Encounter Books

While many famous writers – Balzac, Proust, Oscar Wilde – are buried at Paris’s Père Lachaise Cemetery, “there are also writers, many more of them in fact, buried there who have been completely forgotten, not necessarily because they were not good but because cultural memory is necessarily limited.”

In eight chapters, the inimitable Anthony Daniels dilates on some forgotten writers of Père Lachaise, exploring their literary merit and the amusing byways of history,  aiming “to entertain while illustrating the inexhaustible depth of our past.”

Ithaca consists of sixty sonnets divided into two equal parts, “Ithaca” and “Gifts Reserved for Age.” In Homer’s Odyssey, Ithaca is the island home to which the hero returns after twenty years of war and perilous adventures. In Lehman’s “Ithaca” sequence, two phrases are strategically repeated, with variations: “Happy the man who . . .” and “What did he believe in?”            In “Gifts Reserved for Age,” the restless traveler continues to recollect and make sense of his life. Ultimate questions are raised: Does God exist? Can art redeem reality and not just contrive ways to escape from it? What are the compensatory “gifts” that accompany growing old?            Lehman, who has resided for many years in Ithaca, New York, does inventive things with the sonnet as a form and the sonnet sequence as the organizing principle of a unified book. Rich in allusion, not only to Homer’s epic but to a shelf of important writers and thinkers, Ithaca is a witty and erudite book for grown-up readers who look to poetry for inspiration, profundity, and intellectual stimulation.

To effect just outcomes the justice system requires that law enforcement officers, prosecutors, and judges be committed—above all—to doing justice. Those whose allegiance is to winning, regardless of evidence, do the opposite of justice: they corrupt the system. This is the jaw-dropping story of one such corruption and its surprise ending. On Labor Day 2007, a forest fire broke out in California’s eastern Sierra Nevada and eventually burned about 65,000 acres. Investigators from the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection and the United States Forest Service took a mere two days to conclude that the liable party was the successful forest-products company Sierra Pacific Industries (SPI), founded as a tiny sawmill nearly sixty years earlier by Red Emmerson. The investigative report on the fire declared that SPI’s independent logging contractor had started the conflagration by driving a bulldozer over a rock, creating a spark that flew into a pile of brush. No fire had ever been proven to start that way, but based on the report the U.S. Department of Justice and California’s attorney general filed nearly identical suits against Emmerson’s company. The amount sought was nearly a billion dollars, enough to bankrupt or severely damage it. Emmerson, of course, fought back. Week by week, month by month, year by year, his lawyers discovered that the investigators had falsified evidence, lied under oath, fabricated science, invented a narrative, and intentionally ignored a mountain of exculpatory evidence. They never pursued a known arsonist who was in the area that day, nor a young man who repeatedly volunteered alibis contradicted by facts. Though the government lawyers had not known at the start that the investigation was tainted, they nonetheless refused to drop the suits as the discovery process continued and dozens of revelations made clear that any verdict against Emmerson’s company would be unjust. Scorched Worth is a riveting tale that dramatizes how fragile and arbitrary justice can be when those empowered to act in the name of the people are more loyal to the bureaucracies that employ them than to the people they’re supposed to serve. It’s also the story of a man who refused to let the government take from him what he’d spent a lifetime earning.

The Summer After is the winner of the twenty-fourth New Criterion Poetry Prize. 

Beauty, glamour, vitality, love—and their fragility or resilience in a chaotic world—animate the poems in The Summer After. Drawn from travels real and imaginary, immersed in landscapes set loose by perpetual motion, these playful yet poignant encounters with aesthetic opulence journey through the exquisite kinesis of becoming, choreographing delicate fluctuations in the permeability between self and other, past and present, growth and decay, nature and art. Tempering ebullience with technique, passion with wit, their shapely stanzas and sinuous cadences uphold as their destination—their utopia, so to speak—a language limber enough to embody, and durable enough to preserve, moments in which sensory intensity gives way to illumination. Light glancing off Murano glass, reflections in a puddle, a tower carved from quartz, and other glittering images constitute the discoveries in this exuberant debut. 

In his debut poetry collection, The Nature of Things Fragile, Peter Vertacnik depicts a world fraught with vulnerability and loss. Utilizing a wide range of both received and nonce poetic forms, including sonnets, villanelles, triolets, a sestina, epigrams, blank verse, and word-count, he confronts the illnesses and deaths of loved ones, both recent and long past (“Face Value,” “Odd Elegy,” “Trace,”); the memories of old houses and towns left behind (“Departure,” Sugar Beets,” “Mourning Doves”); and the vanishing of once-ubiquitous analog particulars (“Apology to Candles,” “Dial Tone,” “In Praise of Blank Cassettes”). It is indeed a book of elegies, but one that also celebrates the people, places, and things it laments, preserving their names and details while laying them to rest. 

The Nature of Things Fragile is the winner of the twenty-third New Criterion Poetry Prize.

Openings & Outings brings together over forty pieces from the long and distinguished career of the writer and commentator David Pryce-Jones. Taking us from a meeting with Rudolf Hess’s widow, to the slums of Tangier, to the front lines of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, with many stops in between, Openings & Outings presents over fifty years of insight, from a writer with endless scope and perspective.

Some Problems with Autobiography, Brian Brodeur’s fourth collection, grapples with the porous and fragmentary nature of midwestern American identity in poems that range across prosodic forms and hybrid genres. By turns self-mocking, meditative, and tragi-comic, this book explores the perils of digital technologies, ecological uncertainties, and the inadequacy of language to convey our collective distress, asking how much pleasure and hardship the human heart can bear. Brodeur’s narrative poems feature a dramatis personae rare in contemporary poetry, including a Syrian refugee enrolled in a writing workshop, the wife of an accused serial killer shopping defense lawyers, a horny psychoanalyst confessing a dream, and a carpenter working for the Department of Education during New York City’s first lockdown. From dramatic-monologue sonnets and narrative sestinas to discursive lyrics cast in Rubáiyát stanzas and Alcaic strophes, Some Problems with Autobiography brings ancient modes into startlingly contemporary contexts. 

Deeply learned, and with a style all his own, Marco Grassi is as at home with Duccio as he is with Norton Simon; Bronzino as with Bernard Berenson; a painting on his desk as with a Last Supper in Florence’s Basilica of Santa Croce. In the Kitchen of Art selects the art conservator and dealer’s most memorable contributions to The New Criterion over a span of nearly twenty years. Beginning with a previously unpublished memoir of his own Florentine upbringing, and continuing with in-depth critical discussions of the greats of Italian art along with recollections of the grandest collectors of the twentieth century, this book shows the art world in the round.

In Transit, Nicholas Pierce’s debut poetry collection, charts the poet’s maturation across three sections, each centering on a different kind of love, from the pedagogical to the romantic to the familial. Form and subject are inseparable in poems that consider the complex power dynamic of an older man befriending a younger one, that draw on such classic texts as Plato’s Symposium and Homer’s Odyssey to make sense of the seemingly random encounters and missed chances that, as one poem puts it, “make up a life.”

As the book’s title suggests, these poems take place on the move, in cars, on boats and planes. They find the speaker abroad, as in “The Death of Argos,” a sonnet sequence that invents a new configuration for the form. Above all, though, the poems of In Transit attempt to capture a world in flux, turning to form as a stay against the transitory nature of experience.