Barnett defies traditional poetics, dabbling with the experimental, especially with the Accursed Questions series throughout the book—there are four. Each prosaic poem presents a series of statements to frame the poet’s current mindset (hour of being human) ... The Accursed Questions exemplify the collection—talking to oneself, with polarizing senses of disbelief and narcissism ... Barnett’s poetry draws its strength from images. Her images are clear and stark. Proper nouns and accurate references are used to prove meaning. Barnett also takes risks by challenging reader knowledge of literature and philosophy. Human Hours leaves us thinking, thinking within all hours of life.
Catherine Barnett’s newest collection of poems, Human Hours, invites readers into the impermanence of time and the human desire to try and capture the hours that continually slip away from us. Our guide is a speaker who embraces the ache and hilarity of life found in unexpected moments ... The book is broken into four sections, each beginning with a poem entitled Accursed Questions ... As Barnett unfolds for readers the hours of a particular human life, she simultaneously asks readers to examine their own hours. Barnett’s style is conversational, convivial, an invitation to enter the life of a speaker who must say goodbye often as the hours of her life pass her by.
... [Barnett] examines both small moments and current events, recalling lessons learned from her father, experiences with her son and her own consternation about living in a democracy with a violent legacy.The pieces, which range in tone from darkly comic to deeply distressing, present some dour scenarios, nudging readers to consider how they spend their lives.
... a fast-paced but unflappable tour of hotels, airports, college drop-offs, gynecologists’ offices and the cafes of Lower Manhattan ... But the moments of stillness in Human Hours are equally compelling.
... enchanting ... [The book] begins by doing something unexpected: immediately fulfilling our expectations ... as in much of the collection, [Barnett] proceeds by an antic, sideways logic of the clown. Her attention continually strays from what you’re “supposed to” focus on in a Serious Poem ... Which is not say that Barnett’s work is somehow silly or unserious, however light its touch ... For all the contemporary poets who rely on wordplay or the associative mode, very few write poems this gratifying, or with such philosophical heft.
Barnett ponders 'the silvery green light of time' in her elegantly understated third collection. According to Barnett, time is more than a phenomenon to be sorted into a 'packet of minutes'; rather, it’s the 'hours making things/ that matter to no one.' The title evokes both quietly quotidian passages as well as mechanized schedules, while echoing a more common unit with which pet owners are familiar: dog years. Barnett presses readers to consider concepts of time as though through the eyes of another species when observing how humans age and confront mortality. 'Maybe best not to ask when will what take whom where and to do what,' she writes ... Barnett claims that she’d 'like to feel a little less, know a little more,' but the emotional depth and observational nuance of these poems is something to behold.
