I am pleased to have my review of Carl Phillips’ Scattered Snows, to the North, a book of poetry, out in the Spring literary showcase of Tupelo Quarterly. The review is linked here. Thanks to editor, poet, and professor Esteban Rodriguez for selecting and placing it.
I saw Carl Phillips read around 2007 or 2008 after he published his first Selected Poems, which appears to be the titled, Quiver of Arrows: Selected Poems, 1986-2006. I recall the vibe of reading more than the exact date, and for the most part, have read his poetry in magazines more often than in full collections. I very much enjoyed his intimate, intricate latest. His introspective honesty is unique, and fine distinctions easy to savor.
As I said in the opening of my review of Scattered Snows, to the North (Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2024):
“Carl Phillips’ seventeenth book of poems presents lyrics of bitter introspection, but in a tenderer tone than usual, kinder to himself and others in meditative disappointments. These poems of late middle-age proceed through casual, yet laser-sharp, free-verse of longish lines, as if readers eavesdrop on interior thoughts. His subject here is failed relationships, reflected upon from the result of living alone. It’s not the delicious nostalgia of Cavafy, the Alexandrian Greek poet of a hundred years ago, thinking back on youth’s passions, reliving them in exquisite poetry. Rather with Phillips, it is a rueful look in the mirror to parse why things have happened just so. The answers are felt as well as stated, which involve differences, mismatch, indifference, and numbness. As a lyric poet of isolation, examining himself, Phillips also is a Horcean social poet thinking through the dance of relationships. While not witty, Phillips at times smiles to himself, and we readers might smile too. Unlike Horace, Phillips’ poetry is not one of moral edification, though his poetry offers introspective honesty, one of intricate precision and sober conclusion.”
All the best,
G. H. Mosson
Maryland, USA