Dorianne Laux, “The Rising”

John Campbell

The pregnant mare at rest in the field
the moment we drove by decided
to stand up, rolled her massive body
sideways over the pasture grass,
gathered her latticed spine, curved ribs
between the hanging pots of flesh,
haunches straining, knee bones bent
on the bent grass cleaved
astride the earth she pushed against
to life the brindled breast, the architecture
of the neck, the anvil head, her burred mane
tossing flames as her forelegs unlatched in air
while her back legs, buried beneath her belly,
set each horny hoof in opposition
to the earth, a counterweight concentrated there,
and by a willful rump and switch of tail hauled up,
flank and fetlock, her beastly burden, seized
and rolled and wrenched and winched the wave
of her body, the grand totality of herself,
to stand upright in the depth of that field.
The heaviness of gravity upon her.
The strength of the mother.

The Book of Men, the fifth collection of Dorianne Laux‘s poems, is the winner of the 2012 Paterson Poetry Prize. The book is dedicated to Philip Levine; the poem “Mine Own Phil Levine” originally appeared in Valparaiso Poetry Review. Orion published “Juneau” (as “Juneau Spring”) and “Roots.” Willow Springs published “Staff Sgt. Metz,” along with a short essay about its creation.

(In 2007, Beatrice featured Laux’s “Moon in the Window.”)

10 August 2012 | poetry |

I Believe I Might Have Told You So

Ron Hogan/GalleyCat

Back in 2008, there was a mystery novel called The Calling by a pseudonymous author named “Inger Wolfe,” and as often happens in such cases, a guessing game ensued. I was writing daily publishing industry news for GalleyCat at the time, and I soon determined, based on insider tips, that Michael Redhill was the most likely candidate. Of course, neither Wolfe’s publisher nor “her” agent were going to confirm that at the time.

Four and a half years later, and Wolfe (who now goes by “Inger Ash Wolfe” so as not to be confused with the Danish crime novelist Inger Wolf) has a new book out, A Door in the River—and what’s this I see in the accompanying press materials? Less than a month ago, Redhill finally outed himself:

“The idea of a pseudonym had been flitting around my brain for a long time, along with its cognate, disappearance. In the 1980s, I published some poems under a pen name in a literary magazine to see what it would feel like. It was fun. It was even a little thrilling. I’d had an early stint in acting school, and there was something satisfying about becoming a character, about being inside another mind that you had to create out of yourself. As I moved toward a life in writing, I found many of the things I’d learned in acting school still applied. No matter what it was, you had to salt yourself into what you were making. You had to disappear into your work.”

I’m not 100% clear on why he’s pulling back the curtain, but if I’m reading the essay correctly, Redhill seems to be suggesting that, as times get leaner and the publishing and bookselling industries contract, it becomes much more difficult for an author to build upon his or her success while refusing to participate in the public sphere—that is, you can’t just send your books out into the world and hope more and more people will keep discovering them; eventually, you hit a plateau, and then you’ve got to put more effort for more success. Which, it appears, he fully intends to do: “Her series has five more books in it and I’d like them to get written. After all the pleasure Inger has given me—not to mention to her small flock of followers—I owe her that.”

9 August 2012 | uncategorized |