Review by Booklist Review
Assuming the I in the short poems here is Schultz it obviously isn't in the 50-pager that so impressively concludes the book then he seems to have started a family when well past 50, which is rather startling, given the book's title and predominant woundedness. To have two small boys turn up regularly amid all the memorials, hauntings, bittersweet and just plain bitter recollections, and resigned complaints about society, human inadequacy, and chance is disconcerting, refreshing, and poignant (are they bound for the same kinds of disappointment? of course). If personal failure is the main theme here, it is finally no reason to be defeated. Although incurably depressive, you can still walk dogs in Manhattan and love them, even after 9/11, which caused you to be rushed out of recovery from electroshock therapy that day, as happened to the narrator of the big poem, The Wandering Wingless. Life goes on for Schultz, and he continues to write about it with greater conversational sweetness than any other American poet one can readily call to mind.--Olson, Ray Copyright 2007 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The careful, compassionate sixth outing from Schultz (Living in the Past) reverses the plot many poetry books imply. Rather than show an emotional problem (in the first poems) followed by its gradual solution, Schultz begins with warm, even heartwarming, short depictions of love, marriage, fatherhood, and mourning, in which even the elegies find reasons to love life. Schultz addresses the deceased poet David Ignatow: "I didn?t go/ to your funeral, but, late at night, I/ bathe in the beautiful ashes of your words." As a reader moves through the volume, and especially in "The Wandering Wingless"- the sequence whose 58 segments and 54 pages conclude the book\-Schultz?s gladness gives way to regret and grim fear. Devoted (like several of Schultz?s short poems) to the virtues of dogs and of dog-ownership, and to the horrors of September 11, "Wingless" meanders through the poet?s own depression and his young adult life before settling on his continuing grief for his unstable, suicidal father. "Why/ did Dad own, believe in,/ admit to, understand/ and love nothing?" It is a question no poet could answer, though Schultz sounds brave, and invites sympathy, as he tries. The clear, even flat, free verse suggests Philip Booth, though Schultz?s Jewish immigrant heritage, and his attachment to New York City, place him far from Booth?s usual rural terrain. Few readers will find his language especially varied or inventive; many, however, could see their own travails in his plainly framed, consistently articulated sorrows and joys. (Nov.) Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information.