Review by Lynda La Rocca
Poetry – October 1999 – Colorado Central Magazine
The Geography of Hope: Poets of Colorado’s Western Slope
edited by David J. Rothman
Published in 1998 by Conundrum Press
Crested Butte, Colorado
ISBN: 0-9657159-1-4
and
Wild Word – Poets of the Gunnison Country (Volume One 1999)
edited by D W Moore
Published in 1999 by the Crested Butte Society for the Arts
Crested Butte, Colorado
no ISBN number
“… no place is a place until it has had a poet.”
–Wallace Stegner
WHAT IS IT that draws such talent to the Western Slope? Is it the vastness, the (still somewhat) empty spaces, the sunrise over Grand Mesa? Have Calliope, Erato, and Euterpe, the ancient Greek muses of poetry, escaped diesel fumes, drive-bys, and urban angst to take up residence and inspire those who live and write there?
To quote my teenaged half-sister, “Whatever.” Whatever the reason, we readers reap the reward.
My praises notwithstanding, it’s always difficult to review anthologies. So many different viewpoints and voices, all speaking from the same pages, can make for harmony or cacophony (the latter a favorite word of a favorite college English professor, a word I’ve waited for years to sneak into my own writings).
The diverse voices in these two collections make memorable music. Within the 67 pages of Wild Word we meet city executives dreaming of Colorado acreage and of writing like Baxter Black; a child of the New England seacoast who becomes a man of the mountains; a Web junkie surfing the Internet; and the “Chocolate Man,” an exuberant, and accurate, depiction of one way to a woman’s heart.
The Geography of Hope, overall the stronger collection, is tied together by love for a place — the West — which, paradoxically, is known for its rootlessness and lack of connections.
Its title, taken from Wallace Stegner’s meditations on the West as symbol of both the fresh and new, and the mythical and over-hyped, is a fine tie-in to the words within. In 118 pages, there are poems of landscape and light, sunset and winter skies, juxtaposed with ruminations on trophy homes, Allen Ginsberg, and the effects of mining on the body — and spirit.
The strong, stark poems on male-female relationships written by Wild Word’s Beth Heller contrast nicely with “The Feel of a Small Boat,” in which Heller deftly captures the ocean’s swift, sensuous changes. As she writes, she is acutely aware that only the boat’s thin skin protects her all-too-human hips from the powerful waves.
Joe Lothamer’s take on fame is playful yet profound. His images, from the connection of an oily puddle with a night of love to the closure of a no-longer-needed poetry factory, are precise and powerful.
Writing in The Geography of Hope, Bruce Berger’s “Transmigration” portrays the natural processes of decay and rebirth that have transformed:
“…the flesh and feathers Of this long-fallen crow And seeded it with crystals.”
Art Goodtimes cannot bear to leave a roadkill coyote exposed and forgotten, so after moving her body off the pavement, he sings:
“… a death song & thanking coyote i cut off her tail fur too beautiful to bury . . .”
THIS ANTHOLOGY contains several poems about, of all things, grammar — or the lack of it — plus writings about stickball played with soda bottle caps, abandoned dogs gone wild, and close encounters with rattlesnakes. Joe Lothamer of Wild Word shows up again here with several different poems, as does James Tipton, whom readers may remember as a favorite of mine (see “Reviews,” Colorado Central, August, 1999).
On one end of the spectrum is John Nelson’s delightful, “Word Wranglin'” cowboy poetry. (“Never Eat Oranges!” is an eye-opener.) Immediately following these straightforward verses are David Rothman’s finely-crafted poems in traditional forms like the sonnet and the villanelle. And Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s short, sparkling gems fall somewhere between:
“…king of my blood we live in this castle together and know this: I love you best naked and know this: my rose garden blooms”
Rothman, who earned a PhD. in English from New York University, wrote the anthology’s five-page introduction, which ranges in references from Shakespeare to John Denver and in itself makes great reading. I completely agree with his assessment: “The West is a big place, and this is a rich book.”
The Geography of Hope and Wild Word are both nicely-bound and printed, a pleasure to look at and to hold. The cover of Wild Word reproduces a shadowy, mountain-scene engraving by A.F. Bunner, circa 1873. The Geography of Hope contains short biographies, which I personally appreciate because they provide insight into each poet’s mind and spirit. Accompanying black and white head shots fulfill our ageless desire to know, as Louisa May Alcott wrote in Little Women, “how people look.”
— Lynda La Rocca
