This collection consists of two suites of poems about Dove’s grandparents. It comes as no surprise that I liked Thomas and Beulah best of the three collections. I especially liked the sensory images in “Grape Sherbet.” So even though there were poems about art and later about poets like Hölderlin and Shakespeare, it was the third of the four suites that I liked the best: the poems about Dove’s father. I prefer ekphrastic poetry that is descriptive. The first suite has titles like “Tou Wan Speaks to Her Husband, Liu Sheng,” “Catherine of Alexandria,” and “Catherine of Siena.” Predictably, I liked the titles better than the poems themselves. The second collection of poetry is Museum ~ a promising title for an art lover like me. There was one poem in this collection that I did like, so that probably says something about my taste in poetry: “Great Uncle Beefheart.” I liked this endearing poem about a big-hearted but senile uncle just as I liked the nostalgia of “In the Old Neighborhood.” They may be good, but they’re still not to my taste. But recognizing the importance of the poems is like recognizing the nutritional value of brussel sprouts. The third suite deals with slavery and covers important events and figures from this period of American history. They look so good on the plate that I keep trying, and failing, to like them. When I got to the third suite of poems in The Yellow House on the Corner, I was determined that it would be one of those exceptions, but liking and disliking don’t work that way. I am no fan of Modernist poetry, so when I do enjoy a Modernist poem it is the exception to the rule. I liked the poem in Dove’s introduction to the volume ~ “In the Old Neighborhood” ~ so I was off to a good start, but I quickly became disenchanted. I chose this volume ~ Selected Poems ~ because I wanted to read Thomas and Beulah, but I like to read books cover to cover, so I started at the beginning with The Yellow House on the Corner. They are just books that don’t turn me on. For these are not books I want to throw against the wall. One of the benefits of continuing to read these authors’ works even after I have discovered that we have no chemistry is that I am open to finding something I can like about them. She shares the same mental space as Wallace Stevens and T. I try to impart this lesson to my students, especially the ones who believe that Harry Potter is art and Hamlet is dumb. Am I the measure of greatness? A little humility goes a long way. Imagine if I told you that what I like is great art because I like it, but what you like is only great art if it is also what I like. After all, you too have your likes and dislikes. I know that greatness in art is not the same as art that I like. I believe it’s possible to appreciate art even if I do not and cannot enjoy it. In cases like these, I aim for appreciation. I have also tried to like some of the poets she has been compared to ~ Elizabeth Bishop, Marianne Moore ~ but my efforts have been in vain. I ought to like her poetry and I have tried. There are some splendid names on this list, so any shame at putting this Poet Laureate on that list is all mine. Rita Dove joins the ranks of writers who I want to like but don’t.
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