Uncovering Writing

4 of 5 stars

An excellent collection and food for my mind and soul. Picked this up at Kramer’s in DC after seeing dear old friends for brunch a few weeks ago. I really enjoyed “Dear Aleph” (the first one), “Beauty”, and “He, Too”, but the whole collection was really great.

4 of 5 stars

A good, if at times uneven, collection of poetry. There are several standout pieces, including the one she gave at Biden’s inaugural that knocked it out of the park (and off the planet it was so good). Her cadence, word choice, word play, and themes are exciting, relevant, and potent. The pieces I loved from this collection were: “Vale of the Shadow of Death or EXTRA! EXTRA! REAL ALL ABOUT IT!”, “_ _ _ _ _[GATED]”, “FURY & FAITH”, “MONOMYTH”, and, of course, “THE HILL WE CLIMB”.

I really liked the stanza from “_ _ _ _ _[GATED]": “For what does the Karen carry but her dwindling power, dying & desperate? Dangerous & dangling like a gun hung from a tongue?”

I also like this from “FURY & FAITH”: “Our goal is never revenge, just restoration. / Not dominance, just dignity. / Not fear, just freedom. / Just justice.”

3 of 5 stars

I absolutely loved her previous collection, Bright Dead Things, so I picked up this, her next collection. I didn’t like it as much. I’m not sure why, the writing was still good but perhaps the topics didn’t grab me as much, or at least didn’t grab me at this moment in time. Having said that, I really enjoyed “Dead Stars” and “The Millionth Dream of Your Return”. By far, my two favorites were “Wonder Woman” and “The Contract Says: We’d Like the Conversation to Be Bilingual”.

5 of 5 stars

This is the third version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (by the “Pearl” poet) that I have read. This is a fast-reading translation that flows cleanly. The Notes at the end were excellent and the several introductory sections set a nice foundation, especially for those who’ve never read the story before, but I also learned from it. I absolutely loved the appendix which was a section of the original text, slightly modified for modern readers.

I think I still like M.S. Merwin’s the best, partly due to his translation choices, and partly due to it being presented in a dual language format (the Middle English on the left page and his translation on the right).

If you’ve never read this story, give it a chance. It’s a fast read, only about 75 paperback pages in this translation. It’s a great story on multiple levels. I picked this up from one of my favorite bookshops, Browseabout Books, in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.

N.B. While this is the movie tie in for the 2021 film, it is the original text and not a novelization of the movie.

5 of 5 stars

An amazing collection that I picked up at one of my fav bookshops, Browseabout Books in Rehoboth Beach, DE. A bookstore with a poetry section is always a treasure.

I loved “How to Triumph Like a Girl”. This is why I picked up this book. It was on the cover flap and drew me in immediately. “Someplace Like Montana” was also a wonderful, longer piece that was full of hope, friendship, and ambition. “In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me” struck a chord in me, and I could imagine saying some of those things in my own way, in my own inner voice.

“Relentless” and “The Riveter” were hard poems to read on dying, but they were also cathartic. I travelled some of those same paths and it was soothing to hear another voice travel not the same but similar path.

“Glow” and “The Wild Divine” are wonderful explorations/exclamations on love. “Oh Please, Let It Be Lightning” felt like a ride through youth, young love, hopes & dreams. We could do anything and would.

Three words: Read This Collection.

5 of 5 stars

A great read that I picked up from a local bookshop in Ithaca, NY (Buffalo Street Books, check ‘em out!). I love the story and Maria Dahvana Headley’s translation was an updated, flowing joyride through this ancient poem that still gives today. She made some strong choices but they work and the book just flew by (I read it in two sittings, only because I started too late the first night … I really wanted to finish it but didn’t want to keep going and miss some cool thing she did. Well worth the investment of treasure and time.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

An interesting little volume, which I wish had included his Ovid and Homer items, but alas, it did not. However, there were interesting pieces that were drawn from or modeled on tales from Chaucer and Boccaccio. I enjoyed the first book of Palamon & Arcite (from Chaucer’s The Knight’s Tale). I particularly liked this description:

Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair: A riband did the braided tresses bind; The rest was loose, and wanton'd in the wind, Aurora had but newly chased the night And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light. (p. 28 in my edition)

My rating: 4 stars.

An excellent read of a book my honey gave me for the holidays! I’m always a fan of poetry and have a fondness for many pieces from the 17th - 19th centuries. Rochester’s criticisms and satirical pieces presage, and likely influenced, Pope in the 18th and Byron in the 19th centuries: such cutting wit delivered in verse! The introduction and notes to this volume live up to Oxford World’s Classics standard: useful, insightful, and sometimes a pain to flip to the back to read!

I particularly liked “Song (Fair Chloris in a pig-sty lay)”, “The Fall”, “Could I but make my wishes insolent”, “What vain unnecessary things are men,” and “The Disabled Debauchee”. Of his translations and imitations, I enjoyed “Seneca’s Troas. Act 2 Chorus”, “An Allusion to Horace. The Tenth Satire of the First Book”, and “An Allusion to Tacitus. De Vita Agricolae”. His satires were amazing and the three that stood out to me were “The Imperfect Enjoyment”, “A Ramble in St. James’s Park”, and, of course, “A Satire against Reason and Mankind”. From this last piece, I especially enjoyed this snippet from the opening: “A spirit free to choose for my own share / What case of flesh and blood I pleased to wear, / I’d be a dog, a monkey, or a bear; / Or any thing but that vain animal / Who is so proud of being rational. / The sense are too gross, and he’ll contrive / A sixth to contradict the other five, / And before certain instinct will prefer / Reason, which fifty times for one does err.” (p. 52).

The opening lines of “Tunbridge Wells” totally reminded me of the opening of Homer’s Iliad Book 11. Rochester wrote “At five this morn, when Phoebus raised his head / From Thetis' lap, I raised my self from bed” (p. 65). I had read about this in Paul Davis’s introduction, though I’d forgotten it by the time I read the poem. Davis had written “The only one of Rochester’s major poems set in the country is ‘Tunbridge Well’, and its engagement with nature extends no further than an introductory line and a half of mock-Homeric description of the sunrise” (p. xxx). The line of Homer (which I dearly love) is: “Dawn from her bed arose by the side of good Tithonos, to bring light of day to deathless gods and mortal men” (Iliad, 11.1-2, Caroline Alexander, transl.).

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I enjoyed, but not as much as her first collection. Some of those poems were included here and I enjoyed revisiting them. One, I swore, had been reformatted (“The First Shave”), by it hadn’t been. It had become so fluid in my head I didn’t remember the text formatting!

The poems that were my favorites in this volume were: Girl; If A Girl Screams In The Middle Of The Night; First Grade, 1988; The First Shave; All Of a The Beautiful Ones Were Catholic; Backpedal; The Autocross; Murder of a Little Beauty; The Sandias, 2008; My Grandmother Asks Why I Don’t Trust Men; and Ode To My Bitch Face.

I also really enjoyed the stories of the babysitter that were interlaced between the poems throughout this book. Powerful.

… I thought it might be a good idea to post my review of her first book, which blew my mind and rocketed into my favorites list. I wrote this review back in January 2018.  I’ve read New American Best Friend cover to cover twice and have frequently pulled up a poem here or there when I’ve needed it. Her first work is amazing and I just got her new one today, the day it was published.  Woohoo!

New American Best Friend by Olivia Gatwood

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

One word: wow. This should be on a mandatory reading list for everybody. It is a quick read, not because of the short number of pages but due to the fluidity of the writing. She is a fantastic composer who sculpts an idea in your mind for each piece. Hard, soft; happy, sad; intellectual, gut; in the moment, reflective.

I liked all the pieces, every single one. I did flag a few, though this is not meant to diminish the other pieces as they are as good. These ones simply caught my attention the first time: The First Shave, The Only Thing I Brought From America, Backpedal, The Autocross, Alternate Universe In Which I Am Unfazed By The Men Who Do Not Love Me, and Ode To My Bitch Face. That last one is the first piece I saw by Olivia Gatwood, in a video posted by a dear friend of mine.

I look forward to more of Gatwood’s work.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was my first direct encounter with Rimbaud. I’ve read works by people he’s influenced but this was my first time with my eyes on his words. I enjoyed the opportunity, if not all the works. I liked “Sun and Skin” the best, and enjoyed “The Dresser”. I was blown away by the introduction to “A Season in Hell.”

I really enjoyed the side-by-side French original and English translation format. My French is just good enough to get by with help from dictionaries (physical and Google Translate). I liked the French the best as some of the translator’s choices didn’t fit with how I read the original. However, it’s always easy to second guess word choices and passage tones when the translator has taken the effort to do the entire work. One thing, though, the translator chose not to follow Rimbaud’s rhyming scheme. He says “Rhyme in English can be tyrannical, and prone to unwanted comic effects; I have almost always eschewed it” (p. xxvii). The rhyming in the French made it flow wonderfully, so I feel the author should have at least tried it in a few poems. He wouldn’t have been compromising the author’s intent.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The last time I read this book, it was Simon Armitage’s translation. I’d said at the time I wanted to give that version four stars but the translation just wasn’t that great for me. It didn’t flow and there were some poor word choices.

Now, finally, I can give four stars to W S. Merwin’s version. This is how Gawain should read. A fast story with flowing language that doesn’t get in the way of the tale. I read this in one sitting and took time to glance at the Middle English on each facing page. A perfect companion for the evening.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A good collection of most of Pope’s works, including original work, critical pieces, translations and imitations. One has to love Pope if only for his sense of humor and biting satire. I found a great Pope quote in the preface: “For what I have published, I can only hope to be pardoned; but for what I have burned, I deserve to be praised” (p. xviii). I laughed out loud and smiled inside.

While he is mostly known for his satire and his Homer translation, he also can speak plain truths. One I found touching was in his Ode for music on St. Cecilia’s Day: “Music the fiercest grief can charm, / And fate’s severest rage disarm: / Music can soften pain to ease, / And make despair and madness please” (Stanza VII: 118-121; p. 101, vol. i).

This collection includes some of the phrases he coined, primarily from his Essay on Criticism. These include “A little learning is a dangerous thing: / Drink Deep; or taste not the Pierian spring: / There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain / And drinking largely sobers us again” (lines 215-218; p. 129). A little more complex and complete than what we usually here of that phrase today. Later, in the same essay, we find “to err is human, to forgive divine” (line 525, p. 131) and “for fools rush in where angels fear to tread” (line 625, p. 135).

Overall, his work is so intertwined with the classical world: translating, imitating, analyzing and critiquing so many of the ancient authors including Homer, Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Statius, etc. I was taken by his translation of the first book of Statius’s Thebaid. I didn’t like his translations of selections from Ovid: the Fable of Dryope (Metamorphoses, Book 9) and Vertumnus and Pomona (Metamorphoses, Book 14). They were too verbose for me and seemed to embellish more than necessary. Part of it relates to keeping his meter and rhyming scheme going. [For Ovid, I really enjoyed Charles Martin’s very recent translation.] No doubt, Pope would have been a hip-hop star today for his cutting analysis and unbelievable rhymes. But for some of the classics he’s translated, there are better authors (past and present) to choose from. For satire and critiques, Pope’s a good source. For knowledge about who’s who in the times, he is invaluable, especially with his great Dunciad.

I wondered if we lack today what Pope had, i.e. a concentrated classical education that “everyone” pulls from and binds us together. Pop culture provides us with that somewhat, but it’s a shallow and ephemeral form of knowledge. Then again, this shared cultural base I saw in Pope, and indeed something I’ve been educated in myself, is not really universal or widespread. It’s a rarified form of culture, generated, consumed, and often valued by a very small portion of the population: primarily white, educated, upper class men. While I value this core of knowledge and indeed immerse myself in it, one thing I know is that it isn’t the only knowledge and it isn’t a preferred knowledge, just one base of many to explore.

