This recording features Ashbery reading sixteen poems--some very short, some rather long--in order of their publication. Side one consists of "Soonest Mended," "Parergon," and "Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror" (yes, the whole poem!). Side two consists of "Pyrography," "Daffy Duck in Hollywood," "Wet Casements," "And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name," "My Erotic Double," "At North Farm," "More Pleasant Adventures," "Around the Rough and Rugged Rocks the Ragged Rascal Rudely Ran," "This Room," "Memories of Imperialism," "Redeemed Area," "Your Name Here," and "The Underwriters." One could wish for greater balance: there are no poems here from Ashbery's first books (those published in the '50s and '60s), and the last five poems are all from his latest book, YOUR NAME HERE. All sixteen are interesting poems, however. Unlike most of the writers in this series, Ashbery is alive; presumably he was allowed to choose which poems would be included, and one expects any writer to favor his most recent work.

The tape comes with a 63pp. book that includes the texts of the poems, excerpts from interviews, and an informative introduction by J.D. McClatchy. The back jacket reproduces the typescript of "Your Name Here."

Ashbery's reading is clear and unrushed. It is also relatively uninflected: he lets the words speak for themselves, rather than turn his readings into theatrical performances.

My only real complaint is that Random House has released this (along with the rest of this series) only on cassette. Compact discs would last longer, and they would also allow listeners to punch up individual poems instantly, without having to guess at rewinding and fast-forwarding. They'd certainly be more useful to teachers.

Out of print for nearly 50 years, New York Review Books has happily reprinted this slim, charming, nearly forgotten classic by Schuyler, best known as a poet. Told entirely through the dialogue, letters, and diary entries of two very precocious children -- Alfred and Guinevere, sent to live in the country with their uncle and grandmother for reasons not entirely clear to them -- Schuyler brilliantly and hilariously portrays their attempts to piece together the larger, enigmatic adult world around them. Beneath the book's apparently guileless surface, there also lies a sophisticated awareness of the complicated ways in which words work to define the boundaries between fantasy and reality, innocence and knowledge. Thoroughly delightful, Alfred and Guinevere will move you with both beauty and poignancy.

Schuyler is best remembered (with Kenneth Koch, John Ashberry, and Frank O'Hara) as one of the "New York" school of poets. This slim little novel, however, shows that his talents in prose have been underappreciated. ALFRED AND GUINEVERE is a hilarious little story--told entirely through dialogue, letters, and Guinevere's diary--of two very precocious children sent to live in the country with their uncle and grandmother for reasons initially unclear to them. Their attempts to piece together the larger adult world (which may comprise adultery, death, disappointment, and loneliness) are very funny and poignant, and though Alfred and Guienevere often get on each others' nerves their mutual devotion still rings quite true. This is a fast read, and its high quality may still not justify the exorbitant cover price. (NYRB has been charging too much for its editions, which are beautiful and spectacularly chosen, but often run to novella-length rather than to full novel-length). But I was glad I had bought--and read--this little-known jewel.

The mild decline of a great talent continues. Johnny hasn't been on point since Wakefulness, but we can thank somebody that this collection, however mediocre, still easily trumps the ghastly "...Rain". Please--I adore Ashbery, so no hot-dung tossing. There are some great pieces in this latest: "Little Sick Poem", "Half-Kiss'd", the second to last poem whose title escapes me...

...go to the library, but don't buy the thing unless you're compiling a comprehensive collection. A lot of blubber, filler.

I'd give it 2.5 stars, if I could--the last half gold.

I should have known better than to buy a book without actually holding it in my hands and giving it at least a cursory once through. One of the editorial reviews said that it was "lavishly illustrated", and that was good enough for me. There simply is not enough books with illustrations of the works of Joseph Cornell. Hence, I bought it, only to find that there's not a single color plate in the whole book. All the illustrations are B&W. Not only that, but most of the photographs of the works are not particularly well done. I admit, I haven't even looked at the text--so, call me provencial. Art books are about art. Art is colorful. In writing a review of a book, I would be ashamed to call it "lavishly illustrated" when not a single plate is in color. What, then, makes it lavish? You've got me. I'm going to bet that you're going to see a lot of used copies of this book in the near future. Frankly, if you need a fix of Joseph Cornell, buy the Prestel Post Cards of Cornell. You'll save money and actually get some idea of what his creative work was about.