Chase Twichell Books

Actually,that's what happened to my copy. I was going through an ugly divorce. I am a Buddhist. A friend suggested reading this book through the Hard Time. I took it to a pub, had a beer or two too many, left without the book. Realised it was left two minutes later, went back, Too late! Gone. I figure whoever nabbed it was also in need of the clarity, the crystal limning, the in-your-face reality. The best book of poetry I've read in a decade. I think I'll order another copy.

I love the forthrightness of these poems. Chase Twichell's THE SNOW WATCHER is a book of some of the most convincing American zen poems I've ever seen. They are American in the sense that they are constantly subverting themselves, constantly questioning themselves, but at the same time they are beautiful and evocative and searching moments of clarity. There is a steady quietude that manages to peel back the layers of both the natural world and the self in a way that is both fresh and deeply historical.

Including a lifetime of beloved pets, the poet has assembled a brilliant patchwork of images, a volume of poetry to fill an insatiable desire for the unusual connection s of language spun to enchant and distract, to stimulate, memories tossed aside as insubstantial until addressed by such a provocateur.

The painful lessons of childhood are indelible, caught in the careless act of a father and the sadness of a mother:

"She'd be shut up in their bedroom,
mid-afternoon, hardly any sound,
but the breath said it was weeping.
Did I already have my own
Sadness apart from hers?

I think so, but she didn't want
To touch sorrows with me."
(Topiary Rooster)

Independent, inherently curious, the child learns early the importance of critical observation and self-awareness:

"I wanted to be none of them,
especially not Mary,
who had to give birth
having never known love."
(Crèche)

And it is that very self-searching that is so poignant in this book, the quick barbs not meant to wound, but to awaken:

"The dress rehearsal is not going well.
The actor playing Grief
is quite drunk and refuses
to follow the script.

It's Guilt's part she wants."
(Dress Rehearsal)

Moving from childhood to the death of a parent, this work is both intimate and persuasive, a tentative foray into a woman's experience in the world, love of language a tool for exploration, unburdened by ego or pretense, simply sharing impressions, a brilliant journey. Luan Gaines/ 2007.

I bought the book for maybe one dollar at a used book sale in the North Lake mall. I read it alot and spilled chocolate ice cream on page eleven near the word 'cold'. It is a significant book in the life of my exciting poetry relationship. It is maybe 2nd best of these new years.

Some of the exercises stimulate the muse, while others are a bit brief.
The index at the back should have covered topics and concepts.

These exercises are quite involved. I was hoping for some exercises for writing poetry in the high school classroom. These took quite a bit of time, but resulted in some good poems.

I discovered this book during my MA program a few years back. At the time, I'd not seen anything quite like it, aside from Lew Turco's Book of Forms, a book that I enjoyed. But since I'm not a primarily formalist poet, I found Turco's book somewhat wanting.

Robin Behn and Chase Twichell's *The Practice of Poetry* provided a needed alternative. It's filled with great generative poetry writing exercises, each accompanied by a short discussion written by the poet/professor who contributed the piece. These introductions are at least as valuable as the assignments themselves: reading them, one sees a poet's mind in action, something very hard to describe or capture.

The most useful of these assignments gets you writing very quickly. David St. John's contribution, a dramatic monologue, for example, urges writers to find a famous person from history or literature and write from that person's perspective. I'll never forget a shy young student writing a monologue in Sherlock Holmes' voice in my workshop.

Other assignments do come off as flaky, and yet the contributors admit as such. One exercise leads poets through a chanting exercise that seems so odd that I'd fear for my job if I tried it in class. Even in a less formal workshop, I'd be reticent about chanting. Of course, if chanting is something you enjoy . . .

The book concludes with two or three essays about revision that every poet needs to read. Beginning poets especially can benefit the wisdom herein.

Perhaps the greatest strength of this book is it variety. The book includes assignments from all ends of the aesthetic spectrum--from Jackson Mac Low to Dana Gioia. So, whether you're a New Formalist, a Neo-Surrealist, or a L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E disciple, this book will prove indispensable to your library.

The Practice of Poetry is a book that you (sometimes as an individual, sometimes in a group) do, more than a book you read. It doesn't have a lot of data on the technical aspects of poetry (rhyme, meter, style, etc.) It also doesn't address the various schools and movements of poetry. It has a lot of exercises on various aspects of poetry (mining the unconscious, writing in images and metaphors, what voice is being used, the use/misuse of strangeness, poetic structure, the poetry/music connection, and rewriting).

I would have liked to see some of the poetry of the contributors to see if I wanted to investigate them further. There is plenty of empty space where that could be done.

As this book was published in 1992, the comment by contributor Agha Shahid Ali that ghazals are an unfamiliar form in American poetry is no longer true, as Robert Bly used them in his books "The Night Abraham Called To The Stars" and "My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy." Many of the poems referenced are now available on the internet, so the references as to where to obtain the poems mentioned in the book, and the poems of the contributors, are dated. It would be great if there was a new edition of this book.

But the exercises are time-independent, and if you do them, your poetry will most likely improve.

I teach an 8th grade Language Arts Class in rural Washington State. I found our textbook to be bland and typical. I was looking for some work for my students to actually learn how to write poetry correctly. This book does this.

Chase Twichell writes poetry beautifully. She has a wonderful sense of rhythm and form. Her poems flow and take the reader along. She is a splendid observer of nature and this shows in her work. She occasionally gets you into the poem and then smacks you in the face with unexpected violence. As an observer and commentator on nature she is comparable to Mary Oliver. But, where Oliver celebrates the beauty and meaning of nature, Ms. Twichell laments it's distruction and loss. Both are probably necessary but the results are quite different. If you are in the mood to be uplifted read Oliver. But if you want ammunition and encouragement in a fight to save the nature we have left, by all means read this book.