Ryan, Kay

▪ 2009

born Sept. 27, 1945, San Jose, Calif.

 Quintessentially American poet Kay Ryan, who wrote punchy, wry verses about commonplace things with consummate craft, humour, and intelligence, in 2008 was named the 16th U.S. poet laureate. Her lines and verses were short and suggested Asian forms to many readers. She excelled at using words precisely and reveled in internal rhyme, slant rhyme, alliteration, and other wordplay; some critics were reminded of the verse of Emily Dickinson. Unlike most of her contemporaries, Ryan rarely wrote in the first person.

      Though Ryan generally described herself as an “outsider,” she was not unknown. She produced six books; was published regularly in The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, The New York Review of Books, Poetry, and Paris Review; and won major grants and prizes, including the $100,000 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize (2004), three Pushcart Prizes, and awards from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts.

      Ryan grew up in a succession of small towns in California's Central Valley, where her father worked at a variety of jobs (including oil well driller, chromium miner, and Christmas-tree salesman), and her mother was a part-time grade-school teacher. Ryan enrolled at Antelope Valley College, Lancaster, Calif., but soon transferred to the University of California, Los Angeles, where she earned a B.A. (1967) and an M.A. (1968) in English. She moved to northern California in 1971 and took a part-time job teaching remedial English at the College of Marin, Kentfield, Calif., a course she still taught in 2008. Having written poetry since age 19 but still unsure of her true calling, in 1976 Ryan embarked on a cross-country bicycle trip. High in the Colorado Rockies, it came to her that she could pursue a career as a writer. For the next 20 years, she laboured in virtual literary isolation, but she gradually began attracting notice from readers, critics, and the mainstream poetry establishment.

      Nonetheless, at least until 2008 Ryan lived the quiet life of a community college teacher. The poem “Hide and Seek” from Ryan's collection The Niagara River (2005) might reveal something of the poet's mindset: “It's hard not / to jump out / instead of / waiting to be / found. It's / hard to be / alone so long / and then hear / someone come / around. It's / like some form / of skin's developed / in the air / that, rather / than have torn, / you tear.”

Charles Trumbull

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