Book Review: Alone and Not Alone by Ron Padgett
Click on the cover to purchase "Alone and Not Alone"
Written by: Dylan Emerick-Brown
Published 4/11/15
Read the exclusive interview with Ron HERE.
Published 4/11/15
Read the exclusive interview with Ron HERE.
Ron Padgett has had an illustrious writing career from studying at the acclaimed Iowa Writers’ Workshop to earning accolades for his poetry such as a Guggenheim Fellowship, the William Carlos Williams Award, and having his work, How Long, become a Pulitzer Prize finalist. And so it should be no surprise that his latest collection of poetry, Alone and Not Alone due out in May of this year from Coffee House Press, is anything less another feather in his cap.
Alone and Not Alone is wonderful collection of poems ranging in topics from aging and the longings of memories to paying homage to writers and artists Padgett admires. The collection, dedicated to his son, Wayne, feels like a private letter advising those who read of the emotional pitfalls that come with life and how to age, if not with grace, at least with humor. In “The Elevation of Ideals”, Padgett writes, “To construct a set of ideals, a toy tool kit suffices…” followed shortly thereafter with the ironic, “Remember, though, never to use metaphors in the construction, for over time they will shift, and the entire construction will sag and perhaps collapse…”
Intertwined within his enjoyable stories, which oftentimes read as though he were sitting across from you at the kitchen table, one can begin to appreciate his command of language, the well-crafted manipulation of emotions through story-telling technique. In his poem, “Chinese Girl”, the speaker drifts between the reality in a coffee shop watching his Chinese waitress and daydreaming of a secret life with her. Through the opening line revealing that he orders coffee “that is half-real, half-decaf,” the reader finds the metaphor inescapable in the final stanza where he reveals that his own consciousness is somewhat “half-real, half-decaf”. Note how the lines prior to the curtain of steam seem to be the “half-real” of the moment, while the lines following this analogous divider appear “half-decaf” in their illusion.
I got the signal, so I headed toward an empty table, where
removed the plastic lid from the paper cup and took a bite out of
the danish. A band of steam rose from the coffee, like a curtain
on a miniature stage. The Chinese girl and I are living in a remote
part of China. Our past lives have been erased. She is unspeakably
devoted to me and I adore her. We say little, passing our days in
a state of calm I could never have imagined.
There are other examples of Padgett’s poetic prowess such as how his poetry is form-fitted to the content he’s revealing to the reader. In poems where the speaker is experiencing anxiety, you’ll find a lack of punctuation which unconsciously unsettles the reader. When Padgett is relaying a more lighthearted litany, he may even go into rhyme. Padgett also groups his poems thoughtfully such as on page 74, which is home to “The Street” about a memory of a woman in New York and across the gutter to page 75 rests “Paris Again” which delves into the memory of another woman (perhaps the same) in Paris. The effect of this attention to detail creates a thoroughly enjoyable experience for the reader, not forcing them along a collection of poems, but encouraging them through the small moments that make life more interesting.
Part of what makes Padgett’s poetry so accessible and enjoyable to read is in how reflective it is. He writes with confidence about times in which confidence was hard to come by – as is so universally empathized. In “Pea Jacket”, he writes, “…I lacked / an easy assurance that comes with money / because I had very little…” And yet, as he talks about this used pea jacket he picked up in some “secondhand clothing store at the corner of Bowery and Bleecker…” we slowly realize that all advice, whether earned through experience or passed down from others, is secondhand. And so we, as readers, become entangled in the journey.
As Padgett writes of the act of aging and the inevitability of death and how we greet it, there is a growing sense of immortality in the passing on of stories and experiences from one generation to another, as he seems to be doing for his son – and us. There is an idea that takes seed as you read through the poems in Alone and Not Alone that the fountain of youth is from the ink well of a pen and when perspective is reality, our ability to change our perspectives can alter our reality.
We get the idea that as Padgett recalls his memories, he is trying to make sense of them. As he gives sound advice, he seems to wonder whether or not he followed it himself. But all the while, there is a contentedness in his tone, best summed up in “For A.”
how my grandma said now and then
“I’m in good shape for the shape I’m in.”
And in the end, Padgett concludes his collection with the book’s self-titled poem, “Alone and Not Alone” about a Chinese reader in Beijing who is an admirer of the Russian poet, Alexander Blok – a span of time and space. The minutes pass as he reads Blok’s poetry, when he asks, “What happened?” to which Padgett sums up: “You were not alone / in thinking you were alone.” He ends his collection with a beautiful sentiment that truly brings home the appeal of poetry. If you’re young and inexperienced, remember that someone’s been there before. If you’re facing hardships, people you’ve never met have faced harder and made it through. If you’re alone and reading the poetry someone else has written, then you’re sharing – if only briefly – that moment with another.
Alone and Not Alone is wonderful collection of poems ranging in topics from aging and the longings of memories to paying homage to writers and artists Padgett admires. The collection, dedicated to his son, Wayne, feels like a private letter advising those who read of the emotional pitfalls that come with life and how to age, if not with grace, at least with humor. In “The Elevation of Ideals”, Padgett writes, “To construct a set of ideals, a toy tool kit suffices…” followed shortly thereafter with the ironic, “Remember, though, never to use metaphors in the construction, for over time they will shift, and the entire construction will sag and perhaps collapse…”
Intertwined within his enjoyable stories, which oftentimes read as though he were sitting across from you at the kitchen table, one can begin to appreciate his command of language, the well-crafted manipulation of emotions through story-telling technique. In his poem, “Chinese Girl”, the speaker drifts between the reality in a coffee shop watching his Chinese waitress and daydreaming of a secret life with her. Through the opening line revealing that he orders coffee “that is half-real, half-decaf,” the reader finds the metaphor inescapable in the final stanza where he reveals that his own consciousness is somewhat “half-real, half-decaf”. Note how the lines prior to the curtain of steam seem to be the “half-real” of the moment, while the lines following this analogous divider appear “half-decaf” in their illusion.
I got the signal, so I headed toward an empty table, where
removed the plastic lid from the paper cup and took a bite out of
the danish. A band of steam rose from the coffee, like a curtain
on a miniature stage. The Chinese girl and I are living in a remote
part of China. Our past lives have been erased. She is unspeakably
devoted to me and I adore her. We say little, passing our days in
a state of calm I could never have imagined.
There are other examples of Padgett’s poetic prowess such as how his poetry is form-fitted to the content he’s revealing to the reader. In poems where the speaker is experiencing anxiety, you’ll find a lack of punctuation which unconsciously unsettles the reader. When Padgett is relaying a more lighthearted litany, he may even go into rhyme. Padgett also groups his poems thoughtfully such as on page 74, which is home to “The Street” about a memory of a woman in New York and across the gutter to page 75 rests “Paris Again” which delves into the memory of another woman (perhaps the same) in Paris. The effect of this attention to detail creates a thoroughly enjoyable experience for the reader, not forcing them along a collection of poems, but encouraging them through the small moments that make life more interesting.
Part of what makes Padgett’s poetry so accessible and enjoyable to read is in how reflective it is. He writes with confidence about times in which confidence was hard to come by – as is so universally empathized. In “Pea Jacket”, he writes, “…I lacked / an easy assurance that comes with money / because I had very little…” And yet, as he talks about this used pea jacket he picked up in some “secondhand clothing store at the corner of Bowery and Bleecker…” we slowly realize that all advice, whether earned through experience or passed down from others, is secondhand. And so we, as readers, become entangled in the journey.
As Padgett writes of the act of aging and the inevitability of death and how we greet it, there is a growing sense of immortality in the passing on of stories and experiences from one generation to another, as he seems to be doing for his son – and us. There is an idea that takes seed as you read through the poems in Alone and Not Alone that the fountain of youth is from the ink well of a pen and when perspective is reality, our ability to change our perspectives can alter our reality.
We get the idea that as Padgett recalls his memories, he is trying to make sense of them. As he gives sound advice, he seems to wonder whether or not he followed it himself. But all the while, there is a contentedness in his tone, best summed up in “For A.”
how my grandma said now and then
“I’m in good shape for the shape I’m in.”
And in the end, Padgett concludes his collection with the book’s self-titled poem, “Alone and Not Alone” about a Chinese reader in Beijing who is an admirer of the Russian poet, Alexander Blok – a span of time and space. The minutes pass as he reads Blok’s poetry, when he asks, “What happened?” to which Padgett sums up: “You were not alone / in thinking you were alone.” He ends his collection with a beautiful sentiment that truly brings home the appeal of poetry. If you’re young and inexperienced, remember that someone’s been there before. If you’re facing hardships, people you’ve never met have faced harder and made it through. If you’re alone and reading the poetry someone else has written, then you’re sharing – if only briefly – that moment with another.