A master wordsmith, Oates fearlessly presents his commentary on the way of the world, providing a medley of insights applicable to all audiences. Traditional poetry elements, such as the presence of a rhyme scheme, are replaced by depth of thought and a pinpoint use of figurative language that emphatically brings the speaker's message to life. Through each poem, Oates' voice shines through the darkness of today's society, whether through his ability to mold words, juxtapose contradictory imagery to fit seamlessly in ways only he can, or employ wordplay to poke fun.

To say something profound without preaching to the choir is truly a rare feat. Yet, Oates achieves this in spades, beginning from his opening poem, "Big Tree Something." Here, the tree is endowed with a human quality, serving as a listener that watches, an emblem of the passage of time and aging. In exploring aging, the speaker highlights how even the most mundane act, such as a smile from a stranger, can be intensely fulfilling. Nevertheless, this notion of interconnectedness is few and far between. Instead, the poems "Moon Festival" and "Media Storm" aptly categorize the chaos and dysfunction that has taken our world by storm. Never more timely, the imagery of a "country overrun with masked troopers," and satellites peering into every aspect of life, undoubtedly harkens back to Orwell and major big-brother vibes.

On a deeper level, the paradoxical nature of living in a resplendent world that seeks to give is further magnified when compared to the darkness created by the hands of men. Eventually, however, there is an underlying aura of hope because, like night turns into day, darkness (and those who spearhead it) must dissipate and make room for new rays of light to create a brighter world once again. Interestingly, the depth of Oates' work is further imbued by the philosophical angle. Poems like "You Come Through" seem to be rooted in the mindset of Siddhartha Gautama and Buddhism, where obstacles and constant chasing give way to simply being water and watching the majesty of letting it pass, whatever that may be.

At its core, what makes Oates' anthology stand out is the perfectly placed and timed metaphors—often witty one-liners—with just the right figurative language sprinkled on top. For instance, when the speaker ponders, "what use is memory in such a sliding world," he states, "future is a broken faith." Other memorable examples include, but are not limited to, "disappointment on the menu," and "metaphors are easy, / it is life that is hard." The poet bares his soul in every line of every poem, and that authenticity is in stark contrast to the singular-minded, pretentious world that is being constructed. In almost heartbreaking fashion, "Jericho, Babylon, New York" depicts the speaker playing his instrument in the subway, while passersby don't even have the time to look up, much less listen to the music.

There is perhaps no better image to describe the self-engrossed nature that has become a trademark attribute than the notion of each individual so lost in his or her own world that they may as well be surrounded by four walls. From topics of ignorance and invincibility to compassion and mortality, Oates proves himself to be a worthy observer, one who has served the world in minute detail and possesses the capability to share those nuances with those who are mired in the rat race, chasing after an unknown that is constantly evolving. An invisible thread ties each of Oates' poems together, that of what it means to be human. The collective forms an unforgettable experience of poetic splendor and thought-provoking reflection.

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Oates' The Mountains of Paris was a 2021 Eric Hoffer Book Award Grand Prize Short List book.

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