Pulitzer Prize winner Robert Hass explores poetry for what it a relationship between people and the land.
In A Third Commonness, US Poet Laureate Robert Hass follows a literary river through time and topography—from Zen Buddhism to California ecopoetics, from Barry Lopez to Walt Whitman, and even through an unlikely fellowship between Kentucky poet-priests. Told through essays and lectures, A Third Commonness is as much a love letter to landscape as it is a sprawling exploration of poetic heritage. Hass weaves histories with the boundless hand of a passionate reader inseparable from literary vitality. Hass revels at genius, saying, Here it is, this stretch of it. Sometimes with a requiem, other times with romance or political reckoning, Hass returns to the amazements of a poetry that encounters itself over and again, beckoned into being by some “propelling force."
Robert Hass was born in San Francisco and lives in Berkeley, California, where he teaches at the University of California. He served as Poet Laureate of the United States from 1995 to 1997. A MacArthur Fellow and a two-time winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award, he has published poems, literary essays, and translations. He is married to the poet Brenda Hillman.
This is the third book of Hass essays on poetry. Perhaps it doesn't feel as studied as his first critical book, the masterful "Twentieth Century Pleasures," but Hass's critical instincts, his wide reading, and his absolute passion for his art, keep it more than interesting. Some of this feels occasional--introductions commissioned for particular anthologies--the Clare intro, the intro to the volume of 3000 years of Greek poetry, the intro to the Library of America 19th century American poetry, etc.--the lectures he gave as Poet Laureate of the US a couple of decades ago; intros to reprinted classic volumes like Snyder's "Practice of the Wild." Nonetheless, there is a remarkable unity of thought and tone here. Hass's concerns govern it all, particularly his concerns for the natural world. I often think he is an essential link in the chain of American environmental writers.
He casts his light on some writers that have been overlooked, even forgotten. There is a great essay on John Logan, for instance, and I can't think of anyone else who is giving Logan the attention he deserves. There is a good moment on Cid Corman's translations of Basho. The is a long essay on Galway Kennell's novel, "Black Light," a book that seems to be forgotten (and there seem to be few among the younger generations who are taking Kinnell's poetry as seriously as it deserves). He introduces us to several contemporary Chinese writers who are not in the English-speaking pantheon yet.
But I will admit that my favorite parts of the book were the first piece and the last piece. The first includes the definitions Hass wrote for the wonderful "dictionary" of regional landscape terms that Barry Lopez and Debra Gwartney did a few years back. Hass wrote the definitions for a couple of dozen terms (eg: Den, Ford, Fan Terrace, Moulin, Seif Dune, etc.). And the very last "essay" is made by the notes he did for a Counterpoint press edition of "Leaves of Grass." Yes, some of the words and phrases he defines and explains are obvious, but others are just new and brilliant, and all are worth the time. I read it with my Whitman open on my lap, and just loved it.
OK, it is obvious that I am very fond of Hass and his work. It is great to see him still adding good books to his body of work, even as he is in his mid-80s. I know it can't really be true, but he seems as vigorous as ever!