August 27, 2012
If nothing else, the Internet proves that people have an infinite capacity for guffaws brought on by pictures of cats. Given that reality, the Oatmealâs collection of Web comics about cats is a certain crowd pleaser. Since fans of the genre never tire of jokes about cats pouncing on you in the night, batting you in the face, chasing imaginary creatures, wanting their tummies rubbed, and other proof that cats are crazy, cat humor appears to be above criticism. Inmanâs style is simple and populist and asks little of the reader, and is effective in inducing laughter in bored office workers. The Oatmeal is itself on online sensation and Inman a Web comics superstar, making this a surefire winner
January 1, 2002
The quiet desperation and the long perspectives of middle-American comfort provided the deftly handled and uncommonly moving subjects for Morris (1931-1997), who transformed them into laconic, well-crafted poems. Morris' first book, Green Business (1970), established his topics and tones: quatrains and terse trimeter columns described an unlived life of desks and whiskey, of "suburban work/ You are not suited to," where "Whatever you do/ Occurs at a distance." Later books added historical subjects and mordant puns, making for a body of work always restrained, mostly sad, and often quotable. "Archaeology" begins "Almost nothing mysterious is/ To be found./ This attracts us." "At Forest Lawn Cemetery" (in Los Angeles) ends with Morris' plans to visit, next, "the Homes of the Stars/ And the Universal Lot." Strong poems address lost and realized hopes which link grandfathers to fathers, and fathers to sons: "They are what I would keep/ Until I leave them." Such musings on mortality and nostalgia made Morris the closest American poetry could get to Philip Larkin. Morris published his last book of verse in 1987; he devoted his last years to Then, an unfinished memoir. Born to genteel parents of some wealth, Morris saw his father recede into mental illness; his mother remarried in New York City, then moved the family to upstate New York and (after his stepfather's death) to North Carolina, from which he entered a military school. Two complete chapters about Morris' childhood show fine writing, but little to make his life stand out; the less-polished chapter on military school (and on his adult service in postwar Korea) offers more surprises. The real power lies in the poems; this very handsome selection, with its substantial, convincing introduction from Vendler, should certainly broaden his group of admirers. As a set, the books land midway between an in-house tribute (Morris taught at Washington University) and a serious effort to relaunch a neglected writer.