Relations: New and Selected Poems

Well, here it is. Eamon Grennan's life's work. These poems written over an approximately 20 year period form the basis of a genuine career in poetry. Taken together with his translation of Leopardi from Italian, and original essays, it appears to be an especially valuable and admirable one. I would even go so far as to say he is one of the half-dozen greatest living poets. One of the main reasons for this is because he cannot be easily categorized. Certainly he is part of the extraordinary contemporary band of bards from his native land Ireland, who has also successfully assimilated himself here in America. But he is also an ORIGINAL. He may be easy to overlook or even condescend to--but so was Gerard Manley Hopkins for many years. And Christina Rossetti, Stephen Spender and Thom Gunn have still not received everything they're due. The Dutch painters, a main source of inspiration for Grennan, didn't clobber anybody with their technique and opinions either. "Woman with Pearl Necklace (Vermeer)," which appears in the New Poems section of the book, is the masterwork of his dedication to that school; it begins: "Since he painted her, she will always be putting this pearl necklace on...." The poem is as fully-realized and illuminating--and timeless--as the painting. Right from the beginning of the volume, the first poem, "Facts of Life, Ballymoney," one gets the idea this poet is after some kind of personal grace, rather than trendiness or easy solutions. ("I would like to let things be:/ The rain comes down on the roof/ The small birds come to the feeder/ The waves come slowly up to the strand.") And I can't help wondering if Grennan doesn't attract more attention because he accepts his place as a voluble part of the larger world, without losing his honest sense of self--which sometimes means expressing the darker emotions, especially present, with different kinds of shading, in the most recent work. It's as if he somehow miraculously kept fresh in mind a student's passions for poetry, or Jude the Obscure's feelings of awe and modesty instead of puffing himself up in later life. As If It Matter is a favorite book of mine (although Grennan arguably gets richer and more complex in So It Goes.) When I re-read the book, I don't crave anything else. See: "Two Climbing", "Circlings," "Walk, Night Falling, Memory of My Father", "Sea Dog", "Breakfast Room", and the list goes on. "The Cave Painters" ("We'll never know if they worked in silence/ like people praying--the way our monks/ illuminated their own dark ages...") is one of my very favorite poems. I get shivers just thinking about it. I have found that I have unconsciously memorized many of the poems in this collection; they are close to my heart. I have had the pleasure of meeting and knowing Eamon, and I find him as unspoiled and generous in real life. Like the wonderful poet Jean Valentine, Grennan may be criticized for, or even feel guilty about, not being mor

Tour the innermost depths of your feelings about your child, spouse, and lover vis a vis Eamon Grennan's sensitive eye. No one sees the complexities of human relationships in quite the same way as this Irish poet and professor. His eye for detail is amazing and his heart is always willing. Some of these poems are brief moments in time, trying desparately to capture a certain feeling state in words that most of us are barely conscious of. Others are more drawn out and playful, as if the poet is experimenting with relationships, trying to bring us into his, knowing that we either will or will not relate. Grennan dares to explore such complex feeling states as the husband witnessing his wife breast feeding their infant, or the departure of an adolescent son. He hones in on the scene at hand with an uncanny look at the human interaction and the backdrop of weather, or highway lights on a dark night. Just as the poems get intense, Grennan comforts us with a ditty and we move on. I, for one, like the intensity of the epiphanistic style he is known for and could do without the lighter poems which he interjects, but, all in all, any English major or student of psychology will absolutely devour these sensational poems.