Arguably America's greatest living poet, Sharon Olds enters her
eightieth year with a book for our times: a book of fear, fragility
and love of life. 'At the time of have-not, I look at myself in
this mirror,' writes Olds in this self-scouring, exhilarating
collection, which opens with a section of quarantine poems,
followed by her 'Amherst Balladz', honouring Emily Dickinson - 'she
was our Girl - our Woman - / Man enough - for me' - and leads to
celebrations of lost friends and lovers: her childhood, young
womanhood, and old age all mixed up together. She examines her
white privilege, sees her mother 'flushed and exalted at punishment
time', celebrates the human body, even in ageing, and looks with
wonder at the natural world and how we've spoiled it. Renowned for
her poetry of searing honesty, sexual frankness and brave
originality, Sharon Olds' new book emerges 'at the eleventh hour of
the end of the world', from the time of plague, this time of loss,
where she can look at the world and her life and tell us plainly
'love is the love of who we are, it is a form of knowing.'
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