I am very happy to have worked through his works and am sure I will return to portions of it in the future.

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I love Matthew Arnold’s critical writing and his essays on translating Homer are among the best I’ve read on the key needs of translation. But, his poetry isn’t my favorite.

Arnold’s poem “Sohrab and Rustum” reminds me a bit of a young Byron (e.g. The Giaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair and Lara) and definitely invokes Homer, but Arnold lacks Homer and Byron’s finesse and passion. I did like The Strayed Reveller (probably for its Homeric root) and I was taken with “Calais Sands”.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I came to this collection of W. H. Auden’s poetry through the title poem. I was so taken aback with its interspersing of a Homeric scene with a gritty, realistic view of our current times. I knew I had to get this collection. On the whole, I enjoyed it, though “The Shield of Achilles” and “Epitaph for the Unknown Soldier” are the only ones that really moved me.

The collection is broken up into three parts: “Bucolics”, “In Sunshine and in Shade” and “Horae Canonicae.” I didn’t enjoy the first section. It didn’t grab me, though there was nothing wrong with it. I was looking forward to the third section, as a riff off the liturgical hours. I was hoping for something that was soothing or even something that ran counter to the concept of the hours, critiquing the concept. I didn’t find it, but again, that’s just how it impacted me.

The second section was the best of the three and contained the two poems I mentioned above. The most impactful part of “The Shield of Achilles” was this stanza:

A ragged urchin aimless and alone Loitered about that vacancy; a bird Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone: That girls are raped, that two boys knife a third, Were axioms to him, who’d never heard Of any world where promises were kept Or one could weep because another wept.

In “Epitaph for the Unknown Soldier,” Auden has another potent commentary, this time compressed into just one sentence split over two lines. Instantly, I thought about the wars our leaders have started.

To save your world you asked this man to die: Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A fun little book of parodies of poets and authors that was pulled together to celebrate the 1812 reopening of the Drury Lane Theatre after a fire. Originally anonymous, it was revealed to be the work of two brothers, Horace and James Smith. Many of the parodies are spot on, mimicking with a delightfully wry wit the cadences and techniques of Wordsworth, Coleridge, Lord Byron, Walter Scott, and others. At first, I was a bit distracted by all the notes embedded within each selection, but as I read them, they were full of humorous and informative stories.

A fun read!

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

If you love poetry, or even just like it, you should have this volume in your collection. For a reasonable price and a small footprint, you will have access to a wide swath of poetry from the 18th century that spans from the base to the heights, the profane and the holy, the everyday and the unique. Roger Lonsdale, the editor, has done a great job pulling together such a diverse crowd of people. You’ll find poets you know, but I’d bet there are a bunch of names (not including the various anonymous entries) you’ve never heard of. I didn’t love every poem in this work but am glad to have been exposed to each and every one of them. A fine collection.

In his introduction, Lonsdale writes: “As usual, readers will be struck by apparently inexplicable decisions in my selections from some of the better known poets: I am consoled only by the knowledge that limitations of space were always going to prevent illustration of the full range of, for example, Pope’s achievement. Pope will, however, survive my attentions. I am more haunted by the lingering memory of some of the totally forgotten men and women whose literary bones I disturbed after they had slumbered peacefully for some two hundred years, who had something graphic or individual to say, however modestly, and for whom I had envisaged some kind of minor literary resurrection, but who necessarily fell back into the darkness of the centuries, perhaps irretrievably, at the last stage of my selection” (p. xxxix-xl). Lonsdale may be too harsh on himself here, for he has resurrected or at least brightened the light shining on so many people who wrote poetry that has been forgotten for too long. And, for me and I hope others, we will take this volume as a challenge to continue looking for lost voices across various centuries to listen to what they said about their times and what they can say to us today.

