The Creation of the Night Sky

Rating:
Summary: Christopher's latest has more noir-ish goodies
Review: Nicholas Christopher's latest book of poems features some trademarks of his, including noir-ish portraits of cities, and a long poem (in 35 entries this time) that interweaves several characters and different events in unexpected ways. Though he's done this kind of thing before (5 Degrees, Desperate Characters, On Tour With Rita) this time it's more coherent and immediately accessible than those earlier works. It still takes a minute to bend your mind around some of the concepts he uses, but it's more immediately to your advantage this time around. A good read for those unfamiliar with his work, but offers extra goodies for those who know his poetry beforehand.

Rating:
Summary: A master of imagery and the surreal
Review: To preface, I'm no great fan of poetry. I don't read the stuff often but I was interested in this collection after I read Christopher's novel Veronica. While the poetry is good, its the imagery that makes this collection. Christopher is undoubtedly one of the most creative and imaginative writers working today. I would highly recommend Veronica but this collection will give readers some insight into the mind of a visionary.

Rating:
Summary: pretensious
Review: While at first drawn into the lush visual imagery, I eventually found the poems, and long journal in the back, strikingly empty. Christopher seems to be a showman, constantly performing for the reader with too many sleights of hand and verbal somersaults. The basic premise of the journal is interesting, but Christopher takes the rumination of life and death to a cloyingly predictable, pretensious degree. The Dcotor, the driver are one dimensional figures trapped in Christopher's invention. The overall effect is a kind of patronizing and inaccessible work, where Christopher's characters are walking blindly through a universe of chaos, where the poet seems to mourn their darkness yet fail to illuminate much for the reader. A depressing combination, in part because the poet obviously spent a good deal of energy performing for the reader during what's essentially an empty journey.