❰PDF❯ ✅ Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems Author B.H. Fairchild – Transportjobsite.co.uk

Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems txt Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems, text ebook Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems, adobe reader Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems, chapter 2 Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems, Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems 6c049a B H Fairchild S Memory Systems Are The Collective Vision Of America S Despairing Dreamers Failed Baseball Players, Oil Field Laborers, A Surrealist Priest, College Boys At A Burlesque Theater, The Last Remaining Cast Members Of The Wizard Of Oz Looming Over All Is The Fact And The Mystery Of Our Continued Renewal


About the Author: B.H. Fairchild

B H Fairchild, the author of several acclaimed poetry collections, has been a finalist for the National Book Award and winner of the William Carlos Williams Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award He lives in Claremont, California.



10 thoughts on “Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest: Poems

  1. says:

    Reads like the voiceover of a Terrence Malick film That s a compliment.Sherwood Anderson and James Wright maybe some Philip Levine, too are probably the closest literary analogues, however, and Fairchild than measures up Fairchild s line is so natural, so common, yet so taut and tempered.


  2. says:

    To me this is a magically nostalgic rendering of growing up in the fifties and early sixties Life and learning had a distinctly different feel Everything hit harder These poems beautifully portray the sense of innocence and wonder that pervaded this period in time The resulting poetry is heartbreakingly beautifulforlornsurreal


  3. says:

    To be honest, I have no idea how I came across this book Was it the title that caught my eye, or had I seen a friend mark it as to read online Either way, I m thrilled it passed into my life The collection is full of beauty and delves into the worlds of blue collar life, masculinity, the ebb and flow of life in the Midwest I find writing about poetry collections to be difficult It s a shotgun blast of poems and ideas, some of which are similar, but mostly they vary to a degree that it s impossible to be general Instead, I ll point to some poems that stood out for me From The Potato Eaters They unwrap the potatoes from the aluminum foilwith an odd delicacy, and I notice their still blackened handsas they halve and butter them The coffee sends up steamlike lathe smoke, and their bodies slowly relaxas they give themselves to the pleasure of the foodand the shop s strange silence after hours of noise,the clang of iron and the burst and hiss of the cutting torch From Weather Report The divorc e coming from the laundromatknows the cycles of laundry and despair back then, the towels they shared, but now a basketfilled with someone else s underwear From History Wired tight on No Doz and coffee, I ve cut ironfor two straight days and nights, and the white cowbirddrifting down the sun blurs through my rankled eyesand the grease smeared windows above my lathe There,toward the vanishing point where the cowbird dipsand hovers, is history a ghost town, the least of all


  4. says:

    The title not necessarily the title poem, mind you is my favorite thing about this very strange collection Fairchild is fixated on particular images than beautiful phrasing, although there is some of that But overall it leaves me with no strong feelings and no particular favorite poems Still that title Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest it s a spectacular promise that isn t quite fulfilled Read for FYSP 128 Fall 2013.


  5. says:

    One way I deal with death is to read poetry This morning, meditating on the passing of my incredible 94 year old father in law earlier in the week, I was drawn back to B.H Fairchild s Early Occult Memory Systems of the Lower Midwest, which I purchased as a birthday gift for my husband several years ago For many reasons, not the least of them the poet s reflected passion for the land, for hard work, and for his people, I loved it then, and I love it now And it did not fail me The Problem, on p108, begins with a direct quote from Heraclitus The name of the bow is life, but its work is death And here is how the poem ends So in the cathedral of the world we hold communion, the bread of language placed delicately upon our tongues as we breathe the bitter air, drinking the wine of reason and pressing to our breasts the old dream of Being As it was and ever shall be Amen and amen.


  6. says:

    The Blue Buick means everything to me


  7. says:

    I thought this book was just fantastic The collection seemed to really work as a whole These are plain spoken, narrative poems with a level of incredible detail that add up to so much by the end of each individual poem, and certainly by the end of the collection Reminds me of James Wright and also of the barn photographs of William Eggleston Could read this again and again, and would like to read of Fairchild.


  8. says:

    I had the privilege of hearing Fairchild read a few weeks ago, so I reread this book with new appreciation His poems are worth many readings This collection offers good variety Most poems deliver his strong, nitty gritty voice about Midwestern farm life I suffer with the future poet too far from bookstores and libraries The people he writes about have little money and few prospects, but are either strong enough or quirky enough for leading rolls in literature Every good poet takes whatever life hands him and develops his craft around it Fairchild s strong narrative voice makes you feel you re listening to someone telling a good yarn You get pulled right in This helps me enjoy very long poems, which I rarely do, but I also promised variety In Fairchild s hands, a book of narrative Midwestern poems would suffice, but he can also bring you to tears with the beauty of a lyrical poem The music, repetition, and understatement of At Omaha Beach allowed me to feel the moment than the many novels I ve read about WWII from stanza one The waves wash out, wash in.The sky comes down It comes down.The sky runs into the seathat turns in its troubled sleep,dreaming the long gray dream from stanza three Our fathers walk out of the sea.The air is heavy with speech.Our fathers are younger than we.As the fog dissolves in the dawn,our fathers lie down on the beach.


  9. says:

    I bet if I read this again I would give it five stars Part One is maybe the best section in the book, and the title poem the first one in the book is special as it sets up the heavy use of italicized breaks and lost thoughts that almost symbolize a heavy wind or something Everything and everyone seems to be getting away or is sure thinking about going in this book and the italics really insist on anchoring everything to that unique patch of earth in Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas I loved all of the machinist shop work stuff, and was constantly thinking about metal shavings and the grime of metallic dust on a worker s cheek Even the color of the storm front on the cover is much reminiscent of the tones inside a machinist s shop than a real storm There were a few too many allusions at times to all things classical, but I think it helped to break the box of lower Midwest depravity at turns The long narrative poem, The Blue Buick, and the ending prose poem, Memory Systems, are quite kick ass in my opinion I cried on a few because of the constant idea and line Fairchild takes from Agee s A Death in the Family The line is but will not ever tell me who I am Fairchild really works that idea well and the section the line comes from is used as the epigraph for the collection Maybe the best title for a book of poems I ve ever seen.


  10. says:

    I found myself experiencing a whirlwind of thoughts, images, and memories as I read these poems Sometimes the poems were as much prose as they were verse, but oh the imagery carried me away Easy to see why this book won the National Book Critics Circle Award Here s an excerpt from the final poem, titled The Memory Palace Out back in the welding shop where men were gods, Vulcans in black helmets, and the blaze of cutting torches hurled onto the ceiling the gigantic shadows you watched as a child, place here the things of gods and children baseball a twilight double header and the blue bowl of the sky as the lights came on the fragrance of mown grass in the outfield One of the reviews in the front of the book probably says it best There is no lyric celebration of America s grandeurs and desolations not regarded here as separate facets of our lives and landscapes, but as completely fused in our hopes and despairs than this superb collection of poems Great stuff.


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