“[B. H. Fairchild] is the American voice at its confident and conflicted, celebratory and melancholic.”― New York Times Gathering works from five of B. H. Fairchild's previous volumes stretching over thirty years, and adding twenty-six brilliant new poems, The Blue Buick showcases the career of a poet who represents "the American voice at its confident and conflicted, celebratory and melancholic" ( New York Times ). Fairchild's poetry covers a wide range, both geographically and intellectually, though it finds its center in the rural in oilfields and dying small towns, in taverns, baseball fields, one-screen movie theaters, and skies "vast, mysterious, and bored." Ultimately, its cultural scope―where Mozart stands beside Patsy Cline, with Grunewald, Gödel, and Rothko only a subway ride from the Hollywood films of the 1950s―transcends region and decade to explore the relationship of memory to the imagination and the mysteries of time and being. And finally there is the character of Roy Eldridge Garcia, a machinist/poet/philosopher who sees in the landscape and silence of the high plains the held breath of the earth, "as if we haven't quite begun to exist. That coming into being still going on." From the machine work elevated to high art that is the subject of The Arrival of the Future (1985) to the despairing dreamers of Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest (2002) to the panoramic, voice-driven structure of Usher (2009), Fairchild's work, "meaty, maximalist, driven by narrative, stakes out an American mythos" (David Ulin, Los Angeles Times ). From "The Blue " A boy standing on a rig deck looks across the plains. A woman walks from a trailer to watch the setting sun. A man stands beside a lathe, lighting a cigar. Imagined or remembered, a girl in Normandy Sings across a sea, that something may remain.
B. H. Fairchild, the author of several acclaimed poetry collections, has been a finalist for the National Book Award and winner of the William Carlos Williams Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award. He lives in Claremont, California.
The long poem, " The Blue Buick," almost alone makes this a 5-star book. A 31 page poem that has the sweep of a novel whose lives are made real and quietly heroic, the "Blue Buick" took me on a reading journey that tackled all the great themes of literature: longing, thwarted desire, independence, travel, death and the realization how one's experiences get sculpted into who we ultimately become. Fairchild writes poems about places (the Great Plains), careers (ushers, machinists) and lifestyles (agrarian) who occupy a smaller "voice" in the cacophony of our present day literature. Unfortunately, based on the small number of people who want to read this book as I look at Goodreads, I can't help but feel sad that our current life of technology, urbanization and the need for immediate gratification can't encounter and slow down over this "speed bump" of a wise, articulate, powerful and humane paean to the victims of Schumpeter's creative destruction as we bypass these one stoplight towns on our way eager to get somewhere else. The only real minor drawback is the new poems. None seem as destined to reveal and illuminate some overlooked aspect of Fairchild's lifelong focus on people more likely found in diners rather than black-tie events, as compared to the earlier poems. Not that there is anything technically or thematically wrong with them, its just that Fairchild has set the bar so high over the career of this book you keep looking to read a poem that raises the amazement level a little higher. Alas, it does not come, but if one only has the bandwidth to read a few contemporary poets because of the paucity of time and strong competition, I highly recommend this book.
I knew I was in for a treat based on a friend's review, but I was not ready for just how beautiful and moving the language would be. He reminds me a little of Walt Whitman who celebrated the common man in his work. The poetry almost feels autobiographical at times as you read about the dusty Midwest and the blue collar workers he describes. I highly recommend this lyrical, gorgeous collection of poetry.
I really enjoyed this book of poetry and i felt connected to some of the poetry so it was very meningful. I think it is a mist read for all.who enjoy poetry. Another i would like to add to my personal collectkon.r all readers not just thos
I loved this. It's been a while since I've connected so completely with a book of poetry. Fairchild takes the language of blue collar work and middle America and the mid-19th century and transforms it into something numinous. The title poem is a small epic and "The Memory Palace," which riffs on James Agee's A Death in the Family, is beautiful. His poems remind me of the poetry of Richard Hugo and Philip Levine, two of my long-time favorites. Fairchild has been around for a while so I'm surprised I overlooked him--and glad to have remedied that.
There were some gems in here, don’t get me wrong, but if I read one more poem about lathes, I was going to toss this over the ridge. I get it, you are a mid-western, blue-eyed, blue collar bloke who has cashed in on all that HARD WORK to sit on his ass and write poems now. Good for you. It was like a Bob Seger album without the benefit of a band.
My first Fairchild read and it was meaty! Horizons, Heidegger, being, youth, death, work, memory, etc. The attention to Midwestern spaces makes me glad. I cried during Blue Buick — something about the melancholy of feeling the gap between life and art. I love Fairchild’s use of narrative and character. Will return to this chap again.
This was the first time I had read B.H. Fairchild, so for me it was like getting a Best Of album in that it collects many of his already published works. Having said that, I really enjoyed these poems. They are down to earth, readable, even for someone who is not a poet herself. The Blue Buick..fantastic poem. I can't tell you if this is "the best of", but I'm going to go look for the other books and I will let you know (maybe, if I remember).
The poem “Blue Buick” is breathtaking. Fairchild captures a vast and cutting feeling of nostalgia. He moves us through places and times in his early life that are pressingly real - dire, hopeless, lonely life on the plains - yet somehow through Fairchild’s eyes become a dreamlike unreality. There is a magic to this writing. Other poems in this collection are great vignettes, all of his work has great feeling and soul.
As with any poetry collection, some poems are going to catch you more than others. But there were SO MANY good snippets in this book. Stellar imagery, and stunning surprises. Looking forward to seeking out more of Fairchild's work!