The Lamps of History wrestles with the ambiguities-and choices-between connection/alienation, renewal/decay, and faith/doubt. Its poems explore family histories and our stance toward them as they dim, frayed bonds with our grandparents' traditions and beliefs, and distances ingrained in our current relationships. There are also poems on our civic estrangements: an ode to a papaya that spills into America's tribal conflict; elegies to the environment (one on disappearing phytoplankton, another on forests ravaged by pine beetles); a ghazal to a semi-automatic weapon; and a failed recipe for noodle pudding. Michael Sandler's writing marshals wit and wordplay in a deft handling of language and form. The poetry navigates the crosscurrents of tradition and post-modernism, steering somewhat closer to the former. Poet and editor George Bishop concludes: "This language is addictive. A stunning sense of place and story. To be read and read again.

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