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October
‘October’ by Louis Glück is a poem that describes the change in the natural world during October. It is the time of autumn when the earth takes a new shape. It wears the robe of new leaves and transforms into her former self again. The poet highlights the natural change at the beginning of autumn. Her voice seems confused at the sight. She cannot decide either it is the change or she is in a dream. She questions herself repeatedly and answers her musings. This chain of cause and effect somehow gives the poem a new look. Though she is talking about a conventional theme, her thoughts in October are unique.
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"Identifying with the season of autumn, the dark of it, the barren, irreversible future of it, and the beauty of it, which is not seen as redemptive, the voice of Louise Glück is starker, more direct, more emotionally charged than it has ever been. October is a masterpiece."—Mark Strand
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Louise Elisabeth Glück is an American poet and essayist. She won the 2020 Nobel Prize in Literature, whose judges praised "her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal"
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"Identifying with the season of autumn, the dark of it, the barren, irreversible future of it, and the beauty of it, which is not seen as redemptive, the voice of Louise Glück is starker, more direct, more emotionally charged than it has ever been. October is a masterpiece."—Mark Strand
_____
Louise Elisabeth Glück is an American poet and essayist. She won the 2020 Nobel Prize in Literature, whose judges praised "her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal"
- GenresPoetry
32 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2004
1 person is currently reading
579 people want to read
About the author
Louise Glück
95 books2,148 followersAmerican poet Louise Elisabeth Glück served as poet laureate of the United States from 2003 to 2004.
Parents of Hungarian Jewish heritage reared her on Long Island. She attended Sarah Lawrence College and later Columbia University.
She was the author of twelve books of poetry, including: A Village Life (2009); Averno (2006), which was a finalist for The National Book Award; The Seven Ages (2001); Vita Nova (1999), which was awarded The New Yorker's Book Award in Poetry; Meadowlands (1996); The Wild Iris (1992), which received the Pulitzer Prize and the William Carlos Williams Award of the Poetry Society of America; Ararat (1990), which received the Rebekah Johnson Bobbitt National Prize for Poetry from the Library of Congress. She also published a collection of essays, Proofs and Theories: Essays on Poetry (1994), which won the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction.
In 2001, Yale University awarded Louise Glück its Bollingen Prize in Poetry, given biennially for a poet's lifetime achievement in his or her art. Her other honors include the Lannan Literary Award for Poetry, the Sara Teasdale Memorial Prize (Wellesley, 1986), the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1993 for her collection, The Wild Iris . Glück is the recipient of the National Book Critics Circle Award ( Triumph of Achilles ), the Academy of American Poet's Prize ( Firstborn ), as well as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Anniversary Medal (2000), and fellowships from the Guggenheim, Rockefeller foundations and the National Endowment for the Arts.
In 2020, Glück was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, "for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal."
Glück also worked as a senior lecturer in English at Williams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts, served as a member of the faculty of the University of Iowa and taught at Goddard College in Vermont. She lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and teached as the Rosencranz writer in residence at Yale University and in the creative writing program of Boston University.
Parents of Hungarian Jewish heritage reared her on Long Island. She attended Sarah Lawrence College and later Columbia University.
She was the author of twelve books of poetry, including: A Village Life (2009); Averno (2006), which was a finalist for The National Book Award; The Seven Ages (2001); Vita Nova (1999), which was awarded The New Yorker's Book Award in Poetry; Meadowlands (1996); The Wild Iris (1992), which received the Pulitzer Prize and the William Carlos Williams Award of the Poetry Society of America; Ararat (1990), which received the Rebekah Johnson Bobbitt National Prize for Poetry from the Library of Congress. She also published a collection of essays, Proofs and Theories: Essays on Poetry (1994), which won the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction.
In 2001, Yale University awarded Louise Glück its Bollingen Prize in Poetry, given biennially for a poet's lifetime achievement in his or her art. Her other honors include the Lannan Literary Award for Poetry, the Sara Teasdale Memorial Prize (Wellesley, 1986), the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1993 for her collection, The Wild Iris . Glück is the recipient of the National Book Critics Circle Award ( Triumph of Achilles ), the Academy of American Poet's Prize ( Firstborn ), as well as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Anniversary Medal (2000), and fellowships from the Guggenheim, Rockefeller foundations and the National Endowment for the Arts.
In 2020, Glück was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, "for her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal."
Glück also worked as a senior lecturer in English at Williams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts, served as a member of the faculty of the University of Iowa and taught at Goddard College in Vermont. She lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and teached as the Rosencranz writer in residence at Yale University and in the creative writing program of Boston University.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
August 27, 2018
It's hot here still, in Colorado, but the mornings and evenings hold the crisp promise of autumn.
The pumpkins out in our garden appear cheerful and plump, and the first yellow patches have appeared on the Sunburst Honey Locusts.
All poets and romantics unite, for autumn comes!
I have always particularly embraced this season, but when autumn comes for Louise Gluck in October, it is not the typical poetic celebration of red, yellow and green. Gluck does not shriek, nor clasp her hands in ecstasy as our dear Shelley does.
She surprises us, with a bleak picture of a woman tossing the spent pumpkin vines aside in despair. To say it simply. . . she's done.
And, had I read this poem in my 20s or 30s, every bit of my autumn-loving self would have revolted: how dare she!
But, here in my 40s, with a different perspective, the dirt forever embedded in my shoes from having buried a father in another October, I get it. Sometimes, some days, it's more challenging than it was before to be cheerful.
Gluck writes, “You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared.”
Ugh, such a blow.
And, more:
It is true there is not enough beauty in the world.
It is also true that I am not competent to restore it.
It's painful, this work, and it made me cry, made me pause and re-read several lines. It's lovely, and awful, at the same time.
But, strangely, it reminded me not to give up on autumn. I believe Ms. Gluck will come around, too.
"Autumn was her happiest season." --Harper Lee
The pumpkins out in our garden appear cheerful and plump, and the first yellow patches have appeared on the Sunburst Honey Locusts.
All poets and romantics unite, for autumn comes!
I have always particularly embraced this season, but when autumn comes for Louise Gluck in October, it is not the typical poetic celebration of red, yellow and green. Gluck does not shriek, nor clasp her hands in ecstasy as our dear Shelley does.
She surprises us, with a bleak picture of a woman tossing the spent pumpkin vines aside in despair. To say it simply. . . she's done.
And, had I read this poem in my 20s or 30s, every bit of my autumn-loving self would have revolted: how dare she!
But, here in my 40s, with a different perspective, the dirt forever embedded in my shoes from having buried a father in another October, I get it. Sometimes, some days, it's more challenging than it was before to be cheerful.
Gluck writes, “You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared.”
Ugh, such a blow.
And, more:
It is true there is not enough beauty in the world.
It is also true that I am not competent to restore it.
It's painful, this work, and it made me cry, made me pause and re-read several lines. It's lovely, and awful, at the same time.
But, strangely, it reminded me not to give up on autumn. I believe Ms. Gluck will come around, too.
"Autumn was her happiest season." --Harper Lee
October 12, 2020
"Surely it is a privilege to approach the
end
still believing in something. "
end
still believing in something. "
August 3, 2019
The brightness of the day becomes
the brightness of the night;
the fire becomes the mirror
My friend the earth is bitter; I think
sunlight has failed her.
Bitter or weary, it is hard to say.
Between herself and the sun,
something has ended.
She wants, now, to be left alone;
I think we must give up
turning to her for affirmation.
Above the fields,
above the roofs of the village houses,
the brilliance that made all life possible
becomes the cold stars.
Lie still and watch:
they give nothing but ask nothing.
From within the earth's
bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness
my friend the moon rises:
she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?
the brightness of the night;
the fire becomes the mirror
My friend the earth is bitter; I think
sunlight has failed her.
Bitter or weary, it is hard to say.
Between herself and the sun,
something has ended.
She wants, now, to be left alone;
I think we must give up
turning to her for affirmation.
Above the fields,
above the roofs of the village houses,
the brilliance that made all life possible
becomes the cold stars.
Lie still and watch:
they give nothing but ask nothing.
From within the earth's
bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness
my friend the moon rises:
she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?
June 28, 2021
The opening poem of "Averno" (although also issued standalone - see below) and for me the only real high note of the collection, with which I simply could not connect (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
A mediation on nature, on the Autumn of a life, and an introduction to the Persephone story that drives much of Averno and with the opening stanza of the second poem "Persephone the Wanderer" where we are told
Some of my favourite parts:
The poem is set in a time looking back after a time of unspeakable horror - and I was fascinated to see that the poem was issued as a standalone chap book in 2004 as the poet's response to 9-11 (giving added significance to the title)
A mediation on nature, on the Autumn of a life, and an introduction to the Persephone story that drives much of Averno and with the opening stanza of the second poem "Persephone the Wanderer" where we are told
In the first version, Persephone
is taken from her mother
and the goddess of the earth
punishes the earth - this is
consistent with what we know human behaviour
Some of my favourite parts:
It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world.
It is also true that I am not competent to restore it.
Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.
The light has changed;
middle C is tuned darker now.
And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. —
This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring.
The light of autumn: you will not be spared.
