Lorna Crozier

I've heard Lorna Crozier interviewed a number of times but I don't recall hearing that she grew up in Saskatchewan in the city of Swift Current. I mainly know Swift Current as a place to get fuel and coffee while heading towards the foothills and mountains of Alberta. I also know it as a place where scientists develop new varieties of wheat at the Swift Current Research and Development Centre. However, that latter piece of information is not mentioned in this book so I guess it's not really show more relevant. Suffice it to say that I now know quite a bit more about this prairie city since reading this book.

Crozier is a well-known poet and her poetic phrasings are sprinkled throughout this book. Her descriptions of the prairie light and the skies made me long to get out into the country. The cover of this book is perfect at capturing the feeling one gets when you stand on the prairie.

Despite these moments of poetic bliss Crozier also unflinchingly tells us what it was like to be poor and have an alcoholic father. Both her parents grew up on farms, quite close to each other, but they ended up living in rented houses and barely managing to make ends meet. As the saying goes, you can take the boy out of the farm but you can't take the farm out of the boy. Crozier thinks it was the disappointment of not inheriting the farm that turned him to drink. Despite their hard-scrabble existence both Lorna and her older brother turned out well. That is probably due to their mother's influence and both children retained strong relationships with her.

I think Ursula K. Le Guin who is quoted on the front cover sums up this book well:
"How rare such honesty is, and how hard-won, and radical, and beautiful." show less

8.0/10

This is yet-another book of poems I came across in my late-night search for Yehuda Amichai, which is starting to feel, strangely, like [b:The Hunt for Red October|19691|The Hunt for Red October (Jack Ryan, #3)|Tom Clancy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1281995542l/19691._SX50_.jpg|1112006]. Suitably, (and ironically) one of my favourites in this collection is

Man from the Sargasso Sea

Surely he was once an eel, slick and run-on
Writhing rainbow show more without colour,

Water-drenched. A wanderer who crossed
The seas and knew his way.

Mouth wide and dangerous.

I caught him with a torch
And a wooden boat.

I caught him with a net
My mother made me.

The next full tide I let him go.

This book splits into two channels: Nature; and Love.

Drenched in imagery of nature, the collection opens the heart to her ability to see the world through nature's eyes -- which might be an arrogant construct for some, but which Crozier spins delicately, like a spider's web. Rather than the poems resulting as intrusive vanity, they become charged with humility and wonder.

Also charged with humility and wonder is her celebration of her long marriage -- what it takes to collect the joys and sorrows of a lifetime with one person, in one's hands, and hold it like a pearl, to examine its incandescent beauty through the minutiae of daily acts of love.

A lovely collection to take into the woods, to sit and ponder over her words, as seen through an owl's eyes.

And a lovely collection to take into your reading corner, to sit and ponder the nature of love, whatever shape it takes. show less

I've taken to reading poetry this summer and Lorna Crozier is a favourite. This collection gathers reflections on aging, the natural world and life in general. A semi-finalist for the Governor General's Literary Award for Poetry, What the Soul Doesn't Want is a wonderful collection.

For me Crozier's voice is pure Canadian. As a reader raised on Atwood, Laurence, and Munro, I recognize that feminist Canadian voice on a purely instinctual level. It resonates deep within me, making me pause show more after a particularly keen note is struck, suck in a deep breath, and scan the poem, soaking it in again and again. As a woman hitting her middle years, I found this collection from Crozier particularly poignant. It delves into bare truths that are easy to bury in daily life. The subtle sense of loss that permeates the aging process saturates her poems and yet is juxtaposed with pieces of whimsy. The cockroach poetry is particularly intriguing.

The best poetry blends pure emotion with intellect. Crozier does this well. At times, however, her realism edges towards depression. Yet just as one is tipping into the futility of life, she pulls back and throws in a beautiful portrait from nature, putting one's human existence into perspective and evoking a smile.

Lorna Crozier is a favourite. And poetry is worth every penny you spend on it. Don't miss this lovely collection. show less

I might have given this book 5 stars, but for the fact that one of two of the essays didn't hold up against the undeniably terrific ones. Almost all are wrenching and brutally candid. David Adams Richards piece, simply entitled "Drinking" is worth the price of the book. Patrick Lane's "Counting the Bones", Molly Jong-Fast's "Junkie Grows Up" and Lois Simmie's "An Open Letter to Laura" might be required reading for anyone thinking about recovery. Stephen Reid's "Junkie", the last essay in the show more book is scalding and terrible, and all the more so since as recently as 2011 Reid was back in the throes of his addiction, and back in the slammer. One essay sounds as though it's steeped in the author's denial, and although it's ironically tragic, it also struck an off-key note for me. I won't mention which essay I think that is, but will allow readers to make their own conclusions.

All in all, a solid anthology for those of us who take comfort in knowing we are not alone in our struggles with addiction. The essays which indicate the authors are now in healthy recovery offer hope, while the others act as cautionary tales. show less