Atomic Field: Two Poems - Hardcover

Christopher, Nicholas

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9780151005536: Atomic Field: Two Poems

Synopsis

An awardwinning poet offers a stunning epic in verse tracing the comingofage of a young man, presenting two long poems set in 1962 and 1972, with each year containing fortyfive shorter poems that unforgettably capture the essence of American life.

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About the Author

Nicholas Christopher is the author of six books of poetry, several anthologies of contemporary American verse, a study of film noir, and three novels, including the recently published A Trip to the Stars. His work has been widely anthologized. He lives in New York City.

Reviews

All the old obsessions--stars, ice, girls, lost eras--are rekindled in Christopher's seventh book of poems. Two long poems--"1962" and "1972"--make up the entire collection, defining the poles of a decade in 90 page-long lyrics (45 per year). The whole might read like a Blakean "Songs of Innocence and Experience" were it not so tonally bland, a monotony emphasized on both sides of this rite of passage by each poem's single-page, single-stanza composition. Most stack up images that culminate in an epiphany. Many are sexy ("smoking blond hash in a Pyrex pipe--/ smoke the color of the moon's aureole--/ I unbutton your ankle-length tie-dyed dress") and appealingly quirky ("where the numismatist / when he is not in his tiny shop / where every cabinet is always kept locked / cultivates the hydraponic tomatos from Egypt / and orchids from Java"). Others revel in a grotesque burlesque, summoning a hometown troupe that includes limbless freaks, morticians and gypsies. Christopher has ample moves to cut a lyrical rug, whether ruminating on an aqua-powered Hydromobile where a family donning space suits in 2162 are "filling the car's fuel tank with a garden hose" or documenting the dread of suburban ennui where a housewife prepares a meal "for the bearded man naked/ under a quilt dotted with cigarette burns/ on a sofa with no legs, Daffy Duck on the portable/ television inches from his sleeping face." But too many of the poems end statically on words like "cold," "nothing" and in references to a cosmos both desolate and tired.There is a mythic, Ritsos-like ambition here, but the nostalgic quotidian of a decade joining the poet's adolescence and adulthood fails to generate the requisite sparks. (Apr.)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1972

On my twenty-first birthday I find myself
at the edge of a desert
with a map of the stars-
not the ones in the sky overhead,
but in galaxies where even now time is just beginning.
Stars we will never see in our own lifetimes:
the ones that light up behind the eyes
of a baby about to be born
and the man who takes his dying breath.

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