National Book Critics Circles nominees / Poetry

"Granted" is Mary Szybist's debut collection, but this poet can certainly hold her own against the other four more experienced finalists. In fact, with her intelligence and understated grace, Szybist may become one of the best-known writers of her generation. In "Granted," she explores a timeless theme - spiritual and romantic longing. In page after page, she wrestles with faith and hope, struggling to find peace by finding freedom from desire. In the process, she lures readers into a hidden place somewhere between intellect and silence. Syzbist opens her poems beautifully, with intriguing lines and images: "We like loss to be quiet," "Yes, the open mouth/ of your watering can, it/ reminds me of you...." Many of her descriptions are evocative, and at times she makes wonderful, surprising leaps, as in these lines: "Before I started to love you/ I tried to love the world:/ the plump, dumb oranges that crushed/ in my mouth, the waves that rolled upshore/ until they were eyelid thin and purple...." This collection has many strengths, but the poet sometimes seems a bit too reserved, as though she could offer more wisdom, more directness. Give Szybist a chance, however. Her second book may show even more depth and reach.

"Columbarium," like Mary Szybist's "Granted," deals with the spiritual realm. But Stewart wants to convey more than emotions or lyrical descriptions. In this, her fourth book, she tries to reveal certain truths about the mind and the senses, the living and the dead, the physical world and the metaphysical realm. To do this, she juxtaposes solid-looking free verse with looser poetic forms. In some poems, the words sweep across the page like a flock of sparrows. But Stewart also makes her subject matter do a great deal of work, and her topics vary from scarecrows to dreams to views of hell. In the best of these poems, Stewart combines lovely sounds and images with ideas about the invisible forces that undergird life on earth. In "Rewind" she writes: "Strange how he had written, when he was thinking about music,/ that it is not motion, but a miracle, if a thing changes/ place without crossing the interval/ between its former and latter place." Some readers will feel that the book really quenches their thirst for understanding, but others may find themselves wishing for less visual effect and longer, more frequent drinks at the fountain.

Carolyn Forché has long been known as a "poet of witness," a writer who refuses to forget the oppressed. Her political reputation was established in 1982, when she published a book about her work in El Salvador as a human rights activist. Now, in her fourth collection, Forché travels in a different direction, journeying inside the emotions and the soul. The title "Blue Hour" refers to the time between night and daylight, a period associated with waiting for salvation. In Forché's case, however, salvation is earned by learning to recall painful events, to observe them with clear eyes while somehow retaining a shred of innocence. The title poem, which includes scenes from Paris, does contain some warm maternal moments, but there are also brutal details of childhood abuse and the chilling statement that: "You see, one can live without having survived." The longest poem, "On Earth," is modeled on ancient gnostic hymns, and like many of the pages in "Blue Hour," this section demands several readings. Some readers may find the work too dense or confusing. Of the five nominees, this book is the most challenging.

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