Walker Evans's magnificent black-and-white photographic portraits of the Depression are complemented by a poetic celebration of the lives of ordinary people struggling to survive under extreme conditions. Grade 8 Up-Nearly 60 years ago, Walker Evans and James Agee documented the lives of poor Southern sharecroppers. Their efforts resulted in a devastating, legendary account of the Depression, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Here, Rylant pairs Evans's photographs with 29 short, lyrical poems. Almost of necessity, her subject matter concerns survival. "House," "Bed," "Rocker," "Utensils," and "Grave" evoke an existence stripped of all but the essential. The poet shows how seemingly inconsequential things-a window box filled with plants, a few prized possessions displayed on a mantel-can spell the difference between hope and despair. Sly humor surfaces as well. Rylant's spare, conversational style matches the spirit of the pictures; her respect for the people whose way of life Evans has captured shines through. Powerful as the words are, the photographs steal the show. They pull viewers back again and again, deepening current notions of pride and endurance. Beautifully designed, the volume is printed on high-quality glossy paper. Each black-and-white, full-page photo is faced by a strategically positioned poem on the opposite page; silver endpapers add a luxuriant touch. Not a comfortable book, Something Permanent will delight and disturb readers. Ellen D. Warwick, Winchester Public Library, MA Copyright 1994 Reed Business Information, Inc. Gr. 7-12 Here's a book concept that seems to have Bad Idea written all over it: repackage Walker Evans' photos for the juvenile market. Take a few of Evans' images of southern life during the Depression, tie them to a little poignant poetry by a big-name children's writer (How about Cynthia Rylant? She's from Appalachia, after all), and, presto, you've got Let Us Now Praise Famous Men , kid version. Sometimes, though, the material is strong enough, and the artists talented enough, to transcend the concept. Evans' photos resist all attempts at pigeonholing. The objects he capturesa slightly sagging bed, several birdhouses, the facade of a filling station, a rocking chairpossess such physical presence, such irreducible reality, that they achieve their own dignity, beyond message. That is not to say, however, that they don't also have their own kind of resonance, suggesting the scope of the human lives lived around them. Here is where Rylant enters the picturefleshing out the intimations offered by the pictures themselves, never reducing the image to a single meaning but always widening the angle of our vision to include more, to see further. And, best of all, the angles Rylant chooses to widen are rarely the ones we expect. Her poem about the sagging bed, for example (see jacket illustration, opposite) begins, Of course it was hard to make love / with the children in the room. What follows is a tenderly erotic lyric about a couple who ease their weary minds / with sex, which makes them poorer / and richer / at the same time. The literary critic Lionel Trilling argued that James Agee's text in Famous Men suffered from a failure of moral realism, an inability to see the people in Evans' photos as anything but emblems of a sure and simple virtue. Rylant makes no such mistake. The people she finds both in and behind Evans' images are strong and courageous, yes, but they are also weak, petty, and frustrated. The land can be a source of beauty for them, but, more often, it brings only pain: the earth never was nothing / but work. For students in junior high and high school, the juxtaposition of Evans' photos and Rylant's poems will demonstrate how emotions can be rooted in objects and how, to dig them out, you need to use strong, sturdy words. Bill Ott