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In this passionate new collection, Kevin Young takes up a range of African American griefs and passages. He opens with the beautiful “Elegy for Miss Brooks,†invoking Gwendolyn Brooks, who died in 2000, and who makes a perfect muse for the volume: “What the devil / are we without you?†he asks. “I tuck your voice, laced / tight, in these brown shoes.†In that spirit of intimate community, Young gives us a saucy ballad of Jim Crow, a poem about Lionel Hampton's last concert in Paris, an “African Elegy,†which addresses the tragic loss of a close friend in conjunction with the first anniversary of 9/11, and a series entitled “Americana,†in which we encounter a clutch of mythical southern towns, such as East Jesus (“The South knows ruin & likes it / thataway—the barns becoming / earth again, leaning in—â€Â) and West Hell (“Sin, thy name is this / wait—this place— / a long ways from Here / to Thereâ€Â). For the Confederate Dead finds Young, more than ever before, in a poetic space that is at once public and personal. In the marvelous “Guernica,†Young’s account of a journey through Spain blends with the news of an American lynching, prompting him to ask, “Precious South, / must I save you, / or myself?†In this surprising book, the poet manages to do a bit of both, embracing the contradictions of our “Confederate†legacy and the troubled nation where that legacy still lingers.
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