Pulse en una miniatura para ir a Google Books.
Cargando... Scattered Snows, to the North: Poemspor Carl Phillips
Ninguno Cargando...
Inscríbete en LibraryThing para averiguar si este libro te gustará. Actualmente no hay Conversaciones sobre este libro. sin reseñas | añadir una reseña
An arresting study of memory, perception, and the human condition, from the Pulitzer Prize winner Carl Phillips. Carl Phillips's Scattered Snows, to the North is a collection about distortion and revelation, about knowing and the unreliability of a knowing that's based on human memory. If the poet's last few books have concerned themselves with power, this one focuses on vulnerability: the usefulness of embracing it and of releasing ourselves from the need to understand our past. If we remember a thing, did it happen? If we believe it didn't, does that make our belief true? In Scattered Snows, to the North, Phillips looks though the window of the past in order to understand the essential sameness of the human condition--"Tears / were tears," mistakes were made and regretted or not regretted, and it mattered until it didn't, the way people live until they don't. And there was also joy. And beauty. "Yet the world's still / so beautiful . . . Sometimes // it is . . ." And it was enough. And it still can be. No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
Debates activosNinguno
Google Books — Cargando... GénerosValoraciónPromedio:
¿Eres tú?Conviértete en un Autor de LibraryThing. |
This poetry book makes for a brief, contemplative read as Phillips addresses nature, the human condition, and a wide array of emotions. I hadn’t read him before now; while I cannot say that every poem resounded within my body like a plucked harp string, there were verses that made me gasp and whisper “Wow” to myself as I reread the lines as if I could absorb those select syllables of genius. A few of my favorites were:
"...how / forgiveness might look / in the face, say, if it had a face, and forgiveness / were real..."
"...The ospreys / slept in their nests, presumably: for omens / also need sleep; indeed, the best ones can sleep for / years, uninterrupted."
"... I could see my face, / tilted there, like a solar eclipse viewed indirectly, / which / is the proper way, in a basin of water..." ( )