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A review by dotorsojak
Firstborn: Poems by Louise Glück
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.