Reviewed by: Somewhere in Space by Talvikki Ansel Carol Quinn Talvikki Ansel. Somewhere in Space. The Ohio State University Press, 2015. Talvikki Ansel’s third collection of poems, Somewhere in Space, received The Ohio State University Press/The Journal Award in Poetry. In sumptuous detail, these poems consider displacement, folkloric narratives and origins, and the buffer zones that exist between human subjectivity and the natural world—subjects that have long been present in Ansel’s poetry. In the poet’s quest for an authentic engagement with nature (often via rigorous, complex, and elaborate meditations), the poems of Somewhere in Space both invoke what might, in Scandinavia, be called friluftsliv, and attempt to replicate that experience for a reader. In Nordic countries, the term friluftsliv is used to describe an expansive, possibly oceanic state of mind that human beings may experience upon leaving urban life behind and returning to a more natural setting. Hans Gelter of the Luleå University of Technology defines friluftsliv—meaning “free air life”—as “a philosophical lifestyle based on experiences of the freedom in nature and the spiritual connectedness with the landscape.” Gelter traces the word’s origin to Henrik Ibsen’s 1859 poem “On the Heights,” where, in the course of being in a cottage in the wilderness, the poem’s narrator declares, “This is Friluftsliv for my thoughts . . .” In contemporary Scandinavia, friluftsliv may be taken into consideration in aspects of life ranging from elementary education to real estate sales to work-life balance. Gelter argues for a historical opposition, however, between friluftsliv and “tourism,” suggesting that tourism is only “a superficial acquaintance with nature.” Following a current of thought that would strictly differentiate between social issues and the natural world, some readers could potentially view Ansel’s meditations upon nature as escapist in a time of political unrest, when the poetry of protest is by necessity an ascending force on the American literary scene. Ansel’s turning to nature is actually a daring political choice, however, in an era when climate change—quite possibly the greatest crisis of this century—has been brought on by humanity’s lack of regard for, and attempts to separate itself from, the natural world. Central to Ansel’s project in Somewhere in Space is the poem “Mycorrhizae”: When you dig up a tree, keep some of the soil around the roots, webby strands wrap the taproot, the calm anchor, reach horizontal through duff and toad dung, damp mold. Things move so discreetly sometimes, I didn’t even notice. A tiger’s ear flares in shade. Was that the water molecule’s elemental split? The sleight of hand described on page twenty? No, not exactly, you prop a shingle barrier up to shelter a wind-torn cabbage sprout. Strawberries edge the bed, an upside down pot keeps rain from the post hold, another adage proved: plant at the new moon, a stitch in time saves nine, if you must leave, don’t go bare, take some dirt with you. “Mycorrhizae” proposes, among other things, that the world is more complicated than the artificial categories and dichotomies that human beings invent. Mycorrhizae are fungi that form a symbiotic relationship with a plant’s root system and act as a conduit between that plant and the soil around it. Transplants can fail, the poem suggests, if such connections are not taken into consideration. [End Page 21] Displacement is an issue that recurs throughout Talvikki Ansel’s poetry. In My Shining Archipelago, which won the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize in 1996, Ansel meditates upon transplantation and alienation in the sonnet sequence “Afterwards: Caliban,” a long poem that imagines the life of The Tempest’s Caliban in London, after he has been taken from Prospero’s island. In Somewhere in Space, “Mycorrhizae” suggests that human beings who spend their lives confined to cities and workplaces—with the associated stresses, alienation, isolation, and sensory deprivation—are like transplants with bare roots: we are far more likely to survive if we remember our connections to the natural world. In other poems, Ansel seeks to find emblems for human displacement, as in “Places to Swim”: In town this week, two people found goldfish balanced in...