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casparb's review
5.0
He's the best !
It's known GMH is unspeakably brilliant you don't need me for that it's so warm, reassuring to read these and rediscover where others have pinched lines. Contemporary highlight is the first stanza of The Lantern out of Doors -
Sometimes a lantern moves along the night,
That interests our eyes. And who goes there?
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?
which gives the title for the wonderful Seán Hewitt's just-released memoir, All Down Darkness Wide. I don't think it's too much a stretch to call Gerard a progenitor of queer aesthetics in poetry & I think one has only to look at what we're cautiously calling something like a Scottish revival at the moment to recognise the Hopkins in queer joy, in the unavoidably queer aesthetics of complexity, eruption, exuberance. This reread really rekindled the Deutschland for me which I Liked before but Oh my I am falling for it Heavy now what a masterpiece
Blue-beating and hoary-glow height; or night, still higher,
With belled fire and the moth-soft Milky way,
What by your measure is the heaven of desire,
The treasure never eyesight got, nor was ever guessed what for the hearing?
Also the Heraclitean Fire poem is,,,, so desirable
O I suppose I'd also say I read the prose here the journal is quite sweet quite Wordsworthian in a way though GMH would dislike that comparison. There's an odd Socratic dialogue among Oxonians about What is Beauty which nearly worked though I was mostly going hmmm homoeroticism. I was surprised by his letters to John Henry Newman which to my shame I didn't know existed! they're curious!
He's endless he's here to stay and Thank the Lord for that
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
It's known GMH is unspeakably brilliant you don't need me for that it's so warm, reassuring to read these and rediscover where others have pinched lines. Contemporary highlight is the first stanza of The Lantern out of Doors -
Sometimes a lantern moves along the night,
That interests our eyes. And who goes there?
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?
which gives the title for the wonderful Seán Hewitt's just-released memoir, All Down Darkness Wide. I don't think it's too much a stretch to call Gerard a progenitor of queer aesthetics in poetry & I think one has only to look at what we're cautiously calling something like a Scottish revival at the moment to recognise the Hopkins in queer joy, in the unavoidably queer aesthetics of complexity, eruption, exuberance. This reread really rekindled the Deutschland for me which I Liked before but Oh my I am falling for it Heavy now what a masterpiece
Blue-beating and hoary-glow height; or night, still higher,
With belled fire and the moth-soft Milky way,
What by your measure is the heaven of desire,
The treasure never eyesight got, nor was ever guessed what for the hearing?
Also the Heraclitean Fire poem is,,,, so desirable
O I suppose I'd also say I read the prose here the journal is quite sweet quite Wordsworthian in a way though GMH would dislike that comparison. There's an odd Socratic dialogue among Oxonians about What is Beauty which nearly worked though I was mostly going hmmm homoeroticism. I was surprised by his letters to John Henry Newman which to my shame I didn't know existed! they're curious!
He's endless he's here to stay and Thank the Lord for that
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
hanamarma's review against another edition
4.0
I've never read anything else like Gerard Manley Hopkins. Before reading this book, I was familiar with a few of his more well-known poems, and it was a joy to read more - many I had to read twice to fully appreciate. I enjoy his nature poetry more than his spiritual poems, but all were well worth reading. I also enjoyed the excerpts from his journals, getting a look into the detailed observations of the world which he recorded and then incorporated into his poetry. I skipped the selected letters section as well as a good portion of the editor's notes. Editors always seem to want to get up in my business of reading; I'd rather draw my own insights and conclusions from the poetry than read a dry account of Hopkins' writing style. The biographical portions were interesting, though.
sherbertwells's review
dark
emotional
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? Yes
5.0
The poetry (and selected prose) of the Victorian Jesuit and poet famous for his use of sprung rhythm. Where every other Victorian poet composes their lines, Hopkins discovers them.
“For Christ plays in ten thousand places
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces” (18)
oldpondnewfrog's review
4.0
This was a treat!
Not only G.M.H's wonderful poetry—some of my favorite poems about nature and, probably even more, of great depression and a kind of faith-laced despair—but also his journals and letters, which take you back a bit to that time.
And not only that, but a nice old Penguin edition to boot, with metal type Bembo set small and close, amazing italic, and nice pages.
I liked G.M.H. mesmerizing a duck with chalk lines (Apr 27, 1871)—he doesn't really say exactly how, just a tantalizing glimpse.
And July 22, 1873:
All in all, this was a great book to read in bits and pieces over a few months, on quiet evenings or quiet mornings.
Not only G.M.H's wonderful poetry—some of my favorite poems about nature and, probably even more, of great depression and a kind of faith-laced despair—but also his journals and letters, which take you back a bit to that time.
And not only that, but a nice old Penguin edition to boot, with metal type Bembo set small and close, amazing italic, and nice pages.
I liked G.M.H. mesmerizing a duck with chalk lines (Apr 27, 1871)—he doesn't really say exactly how, just a tantalizing glimpse.
And July 22, 1873:
Very hot, though the wind, which was south, dappled very sweetly on one's face and when I came out I seemed to put it on like a gown as a man puts on the shadow he walks into and hoods or hats himself with the shelter of a roof, a penthouse, or a copse of trees, I mean it rippled and fluttered like light linen...You can definitely read the poet in the journal. Not so much his letters, though—I didn't really like the person he seemed in his letters, felt much more false. Still, the letters were nice to set the scene for the time period.
All in all, this was a great book to read in bits and pieces over a few months, on quiet evenings or quiet mornings.
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