Being reflected upon (a memoir of 17 years, 2000-2017)

A noteworthy member of the self-appointed Second New York School, Notley (For the Ride) takes the title of her expansive 50th book from a poem by Frank O'Hara: she is "reflected upon" by people and places witnessed and imagined during a 17-year period of loss, illness, and joyful remembering from 2000 to 2017. After the death of her second husband ("Doug--April 21, 2000"), Notley lives in Paris ("for the health care"), having undergone radiation treatments for cancer. There, she is delighted to be--through a club membership--"an international poet." She visits her mother in Needles, Ariz., where she grew up: "she doesn't want me there because I know she's dying/ others don't seem to then she wants me there again/ and I'm there and back here and there and then there again./ I hate people who listen to music on machines." Interruptions in the form of dreams, flashbacks, Lucrezia Borgia, Ginsberg, an acid trip, her husbands and sons break the flow, though the poet's stamina and humor are good company throughout, "Dream old pay phone ringing in hospital I pick up/ receiver voice says 'The answer is awe.' " Notley offers an intriguing and spirited reflection on a life in poetry. (Apr.)

Alone in 2017 Paris and completing treatment for her first recurrence of breast cancer, Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize winner Notley (For the Ride) decided to investigate how her life had unfolded since 2000, when husband Doug Oliver died. In true Notley style, what results is a veritable fountain of thoughts and reflections (because "loopy I mean zany / vision's interesting"), with sentences often breaking off midstream and redirecting ("Have you forsythia proven John Forsythe / in the driven to remember rain or snow I'm sinking / syntax by vibe, okay?"). This is no stately meditation but an astonishing rush of remembrance, with multiple flashpoints captured as sensuous moment, and it's a wonder to weave through her life, from her seeing a Greek play in Paris ("I cannot be the chorus the com- / munity I reject the concept though / there you are") to affecting recall of the deaths of Oliver and Notley's mother. Throughout, bits and particles fly, like the colored glass fragments of a kaleidoscope, and she reassembles them into not-narratives, as she's not interested in traditional stories. But as one of those specks, she also embraces the whole world: "I a micropoint in the wind that I am also." VERDICT A rich and bracing visit with one of our best poets; highly recommended.