Another side of William Logan
Glück remains our great poet of annihilation and disgust, our demigoddess of depression. At her discomforting best, she reminds me of no poet more than Rilke, who was also a case of nerves and who also lived close to the old myths. Though her comments about him have been hedged, of all the Americans now writing Glück is the closest to being his secret mythographer. Her silences fall at times like moral resistance, and the most striking lines of her chatter are as haunting as an elegy for herself.
For more of Logan’s poetry criticism there is the National Book Critics Circle Award-winner, The Undiscovered Country: Poetry in the Age of Tin and the recently published Our Savage Art: Poetry and the Civil Tongue.