Books.org participates in affiliate programs including Bookshop.org and the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program. We may earn a commission from qualifying purchases made through links on this page, at no additional cost to you.
Synopsis
Just before her death in 2007 at the age of eighty-four, Grace Paley completed this wise and poignant book of poems. Full of memories of friends and family and incisive observations of life in both her beloved hometown, New York City, and rural Vermont, the poems are sober and playful, experimenting with form while remaining eminently readable. They explore the beginnings and ends of relationships, the ties that bind siblings, the workings of dreams, the surreal strangeness of the aging body—all imbued with her unique perspective and voice. Mournful and nostalgic, but also ruefully funny and full of love, Fidelity is Grace Paley’s passionate and haunting elegy for the life she was leaving behind.
The Barnes & Noble Review
When Grace Paley died in August 2007, she was primarily eulogized as a short story writer whose three collections of fiction set benchmarks for a generation of writers. The short stories deserve all their accolades, but equal attention should be paid to her poetry. In Paley s final collection of verse, Fidelity, the majority of the poems center around death, memory, and the loss of loved ones. Though her short fiction was filled with linguistic energy, political activism, and the manic rhythm of New York City streets, in Fidelity we find a writer who has mellowed with age (dare we say "gracefully"?). These are poems from an 80-something s sober perspective of a world that has increasingly carried its hand basket to hell. War in general, and Vietnam in particular, continues to ring loud in Paley s fist-like voice: "What a terrible racket they made / beating all those swords into plowshares." The collection is threaded with a vein of melancholic nostalgia as Paley calls upon the ghosts of her friends and family who, she recalls, "were in great pain at leaving / and were furiously saying goodbye." All is not completely sad, however; Fidelity crescendos to a note of uplift as, in the last stanza of the last poem, "This Hill," winter gives way to spring:
on this narrow path
ice holds the black undecaying
oak leaves in its crackling grip
oh it s become too hard to walk
a sunny patch I m suddenly in water to my ankles April
Haunting and haunted, Fidelity is the superb epilogue of Paley s career in which she furiously says goodbye. --David Abrams