Women’s rights and experiences were nicely featured in this volume. It’s sad that many of these woman I never heard of yet I will be told of Shelley, etc. on the rights of people. Thank you, Mr. Lonsdale, for highlighting them to me. Lady Mary Chudleigh’s “To the Ladies” (#17, 1703) comments on how men treat wives as if they were their servants. Strong words even though couched in a soft tone. Well done. Sarah Fyge Egerton’s “The Emulation” (#18, 1703) is in a similar vain and quite good.

Mary Collier’s excerpt from “The Woman’s Labour. An Epistle to Mr. Stephen Duck” (#218, 1739) was a fantastic piece on class difference and indifference as the lady of the house sleeps in then tells her woman servants to clean up, be very careful, don’t be wasteful, etc. The narrator says “When bright Orion glitters in the skies / In winter nights, then early we must rise” (p. 325). They also continue to work long past dark until their work is done. This excerpt ends “For all our pains, no prospect can we see / Attend us, but old age and poverty” (p. 326). As was, as is, as it always will be?

Lots of poetry from the 18th century, and even among the Romantics in the early 19th, focused on the beauties of rural life. It sometimes went overboard, idealizing a life that existed in their minds and not in reality. George Crabbe wrote a dense piece “The Village, Book I” (#432, 1783) that sharply contrasted this idealized rural life with the lived experience of the poor people working the land. One line that just jumped off the page for me was: “Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains / Because the Muses never knew their pains” (p. 670).

On the vices we surround ourselves with, we find Lawrence Spooner (#16, 1703) “On Giving up Smoking”. Still spot on 303 years later, for when I quit in 2006. A hilarious yet also sad piece on the love and horrors of gin was in an anonymous piece “Strip Me Naked, Or Royal Gin For Ever. A Picture” (#299, 1751). Another piece on perils of alcohol was John Wolcot’s “To a Fly, Taken out of a Bowl of Punch” (#488, 1792). It hilariously finds a fly that appears dead in a punchbowl. Fished out, he is shown to be alive, but possibly very drunk. He revives slowly and is eventually able to fly away.

On just the beauty of savoring the moment, there were many pieces. John Gay’s “Trivia: or The Art of Walking the Streets of London, Book II” (#83, 1716) is fun to read about school boys making snowballs to throw at the coaches. I also enjoyed Isaac Hawkins Browne’s (#266, 1746) “The Fire Side. A Pastoral Soliloquy”. One needs not kings and courts, but hearth and home, the scent of flowers, good books, drink and friends. A refuge from the larger world. “Now I pass with old authors an indolent hour / And reclining at ease turn Demosthenes o’er” (p. 404). I really enjoyed Thomas Warton’s (#276, 1747) excerpt on “The Pleasures of Melancholy”.

This collection also covers strong emotional scenes. John Hawthorn wrote a powerful piece on death in an excerpt from “The Journey and Observations of a Countryman” (#421, 1779). It was strong and hard to read for the emotions it conveyed of the death of a father while his wife, daughters and drunken son surround him. For cat owners, Anna Sweard’s “An Old Cat’s Dying Soliloquy” (#498, 1792) is a very sad and touching piece.

We also see many poets calling out social and political problems. The famous Quaker poet John Scott’s anti-war “Ode” (#426, 1782) was fantastic and still valid today. In a perfect riposte to the second Bush years and the 2016 election, we find Josep Mather’s “God Save Great Thomas Paine” (#522, 1792?). “Facts are seditious things / When they touch courts and kings” (p. 791). James Cawthorn wrote a great satire on fine food, stuck-up culture, feigned piety, etc. in an excerpt from his “Of Taste. An Essay” (#324, 1761). Samuel Wesley (#130, 1726) wrote “On the Setting Up of Mr. Butler’s Monument in Westminster Abbey”, calling out those who would memorialize the poet and satirist Samuel Butler in death but ignored him as he died in poverty. “The poet’s fate is here in emblem shown: / He asked for bread, and he received a stone” (p. 178).