The Mercy

Philip Levine

Why is it that often writer's seem to return to early pieces of their own lives, or the lives of their ancestors as they themselves approach the final pieces of their own lives? Is it because in our age we are finally able to understand those we could not understand in our youth? For whatever reason, it is a common lagoon most writers seek to tip their toes in to.

This is what Philip Levine has done in his latest volume of poetry _The Mercy_. In this volume he writes of his experiences in his youth, memories of his family, creating new "mythologies" of both. Though this is his latest, it isn't his best work. He has yet to surpass the writing in _What Work Is_ and _The Simple Truth_. His writing is, as Ann M says "honest" writing. He writes as if he is sitting next to you and you are having a simple conversation. What is missing here is his usually ability to not withhold anything. It feels that he is afraid of slipping into this lagoon of memory. There are wonderful images and narratives, but he seems almost too restrained. Even though I wasn't overwhelmed by his words, I will look forward to the next time he has something to share with me.