Mary Oliver’s 20th volume of verse is one of her most appealing.
For many fans of Mary Oliver, Swan will be a cause for celebration. The slim volume offers more than the poet’s strongest work in years; it also makes readers feel as if she is including them in this phase of her journey.
That combination is hard to resist, considering the quality of Oliver’s work – which has earned the Pulitzer Prize – and the fact that her poems usually reveal so little about her own life. Yet in this collection, her 20th, Oliver serves as a guide to the natural world and the landscape of her poetry. That dual role begins in the first poem, which opens with a bold question: What can I say that I have not said before?
Many well-known poets have answered that query by focusing on loss and mortality or resorting to stale language and a repetition of earlier ideas. Yet Oliver’s response is lovely and compelling:
What can I say that I have not said before?
So I’ll say it again.
The leaf has a song in it.
Stone is the face of patience.
Inside the river there is an unfinishable story
and you are somewhere in it
and it will never end until all ends.
Those lines are classic Oliver: evocative, apt, and pulsing with wisdom. But then she adds another level by telling readers to visit the art museum, the chamber of commerce, and the forest because: