Bill Hollands is a natural storyteller. His poems are performative in the best senseof the word-rooted in high school and community theater stages, the tenniscourt, and reimagining TV classics like The Love Boat, Gilligan's Island, and TheMary Tyler Moore Show. In Mangrove, even his childhood Miami home becomesa stage as he searches for it on Zillow. Memories about the less-than-fun parts ofchildhood like the Presidential Fitness Test and desk graffiti about himself becomea tableau of humor and innovation. And who else can begin a love poem like this?"I gave you crabs and you let us / pretend that it might have been / you who gavethem to me and that / was so lovely...". No one! The poetry curtains open andthere is a spotlight-inside it, Bill Hollands. -Denise Duhamel In this delightful collection, Bill Hollands confirms he "can, after all, put on ashow." With humor, a conversational rhythm, and a careful eye for detail, heexplores how a boy who is told "you are not like the others" finds his own identity.Via masks such as Ginger and Mary Ann, elementary musical performer, andyoung tennis wannabe-sometimes tortured, always determined-he keepsreturning to and claiming "beauty, beauty beyond understanding." The Floridaand pop culture of his 1970's childhood provide a backdrop for discovering hisown Mangrove. While remembering mother, father, and brothers-along withcard tables, Aqua Velva, and The Love Boat-Hollands assures readers: "here's thegreat thing about poetry: you can change the ending." -Ellen Bass Bill Hollands' song is one of sitcoms, family, and childhood. And most of all, apartness: "the ritual humiliation." And loss. Hollands shows us that memory isunfinished, like one of his mother's jigsaw puzzles. And shows us, too, that youcan create your own family. -David Trinidad
