The Cold

This dual-language edition sees a 1967 long poem from Bolivian poet Saenz (1921%E2%80%931986) rendered into English for the first time. In the preface, poet Forrest Gander aptly sums up Saenz's preoccupations in the work as "the city, the beloved, alcohol, and the unspoken word on our lips." These subjects are constantly intersecting, particularly in the dread felt in relation to drinking%E2%80%94"in one corner hides the glacial alcohol, the alcohol of/ the cold, and in another corner I hide,/ each of us awaiting the other's exit"%E2%80%94and to the unattainable other, where "absence is the absence of some voice, and in/ absence there is no temperature." Saenz is haunted by this unpossessable "you," declaring "Only when I look at your face/do I realize how strange the oblivion had been/ %E2%80%94your face is like oblivion." Translator Schluter offers penetrating remarks on the poet's themes and linguistic puzzles, and he mirrors the poet's tone of dogged searching, addressing Saenz and all that is unknowable: "In my notebook I have written, in your measure, into void after void in pursuit of you." He goes on to explore Saenz's use of pronouns, escalating into a general examination of pronouns themselves. This is typical Saenz; achingly, ravishingly bleak, and infinitely more thought-provoking alongside Schluter's layered commentary. (Mar.)