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bluelilyblue's review
2.0
Louise Gluck has been a beloved writer of mine for quite a while now, and I knew that at some point I would want to read her debut. I also knew that it wasn't outstanding (the poet herself admits to being in her early 20s and craving to be a published author while she was still young); however, I am fascinated by the way language shifts and morphs across time, especially when it comes to my favourite poets, so I was naturally drawn to this collection.
It's obvious Gluck was in an ongoing process of finding her poetic voice; still I was surprised to see that her early work sounds nothing like the poetry that got her a Nobel prize for Literature--I'm not a stranger to the amount of change a writer can undergo as a result of gaining experience, both in life and in writing, but Gluck truly showcases the craft of poetry as an intimate discovery of the self, a peeling of layers which takes years to reach completion, and which eventually reveals one's true poetic ego.
Her use of language is peculiar to say the least, as if she was intentionally aiming at equivocation. It makes her poetry heavy to take in--most of it went over my head, I'll admit--it's almost a personal vernacular which, although it might have depth if understood properly, prevents the reader from interacting with the poetry and finding some universal meaning within the personal.
Now that I'm writing down my criticisms of Louise Gluck's debut, I'm realising that what earned her a Nobel prize for Literature --"her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal"--is reaching the perfect equilibrium between the innate poetic gaze and the continued perseverance to translate raw feeling into language. I look up to Louise Gluck as the epitome of contemporary poetry, of poignancy derived from simplicity, from the mere act of Seeing the world; her debut, albeit far from perfect, is a stepping stone for the woman who would grow to become one of today's most expressive poets.
It's obvious Gluck was in an ongoing process of finding her poetic voice; still I was surprised to see that her early work sounds nothing like the poetry that got her a Nobel prize for Literature--I'm not a stranger to the amount of change a writer can undergo as a result of gaining experience, both in life and in writing, but Gluck truly showcases the craft of poetry as an intimate discovery of the self, a peeling of layers which takes years to reach completion, and which eventually reveals one's true poetic ego.
Her use of language is peculiar to say the least, as if she was intentionally aiming at equivocation. It makes her poetry heavy to take in--most of it went over my head, I'll admit--it's almost a personal vernacular which, although it might have depth if understood properly, prevents the reader from interacting with the poetry and finding some universal meaning within the personal.
Now that I'm writing down my criticisms of Louise Gluck's debut, I'm realising that what earned her a Nobel prize for Literature --"her unmistakable poetic voice that with austere beauty makes individual existence universal"--is reaching the perfect equilibrium between the innate poetic gaze and the continued perseverance to translate raw feeling into language. I look up to Louise Gluck as the epitome of contemporary poetry, of poignancy derived from simplicity, from the mere act of Seeing the world; her debut, albeit far from perfect, is a stepping stone for the woman who would grow to become one of today's most expressive poets.
Birth, not death, is the hard loss.
I know. I also left a skin there
casparb's review
I love sea poems I’m an easy please & I didn’t expect to enjoy Firstborn as much as I did it is extraordinarily un-Louise and much of the form looks to
me like it’s pinched from Sexton but I look past things. There are already crisp images plucked to place and that’s most of our way to shape
Fixed on O my friend, I’m holding /Back epiphany. she’s just swinging and that’s a voice from elsewhere but it’s - amazing - as a line. so daring. But perfect, indescribably perfect for its place in the debut collection
We’re not talking about the line about the oven
Also this sounds horrendous but Glück’s antipathy for sex in this collection is so marvellously drawn together it’s not unique to this isn’t she explicit enough in Mock Orange but there’s a drive to it here I like to see. The Edge. The Chicago Train. Bridal Piece. Nurse’s Song.
I have survived my life.
me like it’s pinched from Sexton but I look past things. There are already crisp images plucked to place and that’s most of our way to shape
Fixed on O my friend, I’m holding /Back epiphany. she’s just swinging and that’s a voice from elsewhere but it’s - amazing - as a line. so daring. But perfect, indescribably perfect for its place in the debut collection
We’re not talking about the line about the oven
Also this sounds horrendous but Glück’s antipathy for sex in this collection is so marvellously drawn together it’s not unique to this isn’t she explicit enough in Mock Orange but there’s a drive to it here I like to see. The Edge. The Chicago Train. Bridal Piece. Nurse’s Song.
