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The Wake Forest Book of Irish Women's Poetry: 1967–2000
Although North American reviewers and readers have recognized the vitality and even the eminence of recent Irish poetry, few could call to mind more than one Irish woman poet. By offering generous selections from the poetry of nine women writers, this anthology not only can correct this oversight but also can earn for these poets the startled attention and ongoing affection of a wider American readership.
352 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1999
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
December 22, 2007
I don't know how or why, but contemporary Irish women poets are absolutely stunning. In this anthology in particular, they traverse all tones, going from lascivious to somehow shouldering the whole burden of womendom, and still keeping the grace. I love "Labysheedy" by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill. It reminds me a little of Pablo Neruda's poetry in that it is at once sensual, sentimental, and a-sexual in its unadorned language. It is printed in English as well as Gaelic.
April 1, 2022
An outstanding and deep collection of recent (1967 and later) and contemporary poetry from Irish women, including some in Irish with English translations. Some of the poems focus on the mundane lives of mothers and daughters. Others deal with more ethereal subjects. And, some are bawdy. I could have done with less of Peggy O'Brien's 17-page preface.
Excerpts:
"Half-wondering what becomes of words, the brisk herbs of language, the fragrances we think we sing."
"Where you mixed cheese with bitter fennel and fell in love over demitasse."
"My country holds on to its own pain."
"In the end it will not matter that I was a woman. I am sure of it. The body is a source. Nothing more. ... Consider rivers. They are always en route to their own nothingness. From the first moment they are going home."
"Spirit of irony, my caustic author of the past, of memory, and of its pain, which returns hurts, stings -- reproach me now, remind me that I was in those rooms, with my child, with my back turned to her, searching -- oh irony! -- for beautiful things."
"At fifty, she misses the breast that grew in her thirteenth year and was removed last month."
"If what she hunted for could fit my eyes, I would shine in the window of her blood like wine, or perfume, or till nothing was left of me but listening."
"I am a threader of double-stranded words."
"I am learning my country all over again, how every inch of soil has been paid for by the life of a man, the funerals of the poor."
"Butterflies searching for sustenance over your body's meadow."
"Between us welled the ocean waves of grief. Between us the mountains were forbidding and the roads long, with no turning."
"But in his favour I will say this for him. he made a lovely corpse. Looked better dead than he did in our front room before the telly."
"Lately she has heard her dead mother's voice tumbling in the drier with the wash: I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.
"We step now to rhythms we don't own or understand, and, with blind, dog-like diligence, we hunt for scars in tender places.
Will revisit this and look for more work from some of the poets who struck a chord with me.
Excerpts:
"Half-wondering what becomes of words, the brisk herbs of language, the fragrances we think we sing."
"Where you mixed cheese with bitter fennel and fell in love over demitasse."
"My country holds on to its own pain."
"In the end it will not matter that I was a woman. I am sure of it. The body is a source. Nothing more. ... Consider rivers. They are always en route to their own nothingness. From the first moment they are going home."
"Spirit of irony, my caustic author of the past, of memory, and of its pain, which returns hurts, stings -- reproach me now, remind me that I was in those rooms, with my child, with my back turned to her, searching -- oh irony! -- for beautiful things."
"At fifty, she misses the breast that grew in her thirteenth year and was removed last month."
"If what she hunted for could fit my eyes, I would shine in the window of her blood like wine, or perfume, or till nothing was left of me but listening."
"I am a threader of double-stranded words."
"I am learning my country all over again, how every inch of soil has been paid for by the life of a man, the funerals of the poor."
"Butterflies searching for sustenance over your body's meadow."
"Between us welled the ocean waves of grief. Between us the mountains were forbidding and the roads long, with no turning."
"But in his favour I will say this for him. he made a lovely corpse. Looked better dead than he did in our front room before the telly."
"Lately she has heard her dead mother's voice tumbling in the drier with the wash: I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.
"We step now to rhythms we don't own or understand, and, with blind, dog-like diligence, we hunt for scars in tender places.
Will revisit this and look for more work from some of the poets who struck a chord with me.
August 14, 2021
Every Saturday morning for almost a year I have read selection from this anthology. The poems are just that good.
Irish poetry, traditionally speaking, is a male-dominated field (like the rest of literature) and it is refreshing to read about Ireland and its legacy from the perspective of smart, gifted women writers.
All the poets in the anthology are supremely talented poets, but the standouts are Kerry Hardie, Paula Meehan, and of course Eavan Boland.
Do yourself a favor. Buy and secure this anthology. Then read the poetry and be amazed.
Irish poetry, traditionally speaking, is a male-dominated field (like the rest of literature) and it is refreshing to read about Ireland and its legacy from the perspective of smart, gifted women writers.
All the poets in the anthology are supremely talented poets, but the standouts are Kerry Hardie, Paula Meehan, and of course Eavan Boland.
Do yourself a favor. Buy and secure this anthology. Then read the poetry and be amazed.
January 15, 2023
Found it in Galway City Library and couldn’t put it down. What a treasure! As a newcomer to the world of poetry, I was delighted to discover some poets
I knew and some I didn’t know. I was really moved by Nuala
Ní Dhomhnail’s poetry, and grateful for the English translations.
I knew and some I didn’t know. I was really moved by Nuala
Ní Dhomhnail’s poetry, and grateful for the English translations.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews