essays

Oh no. Sweet mother of God. He's back. The Soulforce That Is Tom Lynch. Everybody's favorite rhapsodic mortician. Although---let's face it---when you scrape away his occupational novelty, he's basically just another stereotypical mick who's just a little too much in love with the sound of his own voice. (If you know what I mean and I think you do.)

There's some grim stuff in here. It was pretty agonizing to read about Tom's divorce. And I'm not even the one who has to live with it. Here's a quote from Tom's piece about alcoholism. (Only congenital non-alcoholics like Alan & Marilyn Bergman can safely presume to use the past tense.)

From THE WAY WE ARE: "Nor is there a cure. We can't be fixed by any surgery or pill that will let us drink or drug like ordinary humans. Even when we are getting better, the disease is getting worse. We can get a life-long remission, but once the drinking turns ugly there is no return. A pickle can't become a cucumber again."

"And I hate that part sometimes---the way they've got these tidy little bromides like that one just now, about the pickle. There's one for every possible contingency. 'Fake it till you make it' someone will say, or 'One day at a time', or 'Stay out of using places and using faces'. Give me a break. Here I am a goddam published poet who has been ignored in several countries in the Western world and translated into Serbo-Croatian and left out of several of the best anthologies and I've got to listen to rhymes like these? 'Walk the walk and talk the talk'. 'The past is history, the future's a mystery'. Or some quirky little alliterative like 'Let Go Let God'. As if we ever let go of anything without leaving claw marks in it. And God? This Higher Power business? Why can't they just settle on a name like any other bunch? Yahweh or Jehovah or Jesus or Steve?"

If you have read and enjoyed Lynch's "The Undertaking", you will not be disappointed in this book. If not, I suggest reading "Undertaking" first. This collection of essays covers a variety of topics. Lynch is delightfully unafraid to follow his own logic, even if that makes his conclusions far outside of what passes today for mainstream opinion.

The only negative I can give is that the book does not surprise you as much as his first book did. How could it? To me, that simply shows Lynch's unique contribution. These essays are a bit longer and more varied. Some of them are based on talks Lynch has given on the lecture circuit for morticians. One such is my favorite. Lynch notes that he is viewed with some suspicion by both poets and funeral directors, and insightfully compares the poem and the funeral. Very well done!

So, here I was, suspended between the wonderous and terrifying Christmas holy day, and the equally awesome coming of the New Year, wholly of our own making, mind you--trying to eke out a few moments of quiet peace, reading a library book. At the dining room table. In the twinkling magic blue and yellow and red and green lights of the Tree, glowing in post Christ-be-born blush. Sipping a wine. Or two.
The book I'd chosen for the title, and the fact that its author wore a bow tie and hat in the photo on the back cover. When do you see that anymore? And ... "Bodies in Motion and At Rest." Who could resist?
I'm now at the last essay. Thomas Lynch has an easy way of writing that belies the intricacy, the layer, the pull of century and legacy enriching each word. He has embroidered this pillow with care, and a true needle, and stuffed it full--though it is not always comfortable, it satisfies the soul. Recline, and enjoy.