To That Which Ends Not: Threnody

This stunningly singular--indeed all but unclassifiable--work is neither simply an elegy for the poet and philosopher Michel Deguy's wife of forty years nor simply a work of mourning. There is almost nothing here, in Deguy's sharp poetic prose and philosophical ruminations, of emotion recounted in tranquility. Rather, these often astonishing pages etch the jagged edges of anguish experienced in the immediate aftermath of the profoundly affecting death of one's beloved. In these fragments wr...