A luminescent narrative...the stanza spacing, the line breaks and the quiet rhythms of Shannon’s speech ...suggest the continent’s vastness...Shannon’s understated lyricism — the apprehension of nature before the onset of self-consciousness...reflects heightened maturity in McGrath’s work.” — Kansas City Star
“McGrath takes us back to a pivotal point in United States history through the curious eyes of an unsung hero. [’Shannon’ is] an unexpected story and a gem of a book.” — Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
“A meditation on a new, westering nation’s discovery of its own inestimable riches....Surely, the sort of task McGrath undertakes here represents one of literature’s profoundest pleasures. A poet tirelessly digs up something buried by days, years, centuries. And then he holds it to the light.” — Washington Post
A meditation on a new, westering nation’s discovery of its own inestimable riches....Surely, the sort of task McGrath undertakes here represents one of literature’s profoundest pleasures. A poet tirelessly digs up something buried by days, years, centuries. And then he holds it to the light.
A luminescent narrative...the stanza spacing, the line breaks and the quiet rhythms of Shannon’s speech ...suggest the continent’s vastness...Shannon’s understated lyricism — the apprehension of nature before the onset of self-consciousness...reflects heightened maturity in McGrath’s work.
McGrath takes us back to a pivotal point in United States history through the curious eyes of an unsung hero. [’Shannon’ is] an unexpected story and a gem of a book.
A meditation on a new, westering nation’s discovery of its own inestimable riches....Surely, the sort of task McGrath undertakes here represents one of literature’s profoundest pleasures. A poet tirelessly digs up something buried by days, years, centuries. And then he holds it to the light.
A luminescent narrative...the stanza spacing, the line breaks and the quiet rhythms of Shannon’s speech ...suggest the continent’s vastness...Shannon’s understated lyricism — the apprehension of nature before the onset of self-consciousness...reflects heightened maturity in McGrath’s work.
The youngest member of Lewis and Clark's adventure, George Shannon rode off by himself to retrieve some lost horses, but got lost amid the endless buffalo pastures in what is now Nebraska. McGrath's book-length poem follows Shannon's thoughts, hopes and observations during his time alone. The young man faces practical difficulties: how will he hunt without bullets, how cook his food? "I am troubled to light a fire/ Lest it be the Sioux/ That take it as a signal." As the poem continues, Shannon's musings turn to theology, national destiny and (since he is 18) sex: "If my thoughts arise/ Direct from this land/ How other than God-ordained/ Could they be?" Neat visual effects (one page bears only the single word "buffalo") complement McGrath's sharp focus on his single character's mind. Will he survive? ("Such a hunter as myself/ With game abounding to wither & starve/ Seems unlucky.") Will he find his way back to his posse? Will America realize its own destiny? Should it? McGrath's careful poem comes a few years after Lewis and Clark-themed novels (by Brian Hall and Diane Glancy), a bit late for the Lewis and Clark centennial; the poem should win notice on its very accessible merits nonetheless. (June)Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
"These wild, wind-torn lands flung to the horizon/ Will soon enough be states/ Of the Union/ Why else fashion a Corps of Discovery?" Why else, indeed? McGrath (Seven Notebooks) here presents us with a solidly American epic about the Lewis and Clark expedition, or parallel to it. Taking an interesting poetic tack, he tells us the story of young George Shannon, who, separated from the party while off to retrieve runaway horses, gets lost, and wanders the prairie alone for 16 days. Faithful to the language, tone, and style of written journals from the time, McGrath's Shannon glories in the wonder of the land, especially the mystery and majesty of the buffalo, as we readers do in the spirit of the man. With his father's smart words ever in his ears, he fights the urges of youth and vanity. "Thoughts & reflections flow though me here/ Alone in these lands I may consider myself / The first American to have walked / Surely, & observations of the land generally / & such animals as I have observed. / I am no naturalist, as Pres. Jefferson would like / But I am proud to be so trusted." Recommended for poetry collections and an illuminating adjunct to American history collections in some settings.
Louis McKee