Along the Way

Excerpted Review from North of Oxford journal by John Zheng

Scott Pariseau’s Along the Way is his first collection of poems and prose in variant forms, including epitaph, haiku, tanka-like poems, sonnet, free verse, and four prose pieces . . . the poet arranges the collection nearly chronologically and leads us along the way to different places—lived and traveled by the author—to experience his nostalgia, sadness, and sense of beauty found in ordinary life.

Another characteristic of Along the Way is the use of imagery coming from his personal experience. For example, “In Autumn Light” relates the crows to the black soil:

Crows
fly slow,
like black soil
rolling
off plows.

Pariseau is a keen observer who finds something memorable or beautiful in the ordinary. Moreover, memory brings out a sense of place loved by people, as presented in “Night in Harkey Valley, Arkansas”:

This family, spread by miles,
is together again, talking late
at the table. Love stirs,
grows in the eyes
of three generations.

Ancestors are named—
they are present, waiting;
their bones slide easily
into fresh young cousins.

This poem presents a common but cozy scene of a family time . . . talk moves smoothly to the second stanza about their ancestors to suggest a history and heritage of three generations, and this heritage becomes concrete in the last two miraculous lines.

Besides writing about daily life and memory, Pariseau also turns his eye to ecowriting. “Thirteen Turtles: A Prose Meditation” . . . conveys a strong ecological message. It intends to raise awareness of the potential negative consequence of the human killing of birds and animals and the destruction done to the earth. Further, Pariseau mentions yin yang in the Chinese cosmological symbolism, which means balance. People should realize that when the balance no longer exists on this earth, nature will turn to punish its destroyers—human beings.

. . . [We] see impressionistic and delightful views in Along the Way with an expectation for an aftertaste.

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“Federico Garcia Lorca said a poet should be a professor of the five senses, and Scott Pariseau's poems are marvelously sensory. Indeed, many of the poems read like verbal paintings. His poems aren't ostentatious—there's no sense of ‘Look, Ma, no hands!’ or verbal pyrotechnics—but they nonetheless contain images and phrases that are somehow simultaneously quiet and startlingly original.” — David Jauss, short-story writer

“Along Pariseau’s Way on prairie and at sea’s edge, birds fly overhead. Nature, spirit, beauty, and memories of family break forth . . . enter into mind and heart. The interventions are quiet and gentle, unexpected, disruptive, and as mysterious as two feathers falling from sky at his feet. They come and appear “like moonlight/on lapping water,/scattering off/the cold backs/of silvery fishes/just beneath.” His verses evoke, query, incant, and simply give him reason to ponder. Things permeate, enter communion . . . stand “in impalpable synchronicity.” The kindness, nostalgia, sadness, and beauty of these poems are reasons to give Along the Way a read. There is a bonus in prose . . . You see how struggle and travels in southern France and French Canada to find his identity and correct last name . . . harvested an understanding of history, family, and life.” — Dr. Joseph Amato, historian and author

“Scott Pariseau’s poems are sharp-eyed and gracious. They engage both the daily fine points of the near-at-hand world and the ever-shifting interfaces of generations, history, memory, and simple wonder. You will remember these tender poems for a long time. Warm heart. Clear water.” — Merrill Gilfillan, poet/fiction writer