The Presentable Art of Reading Absence takes as impulse the act of meditation, in which the energetic relationship between a meditative body and its universe is not only the envisioning of absence by presence but also vision “Here begins the revelation of a kiosk.” With occult emotionality and analytic brilliance, Jay Wright has written the user’s guide to “I have become attuned / to the disappearance of all things / and of my self . . .”
Whenever I begin to lose interest while reading a book, I blame myself first, since I think I'm missing something here. Then I arch my brows, narrow my eyes in order to concentrate, sit elsewhere, try again. While the title of this book sounds like a good idea, the entire thing is a single poem, written in this philosophical abstract style that causes me to look back too often, thinking--wait, what's this supposed to mean? Where is this going? This is supposed to be "the user's guide to evanescence" and I am rather disappointed, is all.
This is my first experience of Wright, and I was duly impressed. The comparisons to T.S. Eliot are legitimate and, in my opinion, quite favorable. Wright matches Eliot's ability to provoke deep introspection, but brings to the table a kind of vibrancy missing in much of Eliot.
A sustained meditation that might recall The Four Quartets, first in its stylistic poise, its elegance of expression, and its summoning of the transcendent into the present moment. But also recalling Stevens as it takes the form of a self-conversation, a kind of internalized discursiveness that it is possible to enjoy without grasping the sense entirely. No doubt I'll be forced to re-read. You can argue that the author pushes the threshold of sense in the same way as Hart Crane or again Stevens: it's a kind of discursive play that occurs. You could also argue that the method is hermetic, and many of the figuration of a private nature.