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Those who are alarmed by New York, as I am, must be alarmed also by John Hollander's poems, which I register as New York poetry through and through. In the past Hollander has been explicit and defiant about this, as in his witty and accomplished imitation of Juvenal's third satire, where New York is substituted for Juvenal's Rome; or in the controlled octosyllabic garrulity of 'Upon Apthorp House' (from Movie-Going, 1962), where he thankfully greets the Hudson recovered after years in the New England wilderness:
Review, 2504 words
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