Broken Cup

November 15, 2014

Broken mind, broken heart: National Book Award finalist Gibson's poems are filled with the quietly contained anguish of caring for her husband after he is diagnosed with Alzheimer's, "a disease that sieves the mind of its contents." There are moments of triumph, too: "Together we smile and touch hands lightly./ We've done it again. The world returns to its fullness." Gibson's tone is ruminative and conversational, as if she is confiding in the reader; good even for those who don't routinely read verse.

Copyright 2014 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

September 1, 2014
Gibson entitles this book with a simile given her by a teacher of Vedanta. Like a cup to the drinker, the body of the beloved provides substantial refreshmentdrink from the cup, spirit from the bodyuntil it irreparably breaks. The refreshment remainswith the drinker, with the lover. The body in question here is that of Gibson's husband, the poet David McKain, who has Alzheimer's disease, and the poems of which the book consists, while they tell of, say, gardening or housekeeping, demonstrate that even as his memory dissipates, he nourishes her, stirring her memories, triggering her appreciation of their life, testing and confirming love, bringing her back to, or face-to-face with, the big questions. What is the self? she asks in one only slightly nervous contemplation of his mounting forgetfulness. Another, about a conversation with a friend in which she admits there is nothing to keep her with David, but she would never leave, concludes, What is this Nothing / that holds me, that holds us, holds us allWhat is it? Pensive and memorable work.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2014, American Library Association.)