Mary Ruefle is an American poet and essayist. The daughter of a military officer, Ruefle was born outside Pittsburgh in 1952, but spent her early life traveling around the U.S. and Europe. She graduated from Bennington College in 1974 with a degree in Literature.
Ruefle's work has been widely published in literary journals. She has received a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship, a Whiting Writer's Award, a Guggenheim fellowship, and an Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Ruefle currently lives in New England. She teaches in the MFA in Writing program at Vermont College and is visiting faculty with the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop.
A poet with a rather arch metaphysical sense of humor, Ruefle also reminds me at times (at least in this collection) of Edward Gorey or even Edward Lear (I don't mean that as dismissive!) She's quite comfortable writing an elegy for two "dead vowels," for example. "In a milk-white mist in the middle of the wood / there are two dead vowels" begins the singsong "Do Not Disturb." One suspects this poem is really about the old ae vowel linkage, and the constant turnover of the languages which carry the freight of human meaning. The poem is almost a children's poem, but not quite. It turns on the reader. Many of her poems do that, assume a veneer of gentle amusement or nonchalance, before they stick one with a philosophically trenchant shiv. Ruefle likes to paint nature's heedlessness of the human investement in it. It's one of her favorite blithe themes. This she shares with another poet with whom she deserves comparisons, Wislawa Szymborska. Both are keepers and rarely disappont.
A few I loved: River Map, The World as I Left It, Japanese Bloodgod, The Feast, Like a Daffodil. Plenty of great images and moments, but I often felt like I wasn’t tracking with what these poems were asking of me.
I'm excited for the new book of Mary Ruefle's poetry (2019's Dunce), so am looking back at a few past books that I have not yet read. In Ruefle's 2004 book Tristimania, I again find words that often sync up with my thoughts and carry me to new places. I can't say that I understand every line or every intention, but Ruefle's work continues to strike a chord with me.
A couple favorites (with my possibly inaccurate notes): --"By the Way": in which I read it as a person confronting themself --"Cold Dark Matter": so strange and beautiful with chocolate pudding, profound thoughts, and the care of lost knowledge --"Trailer": a literate zombie think piece --"From Here to Eternity": on aging and changing perspectives
i am on the mary ruefle train a little bit & even though some of these poems would have spoken to a younger me more, i am addicted to her morbid humor & images of endless clarity. in many of these poems there is a gorgeous sense of something forming between two participants--person & person, person & world--that is then held in reserve or kept untapped.
"as a member of the world's most / intelligent audience it's only natural / you ask questions, all of which / I answer with that's it in a nutshell: / you can hold it in the palm of your hand, / for it is all that is made"
not my favorite Ruefle by far. maybe i read it on a bad day, but this one felt forgettable as i was moving through it in a way i don't often find her work. usually there's some little moment of -zing- at the end of each poem (a turn, something unexpected) where i found that these poems didn't move from their initial subject as much as i'd hoped. can't win em all -- she's an alltime great regardless
I had difficulty appreciating the theme, the progression, the musicality. Strangely, a poem by the author's friend is included in this collection; it's called, "A Poem by Mary Ruefle." Curious idea, to be sure.
Man is she good. "Tristimania," along with "Indeed I was Pleased with the World" and "The Most of It" showcase a poet who's hit her stride, speaks clearly in her own voice. I'm consistently impressed with her restraint in so many of her poems, and - as many other reviewers have stated, her sense of humor is truly rare.
Ruefle's image-driven poems are some of my favorites because they convey emotions so strongly without giving away meaning or explaining to the reader how exactly to feel. Her poems are excellent examples of "showing" rather than "telling."
2.5 stars I did not understand most of this book of poems, though she said some good stuff like lovers never forgetting anything but who they are, and James Dean as a farmer (Horses)