Where Things Are, the debut collection of poems by Joan Gibb Engel, oscillates between the present and the remembered-in the poet's own words, "the beloved dead keep company with the living." 'Things' include objects quotidian and eternal-an accumulation of kitchen gadgets and the rich lives of former fishing families; plants, persons, and places that hold eternal meaning but are visible only in remembrance. With stereoscopic vision, the poet chronicles ageing, illness, separation, death, and social change while affirming "beauty, art, and truth among life's wonders." Engel ponders the ruin of ancient cultures: "stories told in moonlight told no more" and the changed nature of cities: "streetwalkers' beat: decanters now." She values the companionship of children as when she and a granddaughter pick blueberries and she celebrates "lifetime memberships" among persons no longer living. The past is both a confessional of "bloodied trap lines" and "the sacred music of our ancestors," while the present is both "dropping like flies" and hearing again "the clear whistle of birds." In the words of poet Randall R. Freisinger, Engel's poems "offer depth of vision at a time when we so badly need it."