Gary Grossman’s What I Meant to Say covers the whole complexity of his life, but what stands out to me, what distinguishes him in my mind from other writers is the sensuality that he brings to his poetry and also the understanding of scientific concepts that works its way seamlessly into his descriptions of the natural world. This understanding is only natural. After all, he is professionally a professor, scientist, and environmentalist, and his intellectual life brings richness to his poetry. But, far from this science creating a dryness, it brings magic. After all, the magic of the natural world is contained in the wonder of scientific truth. What we miss when we ignore the scientific truths of the natural world is how complex, beautiful, and interwoven all life is with the earth. Grossman does not miss this fact and neither does his poetry.
To say that Grossman’s work benefits from a firm grounding in science does not suggest that it misses sensuality. His work is often remarkable in its earthiness. His work pleasures in it, and to read his poetry is to enjoy experiencing the world from his point of view. For example, his descriptions of food are often filled with their pleasures: “Melding the mustard with soy, achieving the proper Dao of texture and heat, has the illicit feel of first caress, while suimei, quiver gently in the woven bamboo steamer, and await the sauce” (26). Not only are the tastes of the food conveyed but the scents and textures too, so that we experience the food with the narrator. The whole experience of life is explored here even little moments such as the following moment with his wife:
My wife shifts—her right leg
now touching mine as I
sit, drinking black coffee,
in the dark (40).
These are the small moments that when they are experienced correctly, aware of our senses, make life interesting and worthwhile. Grossman shows us what it is to be awake to these moments.
What he gives us, however, because of his intellectual life is what few other poets can, a casual weaving of the secrets of the natural world in with his work. He writes about gardening, fishing, and experiencing nature as few people could. He writes:
Planting a garden is revolution—
hope triumphing over despair. Flower
or veggie—all green comes from a smoothie
of crushed rock and humus—spiked with
nitrogen, phosphorous, and micronutrients (22).
Not only are we given a view here of the ways that plants enliven our lives, but the ways they live and how they live. All of this comes through the poetry smoothly, with the facility of someone used to writing about the technical aspects of life, but the beauty of someone who enjoys experiencing it. Even when we have a small encounter with a creature in the wild, he weaves in details that lets us understand them better. In this case, he casually drops in a detail about the sex of turtles.
Red eyes tell me his pronouns are
he/him—(53).
These details throughout the collection without calling attention to themselves, merely adding to our understanding and pleasure of the moment.
Gary Grossman’s What I Meant to Say embodies the spirit of radical wonder. His work is alive to what it is to be alive in the world and aware. Everything he sees and touches deserves to be considered and celebrated, and his book is one that should be read by anyone who loves to read work by those of us alive to the possibilities of the world.
John Brantingham 21st January 2024
