THE PLANETS

This—Diane Ackerman's first book of poetry—is composed of twelve sections, each devoted to the choreography of a planet or the conjuration of a celestial event. It's not the allegorical space-landscape or the session in astrological entrail-reading that the title might suggest; Ackerman has an admirable ability to keep the observing eye firmly within the frame of each of these highly-colored poems, and, in fact, half-bent to the ochres and greens of her upper New York State home. In her prologue, she suggests that her intention is to take what science knows about the solar system (and what science has thought it's known in ages past), measure her imagination against the facts, and make all of it her own; to a remarkable degree, she succeeds by referring each abstraction, speculation, bit of planetary data to some dense, sensual, or just plain fundamental experience she has had. That the body of this experience includes a good deal of oceanography and classical mythology—and some mastery of traditional poetic forms—Ackerman demonstrates in the texture and structural variety of these poems. The cumulative effect is that of a small, beautifully arranged museum of solar artifacts, where everything tells and more than a few things instruct and delight.