There You Are

A joy of narrative poetry is its capacity to deliver complexity within a simple forward-moving framework. Simpson, writing masterfully at the peak of a long and prize-winning career (e.g., Pulitzer and Prix de Rome), introduces us to characters conjured from his years in academia, his work in the publishing business and from trips abroad. This cast calls to mind the dramatis personae of Raymond Carver, each going about daily life, absorbing agonies and pleasures that then absorb both author and reader. Combining straightforward diction with oblique insights, Simpson limns people and stories with an irony tempered by compassion. ``Stairs,'' an exchange with a carpenter whose athlete son died after climbing five flights, ends simply: ``He is a man/ with a great deal on his mind.'' Underpinning the collection is the poet's own search for significance among his experiences. He is not above ending a piece with a ``So What?'' or a ``What for?'' as he repeatedly wonders aloud about the value of living. It seems a stable stance, hard-earned, inarguable. (Sept.)