Bøker av Mary Jo Salter

Mary Jo Salter's sparkling new collection, Open Shutters, leads us into a world where things are often not what they seem. In the first poem, "Trompe l'Oeil,” the shadow-casting shutters on Genoese houses are made of paint only, an "open lie.” And yet "Who needs to be correct / more often than once a day? / Who needs real shadow more than play?”Open Shutters also calls to mind the lens of a camera—in the villanelle "School Pictures” or in the stirring sequence "In the Guesthouse,” which, inspired by photographs of a family across three generations, offers at once a social history of America and a love story.Darkness and light interact throughout the book—in poems about September 11; about a dog named Shadow; about a blind centenarian who still pretends to read the paper; about a woman shaken by the death of her therapist. A section of light verse highlights the wit and grace that have long distinguished Salter's most serious work.Fittingly, the volume fools the eye once more by closing with "An Open Book,” in which a Muslim family praying at a funeral seek consolation in the pages formed by their upturned palms.Open Shutters is the achievement of a remarkable poet, whose concerns and stylistic range continue to grow, encompassing ever larger themes, becoming ever more open.

The timeless and timely intersect in poems about our unique historical moment, from the prizewinning poet.In Zoom Rooms, Mary Jo Salter considers the strangeness of our recent existence, together with the enduring constants in our lives. The title poem, a series of sonnet-sized Zoom meetings-a classroom, a memorial service, an encounter with a new baby in the family-finds humor and pathos in our age of social distancing and technology-induced proximity. Salter shows too how imagination collapses time and space: in "Island Diaries," the pragmatist Robinson Crusoe meets on the beach a shipwrecked dreamer from an earlier century, Shakespeare's Prospero. Poems that meditate on objects-a silk blouse, a hot water bottle-address the human need to heal and console. Our paradoxically solitary but communal experiences find expression, too, in poems about art, from a Walker Evans photograph to a gilded Giotto altarpiece. In these beautiful new poems, Salter directs us to moments we may otherwise miss, reminding us that alertness is itself a form of gratitude.