In The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems, Billy Collins picks up the conversation he has held with readers and with himself in each of his last few books. Many of these poems address the reader directly, and nearly all of them carry a personal, almost chummy tone to them; in ‘Eastern Standard Time’, Collins is so specific as to address only those readers in his time zone. It is as if the writer were the most genial person around, and you, the reader, the person he would most love to talk to. By means of this friendliness, Collins is able bring to the page whatever guest musings or profundity he may like. As with his previous work, here Collins is compatriot and sage, companion and guide, autobiographer and insightful universalist.

Many of the poems in this collection circle around the topic or theme of poetry. Collins is fascinated with poetry and the written word. He literally brags about his opportunity to write. ‘You, Reader’ begins:

I wonder how you are going to feel

when you find out

that I wrote this instead of you.

In ‘Monday’, Collins even takes pride in poets’ lack of pay:

…the poets are at their windows

because it is their job for which

they are paid nothing every Friday afternoon.

But Collins also clearly pokes fun at poets, poetry classes and readings. Both ‘The Student’ and ‘The Introduction’ mock the idiosyncrasies of contemporary poetry-making. And yet even these jokes about method and madness can, in his hands, turn beautiful and meaningful from one stanza to the next. In ‘Drawing Class’, the speaker spends two-thirds of the poem describing his enjoyment of these classes, and then turns to say what more he wants to learn and be able to do:

I want to draw

four straight lines that will connect me

to the four points of the compass,

to the bright spires of cities,

the overlapping trellises,

the turning spokes of the world.

This turn transforms the poem from a witty and enjoyable description to statement of longing for eternity and connection in the world, a surprising lift for the reader.

Collins seems to seek two ends: to disarm the reader enough to turn a possibly wry smile at the world, and to disarm them such as to smuggle in an elevated or transcendent thought. Similar to his work in Nine Horses, Collins begins many poems with the autobiographical ‘I’ laying the scene, and ends with that ‘I’ turning inward and reflective, carrying the reader along with him to an unexpected place. ‘Traveling Alone’ has this trajectory, as the poem opens with the hopeful feeling that everyone around is as sociable as the poet:

…I began to sense that all of them

were ready to open up,

to get to know me better, perhaps begin a friendship.

Yet the poem turns to questioning, the poet wondering if he was wrong to judge the politeness of staff and attendants as friendliness and interest in his philosophies and habits. The poem concludes with the speaker offering up, to those interested or not, one final self-revelation, that takes the poem from this feeling while traveling, to a record of the poet as poet, enlivening the title with fresh meaning:

…the only emotion I ever feel…

is what the beaver must feel,

as he bears each stick to his hidden construction,

which creates the tranquil pond

and gives the mallards somewhere to paddle,

the pair of swans a place to conceal their young.

This book is the continuation of a conversation. As he acknowledged at the outset:

… it was just a matter of time

before one of us happened

to notice the unlit candles

and the clock humming on the wall.

The only problem with this intimate approach is that, as with a real conversation, the other conversant can, at times, get tired of talking or listening. Much of this issue is resolved with pacing, largely by the reader. Though one might wish Collins to branch out from this comfortable rut he has found, that wish does not last long, and can be conquered by a cup of coffee, a look out the window and a turn of the page, which seems to be Collins’ own method of composition.

In the title poem, ‘The Trouble With Poetry’, Collins tells the reader:

…mostly poetry fills me

with the urge to write poetry.

to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame

to appear at the tip of my pencil.

And along with that, the longing to steal,

to break into the poems of others

with a flashlight and a ski mask.

This latter feeling, the longing to break into poems, is how The Trouble With Poetry and Other Poems leaves the reader. He or she can only be comforted by the fact that Collins shares, that poetry ‘encourages the writing of more poetry.’ It can only be hoped that this fact remains true for Billy Collins for many more years to come.

Timothy Thomas McNeely recently finished an M.Litt. in the School of English at the University of St Andrews. He, his wife, and his infant son currently reside in Tacoma, Washington.