In this, his ninth book of poetry, lyric master X. J. Kennedy
regales his readers with engaging rhythm fittingly signaled by the
book's title, which echoes Duke Ellington's jazz classic "It Don't
Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)." Kennedy's poems,
infused with verve and surprise, are by turns irresistibly funny
and sharply insightful about life in America. Some poems are
personal recollections of childhood and growing up, as in "My
Mother Consigns to the Flames My Trove of Comic Books." "Thomas
Hardy's Obsequies" tells the bizarre true account of the literary
giant's burial. Other poems portray memorable characters, from Jane
Austen ("Jane Austen Drives to Alton in Her Donkey Trap") to a
giant land tortoise ("Lonesome George") to a slow-witted man hired
to cook for a nudist colony ("Pudge Wescott"). Kennedy is a
storyteller of the first order, relating tales of travel to
far-reaching places, from the Galapagos Islands and Tiananmen
Square to the hectic back streets of Bamako, Mali. This wise and
clever book is rounded out with adept translations of work by
Charles Baudelaire, Stephane Mallarme, Arthur Rimbaud, and others.
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