Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.99 AVERAGE
3.99 AVERAGE
challenging
informative
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I always wanted to be a better appreciator of poetry, and thought I would find it in Whitman. Alas, it just wasn't meant to be.
Whiteman's first published works of poetry. This may be an unpopular opinion, but he just isn't for me. I felt lost during most of this book and did not understand what he was saying. When reading summaries of the poems afterward, I found the concepts very beautiful, especially when I found out, "O Captain! My Captain" (famous from Dead Poets Society) was written about the death of Abraham Lincoln. Whitman believed that his poems should be read aloud and discussed to fully understand their meaning. Maybe this is why I was frustrated. Alone, I only understand it from my view, but together, we can fully appreciate his words. I think that's my biggest takeaway.
Walt Whitman daria bom dia a todos, todas e todes. Simplesmente um livro com uma força do esplendor da vida e da morte. Foda. E gay.
I am torn on my reaction to Whitman's magnum opus-- its themes and words will remain unforgettable, but boy how I hated reading this plodding rambling slog of a book.
Whitman's poems catalog his transcendentalism-inspired view of... everything. From scenes across the world, with particular focus on America, to anecdotes of dying soldiers and copulating couples, Whitman emphasizes the interconnectedness of humanity and nature.
While Whitman's enthusiasm is infectious, he lacks brevity. He repeats his philosophy like a club over the head. The final product could've been cut in half and still have gotten across the message.
But damn if there aren't moments of beauty. Particularly in the later poems which were added in his later years, Whitman tempers his enthusiasm with more brief, succinct, thoughtful, and hopeful words in the face of impending death. And I think that is the best occasion for Whitman's leaves: when one needs comfort that there is indestructible purpose and beauty in every human's life.
(I originally rated this as 2, but years later, I still think about Leaves of Grass from time to time. Even if the collection is a slog, Whitman has a wicked way of worming into your brain for a lifetime)
Whitman's poems catalog his transcendentalism-inspired view of... everything. From scenes across the world, with particular focus on America, to anecdotes of dying soldiers and copulating couples, Whitman emphasizes the interconnectedness of humanity and nature.
While Whitman's enthusiasm is infectious, he lacks brevity. He repeats his philosophy like a club over the head. The final product could've been cut in half and still have gotten across the message.
But damn if there aren't moments of beauty. Particularly in the later poems which were added in his later years, Whitman tempers his enthusiasm with more brief, succinct, thoughtful, and hopeful words in the face of impending death. And I think that is the best occasion for Whitman's leaves: when one needs comfort that there is indestructible purpose and beauty in every human's life.
(I originally rated this as 2, but years later, I still think about Leaves of Grass from time to time. Even if the collection is a slog, Whitman has a wicked way of worming into your brain for a lifetime)
52. To a Stranger
PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me, 5
I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me, 5
I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-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
Sorry Walt, I'm just not into you. I'm already not a poetry fan so I foolishly thought that one of the masters could turn me. Nope. The ramblings of states or vistas or types of people were so constant that if I noticed he was going on one of his tangents I'd flip through the 2 pages worth of him saying the same thing over and over and over again. Not for me.