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ge9re's review against another edition
I read a good portion of it. It probably would been more helpful if my brain could process poetry
byemmabird's review against another edition
5.0
While I didn't connect with every poem, this is a collection that I will keep going back to over and over. It's a book that will sit with me in the middle of the night, and it always gives me what I need: sometimes it rages with me at the injustice of loss, other times it is melancholy with nostalgia for someone who will never make new memories, and yet still other times it is a comforting friend to cry with. Thank you, Kevin Young, for compiling such tender pieces to help us all walk through the darkness together.
kgawesome5's review against another edition
“...I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.”
Czeslaw Milosz
Nothing happens, no loss, it’s still a strange pageant,
Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.”
Czeslaw Milosz
gbasil's review against another edition
4.0
I didn't love the last section, but overall it's a really good anthology.
"When grief comes to you like a purple gorilla,
you must count yourself lucky.
You must offer her what's left
of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish
you must put aside
and make her a place at the foot of your bed,
her eyes moving from the clock
to the television and back again."
Matthew Dickman
"When grief comes to you like a purple gorilla,
you must count yourself lucky.
You must offer her what's left
of your dinner, the book you were trying to finish
you must put aside
and make her a place at the foot of your bed,
her eyes moving from the clock
to the television and back again."
Matthew Dickman
losethegirl's review
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
3.0
I liked this anthology. I will say - if you're an avid poetry reader, chances are, you won't find much in this that you haven't already read. I liked the formatting of the anthology specifically, it was split into sections that dealt with different aspects of how we approach death. Death literature is a particular passion of mine, so I had high hopes for this anthology; it wasn't anything particularly exciting, but I did enjoy reading it.
ulknehs's review against another edition
3.0
A decent collection of poems about loss and grief. As others have noted, it starts out promisingly but doesn't quite follow through.
I also found the title a bit of an odd nod to Elizabeth's Bishop's One Art, which is not about grief (although it is about loss) and famously opens with 'the art of losing isn't hard to master'; as someone who lost their father over a decade ago, if there's an art to losing, it's not one I've mastered yet.
No collection can be comprehensive, but there were quite a few of my favourites missing. Given the subjective nature of a collection such as this, that's hardly surprising - nor an indictment. But, in the interests of taking any opportunity to share poetry - here are the two shortest of them:
'Separation'
W.S. Merwin
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
'Michiko Dead'
Jack Gilbert
He manages like somebody carrying a box
that is too heavy, first with his arms
underneath. When their strength gives out,
he moves the hands forward, hooking them
on the corners, pulling the weight against
his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly
when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes
different muscles take over. Afterward,
he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood
drains out of the arm that is stretched up
to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now
the man can hold underneath again, so that
he can go on without ever putting the box down.
I also found the title a bit of an odd nod to Elizabeth's Bishop's One Art, which is not about grief (although it is about loss) and famously opens with 'the art of losing isn't hard to master'; as someone who lost their father over a decade ago, if there's an art to losing, it's not one I've mastered yet.
No collection can be comprehensive, but there were quite a few of my favourites missing. Given the subjective nature of a collection such as this, that's hardly surprising - nor an indictment. But, in the interests of taking any opportunity to share poetry - here are the two shortest of them:
'Separation'
W.S. Merwin
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
'Michiko Dead'
Jack Gilbert
He manages like somebody carrying a box
that is too heavy, first with his arms
underneath. When their strength gives out,
he moves the hands forward, hooking them
on the corners, pulling the weight against
his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly
when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes
different muscles take over. Afterward,
he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood
drains out of the arm that is stretched up
to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now
the man can hold underneath again, so that
he can go on without ever putting the box down.