the poems examine the complex and often metaphysical relationships between the poet and her surroundings. In Zenlike tones, they notice telling details as experienced in ordinary moments that nevertheless seem connected to the transcendent. Take "The Supple Deer," for instance: the narrator watches deer gracefully jumping through an opening in the fence, noting in an especially resonate metaphor how the deer seem to pour like an arc of water. The poem ends wistfully as the poet wishes to be as "porous" as the deer, allowing the world to pass through her. VERDICT Although sometimes the connections suggested by Hirshfield's metaphors are tenuous, these are mostly powerful poems in which each word adds resonance.--Diane Scharper, Towson Univ., MD
Copyright 2011 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
August 1, 2011
Hirshfield's lucid poems are philosophical and sensuous, concise yet mysterious. Ruefully funny and irreverently reverent. They are also gloriously earthy as she looks deeply at trees, animals, insects, and our own wondrous if betraying bodies. An avidly read poet garlanded with prestigious awards, Hirshfield discerns paradoxical wisdom in gravity, time, and memory, red wine, a worn carpet, and a penny. The lilt and patterns of her language are beautifully osmotic, altering our brain waves and our perception of how all the world's pieces fit together. The poet feasts on the sights and sounds of bees, plums, and young musicians and ponders simultaneous forms of consciousness. Molecules inspire thoughts on matter and the perpetuity of motion and change; evolution's slow parade summons recognition of life's wanting to live. Hirshfield writes with a mystic's joy and holy radar about the visual heat surrounding a person in love and how moonlight builds its cold chapel. Wittily deductive and metaphysically resplendent, Hirshfield's supple and knowing poems reflect her long view, her quest for balance, and her exuberant participation in the circle dance of existence.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2011, American Library Association.)