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rabbithero 's review for:
Worshipful Company of Fletchers
by James Tate
I was about 8 pages from the end of this book when my girlfriend, from whom I had borrowed it, dumped me, and I had to give it back. After the shock and heartache began to subside (so, like a week), I realized I desperately wanted to finish this work.
I'm glad I did. Once the reader gets the hang of Tate's style in this book, the poems just hum with potent atmosphere and almost tactile emotion. The majesty of Tate's work here is how he wraps his larger ideas, not so much in mundane, but in the punctuating of his mundane observations with grammatical strange-ness. That combination of seemingly meningless weords, and very thick recollection, send the reader spiralling into a world that is obviously a mindscape, but one that feels like the real world, with its emotions heightened. Exceelent.
I'm glad I did. Once the reader gets the hang of Tate's style in this book, the poems just hum with potent atmosphere and almost tactile emotion. The majesty of Tate's work here is how he wraps his larger ideas, not so much in mundane, but in the punctuating of his mundane observations with grammatical strange-ness. That combination of seemingly meningless weords, and very thick recollection, send the reader spiralling into a world that is obviously a mindscape, but one that feels like the real world, with its emotions heightened. Exceelent.