Dusk, Empire: New and Selected
Autor Daniel Tobinen Limba Engleză Paperback – 15 mar 2026
These earlier works establish Tobin’s mastery of the poetic sequence, among a wide variety of other formal displays, all amply evident in the books that follow, including the lyrically meditative orchestrations of Second Things, the award-winning poems of Belated Heavens, The Net, and Blood Labors, characterized at once by their compendious erudition, their sense of intellectual and cultural history, as well as their emotional urgency and formal variousness. This generous selection from Tobin’s work is intended to be a companion volume to The Mansions, his trilogy of book-length poems that explore twentieth century history, and the counter claims of science and religion, through three exemplary lives, which reviewers said inspired genuine awe. Finally, Dusk, Empire leads with a gripping selection of new work that engages the enormous pressures and troubles of the present historical moment, set in dialogue with Tobin’s characteristic passion for what would transcend it. Or as he asks in “The Sand Painting,” “What is that joyous singing inside the rock / Though each intricate, lovely thing will be erased?”
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781961897762
ISBN-10: 1961897768
Pagini: 304
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 28 mm
Greutate: 0.45 kg
Editura: FOUR WAY BOOKS
Colecția Four Way Books
ISBN-10: 1961897768
Pagini: 304
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 28 mm
Greutate: 0.45 kg
Editura: FOUR WAY BOOKS
Colecția Four Way Books
Recenzii
Praise for Dusk, Empire
Daniel Tobin’s Dusk, Empire constitutes a potent distillation of a majestic career, wrought over many decades, that gives ample evidence of his position as one of the most accomplished and esteemed American poets writing today.
—Orlando Ricardo Menes
Past Praise for Daniel Tobin
…a poet whose erudite seriousness travels the seen and the unseen realities of our lives.
—Afaa Michael Weaver
…one of America’s most accomplished poets whose poems bring a deep sense of intellectual and cultural history to bear on even the most intimate and personal experience.
—Alan Shapiro
… one of the best poets of his generation. The Robert Lowell Irish America has been waiting for has arrived.
—Eamonn Wall
The darkly devotional poems of Daniel Tobin… build meaning even of life’s most intractable facts. Praise to the end.
—Eleanor Wilner
Poetry began in story, and Daniel Tobin’s poems remind us of that beginning with its deep connections to ritual and the tribe… poems of great clarity, precision and intelligence.
—Ellen Bryant Voigt
I take a deep and abiding pleasure in these finely wrought poems in quest of transcendence, in search of the sacred.
—Edward Hirsch
Daniel Tobin’s Dusk, Empire constitutes a potent distillation of a majestic career, wrought over many decades, that gives ample evidence of his position as one of the most accomplished and esteemed American poets writing today.
—Orlando Ricardo Menes
Past Praise for Daniel Tobin
…a poet whose erudite seriousness travels the seen and the unseen realities of our lives.
—Afaa Michael Weaver
…one of America’s most accomplished poets whose poems bring a deep sense of intellectual and cultural history to bear on even the most intimate and personal experience.
—Alan Shapiro
… one of the best poets of his generation. The Robert Lowell Irish America has been waiting for has arrived.
—Eamonn Wall
The darkly devotional poems of Daniel Tobin… build meaning even of life’s most intractable facts. Praise to the end.
—Eleanor Wilner
Poetry began in story, and Daniel Tobin’s poems remind us of that beginning with its deep connections to ritual and the tribe… poems of great clarity, precision and intelligence.
—Ellen Bryant Voigt
I take a deep and abiding pleasure in these finely wrought poems in quest of transcendence, in search of the sacred.
—Edward Hirsch
Notă biografică
Daniel Tobin is the author of ten books of poems, most recently Blood Labors (2018), which the New York Times and Washington Independent Review of Books named one of the Best Poetry Books of the year, and The Mansions (2023), a trilogy of book-length poems which won the Human Relations Indie Book Award and the National Indie Excellence Award in Poetry. A suite of versions from the German of Paul Celan, The Stone in the Air, was published in 2018, and a chapbook, Gloss Arias I: From the Distances of Sleep, appeared in 2025. He is the author of several critical studies, among them On Serious Earth: On Poetry and Transcendence (2019) and The Odeon: Essays on Poetry (2025), as well as the editor of The Book of Irish American Poetry from the Eighteenth Century to the Present (2007), and To the Many: Collected Early Works of Lola Ridge (2018), which received a Special Commendation from the Poetry Society (UK). His many awards include the Massachusetts Book Award in Poetry, the Julia Ward Howe Prize, the Stephen J. Meringoff Award, and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation.
Extras
The Calls
All the dead on the answering machine
live on in old technology, the now before
what called them culled them as it goes.
From where the blinking numbers shine
they speak, as from some taped eternity
where the past repeats like sea whispers
out of an empty shell, their trace a hush—
you’d have them conjure each lost face.
A cousin from cancer’s bottomless well
forever calls to say she’s fine; that friend,
car crash, jokes from his unbroken sleep
until the vanished are raised inerasable.
Still the pinwheel makes its timely round
while the handset hangs on silently.
Replay, again, that lover’s voice: It’s just me.
All the dead on the answering machine
live on in old technology, the now before
what called them culled them as it goes.
From where the blinking numbers shine
they speak, as from some taped eternity
where the past repeats like sea whispers
out of an empty shell, their trace a hush—
you’d have them conjure each lost face.
A cousin from cancer’s bottomless well
forever calls to say she’s fine; that friend,
car crash, jokes from his unbroken sleep
until the vanished are raised inerasable.
Still the pinwheel makes its timely round
while the handset hangs on silently.
Replay, again, that lover’s voice: It’s just me.