A Review of War, and After by Joel Chace
In the section entitled, “Sharpsburg”, Mr. Chace writes, “She clutched her the revolver, cleared her throat loudly, and jostled his leg with her foot. But there aren’t always doors.” This is to say no matter what you say in poetry or in conversation, there is no escape. I am offering my own explanation of course. War is broken into four sections, Sharpsburg of course, Script, Blake’s tree, and Scaffold. Now, if you know Joel Chace’s work you will know that what you get when you buy one of his books is interminable talent, lines sharper than the previous one. As Mr. Chace writes in Blake’s tree, “..he reaches for interior.”
Mr. Chace write in the opening of “Script”, “Ourselves and what we have/ left/ at that/ early/ tomorrow/ brings/ to go down/ there/ and separate/ ours/ from theirs/ can/ be there and do/ nothing” You could spend all day interpreting good poetry and that is what this is. It lends itself to the blues actually. Fine work Mr. Chace, entirely readable and such a handsome volume.