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3.87 AVERAGE
3.87 AVERAGE
Poetry is not something I pick up to read ever. Probably not since it was assigned. But when a colleague says you have to read this I do and I was blown away. Maybe because of all the harshness of words in the world right now beautiful writing just feels like a balm.
This is the second collection of Billy Collins' poems I have read and it is an enjoyable one, though I preferred The Trouble with Poetry. This collection had a more solemn and reflective tone running through it versus the subtle wit and hint of mischief that dominated in the The Trouble with Poetry. A lovely collection of poems; just "not as much favorite." Hence, the 4 stars instead of 5. =)
2.5 stars
I did like some of the poems and a few lines here and there.
But just couldn't connect.
I did like some of the poems and a few lines here and there.
But just couldn't connect.
I discovered Billy Collins when I was in college, and his natural style captivated me. His poems feel effortless and his perspective is one I savor, knowing the experience of reading his poetry is one I will relish.
Sometimes he strikes a poignant tone, as in "Life Expectancy," forcing you to pause alongside Collins to ponder mortality. Or perhaps he's sharing an observation of marriage.
Or there can be a pointed jab, as in "Mice," when Collins watches a neighbor's house burn, causing mice to seek new lodging:
"They all ran across the snow-
covered lawn to find places
to hide in their new home;
then later they discovered the kitchen,
which was like Columbus discovering
America, because the kitchen was already there."
(That feels particularly relevant today, as the country marks Indigenous People's Day today, at the time of my writing.)
There is his characteristic humor, as found in "Banana School" or "A Terrible Beauty," the latter being a tongue-in-cheek competition to determine the cruelest month (again, so prescient for 2020).
When I sit to read poetry from a poet I can trust, the experience is one of pleasure. I feel my whole body relax, my breathing deepen. I slow down to savor the words and be caught off-guard on the journey, appreciating the view Collins has of the world and his willingness to share his insights with the rest of us.
(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)
Sometimes he strikes a poignant tone, as in "Life Expectancy," forcing you to pause alongside Collins to ponder mortality. Or perhaps he's sharing an observation of marriage.
Or there can be a pointed jab, as in "Mice," when Collins watches a neighbor's house burn, causing mice to seek new lodging:
"They all ran across the snow-
covered lawn to find places
to hide in their new home;
then later they discovered the kitchen,
which was like Columbus discovering
America, because the kitchen was already there."
(That feels particularly relevant today, as the country marks Indigenous People's Day today, at the time of my writing.)
There is his characteristic humor, as found in "Banana School" or "A Terrible Beauty," the latter being a tongue-in-cheek competition to determine the cruelest month (again, so prescient for 2020).
When I sit to read poetry from a poet I can trust, the experience is one of pleasure. I feel my whole body relax, my breathing deepen. I slow down to savor the words and be caught off-guard on the journey, appreciating the view Collins has of the world and his willingness to share his insights with the rest of us.
(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
Every piece overflows with his unique and whimsical nonchalantness.
I was not familiar with Billy Collin's poetry before I discovered this little gem. There are odd and some whimsical poems, ones of nature, aging, mortality, and death. I found a lot of playfulness in these poems and enjoyed the unique perspective of Billy Collins.
Ik kocht deze eigenlijk vooral op de voorkant 0:) iets met een walvis én omdat ik meer poezie wilde lezen in 2022.
Ik vond het gedicht Whale Day (wat ik opzocht voor ik t kocht) heel mooi. Billy Collins maakt je in zijn observaties bewuster van de wereld om je heen en laat je stil staan/even echt observeren. Dat vond ik er goed aan.
Wat ik er iets minder aan vond: heel veel name dropping. Het lijkt er op dat hij elke dag begint met een observatie van iets of iemand of bijv kunst die hij om zich heen ziet en daar een beetje omheen filosofeert. Alleen.. ik kende veel van die namen niet en op een gegeven moment had ik geen zin meer om te googlen. Ik heb nu nog allemaal papiertjes tussen de bladzijden zitten: van dingen en mensen die ik moet opzoeken omdat ik daardoor het gedicht niet snapte.
Daarbij vond ik ook veel gedichten een beetje een verzameling van gedachten met wat enters middenin zinnen om er ritme in te krijgen (als je snapt wat ik bedoel).
Niet helemaal mijn ding deze bundel (daarom 2 sterren of in goodreads rating 'it was okay'), maar er zaten zeker gedichten tussen die me aan het denken zaten of met goede observaties (met humor). Deze bijvoorbeeld die ik vanmorgen nog las :) gedicht cadeau ->
English Roses
In those weeks of late summer
when the roses in gardens begin to fade
the big red, white, and pink ones -
the inner enfolded petals growing cankerous
the petals at edges turning brown
or fallen already down their girlish backs
in the rough beds of turned-over soil.
then how terrible the expressions on their faces
a kind of was-it-all-really-worth-it-look
to die here in front of everybody
in the garden of a bed-and-breakfast
in a provincial English market town
to expire by degrees of corruption
in plain sight of all neighbours passing by
the thin mail carrier, the stocky butcher
(thank God the children pay no attention)
the swiveling faces in the windows of tall buses
and now this stranger staring over the wall
hair disheveled, a loose scarf around his neck
jotting in a notebook, something about us no doubt
about how terrible we must look now under the punishing sun.
Ik vond het gedicht Whale Day (wat ik opzocht voor ik t kocht) heel mooi. Billy Collins maakt je in zijn observaties bewuster van de wereld om je heen en laat je stil staan/even echt observeren. Dat vond ik er goed aan.
Wat ik er iets minder aan vond: heel veel name dropping. Het lijkt er op dat hij elke dag begint met een observatie van iets of iemand of bijv kunst die hij om zich heen ziet en daar een beetje omheen filosofeert. Alleen.. ik kende veel van die namen niet en op een gegeven moment had ik geen zin meer om te googlen. Ik heb nu nog allemaal papiertjes tussen de bladzijden zitten: van dingen en mensen die ik moet opzoeken omdat ik daardoor het gedicht niet snapte.
Daarbij vond ik ook veel gedichten een beetje een verzameling van gedachten met wat enters middenin zinnen om er ritme in te krijgen (als je snapt wat ik bedoel).
Niet helemaal mijn ding deze bundel (daarom 2 sterren of in goodreads rating 'it was okay'), maar er zaten zeker gedichten tussen die me aan het denken zaten of met goede observaties (met humor). Deze bijvoorbeeld die ik vanmorgen nog las :) gedicht cadeau ->
English Roses
In those weeks of late summer
when the roses in gardens begin to fade
the big red, white, and pink ones -
the inner enfolded petals growing cankerous
the petals at edges turning brown
or fallen already down their girlish backs
in the rough beds of turned-over soil.
then how terrible the expressions on their faces
a kind of was-it-all-really-worth-it-look
to die here in front of everybody
in the garden of a bed-and-breakfast
in a provincial English market town
to expire by degrees of corruption
in plain sight of all neighbours passing by
the thin mail carrier, the stocky butcher
(thank God the children pay no attention)
the swiveling faces in the windows of tall buses
and now this stranger staring over the wall
hair disheveled, a loose scarf around his neck
jotting in a notebook, something about us no doubt
about how terrible we must look now under the punishing sun.
emotional
reflective
slow-paced