Jacket 19 — October 2002 | # 19 Contents | Homepage | Catalog | |
David Roderick reviews
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Christopher Merrill has always been a poet of the outdoors. Like the hikes of the Romantics, his vigorous jaunts into the pastoral landscape catalyze intense moments of poetic language, imagery, and metaphor. His favorite places are those where human activity is vestigial or swallowed up by the past. Rivers are what he seeks, and hills and forests, and old buildings eroded by the kinetic forces of wind and fire and rain. But comparisons with the Romantic project stop here, for Merrill’s poems suggest that his travels into the pastoral are more imagination than reality, or at least a hybrid of the two. For Merrill, the pastoral landscape is a scaffold upon which he can construct a more contemporary poetic experience, one that mimics the actions of the mind without lapsing into the personal. These poems put T.S. Eliot’s objective correlative to work; each poetic journey symbolizes, from a distance, a personal or collective frame of mind. Take these first two stanzas from ‘The Lake,’ a fourteen-page poem that launches Brilliant Water: We won’t return. Like seeds, awkward as auks
While the first-person singular point of view propelled the poetry of Wordsworth, Keats, and their peers, Merrill employs the collective ‘we’ in order to distance his emotions from the physical and linguistic action of the poem. This collective voice (‘Our reign is over’) appears to signal the end of the Romantic epoch. It also marks the end of the Romantic struggle against the impetuous industrial defilement of modern empires. Merrill’s ‘we’ is the waving of the white flag; it suggests that the pastoral ideal is buried once and for all. Thus in the monastery garden herds
Merrill renders the physicality of nature better than any other contemporary American poet. Take a look at the intense, precise verbs here (trample, trumpet, shinny, tearing, revealing) and one can see that he is very careful about distributing their energy over the course of a stanza, channeling volts from line to line until it is felt viscerally and electrically. All of the verbs in this excerpt are polysyllabic, strategically alliterative, and speak to various kinds of action that jolt the reader. These verbs are synapses firing between Merrill’s images and metaphors, and they nearly always catalyze a new (and significant) realization for the reader. |
Jacket 19 — October 2002
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