In his fourteenth collection of poetry, Pulitzer Prize and National Book
Award winner James Tate continues exploring his own peculiar brand of
poetry, transforming our everyday world, a world where women give birth
to wolves, wild babies are found in gardens, and Saint Nick visits on a
hot July day. Tate's signature style draws on a marvelous variety of
voices and characters, all of which sound vaguely familiar, but are each
fantastically unique, brilliant, and eccentric.
Yet, as Charles Simic observed in the New York Review of Books, "With
all his reliance on chance, Tate has a serious purpose. He's searching
for a new way to write a lyric poem." He continues, "To write a poem out
of nothing at all is Tate's genius. For him, the poem is something one
did not know was there until it was written down. . . . Just about
anything can happen next in this kind of poetry and that is its
attraction. . . . Tate is not worried about leaving us a little dazed. .
. . He succeeds in ways for which there are a few precedents. He makes
me think that anti-poetry is the best friend poetry ever had."