Between Lakes

by Jeffrey Harrison

How does consciousness inhabit liminal spaces? In Jeffrey Harrison’s Between Lakes, the death of the speaker’s father places him in the ever-shifting zone between the living and the dead while also sending him back into his journey to manhood. Old arguments are reimagined: What does it mean to be a man? What does it mean to be a participant in one’s life as well as a witness and recorder of the lives of others? The exploration of these questions leads to new discoveries, including the way time reshapes the vision of one’s life and alters relationships, remaking a shared history. Harrison refrains from explanation, instead offering detail after trustworthy detail—less to prove a case than to imagine a life true to the original. Whether observing nature with steadfast precision or sensing the presence of his absent father while doing chores, Harrison sings the songs of experience in late middle life.

Genres: Poetry

90 pages, Paperback

Published September 8, 2020

Reviews

[Ken · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sometimes I wonder if every male baby boomer had a dad like poet Jeffrey Harrison's in Between Lakes because, damn, I keep coming across this type in many books I've read: hard-working, pulled up by the bootstraps, practical, outdoorsy, salty-tongued, sarcastically-bent, tough love-dealing, conservative, critical, humorous, but ultimately loving as a turtle type dads (hard on the outside, warm as soup on the inside).

Another Muse I dread? The one who visits poets after a parent dies. I've read my share of "last days of Dad" and "last days of Mom" poems -- not to mention the aftermaths, not to mention the plenty-of-guilt-to-go-around after the funeral.

We can add Between Lakes to this genre, with the added benefit of time-outs for good nature poems, mostly nature surrounding a New England lake. Harrison says Elizabeth Bishop is his favorite poet, but he hews to his own style, one that's approachable and plain-spoken.

For example, here's a short one I can show you, about his Dad:


Last Look

We thought we were ready
until the technician removed
the breathing tube --
and he opened his eyes.

The head nurse assured us
it was just reflex:
he wasn't seeing anything,
wasn't even really there.

Still, it looked as though
our father had woken up,
not that he was going to sleep
for the last time --

his opaque stare
and thick breathing
a rebuke
I can't escape.


Whew. You can see why the poems about sunlight against lake water and nets of sunshine sifting down between firs and pine would come as some respite.

I'll be rereading some of these over time as it's mostly a strong hand we're dealt.

[Keith · Rating 3 out of 5]

Harrison's previous collection, Into Daylight, is one of my all-time favorite poetry collections. Unfortunately this latest one (2020) suffers a bit from comparison. That's really mostly my own problem and subjective opinion. These father poems simply did not touch me as deeply or move me as profoundly as Harrison's poems about his brother. However, I am willing to come back to this collection later and give these poems another round of my attention. They read smoothly and the whole book is quite companionable, so well worth the read.

[Scott DuJardin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked the couple of poems about nature ("Varnishing Days" and "The Light in the Marsh Grass").
Most of these pieces are about his father and family, and although some are quite touching ("Waiting with Cynthia"), they felt more like prose than poetry to me.

[Bill Mayer · Rating 5 out of 5]

This man should be read more widely. That’s all there is to it.

[isa · Rating 3 out of 5]

not my favorite poetry but enjoyed it.