A Howard Nemerov Reader

by Howard Nemerov

Although known primarily as a poet, Howard Nemerov has distinguished himself as a critic, short story writer, novelist, and poet. With nearly four dozen poems including two that have not yet been collected, eight stories, fourteen essays, and one complete novel, A Howard Nemerov Reader represents the career of one of America's most distinguished men of letters.

Genres: Poetry

552 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1991

Reviews

[Henry Sturcke · Rating 5 out of 5]

This generous selection of Howard Nemerov’s work appeared in the year of his death. It contains eighty or so poems, eight short stories, fifteen critical essays, and a novel. I found the poems consistently excellent. The stories were haunting and wry; “The Ocean to Cynthia,” in particular, was unforgettable.
The essays make clear that Nemerov cared deeply about language and doubted that poetry (or literature in general) was about much more than that. Language and thought. In one adventurous essay, “Bottom’s Dream,” Nemerov makes a case for the likeness of poems and jokes. I immediately thought of Shakespeare’s sonnets, in which so much depends on the final couplet—-the punchline, so to speak.
It was striking that when I came to the essays, which make up nearly one-third of the bulk of the volume, the voice is immediately identifiable as the wry voice of the story's narrator that immediately preceded them, “Digressions Around a Crow.”
Some of the essays are book reviews. Nemerov’s review of James Dickey’s Drowning with Others is so specifically observed, so personal in response that it reveals by contrast how superficial and formulaic book reviews often are. Another review pairs two books, one the esteemed magnum opus of a famous and prolific critic, Harold Bloom’s Anxiety of Influence, and a lesser-known book, Denis Donoghue’s Thieves of Fire. It’s the latter that Nemerov praises. As for Bloom’s Anxiety, Nemerov confesses, “My trouble with the book may merely have been that it was too difficult for me.” When did you last read that in a book review? But perhaps Nemerov is being coy. As he describes and comments on the book’s content, it becomes clear that the problem might not lie with Nemerov’s skill as a reader.
The novel that concludes this anthology, Federigo, Or, The Power of Love, is what in earlier centuries might have been called a comedy of manners. In fact, I thought it might not be out of place in the Decameron, albeit written and set in the early nineteen fifties. Yet the reminiscence of ancient tales is evoked by the names of characters such as Julian and Marius.
Federigo dragged at times. This may have been because Nemerov works more with interior states (à la Henry James) than with dialog and action. The love of paradox I enjoyed in his essays worked less for me in the novel. Late in the book, Federico quotes lines from Tennyson, then comments: “practically metaphysical, isn’t it, with all that back and forth in the words; confusing.” This could be taken as a wry self-criticism by the author.

[Sacha]

I think I am just not ready for this poet. Perhaps later, perhaps never. Edward Hirsch's description and selection of poems (end of The Blue Swallow and Einstein & Freud & Jack) in Poet's Choice is wonderfully attractive. There are some masterful, beautiful, haunting, and insightful poems in Nemerov's collection. But somehow most of them just don't quite resonate with me. They don't stick in my mind; I don't think of them later. Even when reading, I do not empathize with the dark view here. There is a quote in Poet's Choice which is apt, "I cried because life is hopeless and beautiful." Nemerov writes to his wife, "Fading, the flesh delineates the bone/ As surely, certainly, as autumn leaves// Describe a tree when they resume the earth." Not exactly the romance I currently find charming. There is a prudishness in his poems The Ecstasies of Dialectic (in which men are infected by a whore) and The Goose Fish (in which young lovers are faced with a dead fish) or perhaps I missed his point. More generally, I wonder if part of the darkness is his humor and I'm simply not getting it. Maybe in a few years.

[Booky Seattlites]

Federigo, or the Power of Love is included herein.