By Virginia Adair
Ideals and Blasphemies indicates an identical qualities--accessibility, deep feeling, knowledge, humor, and technical brilliance--that made Virginia Hamilton Adair's first number of poems, Ants at the Melon, right into a bestseller and a literary landmark. right here Mrs. Adair devotes her realization to a unmarried topic, faith, yet in her incredible functionality the theme's adaptations change into vast and deep--from reverence to iconoclasm, from comedy to profundity, from pleasure to lament. when you are trying to find Hallmark platitudes or E-Z religion, glance elsewhere.
In "Saving the Songs," for instance, we think again Martin Luther's penchant for recycling barroom tunes into hymns: "Said Luther of the making a song in saloons,/'Why may still the satan have the most useful tunes?'" extra soberly, in "The Reassem-blage," we're requested to check the extremes of the Christian model of the hereafter--"one a verdict brutal past imagination,/the different by means of such a lot reviews an eternity of boredom"--against our hearts' hopes. the realization? "Some myths are too bad for our believing." "Goddesses First" muses in regards to the primacy of girl deities in lots of spiritual myths. "Choosing" makes use of the poet's digital blindness to give an explanation for her get together of the single contrast her "frail imaginative and prescient can discern": the literal distinction among evening and day. Zen temples and the chapel at a country psychological health center, animism and meditation, whores and angels--this curious, witty, and compassionate sensibility encompasses them all.
Virginia Hamilton Adair is a uniquely American poet--restless in her lyrical investigations, hopeful and sincere, rigorous in her formal accomplishments, spontaneous in her feelings. ideals and Blasphemies will attract an individual who has ever considered first issues or ultimate things--anyone who enjoys speculating approximately how we came and the place we're going--and it is going to reconfirm its author's stature as a countrywide treasure.
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Extra info for Beliefs and Blasphemies: A Collection of Poems
Instead of "Here Lie Emily and Charlotte" and deathless praise carved in their monument, I'd found a plaque fixed to a side aisle column whose footing pierced their vault and crushed their bones. The parson who'd replaced the Brontës' father had raised a new church on the old foundations. Claiming that the dead had undermined the antique floor, he sealed it with concrete, but his hygienic layer proved too thin to separate dead writers from live readers. Many of them stood where I stood and groaned at reasons offered why the little preacher didn't simply leave the old church standing and build a new one on the ample grounds: to cut construction costs, and to preserve links with the past he added his new nave with unobstructed views of his new pulpit, to the ancient steeple, which he saved.
Her rich, contralto, alien voice pronounced ws like vs but showed no other trace of accent, unlike the tall, strong girls at school, who broadened their as and os, as I did. All spoke our city's dialect passed on by parents like a curse except for the unearthly blonde whose perfume dizzied me in class. In a strapless green chiffon sheath dress no other twelve-year-old on earth could wear without a wired bra, she didn't slur a syllable when she asked me to do the cha cha at our eighth grade Sadie Hawkins dance.
When you close your eyes you can still make out the noiseless car chase scenes and silent blasts you watched long after you pulled your earphones out of the multi-lingual console in your armrest. In the few short intervals of dialogue, where men spoke to before they shot each other, you read their lips in English, tried to guess just how "You're dead meat, sucka" sounds in French, Italian, German, Dutch and Japanese and then the earth's horizon dipped below the sun which mercifully blanked out the screen.
Beliefs and Blasphemies: A Collection of Poems by Virginia Adair