Jim Harrison was born in Grayling, Michigan, to Winfield Sprague Harrison, a county agricultural agent, and Norma Olivia (Wahlgren) Harrison, both avid readers. He married Linda King in 1959 with whom he has two daughters.
His awards include National Academy of Arts grants (1967, 68, 69), a Guggenheim Fellowship (1969-70), the Spirit of the West Award from the Mountain & Plains Booksellers Association, and election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (2007).
Much of Harrison's writing depicts sparsely populated regions of North America with many stories set in places such as Nebraska's Sand Hills, Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Montana's mountains, and along the Arizona-Mexico border.
I am a huge fan of Jim Harrison's poetry and prose. I don't think this is his strongest book of poetry, but it's still enormously satisfying. It touches on the usual Harrison themes - nature, dogs, women, lust, human idiocy, war, aging. A couple of the poems are published in both Spanish and English and one poem is a translation of Neruda. The title poem, in particular, struck me this week as we move our clocks forward amidst ignorance. It is poetry of the hard-lived, the rough and tumble, and the appreciative and the savagely honest.
What can I say? I've fallen in love with Jim Harrison's poetry in recent years... the originality of image, the clarity of feeling, the strength of actual life sensibility. Extra tip: I also adore the food writing he's been publishing in Brick. It keeps leaving me agog, each time I read one of these essays. Appetite for larger life runs through everything Harrison does.
Some of these poems are lovely, stirring, occasionally funny, and some I didn't like so much. But, the pearls kept me going. One of my favorites was entitled Water:
Before I was born I was water. I thought of this sitting on a blue chair surrounded by pink, red, white hollyhocks in the yard in front of my green studio. There are conclusions to be drawn but I can't do it anymore. Born man, child man, singing man, dancing man, loving man, old man, dying man. This is a round river and we are her fish who become water.
Walking before daylight along the river with the dogs of memory, Jim Harrison take us through his life in Montana and on the Mexican border--wonderful to be able to accompany him.
There is something raw and real about the poetry of Jim Harrison. He speaks with a midwestern voice about the joys and ravages of life. The indulgences and disasters. A joy to read!
“There are a lot of muted grays in life, dull bronzes, mornings the color of a lead sinker that will never help you catch a fish, and then a trace of sun allows you to see down into the water where three minnows pass diagonally above a sunken log, two tadpoles, the pebble- circular swirl of a spawning bed, a glutinous clot of frog eggs, and farther out a turtle peering above a lily pad’s edge. . . .”
I quite enjoyed several of the poems in this book, including this one:
Portal, Arizona
I've been apart too long from this life we have. They deep-fry pork chops locally. I've never had them that way. In the canyon at dawn the Cooper's hawk rose from her nest. Lion's pug marks a few miles up where the canyon narrowed and one rock had an eye with sky beyond. A geezer told me Nabokov wrote here while his beloved Vera tortured the piano. He chased butterflies to the pinheaded doom but Lolita survived. What beauty can I imagine beyond these vast rock walls with caves sculpted by wind where perhaps Geronimo slept quite innocent of television and when his three-year-old son died made a war these ravens still talk about.
I had read Harrison as the writer of Legends of the Fall and various short stories. This was the first book of his poetry I read, and it felt to me like bits and pieces of intense journal writing. He writes about the places he loves (Michigan, Montana, Mexico, France), dogs he has adored, women he has romanced, people who have died, and the way he is aging. There is a real sense of anger at our goverment and how politicians send young people off to war. All in all, there is a lot to think about in this book of poems.
I love to read poetry, especially my kid's poems as they pass through childhood. Jim Harrison is a prolific poet who captures in a raw, unique style the beauty of the American West and Montana - where I live. He writes in a free verse style, without rhyme or reason - that challenges conventional logic, and a style that keeps one captivated. His poems are as rough as a hard-core Montana cowboy's life, but yet with a prose that lingers on long after the book is put down! A refreshing break from the usual non-fiction that I read.
I usually like Jim Harrison's work and some of the poems in the collection were reasonably good. However, the book itself was poorly organized and seemed to be merely a bunch of poems put together in a random order. The long, rambling poems in the middle were really difficult to get into. Too many repetitive themes with death, dogs, and birds.
For someone who counts Braided Creek among their very favorite poetry books, this work was disappointing.