Reviews for Host: Selected Poems, 1965-1990

The average rating for Host: Selected Poems, 1965-1990 based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2007-08-19 00:00:00 Roberta Gibson The poem "Listen Hard" includes these lines: It's always day, it's always night. No such thing as tomorrow. This of course is not true. It is not always day or always night, at least not for those of us on earth, and there is such a thing as tomorrow. So since these statements aren't true, they must be metaphor, and in order for them to be significant I want to know one of two things: 1) how did you arrive at this metaphor or 2) what follows from it? But Galvin doesn't provide either of those things. The poem is just this set of assertions with a couple of imperatives thrown in. I did "think of a drop of water/flung from the grindstone," as he directs; but it doesn't lead me to understand how it's always day or night and that there's no tomorrow--unless I do all sorts of work and bring to bear personal knowledge that is outside the scope of the poem. It's not my job to do more work to make the poem cohere than Galvin has done. "Carry yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white men" is encouragement given to women and people of color; I thought of it when I read a couple of poems near the end of this collection: Woman Walking a One-Kick Dog Along an Asymptotic Curve for Bert Honea Nothing is nothing Nothing is not nothing Nothing is next to nothing and Woman Walking a One-Kick Dog Along an Asymptotic Curve II I am no one. I am no one else. That's it! That's the entirety of both poems. Seriously. I can scarcely imagine being sufficiently pleased with myself after having written those precious, self-important little snippets that I would give them a pretentious title and put them in a book. Wtf? I did like one poem a lot, "Real Wonder," which reminded me of The Meadow, Galvin's memoir about Wyoming, which I really enjoyed. And for that I'm giving my rating a second star. But overall the book is quite forgettable.

Review # 2 was written on 2012-06-18 00:00:00 Peter Taylor An acute sense of observation and surprisingly inventive language--surprising to me only because the blurbage focused heavily on the landscape, and it's been so long since I've read any of Galvin's poems that I'd forgotten how razor-sharp his utterances can be. I'm reminded of some of my favorite poems by Mark Strand, but Galvin's voice is his own: sometimes formal, always imaginative. Yes, the landscape is a figure--a looming presence--in many of the poems, but it's Galvin's manner of *seeing* and *thinking* and bringing that vision to the page that is, at times, astonishing. Here's one of the quieter poems in its entirety: EXPECTING COMPANY Death is when the outside world Wants to get away from itself By going inside of someone. Till the walls cave in. Till the roof is gone. I'm floating face up On a sea of adrenaline. A broken window hangs around my neck. I have to make more room in here. I have to get rid of the furniture. * * * And here, in contrast, is a passage from "You Know What People Say": They make a mockery of irony. They hold Special Olympics in wit. What was Shakespeare's blood pressure? Verical river, cloister of thunder, Bleeds the ship's fell sail. God comes in for a landing. He lowers God's landing gear. He raises the holy spoilers, lowers the sacred ailerons. He imagines Reality.