This is a collection of poems, often set in a small corner of western Kentucky. Each poem explores moments when an individual life becomes implicated in a larger scheme - Cold War politics, the mysteries of religious faith. Winner of the 1994 Juniper Prize.
Another recommendation by the trippingly cool Ms. Tracy O.
Look, we all know how poetry books are supposed to work: you walk into a poetry book, you read a few poems, congratulate yourself on your artiness, make sure all your friends know you've read it, and move on to reading Ken Follett under the covers. Well, never mind that, The Postal Confessions is more like reading 50 little novelettes with strange line breaks, novelettes that are funny and clever and sad and touching and good. Gardner has a great sense of the perfect image (a King James Bible "cooling like a black loaf on a nightstand," for example) and, better still, perhaps the most deft way with an unexpected metaphor of anyone I've read since Richard Brautigan:
"even the town pigeons walked like taxpayers / near the market"
"a woman is washing and drying a dish,/ a long calendar of dishes"
"the chihuahua ... wound like a waterbug / around the dumpling / ankles of the lady visitors"
And the poems themselves manage to feel very complete and full, while leaving an itch to scratch. In one, for example, he describes a corn snake left alone in a barn to devour a field rat, a "little creature whose name was filth, / but whose flaw was genuine hunger" -- a nice way of describing the way we all make compact with the bullies of this world to keep down the desperate. A homage to white bread subtly draws a connection between the near holiness of the white food and the complexion of those who celebrated it. Another imagines the God of Michaelangelo's Sistine Chapel reaching out to Adam not to impart a spark of divinity, but in a longing gesture of infinite loneliness. These are the realms of novels as much as poetry, and Gardner is to be praised for making such fine poetry.
Winner of the Juniper Prize for 57 good reasons, not least of which is “An Oral History of the English Language.” The title, nifty cover design, and cancellation stamps throughout this well-crafted volume are a lovely tribute to Garland’s former work as a rural mail carrier.
Favorites: “An Oral History of the English Language” “A Little Baptist Harmony, Please” “Apology to the Boy in the Photographs” “The Termite Confessions” “Aria for the U.S. Mail” “The Widow Visitations” “Hydrogen” “Initiation, 1965” “A Brief Lecture on the Tear” “Revisiting the Sistine Chapel”
I really enjoy Max Garland's poetry, particularly the pieces about snow. His use of language is unconventional enough to catch your attention, and familiar enough to be comforting. Please read this and "The Word We Used for It"-- both very nice collections.
It was good. But I have such a love/hate relationship with poetry. Well, more of 'enjoy writing it myself/have trouble reading other's' relationship. To have Max read his work to you makes for a much different experience. Perhaps it is his calm voice. His knowledge of subject. His own personal inflection. The written word can have so many more random travels than the spoken word.
This is a beautiful, inventive and yep, kind person type of book. A book that had to be written by a mid-westerner, I think. Even if you don't like poetry you might like this. It is mysterious in a weird kind of pedestrian way. This guy's mind is worth delving into.