Coming off the 2002 Pulitzer for Practical Gods
, Dennis's eighth book of verse highlights a career's worth of modesty of style, which seeks to make sincerity, goodness, and humility aesthetically interesting, partly through sinuous syntax, and partly through the wisdom it offers. That style finds tests and triumphs in this selection from three decades of work, to which a sheaf of fine new poems is added: one defines death as "The point when friends stop phoning us for our opinions,/ Or to tell us what they always intended to say." "Books likely to last," another new poem confesses, "Can only acknowledge that nothing lasts but wishes." Such acknowledgments give Dennis his bread-and-butter, and have done so since his earliest books: one 1970s poem offers "Useful Advice," another hints at "the truth/ About the shortage of teachers everywhere." ("Aunt Celia, 1961," on the other hand, promises "A life without remorse, that's something/ I'm willing to predict for a generous/ Brave young man like you.") Dennis's goals place him near (and should attract fans of) Robert Pinsky and Robert Hass. His various characters sometimes sound too much alike, and his insistence on reason and humility may narrow his tonal range; nevertheless, this retrospective shows Dennis at his best. (Apr.)