The songs have changed; the unspeakable
has entered them.
This is the light of autumn, not the light that says
I am reborn.
Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered.
This is the present, an allegory of waste.
The poem is set in a time looking back after a time of unspeakable horror - and I was fascinated to see that the poem was issued as a standalone chap book in 2004 as the poet's response to 9-11 (giving added significance to the title)
October 30, 2017
October is one medium-length poem told in six parts. Gluck's contemplation of the waning of the seasons reminded me powerfully of the classic Greek myth regarding the seasons: Persephone is dragged to the underworld, and the natural world grieves with Demeter. Gluck contemplates violence and earth and the difficulty of revival in this piece. It is touching and beautiful and sad.
July 25, 2016
"it does me no good
to be good to me now"
3.5
to be good to me now"
3.5
January 7, 2008
I got this chapbook today at a used bookstore for two dollars. It was the best two bucks I’ve spend in long time.
death cannot harm me
More than you have harmed me,
My beloved life.
death cannot harm me
More than you have harmed me,
My beloved life.
May 4, 2024
“wasn’t my body
rescued, wasn’t it safe
didn’t the scar form, invisible
above the injury”
- Louise Glück's "October" is a poetic journey through the seasons, offering readers a reflective exploration of change and renewal. With vivid imagery and lyrical language, Glück captures the essence of autumn, inviting readers to contemplate the beauty and melancholy of life's transitions. Through themes of growth, loss, and resilience, "October" leaves a lasting impression, resonating with its profound insights and emotional depth. A captivating read for anyone seeking poetry that speaks to the complexities of existence and the enduring power of nature
rescued, wasn’t it safe
didn’t the scar form, invisible
above the injury”
- Louise Glück's "October" is a poetic journey through the seasons, offering readers a reflective exploration of change and renewal. With vivid imagery and lyrical language, Glück captures the essence of autumn, inviting readers to contemplate the beauty and melancholy of life's transitions. Through themes of growth, loss, and resilience, "October" leaves a lasting impression, resonating with its profound insights and emotional depth. A captivating read for anyone seeking poetry that speaks to the complexities of existence and the enduring power of nature
October 19, 2025
thematically relevant
November 13, 2024
I meant to read this in October—“death cannot harm me / more than you have harmed me / my beloved life” (iii, stanza 9).
August 20, 2021
A bleak, bitter, but beautiful account of the barren season. Beginning with a tone of disbelief that October might be already arriving, again, and taking with it more from us than the unbearable amount we have already lost in the warmer months of the year. Glück faces the creeping chill, but knows that defeat has already been decided. Life is robbed like clockwork, scheduled into the very seasons. Knowing this does not protect or cushion us. Here we are told: protest against inevitable, impending loss is not merely futile, but fantasy.
“How privileged you are, to be passionately
clinging to what you love;
the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.
Maestro, doloroso:
This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us.
Surely it is a privilege to approach the end
still believing in something.”
“How privileged you are, to be passionately
clinging to what you love;
the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.
Maestro, doloroso:
This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us.
Surely it is a privilege to approach the end
still believing in something.”
November 27, 2012
...the light of autumn: you will not be spared.
In a way, this is where i went after Mary Oliver. Gluck is in the natural and physical world too. Her vision is brilliant, dark, fearless. Nature becomes not simply a lover humanity has betrayed, but a mirror of all we refused to let her tell us about consequence within and without an individual human life.
This chapbook was my introduction to Gluck. When i went looking i found the Pulitzer prize winner -The Wild Iris. This woman is amazing.
In a way, this is where i went after Mary Oliver. Gluck is in the natural and physical world too. Her vision is brilliant, dark, fearless. Nature becomes not simply a lover humanity has betrayed, but a mirror of all we refused to let her tell us about consequence within and without an individual human life.
This chapbook was my introduction to Gluck. When i went looking i found the Pulitzer prize winner -The Wild Iris. This woman is amazing.
October 9, 2018
I'm not a poetry expert, but I cannot recommend this highly enough. It is captivating, wrenching, wistful, and lovely--all traits that the titular month embodies to me. I wish more people would read it so we could all meet together to discuss it in a candlelit room.
Read
September 2, 2019Read and reread over the years. A gem, often in my bag.
I was young here. Riding /
the subway with my small book / as though to defend myself against /
this same world: /
you are not alone, /
the poem said, /
in the dark tunnel.
I was young here. Riding /
the subway with my small book / as though to defend myself against /
this same world: /
you are not alone, /
the poem said, /
in the dark tunnel.
March 29, 2016
A meditation on the autumn of one's life. Clear, concise, and accessible.
