"Discursive yet aglitter with images, often abstract and yet insistently regional, the ninth collection from the Arizona-based Rios includes something for almost everyone."—Publishers Weekly "Wonderfully odd, sometimes sad, never predictable... Rios continually surprises us in the way he stretches the meaning of words, turning them this way and that." -- San Francisco Chronicle “Ríos’s verse inhabits a country of his own making, sometimes political, often personal, with the familiarity and pungency of an Arizona chili.”—The Christian Science Monitor “Alberto Ríos is... arguably the best Latino poet writing in English today.”—Prairie Schooner Alberto Ríos’s new poems—magical wormholes through mundane reality—create an improbably true space where human bodies fall through floorboards, prickly feelings of limbs “fallen asleep” are stars buzzing under the skin, and ironed shirts hanging in a closet take on a foreboding sense of danger. Together they are a book of magical realism and cultural physics seeking the “also-moment”—the probable and imaginative directions a single moment might become. “Science may be our best way of understanding the world,” Ríos writes in one poem, “but it may not be our best way of living in it.” The shirt in my closet is dangerous. I shouldn’t have ironed it.Because I have, I will put it on. If I put it on, I will be dressed.If I am dressed, I will be drawn toward the door, The door and not the couch—the door . . .Alberto Ríos is the author of nine books of poetry, three collections of short stories, and a memoir. He has taught at Arizona State University for over twenty-five years. His book of poems The Smallest Muscle in the Human Body was nominated for the National Book Award.
In 1952, Alberto Alvaro Ríos was born on the American side of the city of Nogales, Arizona, on the Mexican border. He received a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Arizona in 1974 and a MFA in Creative Writing from the same institution in 1979.
He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Dangerous Shirt (Copper Canyon Press, 2009); The Theater of Night (2007); The Smallest Muscle in the Human Body (2002), which was nominated for the National Book Award; Teodora Luna's Two Kisses(1990); The Lime Orchard Woman (1988); Five Indiscretions (1985); and Whispering to Fool the Wind (1982), which won the 1981 Walt Whitman Award, selected by Donald Justice.
Other books by Ríos include Capirotada: A Nogales Memoir (University of New Mexico Press, 1999), The Curtain of Trees: Stories (1999), Pig Cookies and Other Stories (1995), and The Iguana Killer: Twelve Stories of the Heart (1984), which won the Western States Book Award.
Ríos's poetry has been set to music in a cantata by James DeMars called "Toto's Say," and on an EMI release, "Away from Home." He was also featured in the documentary Birthwrite: Growing Up Hispanic. His work has been included in more than ninety major national and international literary anthologies, including the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry.
"Alberto Ríos is a poet of reverie and magical perception," wrote the judges of the 2002 National Book Awards, "and of the threshold between this world and the world just beyond."
He holds numerous awards, including six Pushcart Prizes in both poetry and fiction, the Arizona Governor's Arts Award and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts.
Since 1994 he has been Regents Professor of English at Arizona State University, where he has taught since 1982. He lives in Chandler, Arizona.
3 stars? An Orion's belt? Make it 4. I'm in a good mood. Hell, 5.
Lucidity is the key word here that opens an unlocked lock. Lucidity to its most tactile degree. Like, way lucid, way lucider then stone statuette or 3D-Rom escapade (wait, that's not a good one). I mean, that funky space between words, a lot of us are into that. And lots can be done with it. But these po's are the exact opposite of any kind of obfuscating creativity, any construction in the realm of wonderment. There's no not having a basic-(yet,-primeval?)-through-line through these things. If I were to use a painter parallel, hmmm, perhaps Bonnard, a lot of pedestrian things made yur-sublime. It goes about this with an innocuousness too, that's the damn kicker. They hover really close to triviality, that's where the action's at. It's dangerously banal. Too accessible. The best poems are the subject-centered ones and it's through very common nouns, paired with plain language (air flavored ice cream language, banish all dictionaries language) and WAM, BAM you got some kickass poems. I think the achievement is unique. Sometimes, he'd get pulled into more time-memory-presence poems, I'd set the book-on-chest and think “You know who really awesome poems about time and stuff, John Koethe”. And in that boxing match, Dangerous Shirt guy gets clobbered. The everyman simulacra are more in the poet's powers.
Would it still be a life without still lifes? Hmm? Mmm, you see, I got you there.
Short disclaimer: Tito is a 21-years friend. He is one of the most generous literary citizens I know. He has supported me and mentored me and shown me all kinds of kindnesses that I can never repay. So take my review for what it is: I’m not just a fan of his writing, I’m someone who respects him and hopes I can be such an inspiration to others some day. Thank you for this book and these poems, Tito, and for everything you do to support writers everywhere.
I heard Tito read from this book at a celebration of his new post as Arizona Poet Laureate. I took a large group of my students with me--some who had not heard Tito’s work--and they were so happy and energized afterwards. Tito’s poems pack big stories in small packages, and never fail to move the reader, even those who are new to poetry.
Some of my favorite moments:
“The other boy would always be shouting come on instead of go away.”
“I walk on the ground but see no ground beneath me.”
“Here, the sky was full of anti-stars, of also-stars, Quartz and glass buttons, tin lids and dimes.”
“Finding the century hidden in every half-second.”
“Wherever we sit these days is a waiting room.”
“Rain falls down wet and gets up green.”
“Tomorrow is a country I have not visited.”
“A pie is a pie for one great day.”
“What I feel in my hand is what I see in the sky.”
“If it looks like rain, don’t say it out loud.”
“I am the commander of the suddenly portly vessel of myself.”
This collection is between a 3 and 4-star work for me. Rios has some really standout poems here, but I think that he could have left quite a few poems out. His style is very prose-y: long lines, no rhyme, and lots of narrative, which is not always my style. He makes some insightful observations though: "I Saw You Tomorrow" is a great poem about our constant hurry ("You are never where you are, / And when you are, you're leaving."). The title poem, while working under a seemingly-silly name, considers how we confront the unknown each day and the courage that requires. "Womb-Rider" is a lot of fun, making concrete the figurative language that we often use to describe children and childhood.
All that to say there are many worthwhile poems in this book. However, there are also a good number that could have been cut out without negatively affecting the overall quality.
I love these poems!! I read them over and over and they calm me and make me feel more connected to the human race (that sounds pretentious, but when you stumble on images that ring so true and are so elegantly constructed...I find it tremendously reassuring). My favorites in this collection are: "The Dangerous Shirt," "Tuesday Soup" and "Perfect For Any Occasion."
Alberto Rios' The Dangerous Shirt opens the front door to magical thinking on mundane Mondays, tasty soups with re-appropriated ingredients on great discovery Tuesdays, and whatever's leftovers with unrhymed, stately couplets.