Punky is right, I say it is right, so it must be Right Night at the poetry house, crickets chirping in a not-quite-stein voice. For all the rabbits an...morePunky is right, I say it is right, so it must be Right Night at the poetry house, crickets chirping in a not-quite-stein voice. For all the rabbits and cymbals popping out the dampness, I have to say: I low the low in the voice of refrain, "in the blank of blank" HEY! I have you hear so say something. Say so&so it goes on going in the blankety blank, over hill and dale, hey Ben Estes You-You There-There a single hole in the face of this.
(less)
I continue in awe of the way Taransky can break a line. The poems are as worked as work can be, but broken thank goodness, broken like champs. Can't i...moreI continue in awe of the way Taransky can break a line. The poems are as worked as work can be, but broken thank goodness, broken like champs. Can't imagine the lines any differently. But I don't really think the crux of this stuff is its brokenness. It's about hearing the said saying. I like that. I don't know why it took me so long to read this!(less)
A romp(er) in the sense that everything is worn, frayed, last legs etc. That the language is newish and known, a sound fulcrum, & um (sic) becoming. N...moreA romp(er) in the sense that everything is worn, frayed, last legs etc. That the language is newish and known, a sound fulcrum, & um (sic) becoming. No being the master in these poems, no meaning no to those who wish to 'ah' at the end of the poem/section/book. Unless it's "ah! i just stepped on that honey." That's this book. Honey and glue and milky inconsistencies feeding both ends of the fire back to its original burning, ornery burning. Loosie-goosie fires that "flap flap". Yay! (less)
It was raining raining raining when I got the mail and opened it and read this book (thank goodness) instead of doing nothing. And what a beautiful bo...moreIt was raining raining raining when I got the mail and opened it and read this book (thank goodness) instead of doing nothing. And what a beautiful book of poems printed on opaque vellum and what a treat to read the way the lines are broken open circuit lines, lines light years ahead of me like adjunct positions in the sense that they are hoovering, are smart and completely not- almost sad to be dealing w/ the space they occupy, sad with its own work, opening a dialogue with these knowns that pitch slowly forward into some new position, so by the end of the chapbook, the end is actually therein, achieved. How does she do that? Poems achieve so little, so slowly, almost nothing. But this did, as cold and known as it continued to be, get there. New ground (thank goodness, thank goodness) how refreshing. (less)
This was my first real Wharton (besides Ethan Frome and Bunner Sisters, two relatively short works). Gotta say I was impressed. It's so nice to follow...moreThis was my first real Wharton (besides Ethan Frome and Bunner Sisters, two relatively short works). Gotta say I was impressed. It's so nice to follow early Woolf (Night & Day) with a minor Wharton. They work in different, almost oppositional, ways.
Woolf knits these complex inner thoughts that hit the surface of a character in oblique indeterminate actions. Characters like Mary and Catherine seem 'compelled' by a matrix of psychologies they don't quite grasp, making the things they do/say seem more like quicksand than volition. While Woolf definitely masters this and much more by the time she writes To the Lighthouse; the early stuff seems to sink into itself, lost in a rubble of half-thoughts, thoughts yet to thought, and beginnings that have not yet begun.
On the other hand, Wharton works on the outward societal matrix and its multifarious influences on characters' subjectivity. While this matrix is much better tuned, expansive to the point of being airy, and "beautiful" in many ways -- it's not as convoluted or interesting. Wharton's characters have been described as "two-dimensional," and while I understand the impulse to make this critique, I'm not as quick to judge. The work of bringing the outside inside is no small task, Wharton winnows the vast sociological landscape to its essential grains.
This feeling of calm came over me while reading The Fruit of the Tree, undiminished calm. This feeling wasn't due to a subdued plot (the plot could have been... I don't know... less soap-opera-ish, more elegant). This feeling hinged on Wharton's ability to digest and activate all the social data clicking around the characters. It makes the world feel more manageable, because most of the characters could actually see the world and bang out their relation to it. Now whether she used this power to really get at something, is another story. I'm not sure she did. But I did thoroughly enjoy this book. And I'm definitely reading more Wharton.(less)
Sort of a snoozer as woolf goes. I can't say if anyone but Mrs. Hilbery got my attention. The book was just so labored and overthought and... I don't ...moreSort of a snoozer as woolf goes. I can't say if anyone but Mrs. Hilbery got my attention. The book was just so labored and overthought and... I don't know... Sort of useless in it's accumulation of activities and thoughts. Just never seemed to shift gears. Early work, faux show. (less)
I picked up this book a few years ago and put it down because I got too Kafka-ed by the mazery. I just couldn't put it together, couldn't understand w...moreI picked up this book a few years ago and put it down because I got too Kafka-ed by the mazery. I just couldn't put it together, couldn't understand why sentences were written the way that that were. Thank goodness I gave it a second go. For me, real liftoff happened about halfway thru, maybe that's when I figured out how to plug in the allegory. Then, what was a series of pull-my-hair-out mucky predicaments turned into a real thing, a mysterious and wonderful thing, I don't know how Kafka did that - make something so heavy and convoluted shoot out the other end light and evasive. Magic. (less)
Gotta say that I loved the "Contents" in this book. What is usually a list of titles and page numbers, Sigler weaves into a whopper of a poe...moreGotta say that I loved the "Contents" in this book. What is usually a list of titles and page numbers, Sigler weaves into a whopper of a poem. I'm a sucker for prayerish poems and "Contents" was one of the best I've read to date. So why not 5 stars, you ask? Hmmm. More difficult question. I liked the book a lot. The poems are sort of lyric catalogs of personal and public violence (feral children, wife beating, prisoners of war). I loved moments like in "O You With a Spine":
O Panhandler, O Heart, don't testify , You will certainly outweigh a feather, O,
Your mouth is a feather , O Feather, I have not stolen bread, I have not, O Sunspot, O Crocodile,
O Shepard, O, O
I also liked the odd listing mechanism she employs like in "those who frequent carnivals":
Now a summer buried 8 years in, gangplank, worm-hole, games beneath the covers,
Those who play tennis with spatulas & balloons
But the obvious problem is the tendency of the prayerful to tip over into melodrama. Often Sigler insists on telling too much of a story and this over-telling sort of erases the keenness of her perceptions/imagination. I wish the book had been a little more rowdy and less linear, but overall a pretty interesting read.(less)
Loading...
