Yes, that\u2019s a poet\u2019s stock in trade. But Hennessy\u2019s take is neither wry nor self-effacing; it\u2019s just plain honest, and that\u2019s why it hits brutally hard. But let me start at the beginning\u2014with the first poem in the book, which sets the tone for (and teaches you how to approach) all that follows:<\/p>\n\n\n
Hang the shovel from a Calvary
\nof nails. Resist your own cross-examination.<\/p>\n\n\n
Amazing how much can be crammed into two lines! I originally read \u201chang the shovel\u201d in the sense of \u201chang it all,\u201d as in \u201cto Hell with it!\u201d But I suspect we are to take the phrase literally, to hang the shovel from a hook on the garage wall. But no, not a hook, but a nail\u2014and not a nail but a Calvary of nails. I can\u2019t help imagine the countless statues I\u2019ve seen of Jesus with a rarefied crown of thorns. As a result, \u201ccross-examination\u201d takes on added meaning: an examination of the holy cross, or an angry examination of the situation. At the very least, we understand that the following poems are written from the perspective of a poet with a harsh Catholic upbringing (is it superfluous to say \u201charsh?\u201d). We soon learn, too, that this shovel is for gardening (as opposed to, say, grave-digging), in a domestic setting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
![](\"https:\/\/m.media-amazon.com\/images\/I\/31o81UP-XbL._SY445_SX342_PQ1_.jpg\")
Which brings us back to the book\u2019s title. \u201cGarden State\u201d can be construed as the stately garden of paradise\u2014from which the only exit is a fall. But more terrestrially, perhaps, it refers to the poet\u2019s relocation to the environs of Amherst, in New England, where Dickinson lived her quiet life. A far more bucolic setting than the seamy petro-pharma corridors of New Jersey. In fact, I was surprised to see that Hennessy can stand toe-to-toe with any Nature Poet. In just a few lines in \u201cMiddle School and Son,\u201d he throws in watercress, milkweed, spikenard, beardgrass, dogbane, bishopweed\u2014it\u2019s like reading a book of medieval healing potions. \u201cNo Clock in the Forest\u201d trips from bittersweet and woodbine to peonies, foxglove, crabgrass, morning glory, and Jack\u2019s pulpit. He seems to know the names of living things as well as Adam. Which brings us to the last poem in the first section, \u201cLeaving the Garden.\u201d This meditation focuses most plainly on the poet\u2019s painful divorce, which becomes the biblical fall from grace\u2014from comfort, love, family, familiarity. Like Adam, he suddenly sees how naked, how vulnerable, he has been all along, \u201cno artifice, \/ the constructs, contracts, whatever used to pass \/ for life, exposed.\u201d The poem arguably conveys greater poignancy because it is a sonnet, a form associated with the first buds of love and desire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The association between the natural and domestic worlds reaches its peak, for me, in \u201cDomestic Retrograde.\u201d The word literally means \u201ca step backward,\u201d once again implying a fall from an ideal (or at least farther progressed) state. The poem paints an idyllic domestic moment\u2014parents in the kitchen, children at play\u2014disturbed by the presence of a hummingbird inside the room, frantic to get out. Suddenly, the home, the marriage, is a prison, however comfortable, that someone needs desperately to leave. The poet manages to capture the bird in a dish towel while the wife opens the door, and \u201cin one motion, he was \/ liberated.\u201d It\u2019s an important choice of word, because while you can always be free, you can only be liberated if you are not. But while the bird is seen as a \u201ccrucifix hologram,\u201d it assumes the guise of Mars, the mercurial god of war. As such, this compassionate effort does not avail the poet, who concedes:<\/p>\n\n\n
\nto love me. I could calm, pacify Mars. I thought
\nI did it for you. Before the war came
\nto us, before I knew we were fighting it.<\/div>\n\n\n
Such a devastating summation! At some point, though, the poet seems to have moved on, and found a new romantic interest. But moving on is complicated. A shared history is hard to exorcize, even if the memories are not all rosy. \u201cWhat if every kiss she gives me replaces \/ one you didn\u2019t?\u201d he asks in \u201cSome Future Tense.\u201d And in \u201cTwenty Questions,\u201d he recounts receiving \u201ca letter that begins, I don\u2019t wish \/ I\u2019d never met you,\u201d a sentiment that hits like a gut punch in its lack of emotional investment\u2014while at the same time, suggesting its opposite, thanks to that double negative. Another poem addresses someone in flattering terms (\u201cA mind no snake \/ could ever swallow\u201d), and as it is a sonnet, I assume the subject is the poet\u2019s new love. In fact, the book ends on a poem that seems to address the same listener; the tone is tender, which is why the last line, \u201cthis note to you, \/ who are here in my head like a razor folded in its case,\u201d does not convey a sense of menace or violence but rather decorum and domesticity. It suggests that after being dulled by depression, his mind is now sharp again. It also conveys a sense of being cleaned up, made new, a tabula rasa (in contrast the the \u201cpalimpsest\u201d he was in a previous poem). I might even go so far as to say the dead parts have been cut out, allowing new growth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t want to give the impression that this book is all about paradise lost and found. A large chunk of it centers on his father (\u201cgood in a crisis\u2019) and the significance of family, both nuclear and ancestral. With age, he has reached a different understanding of his father\u2019s life and choices\u2014and sees himself in a similar light, as both parent and child. Numerous poems are inspired by travel, most significantly through the Greece and Ireland. And the grit of New Jersey is still prevalent (there\u2019s even an appearance or two of Freddy, the pedophile and sexual predator who figured prominently in Hennessy\u2019s first book). Hennessy\u2019 work clearly shows the wisdom and self-reflection of someone who has traveled widely, keenly observing every unfamiliar detail. If I have any gripe, it\u2019s that sometimes the references are a bit too personal and specific. This is certainly not Confessional poetry, but the average reader will occasionally encounter references and inside jokes they have no real way of knowing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Hennessy gives us a fun easter egg as well: at the end of the lengthy roster of acknowledgments and thanks, he tacks on a list entitled \u201cSoundtrack of Thanks,\u201d listing his musical inspirations. Not surprisingly, it is a very eclectic list. <\/p>\n\n\n
\n\n\n
On an unrelated note, I was saddened to learn that Sandra Gilbert<\/strong> has died. She was a remarkable poet and scholar\u2014you can read my reflections on her work here<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" John Hennessy: Exit Garden State I thought I knew pain. And I was not far wrong. But clearly I am not alone. I\u2019ve recently been reading the latest collection by John Hennessy, Exit Garden State. I\u2019ve written with admiration about … Continue reading