What do you think?
Rate this book
The Selected Poems of Jacob Glatstein -- Translated from the Yiddish and with an Introduction By Ruth Whitman
Hardcover
Published January 1, 1972
About the author
Jacob Glatstein
29 books6 followersJacob Glatstein (Yiddish: יעקב גלאטשטיין) was a Polish-born American poet and literary critic who wrote in the Yiddish language. His name is also spelled Yankev Glatshteyn or Jacob Glatshteyn.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
April 26, 2023
I knew of Glatstein from his early poem, “Sheeny Mike,” one of the best depictions of the 1920s Jewish gangster that I’ve come across.
Sheeny Mike sleeps in a bronze casket.
A kingdom of twelve blocks weeps for him.
I wanted to check out some more of his work, so I decided to try this entire volume.
The early ones here are hit or miss, and I confess that – through what seems at least a competent translation by Ruth Whitman – I was generally underwhelmed. Other than “Sheeny Mike” and some striking lines from “Thirteen O’Clock,” I didn’t find much to remember.
Something happens when we get to the selections from 1946’s Radiant Jews. There are only four or five poems from that collection selected here, but they’re electric. It’s a voice of rage and sorrow, one that channels a particular Jewish experience.
Check out some lines from “Mozart”:
I dreamed that
the Gentiles crucified Mozart
and buried him in a pauper’s grave.
But the Jews made him a man of God
and blessed his memory.
Or “Dead Men Don’t Praise God,” maybe the most powerful poem in the book:
We received the Torah on Sinai
and in Lublin we gave it back.
Dead men don’t praise God,
and the Torah was given to the living.
And just as we all stood together
at the giving of the Torah,
so did we all die together at Lublin.
The next collection, Poems of the Bratislaver Rabbi, seems the next strongest as well – at least in the piecemeal way we get it. Most of them seem to be in the voice of the Rabbi as he speaks to his scribe, Nathan. The first, “The Bratizlaver Rabbi to Nathan his Scribe,” gives a good sense of the others:
Nathan, let’s not think today.
Have you ever seen such a bright
glorious world?
I’ll sock you in the eye
if you so much as squeeze out a thought today.
My Father’s Shadow from 1953 is quieter but still moving, and it seems to frame what I take was the golden age of Glatstein’s capacity. By Earthly Speech in 1956, he seems to me (again from the limited selections) to have lost his full edge. There are others that come later and seem impressive, but the uninterrupted run of remarkable work seems over by then.
There’s so much I can’t read or appreciate in the man, since I don’t know his Yiddish, but I’m impressed here. “Sheeny Mike” was just the start, and that mid-career run tells me the man was as great as his reputation.
Sheeny Mike sleeps in a bronze casket.
A kingdom of twelve blocks weeps for him.
I wanted to check out some more of his work, so I decided to try this entire volume.
The early ones here are hit or miss, and I confess that – through what seems at least a competent translation by Ruth Whitman – I was generally underwhelmed. Other than “Sheeny Mike” and some striking lines from “Thirteen O’Clock,” I didn’t find much to remember.
Something happens when we get to the selections from 1946’s Radiant Jews. There are only four or five poems from that collection selected here, but they’re electric. It’s a voice of rage and sorrow, one that channels a particular Jewish experience.
Check out some lines from “Mozart”:
I dreamed that
the Gentiles crucified Mozart
and buried him in a pauper’s grave.
But the Jews made him a man of God
and blessed his memory.
Or “Dead Men Don’t Praise God,” maybe the most powerful poem in the book:
We received the Torah on Sinai
and in Lublin we gave it back.
Dead men don’t praise God,
and the Torah was given to the living.
And just as we all stood together
at the giving of the Torah,
so did we all die together at Lublin.
The next collection, Poems of the Bratislaver Rabbi, seems the next strongest as well – at least in the piecemeal way we get it. Most of them seem to be in the voice of the Rabbi as he speaks to his scribe, Nathan. The first, “The Bratizlaver Rabbi to Nathan his Scribe,” gives a good sense of the others:
Nathan, let’s not think today.
Have you ever seen such a bright
glorious world?
I’ll sock you in the eye
if you so much as squeeze out a thought today.
My Father’s Shadow from 1953 is quieter but still moving, and it seems to frame what I take was the golden age of Glatstein’s capacity. By Earthly Speech in 1956, he seems to me (again from the limited selections) to have lost his full edge. There are others that come later and seem impressive, but the uninterrupted run of remarkable work seems over by then.
There’s so much I can’t read or appreciate in the man, since I don’t know his Yiddish, but I’m impressed here. “Sheeny Mike” was just the start, and that mid-career run tells me the man was as great as his reputation.
Displaying 1 of 1 review