Throughout his career, Richard Jones has written from a luminous interiority, in deceptively simple, elegant language. His complex and intimate poems are spare, intentional models of clarity and restraint. Yet the formal quietness and the clear style belie neither the poetry’s soulfulness nor the poet’s intelligence; rather, such lucidity attains a kind of radiance. Apropos of Nothing is “about nothing,” and yet it evokes the essential suffering, bliss, and awakening of the attentive life. These well-reasoned, wise poems are portraits of intellection that show us just how joyous and sustaining the music of the mind can be.
Richard Jones was born in London and educated at the University of Virginia. His first book of poetry, Country of Air (Copper Canyon Press, 1986), won the Posner Award from the Council for Wisconsin Writers. He published At Last We Enter Paradise in 1991 and Perfect Time in 1994.
Jones has edited Poetry East since 1979 and has edited two critical anthologies Poetry and Politics and Of Solitude and Silence: Writings on Robert Bly. He is a professor at DePaul University in Chicago.
The book wasn't bad, but it didn't really stand out. Many of the poems felt like Jones was trying too hard, or maybe not hard enough. Some of the poems felt more like exercises (E.G. "The Spoon" and "Plums": "I liken death to a bowl/of ripe purple plums/enjoyed on the terrace of a high mountain lodge/at dawn above a quiet lake").
It's a very safe book full of stillness, softness, and quiet reading that you could give to your grandmother to enjoy. That's not bad, but I usually like poems with a little more bite.
I like the structure of the poems and it's refreshing to see each poem so close together instead of disconnected.
I enjoyed "Tea Ceremony" ("and that to prepare/tea so unceremoniously,/in a humming microwave,/forgoing ritual,/disparages grace and beauty./But it's past midnight - no one is watching"); and "Infinity and God" and "Cherries in the Snow" were more like what it seemed he was reaching for.
Just not my cup of tea. There were a few poems that I enjoyed, but nothing really stood out to me. I'm not a big poetry person by any means, so maybe I'm missing something here - unable to appreciate the art form in which it's displayed in this book.