[One] of the most attractive features of Mark Strand's The Late Hour is the sense of positive progression that it embodies. The first two of the volume's four sections are permeated by feelings of enervation and depression. The hour is indeed late; Strand presents what appears to be the theme of these sections in a poem called "The Story":

     You know the one I mean: it's the one about the minutes dying,
     and the hours, and the years; it's the story I tell
     about myself, about you, about everyone.

Death is a dominating presence in this part of the book, as all things wind down to an ultimate stasis. (p. 466)

In terms of space, fully two-thirds of the volume is given over to this kind of thing. Despite the general fineness of the writing, these aren't easy poems to stay with; constant attention to enervation, depression, and death-consciousness...