I have survived my life.
katiyuh's review
3.0
Good poems but kind of felt dense and not deep at the same time. A lot of them felt like coming from her pov they make more sense than just reading them standalone.
readsewknit's review
3.0
I had been unfamiliar with Louise Gluck until learning she was awarded the 2020 Nobel Prize in Literature; I then purchased a large compilation of all her work. This is the first volume in it.
I appreciate reading poetry because it forces me to slow down, to absorb, but I admit I had a guide with me for Gluck's work. I think there's more there than I pick up on, and I would benefit from outside analysis. I will keep reading through her canon and will appreciate when I stumble upon phrases that captivate me.
I appreciate reading poetry because it forces me to slow down, to absorb, but I admit I had a guide with me for Gluck's work. I think there's more there than I pick up on, and I would benefit from outside analysis. I will keep reading through her canon and will appreciate when I stumble upon phrases that captivate me.
dotorsojak's review
4.0
3.9 stars
I may be over-rating Gluck here because I liked the other two books of hers that I've read so much (THE WILD IRIS and FAITHFUL AND VIRTUOUS NIGHT). This is her first published book of poetry, coming out when she was 25 years old. It is dedicated to Stanley Kunitz, who was her mentor during her time at Columbia.
This book is technically tight and well organized. It is divided into three sections. The first section, "The Egg," seems to be about a character who is having a child and maybe has several lovers. Pregancy and family feature prominently. There is a certain bitterness evident, especially as it relates to lovers. Here're a couple of lines from “Labor Day,” which is a poem addressed to a young man who tries get rid of his date at a weekend party:
…I can still see
The pelted clover, burrs’ prickle fur and gorged
Pastures spewing infinite tiny bells. You pimp.
The second section is called “The Edge,” and it often refers to sex as an obsessive, almost shameful enterprise. Several poems in the voices of characters who are clearly not the author (a grandmother, Joan of Arc, a nun) inhabit this section. These are not uplifting poems, not sentimental. E.g. from “Memo From The Cave”:
I’ve let
Despair bed
Down in your stead
And wet
Our quilted cover
So the rot-
scent of its pussy-foot-
ing fingers lingers, when it’s over.
Yikes!
The last section, “Cottonmouth Country,” deals frequently with coasts and the sea and at least one echoes Stevens: “Phenomenal Survivals of Death in Nantucket,” a very good poem in my opinion. Gluck is on record (in the preface to one of her collections and in filmed interviews) denigrating these poems, but I think there is plenty of good stuff here. She should not be ashamed. It’s her first book for crying out loud.
I’ll certainly read another book by her.
I may be over-rating Gluck here because I liked the other two books of hers that I've read so much (THE WILD IRIS and FAITHFUL AND VIRTUOUS NIGHT). This is her first published book of poetry, coming out when she was 25 years old. It is dedicated to Stanley Kunitz, who was her mentor during her time at Columbia.
This book is technically tight and well organized. It is divided into three sections. The first section, "The Egg," seems to be about a character who is having a child and maybe has several lovers. Pregancy and family feature prominently. There is a certain bitterness evident, especially as it relates to lovers. Here're a couple of lines from “Labor Day,” which is a poem addressed to a young man who tries get rid of his date at a weekend party:
…I can still see
The pelted clover, burrs’ prickle fur and gorged
Pastures spewing infinite tiny bells. You pimp.
The second section is called “The Edge,” and it often refers to sex as an obsessive, almost shameful enterprise. Several poems in the voices of characters who are clearly not the author (a grandmother, Joan of Arc, a nun) inhabit this section. These are not uplifting poems, not sentimental. E.g. from “Memo From The Cave”:
I’ve let
Despair bed
Down in your stead
And wet
Our quilted cover
So the rot-
scent of its pussy-foot-
ing fingers lingers, when it’s over.
Yikes!
The last section, “Cottonmouth Country,” deals frequently with coasts and the sea and at least one echoes Stevens: “Phenomenal Survivals of Death in Nantucket,” a very good poem in my opinion. Gluck is on record (in the preface to one of her collections and in filmed interviews) denigrating these poems, but I think there is plenty of good stuff here. She should not be ashamed. It’s her first book for crying out loud.
I’ll certainly read another book by her.