San Francisco Chronicle Previews New Collection of Poetry by Kay Ryan

A new collection by former U.S. poet laureate Kay Ryan explores the nuances of loss, responding to the death of her long-time partner, Carol Adair. More:

Kay Ryan’s poetry stands on its own, separate, as she might put it, from any “autobiographical gloss.” If you read enough of her poems, say a dozen, you may learn some things about her, about the thoughts that occupy her mind, her wry sense of humor, her sly way with the words she chooses. You would not, however, learn about her dusty youth, the long bike rides she used to take that had her waking up dew-covered on the beach or the home she has made, tucked away in Marin.

Perhaps most notably, you would not learn about Carol Adair, her partner of 30 years and a person whose introduction to Ryan’s life almost exactly marked the beginning of her writing career (a career, it must be said, that has since been honored with almost every prize imaginable). “There were people,” Ryan once told the Paris Review, “who I could drop a stone down and hear it go plunk really fast. But I could drop a stone down Carol and never hear it hit the bottom.”

For that story, you would have to find a copy of each of Ryan’s collections, flip to a page near the front and read the dedication. You would have to do this chronologically, starting with “Dragon Acts to Dragon Ends,” published in 1983, and ending with her most recent work, “Erratic Facts,” published just this month. Once collected, the vaguest outlines would begin to appear, as if in an unintended piece of almost-poetry.

Ryan is short and short-haired, salt-and-pepper at age 70. Her face is boxy and lined. She plays with words and phrases almost absentmindedly. Sometimes, she seems to catch herself off guard with her own jokes (she is very funny) and begins to laugh. In the middle of a three-hour conversation, she might ask to feel your shoes or announce she wants your same haircut.

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