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Cargando... The Wild Iris (1992)por Louise Glück
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Inscríbete en LibraryThing para averiguar si este libro te gustará. Actualmente no hay Conversaciones sobre este libro. Arguments with god and mortality in a garden. The garden is the ubiquitous artifact observed occasionally through a window or from a porch. He appears, sometimes with a rake. But made objects are so scarce that when Presque Isle presents us with a dish a table within walls, a balcony sheet, and more we are overwhelmed with the human world and humanity, ripped like a wild flower from the melancholy contemplation of a brief, sometimes blighted, life. ( ) First reading: This is a collection of poems I hope to understand some day. Second Reading, years later: And still I can’t find the context to understand or to feel this collection of poems, or even know how to approach it. Much contemporary poetry is private and so inaccessible to the rest of us, but this book doesn't seem like that. I’ve done research of this celebrated poet, read a few of her other poems, learned about her life, seen some reviews, listened to a podcast, looked up each named plant. I have felt little bursts of grasp, little bursts of feeling here and there, but so far no message, no thrum. It’s clear each of the 54 poems is a unit unto itself and also connected to the others. The poems follow the short growing season, probably of Vermont, from late winter, through spring and summer, into early winter again. Eighteen plants speak. Someone prays seven morning matins before midsummer, and ten evening vespers after. Various kinds of gods answer in a dozen poems related to seasons and times of day. Then there are other titles, some that seem to fit with the rest, some that may be asides. Some of the poems are probably about poetry. I don’t regret the time I’ve spent on The Wild Iris. This is real poetry. Maybe it’s just not meant to speak to me. I bought this based on a close reading of a single poem on the Book Riot podcast. I knew it was going to be right up my alley and it REALLY was. Musings on religion and existence through the metaphor/reality of gardening, and it ends up blending faith with a sort of naturalistic fatalism and I ate it up with a spoon. I have been sleeping on Glück too long, and I need to read at least one more of her collections this year. Favorite poems: Matins (p. 31), Midsummer, Vespers (p. 37), End of Summer, Vespers (p. 56) sin reseñas | añadir una reseña
The Wild Iris was written during a ten-week period in the summer of 1991. Louise Cluck's first four collections consistently returned to the natural world, to the classical and biblical narratives that arose to explain the phenomena of this world, to provide meaning and to console. Ararat, her fifth book, offered a substitution for the received: a demotic, particularized myth of contemporary family. Now in The Wild Iris, her most important and accomplished collection to date, ecstatic imagination supplants both empiricism and tradition, creating an impassioned polyphonic exchange among the god who "disclose?s?/virtually nothing," human beings who "leave/signs of feeling/everywhere," and a garden where "whatever/returns from oblivion returns/ to find a voice." The poems of this sequence see beyond mortality, the bitter discovery on which individuality depends. "To be one thing/is to be next to nothing," Cluck challenges the reader. "Is it enough/only to look inward?" A major poet redefines her task--its thematic obsessions, its stylistic signature--with each volume. Visionary, shrewd, intuitive--and at once cyclical and apocalyptic--The Wild Iris is not a repudiation but a confirmation, an audacious feat of psychic ventriloquism, a fiercely original record of the spirit's obsession with, and awe of, earth. No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
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Google Books — Cargando... GénerosSistema Decimal Melvil (DDC)811.54Literature English (North America) American poetry 20th Century 1945-1999Clasificación de la Biblioteca del CongresoValoraciónPromedio:
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