Entre chien et loup — between dog and wolf. This French colloquialism for twilight informs Jennifer Grotz’s debut poetry collection, Cusp. A winner of this year’s Bakeless Prize for poetry, Grotz explores the peculiar territory of middleness — neither dark nor light, not quite familiar but not fully unknown. It is a place with its own dangers, its own knowledge: road signs in a French tunnel remind drivers of their headlights in the temporary darkness; a scratchy recording of the last castrato highlights art’s uneasy coupling of inspiration and artifice. Personal, thoughtful, inquisitive, and introspective, these poems reveal Grotz’s varied influences, from the “quilted fields” of west Texas to a jazz club in Paris, from a sexy rodeo rider to Jean-Jacques Rousseau. It is the dizziness of the foreign and the strangeness of what’s all around that gives Cusp its energy, its vitality, signaling the arrival of a distinctive new voice in American verse.
o dear. grotz has written some of the poems i have had in the hopper, which is depressing on a number of levels, the least of which is feeling scooped. i think i can do better.
but at least four of these poems were about things that interested me. perhaps i should be glad to have found a kindred spirit?
What impresses me most about the book is the structure, and how respectful it is of what "cusp" might mean. With the first section, Grotz offers alternative definitions of the word, which is good. But, for me, my interest was piqued when the speaker's biography, and those transitions became the real focus.
I may change my rating, having read this in the distracted preChristmas rush. I bought it because I read her commentary on poetry and she showed depth. Will revisit it.