Sanctuary

Don Precosky teaches English at the College of New Caledonia in Prince
George.

Sanctuary is one of those books whose individual parts promise more than
the book as a whole delivers. There are some wonderful poems here, and
whenever I open the book at random I find, if not greatness, at least
nothing to seriously complain about. It’s just that when read for any
extended length of time, the book becomes monotonous, because the author
is trapped in a cryptic, short-line imagist style from which he never
departs. There is just so much one can do with it, and Cathers sometimes
tries things, such as slow development of emotion, that imagism cannot
achieve.

The book works best when Cathers keeps a poem moving and doesn’t
linger too long to develop or expound upon meaning. By this, I don’t
mean to suggest that his best work is shallow. Poems such as “As I
Write this Down” and “Homage” (his excellent portrait of fellow
workers at the Harmac pulp mill) show a marvelous ability to infuse
images with emotion. There are just so many hushed, sensitive short-line
imagist jewels one can take in a row; it’s time for Cathers to mine
another vein.