January 17, 2022
Is it winter again, is it cold again,
didn't Frank just slip on the ice,
didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted
didn't the night end,
didn't the melting ice
flood the narrow gutters
wasn't my body
rescued, wasn't it safe
didn't the scar form, invisible
above the injury
terror and cold,
didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden
harrowed and planted -
I remember how the earth felt, red and dense,
in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted,
didn't vines climb the south wall
I can't hear your voice
for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground
I no longer care
what sound it makes
when was I silenced, when did it first seem
pointless to describe the sound
what it sounds like can't change what it is -
didn't the night end, wasn't the earth
safe when it was planted
didn't we plant the seeds,
weren't we necessary to the earth,
the vines, were they harvested?
- October, I (pg. 7 - 8)
didn't Frank just slip on the ice,
didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted
didn't the night end,
didn't the melting ice
flood the narrow gutters
wasn't my body
rescued, wasn't it safe
didn't the scar form, invisible
above the injury
terror and cold,
didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden
harrowed and planted -
I remember how the earth felt, red and dense,
in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted,
didn't vines climb the south wall
I can't hear your voice
for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground
I no longer care
what sound it makes
when was I silenced, when did it first seem
pointless to describe the sound
what it sounds like can't change what it is -
didn't the night end, wasn't the earth
safe when it was planted
didn't we plant the seeds,
weren't we necessary to the earth,
the vines, were they harvested?
- October, I (pg. 7 - 8)
May 1, 2022
"Come to me, said the world. / This is not to say / it spoke in exact sentences / but that I perceived beauty in this manner. / ... / What others found in art, / I found in nature. What others found / in human love, I found in nature. / Very simple. But there was no voice there. / ... / Come to me, said the world. I was standing / in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal -- / I can finally say / long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty / the healer, the teacher -- / death cannot harm me / more than you have harmed me, / my beloved life." - III
"You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared... / How privileged you are, to be still passionately / clinging to what you love; / the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you... / This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. / Surely it is a privilege to approach the end / still believing in something." - IV
"You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared... / How privileged you are, to be still passionately / clinging to what you love; / the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you... / This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. / Surely it is a privilege to approach the end / still believing in something." - IV
September 20, 2022
4.5 stars. I stopped into a used book store on vacation and this little book jumped out to me. Perhaps because I loved The Wild Iris by this author, or because the cover was so stark and sharp. I opened it and read the first page and knew immediately this was a good find! I saved it for the flight home and devoured it in one day. Louise Gluck has such an interesting perspective and clarity in her writing. Never any fluff, her words are exacting, refined, and straightforward. This book is so different in style from The Wild Iris but the common threads are theme- mortality, deep reflection, renewal. Her writing at times is cut-throat and unapologetic but also accepting with space for hope. I felt connected to her words as though I could have written them myself, had I the talent of a Pulitzer and Noble prize poet! I’m inspired to read more of her poetry.
August 24, 2023
august 2023 poetry challenge day 21. I picked this one up without realizing that it's just a little chapbook for one poem that's in a collection I've already read a few times (Averno) but even on its own this poem is so expansive and powerful that I read it through anyway. Mark Stand on the back so so so so right when saying "the season of autumn, the dark of it... the irreversible future of it ... the voice of Louise Gluck is starker, more direct, more emotionally charged that it has ever been" 5/5 stars
February 13, 2024
An exceptional book. The title sets the tone - NYC Twin Towers destruction. Glück's stillness in holding the reader's attention processing life's irreversible happenings. It feels like a personal intimate moment with the author, being only 18 spares pages long. Why is there no Second printing! (High acquisition cost.💲)
October 20, 2024
“This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. / Surely it is a privilege to approach the end / still believing in something.”
- 4., OCTOBER, Averno
I LOVE OCTOBER (the month)! ALSO HAPPY 24TH BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!
December 9, 2023
"Tell me this is the future,
I won't believe you.
Tell me I'm living,
I won't believe you."
"How privileged you are, to be still passionately
clinging to what you love;
the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you."
I won't believe you.
Tell me I'm living,
I won't believe you."
"How privileged you are, to be still passionately
clinging to what you love;
the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you."
Want to read
October 9, 2020Pulitzer
February 6, 2021
life-altering, read it again and again.
July 23, 2021
Excellent!!
October 27, 2024
Louise Glück proves again she has a quiet mastery over words in a sequence.
December 10, 2020
Poignant and lovely
July 27, 2007
Amazing chapbook and poem. I'd give it four and a half stars if there was that option, but it's not quite a five.
November 23, 2012
I read this monthly.
January 8, 2010
I have a weakness for chapbooks - and this is an amazing work - a poem, chapbook length. #3 in the Quarternote series.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews