A Thief of Strings

by Donald Revell

What is a nation when it ignores history? What is a man when he forgets his life? This acclaimed poet’s tenth collection chronicles our seeming, and apocalyptic, liberation from conscience—and even consciousness itself. These masterful poems, written in Donald Revell’s increasingly more enraptured and oracular style, delineate the consequences of such disregard in a manner both spiritually generous and urgent.

Genres: Poetry

80 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2007

About the author

Revell has won numerous honors and awards for his work, beginning with his first book, From the Abandoned Cities, which was a National Poetry Series winner. More recently, he won the 2004 Lenore Marshall Award and is a two-time winner of the PEN Center USA Award in poetry. He has also received the Gertrude Stein Award, two Shestack Prizes, two Pushcart Prizes and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, as well as from the Ingram Merrill and Guggenheim Foundations. His most recent book is The Bitter Withy (Alice James Books, 2009).

Revell has taught at the Universities of Tennessee, Missouri, Iowa, Alabama, Colorado, and Utah. He currently teaches at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He lives in Las Vegas with his wife, poet Claudia Keelan, and their children. In addition to his writing, translating, and teaching, Revell was Editor of Denver Quarterly from 1988–94, and has been a poetry editor of Colorado Review since 1996.

Revell received his B.A. from Harpur College in 1975, his M.A. from SUNY Binghamton in 1977 and his Ph.D. from the University at Buffalo in 1980.

Reviews

[Mia · Rating 3 out of 5]

This star business isn't suited for books of poems, eh? Like, oh, an album, there are tracks that wreck me here, w/ their tender- and strangeness; others that leave me cold. Sometimes want Mr. R. to jostle his contents!

Loveliness throughout, tho':

"When I was a sunbeam
I landed in a tree.
I could see the president dying.
I could see the wolves come out of his mouth,
And the rabbit was ashes in their mouths,
Howling.
Love is a thing for my sole pleasure and for yours.
I am violets. You are broth.
God walks on earth."

[Boxhuman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Revell’s book, “A Thief of Strings”, was catastrophic, hungry, dizzying, and confusing. It’s a kaleidoscope of words that became almost cacophonic, but instead it became a tease, a puzzle. It’s the kind of book that you know you’re not seeing the whole picture, but you like the colors and the energy. Is that enough to enjoy it? You’ll have to decide that. I did enjoy it although I know I was missing some key elements along the way. It’s not light, nor is it an easy read, but still satisfying.

Many of the same elements were repeated in the poems, and although there are times it almost touches on it, the poems do not become monotonous.

“Landscape: A Delirium” kicks off the book and it is quite delirious, the words bounce off of each other with dizzy fervor. I liked the ending: “It’s a too-rough lullaby,/A paradise too early./Swarming with golden bugs/ And wishful thinking,/It’s a desert at midday/Falling into the sea.”

Next up, “Landscape with Warhol and the Coming of Spring 2003” was an odd mix of Warhol, Ovid, spring, and Baghdad: “And then everybody became a different kind of bird,/It seems forever.”

Some of the poems that I really liked were “The Plow That Broke the Plains”, “Burned Acreage” (especially the subtle power in the first line: “White ash softer than water”), O Rare (“What you call dreaming, we/Call the breastbone of an angel/Divided by two.”), and “A Prism That Is” (especially for the mention of Imago and the lines: “Color of cottonwoods when thunder/Steels the sky;//God’s lathe”).

The second part wasn’t as powerful, but I liked “Poplars”, “To The Jews” (which was beautiful: “I lay my head beside the broken animal./Our eyes meet. The world belongs to him.”), and “Stoic” (Lassie helping with the invasion on Norway and the craziness that ensued was great).

The title poem was in thirteen interwoven parts. I was really excited in the beginning, but he began to lose steam and I soon grew restless. However, I did carry away the gem: “And, like the dead, alone travels fast and true./No shoes, no echoes.”

Bottom line: I liked it, but I’m not sure how long it will stay with me. I enjoyed most of the poems, but I didn’t get as emotionally attached as I have with other books (most recently Jerome Rothenberg’s “A Book of Witness” and “J’Accuse” by Aharon Shabtai). Time will tell, I suppose, and I would be interested in purchasing the book, but it’s not a top priority.

[Jim Manis · Rating 4 out of 5]

The final poem, "A Thief of Strings," which provides the title for the book, stands out in the collection, as I suppose it should. The poem is 17 pages long and divided into 13 distinct sections that could be read individually.

Revell's poetry is easily accessible without being simplistic.

Part two of the collection contains 14 poems "for Robert Creeeley," and Revell's poetry is reminiscent of Creeley's work.

[Barb Bailey · Rating 2 out of 5]

Far from my favorite poet. I like poetry that I don't have disect to figure out what the poet is trying to convey. Give me Frost, Walden, Angelou, Poe.......anyday over Revell.

[Jo · Rating 5 out of 5]

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