El Dorado

Devotion to fatherhood; an economy strained to where it almost snaps; an inheritance of venerable forms (Dantean tercets, heroic quatrains) able to handle contemporary troubles; American cities (Cleveland, Chicago, Boston, Los Angeles) and the wide spaces between them; and modern media, “a trace/ of networks” that won’t leave us alone—from these materials Campion (Other People) constructs his thoughtful, intensely memorable, and sometimes winningly exasperated third collection. Also a noted critic, Campion has an eye and an ear for American detritus, for “heat lamp glow from Sbarro” in an airport, “a concrete channel for flood control” in L.A., and “all the cell-phone signals/ spidering air with bargains and blandishments/ complaints and cries.” Campion also notes the energy, and the pathos, of the near future, as he sees and hears his children: “what if giraffes stampeded/ down the road beside us/ and why do people die?” Inclined neither to praise nor to condemn, he shows instead how his characters—himself, his father, his children, his deceased friend (“Elegy with Television”)—have understood the places they live, tried to fulfill responsibilities, and received aesthetic pleasure. (Nov.)