THE LAMPS OF HISTORY

Sandler’s poetry collection examines everything from the quotidian to the profound.

Sandler finds poetry in the minute details of everyday scenes: falling into twilight sleep during surgery, observing a salesman on his way to the railway station, preparing kugel in a great-grandmother’s pot. His poems include historic, literary, and religious references—the Roman catacombs, the Talmud, Homer. In “Crown Bottle Cap,” a beer bottle found while cleaning becomes cause for contemplation: “why must passion curdle to dislike / or cravings lose their kick, / our momentary fireflies / sputtering out before dawn?” In “After the Party, We…,” the author describes a sexual encounter with sensual sparseness: “Skin to skin / and yet we fail to touch / what matters. / I scan / your eyes—such / unconfessing shutters.” “Cenobite” takes readers to the dog park, where the speaker struggles to overcome his shyness. Sandler explores familial roots in poems like “Still: How Many Verses Do You Know?” which highlights a father’s ability to “shut up Yid-haters,” or a grandmother’s longing for the old country and her refusal to “talk about the mass pits of history” in “Velikiye Luki.” He considers why his Uncle Saul is considered a “turncoat” in “Independence Day.” Sandler is a poet’s poet and has the publication credits to vouch for his talents. His language is layered with meaning, and his expansive vocabulary will delight logophiles. There is no subject too small for his keen eye and insight. His imagery, such as that of a papaya—“the Janus-faced fruit / would scowl its blotchy ripeness / into a failed state, / before being sliced to a smile / for her lips”—is evocative and bright. Sandler deftly toggles among nostalgic memory, historical analysis, and present-moment wonder without sacrificing cohesiveness. Some may want to keep an encyclopedia (or Google) handy, however, to fully grasp the author’s references.

A complex, electric work of erudite poems.