In Imperial , George Bilgere’s sixth collection of poetry, he continues his exploration of the beauties, mysteries, and absurdities of being middle-aged and middle-class in mid-America. In poems that range from the Cold War anxieties of the 1950s to the perils and predicaments of an aging Boomer in a post-9/11 world, Bilgere’s rueful humor and slippery syntax become a trapdoor that at any moment can plunge the reader into the abyss. In Bilgere’s world a yo-yo morphs into an emblem for the atomic bomb. A spot of cancer flames into the Vietnam War. And the death of a baseball player reminds us, in this age of disbelief, of the importance―the necessity―of myth.
Billy Collins once commented that poet George Bilgere "has shown that imaginative wonders and deep emotional truths can be achieved with plain, colloquial American speech." Bilgere has done so in his six collections of poetry, most recently "Imperial" (Pitt Poetry Series). His numerous awards include the May Swenson Poetry Award and a Pushcart Prize. A professor of English at John Carroll University in Cleveland, he is also host of the public radio program WORDPLAY, an offbeat mix of poetry and comedy.
I adore George Bilgere's poetry, so I was excited to read his newest collection. He has been a guest teacher of poetry here in Oklahoma at the Quartz Mountain Summer Arts Institute in the past, which is how I learned about him. He even has a poem about a brief moment in Oklahoma toward the end of this book.
Like his previous poems, these are also filled with heart and humor, written in plainspoken English, which I so appreciate. It's hard to pick favorites, but my absolute favorite is the title poem, "Imperial," which is about yo-yos during his childhood and what they represented. You have to read it!
Other poems that I'm jazzed about: Bus Boy Desire Lint Robert Frost The Wading Pool iPoem Namaste
In "Imperial," George Bilgere remembers the dissolution of his family, his mother reduced to Hamburger Helper and the rare lobster after the divorce while his father succumbed to scotch. But these reminisces are passing slides on a Viewfinder because Bilgere crafts his accessible poems with a keen appreciation of human humor and ache. The reader of "Imperial" arrives at its conclusion a gentler person after having washed clothing in the dank basement with a loving wife, after appreciating the beauty of the young men men and women of Cleveland and after considering the car-buying habits of Stan Musial. Although Bilgere sits in his driveway wishing for a banquet in his honor, he also acknowledges Lewis, the man who sweeps the floor during faculty meetings, the man who knows when the weather will change for the worst and whether this year's pitching staff is worth a hoot. Even when he narrates a condescending encounter with a couple, overweight and "seriously tattooed," Bilgere seems always to center himself with a humility that would benefit all of us.
An excellent collection of poetry by the man who continues to be my favorite poet. This was not his best work (I still consider that to be a tie between the collections The Good Kiss and Big Bang: Poems). Still, there were some genuinely beautiful pieces here, and even though I kept telling myself I was only going to read one more poem, I finished the collection in one sitting because I quite simply could not put it down! Excellent work, Dr. Bilgere; you have done it again!
UPDATE: 2/14/2025 Beautiful. Changed review from 4 to 5.
All due respect to rigorously opaque academia, it is so nice to read a book of poetry and understand it at the same time. To get to smile and laugh to boot? All the better. If speaking to the reading audience is, for some reason a sin, then go ahead and just count me out for good.
In other words, thanks to Bilgere for including us, inviting us in, and not requiring us to own the full Oxford English Dictionary (though I do) in order to track down an endless stream of some etymology geek's idea of a good time, as well as overall sense of superiority...
This is a fun book that speaks to life and a wide range of its idiosyncrasies...
I’ve previously written rave reviews for Haywire and The White Museum because I love George Bilgere’s poetry. How can you not? He has practically become the resident poet on The Writer’s Almanac for that very reason. He writes of his life, but also of yours and mine. Bilgere touches us, stirs up our memories, and makes us laugh. In Imperial, he chronicles the culture, fears, and concerns of the Baby Boomers ¬¬– from yo-yos, Stan Musial, and iPads to skin cancer, prostate exams, and fears of aging. Bilgere is always a good read.
I saw George at a Brews & Prose reading in CLE and enjoyed his readings. I bought one of his books of poetry and read a few periodically. I really enjoyed reading them myself. I am far from a poetry lover but these read more like very short stories. He is a master of observing the environment around a situation and relaying what a middle-age man is thinking in a clever, chuckle-out-loud sort of way. I will read more of his work.
My new favorite living poet. This collection is superb. With direct, pitch perfect language, Bilgere conjures vivid images of contemporary life and overlays them with wry, subtle commentary. If poems are truly messages in bottles, flung out to the sea of readers in hopes of connecting to someone, then my beach has been overrun. Not a false note here, and my subjective experience of life has been laid bare on the page. Must. Read. More.
Bilgere writes in a casual manner and reads easily. But after reading a third book by him, I find that he writes too casually, on the same subjects, and without much meat. My mind doesn't split chasing after multiple meanings because mostly they are not there to chase. It's straightforward. Too straightforward. The poetry is missing.
I find three truly interesting poems in this thin volume. A couple more, perhaps, worth mentioning. From all the press and prizes, I expect more.
I read this collection during a trip to Oslo, sitting outside the Albert Bistro by the harbour. The light, the water, the Beaujolais, the poems - perfect.