Review by Booklist Review
Williams writes with a wonderful confidence and clarity. His long lines inhabit changing states of mind and being so fluidly that his poems are easy in the best sense. Reading him is like being reminded of things you forgot you knew. In a series of poems called "Some of the Forms of Jealousy," his characters constantly watch, assess, and then re-assess; each new notion fuels a change that causes another change. Since jealousy does not depend on tangible reality to exist, Williams takes us into the reality of consciousness. His poems sing with the convictions and vitality of the inner life. Even a happy mask can reveal a kind of truth. In "Signs," a friend observes the seemingly content husband of a woman he is sure has a lover. "Down below, I can just make out the engines of this ship, the stresses, / creaks, and groans; / everything's in hand; I hear the happy workers at their chugging furnaces / and boilers. / I let my friend's guise now be not my guise but truth; in truth, I'm like / him, dense, convinced, / involved all in the moment, hearty, filled, fulfilled, not just with manner, / but with fact. " ~--Frances Woods
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The voice in the poems of Williams's ( Flesh and Blood ) new collection is one at odds with itself, vacillating between the intense desire to make sense of dreams, jealousies and mortality, yet acknowledging the great difficulty of doing so. In ``Signs,'' a marvelous examination of a man's discovery of a friend's wife's betrayal, the poet is at his best. A master of nuance, and a keen observer of both the traitor and the betrayed, he carries us down the ever-curious, ever-variable paths of jealousy. The shorter poems are timely in their discussions of bankruptcy, religion, betrayal and euthanasia, but Williams is most successful in the longer, subtler narrative poems. The collection concludes with ``Helen,'' which, like this poem's subject, is a ``final, searing loveliness'': in sinewy lines, Williams describes the metamorphosis of a man's fluctuating love for his wife during her terminal illness. Though his dialectics sometimes seem relentless, the poems encompass all that is ``seemingly urgent but possibly purposeless''--the misconstructions, communions and imperfections of life. And Williams is a superb witness: ``I behold the infernal beholder, I behold / the uncanny beheld, / this mind streaming through me, its turbulent stillness.'' (June (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Williams expresses in hard-won and finely tempered verse one of the few truly original voices of this generation. His intelligent, gripping poems weave meditation and narration into long metrical lines, never shying away from complexity in style or story. He has, at least temporarily, abandoned the short stanzaic form showcased in his last collection, National Book Critics Circle Award-winner Flesh and Blood ( LJ 5/1/87), here returning to the longer poems he unreels so well. With room to stretch, he seems more relaxed, making space for every detail, every thought, every observation. A memorable book from one of the finest poets writing today. Highly recommended.-- Louis McKee, Painted Bride Arts Ctr., Philadelphia (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
