Based solely on page count (38 pages), writer Marilyn Carr’s new book of poetry–actually, only a single poem is offered for the reader’s consideration--could be described as slight. And one could argue that the poem, "Death of a Man," which is also the book’s title, is not poetry. Indeed, Carr challenges the reader on the matter in the book’s Foreword: “Have I written prose, poetry or just a little story? You decide. If you relate to this writing, whatever it is, hang tight because one day you will be written out of your sorrow.” I decided after reading the book three times that since, for me, Carr and her book were enigmas, I would simply do as the author suggested and reflect on what she had written on my own terms. From the beginning the book is empowering.
Death of a Man is a remembrance and reflection on the loss of a loved one. While not so stated, and despite the standard disclaimer, Carr could have 
written the piece based on her relationship with her father or stepfather or another man to whom she was very close. In the poem, she speaks to the myriad of emotions that loss brings: pain and suffering, highs and lows, loss and gain, and inspiration and the human spirit. Her inherent sense of humor tempers everything she writes.
Carr’s writing is wonderfully mercurial. She planted the seed in the Foreword, which quickly blossomed in my mind, suggesting that what she had written was at every point, with every passage, poetry, prose and storytelling taking place simultaneously. I concur, and for me, this form created a style that was unpredictable, moving and engaging. It could be mistaken for heartfelt stream of consciousness written in a single moment of time; or, regarded as a meticulously drawn series of emotional word-sketches crafted over the course of a period of time. Whatever the creative circumstances, and despite her diversity of form and unpredictability, her writing is amazingly seamless and tightly woven--more enigma.
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