Books like New and Selected Poems, Vol. 2

This volume of poetry is supremely accessible. While it would be exhausting and difficult to read straight through a volume by most poets, I glided from cover to cover of this book in less than two hours. Oliver is so gentle and transparent with her readers, whom she directly addresses with great frequency, that it feels as if she is holding your hand on a guided tour (with dogs) through a country side full of singing birds and (somehow not depressingly) animal carcasses.Since a search for meaning can be fatiguing (and fruitless), Oliver makes absolutely certain that her readers know what she is up to, both in terms of her aesthetics and her mission. (As I quote her, I will not be including tiny slashes to indicate line breaks, since she tends to write in fairly conventional and complete sentences and since her line breaks rarely warrant special attention):"I want to make poems that say right out, plainly what I mean, that don't go looking for the laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves.""It is what I was born for--to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world--to instruct myself over and over in joy, and acclamation.""What else can we do when the mysteries present themselves but hope to pluck from the basket the brisk words that will applaud them"She is a celebrant; she is full of praise and positivity. She is not ashamed to find ordinary things miraculous and to exhort people to "look" and to "listen" with the conviction that doing so is a life-saving (or, at least, mood-elevating) endeavor. In this regard, she is a bit like a no frills Rilke, a less philosophical Annie Dillard or an aerated and slightly less overtly Christ-obsessed Gerard Manley Hopkins. Also, she is a bit like Francis Ponge, especially in her comfort with prose and her love for humble subjects. I absolutely love everyone that I just compared her to and was impressed that she reminded me only of writers I devour and never of ones that I reject. Her dogged humility somehow makes her leaps of spirit more lovable and open, especially because she has an endearing habit of back peddling, now and then, after particularly bold or poetic comparisons, as if to make sure that her readers remember that she is not taking her words as seriously as she is taking her mission. For instance, "At my feet the white-petaled daisies display the small suns of their center-piece, their--if you don't mind my saying so--their hearts. Of course I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know."Or, for her informality: "I have read probably a hundred narratives where someone saw just what I am seeing. Various things happened next. A fairly long list, I won't go into it." These appearances of a conversational tone ensure that everyone can keep up, they are inclusive and tremendously effective. They also soften the more critical edge of her worldview. Oliver has little time for moping, complaining, sorrowing--little time, in general, for people who turn inward and spurn all of the miracles/joy/beauty that are available for free every day of the year. "The poet with his face in his hands" is an absolute gem in this vein. And for a concluding line, how is "Be ignited, or be gone."?This volume was enough of a pleasure that I will read more of Oliver (and I would recommend giving this volume to anyone: young people, your grandparents); but as the collection moved further into her past (only as far as the mid 1990s), I did notice that she seemed more rhetorical, a little bit more Christian in language (angels, lord, Alleluia) and a bit less warming and impressive in her lines about sparrow song. We'll see. It doesn't matter how she wrote, because she's clearly turned into a voice of affirmation, encouragement and wonder.