A frequently strong and varied collection, though its excess of variation proves a liability.
At their best, the poems in Donovan’s third collection suggest a kinship with Mark Strand’s earlier work—spare, haunted, melancholic—most evident in several short nocturnes in the first two sections. “Lie on me, lover. I turn no blankets on the bed. / I make no fire,” he implores in “What of the Night”; “The Body Lights” and “Child” are equally moving and mysterious. Yes, poems about lighthouses abound, and they are distributed “coastally”—at the beginning and end. In “Like Dervishes,” he notes that one resembles “a needle left standing after some ancient race / had threaded sea and land into one garment / but then retreated inland, leaving the final stitch unfinished.” Donovan is a poet of two lands, Ireland and America, and he writes evocatively about having lived in both countries. And, again like Strand, he is capable of considerable humor. He effectively lampoons suburbia in “I Am Going,” “Long Island Rush Hour Report,” and “Weekend”—an easy target, perhaps, but when he hits it, his jaded wit shines: “Arses shift on stools, nodding faces suck coffee, / minds jammed in Sunday neutral and in my ears: / Be one of us and hear no noise.” Appealing as the poems often are, it feels as though Donovan has tried to cram too many of them into this collection. The result is an unfortunate amount of dead weight. He flits from subject to subject over the course of seven sections, one of which (“The Conquerors”), with the exception of a single poem (“You Say”), should have been excised altogether; a section entitled “Ghosts” also impedes the flow.
A frequently strong and varied collection, though its excess of variation proves a liability.Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2000
ISBN: 1-903392-03-9
Page Count: 90
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2000
A first novel, this is also a first person account of Scout's (Jean Louise) recall of the years that led to the ending of a mystery, the breaking of her brother Jem's elbow, the death of her father's enemy — and the close of childhood years. A widower, Atticus raises his children with legal dispassion and paternal intelligence, and is ably abetted by Calpurnia, the colored cook, while the Alabama town of Maycomb, in the 1930's, remains aloof to their divergence from its tribal patterns. Scout and Jem, with their summer-time companion, Dill, find their paths free from interference — but not from dangers; their curiosity about the imprisoned Boo, whose miserable past is incorporated in their play, results in a tentative friendliness; their fears of Atticus' lack of distinction is dissipated when he shoots a mad dog; his defense of a Negro accused of raping a white girl, Mayella Ewell, is followed with avid interest and turns the rabble whites against him. Scout is the means of averting an attack on Atticus but when he loses the case it is Boo who saves Jem and Scout by killing Mayella's father when he attempts to murder them. The shadows of a beginning for black-white understanding, the persistent fight that Scout carries on against school, Jem's emergence into adulthood, Calpurnia's quiet power, and all the incidents touching on the children's "growing outward" have an attractive starchiness that keeps this southern picture pert and provocative. There is much advance interest in this book; it has been selected by the Literary Guild and Reader's Digest; it should win many friends.
Pub Date: July 11, 1960
ISBN: 0060935464
Page Count: 323
Publisher: Lippincott
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1960
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
Briskly written soap with down-to-earth types, mostly without the lachrymose contrivances of Hannah’s previous titles...
Sisters in and out of love.
Meghann Dontess is a high-powered matrimonial lawyer in Seattle who prefers sex with strangers to emotional intimacy: a strategy bound to backfire sooner or later, warns her tough-talking shrink. It’s advice Meghann decides to ignore, along with the memories of her difficult childhood, neglectful mother, and younger sister. Though she managed to reunite Claire with Sam Cavenaugh (her father but not Meghann’s) when her mother abandoned both girls long ago, Meghann still feels guilty that her sister’s life doesn’t measure up, at least on her terms. Never married, Claire ekes out a living running a country campground with her dad and is raising her six-year-old daughter on her own. When she falls in love for the first time with an up-and-coming country musician, Meghann is appalled: Bobby Austin is a three-time loser at marriage—how on earth can Claire be so blind? Bobby’s blunt explanation doesn’t exactly satisfy the concerned big sister, who busies herself planning Claire’s dream wedding anyway. And, to relieve the stress, she beds various guys she picks up in bars, including Dr. Joe Wyatt, a neurosurgeon turned homeless drifter after the demise of his beloved wife Diane (whom he euthanized). When Claire’s awful headache turns out to be a kind of brain tumor known among neurologists as a “terminator,” Joe rallies. Turns out that Claire had befriended his wife on her deathbed, and now in turn he must try to save her. Is it too late? Will Meghann find true love at last?
Briskly written soap with down-to-earth types, mostly without the lachrymose contrivances of Hannah’s previous titles (Distant Shores, 2002, etc.). Kudos for skipping the snifflefest this time around.Pub Date: May 1, 2003
ISBN: 0-345-45073-6
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2003
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