NIGHT LIGHT

A precise poet, and one who has obviously studied and rearranged his language for many years, Mr. Justice deals with peripheries and eloquent silences... and dead ends. Orpheus opens a morning mail of bills and notes from admirers; an anonymous artist draws an anonymous groom and spirited horse; and suicides, men at forty, a rehearsal of Uncle Vanya, all take their place in snowy and elegant, but empty, landscapes. The poetry is exquisitely polished; rarely has loss appeared so impeccable. An aging and retired Prospero retreats to an island still full of theatrical magic, unaware that the ocean and time are already disposing of him; and something of this sense of natural forces disclosing and disposing of lesser ones already dead but unaware of death gives these peoms a grave force, edged with wit.