Take a photo of a barcode or cover
billyjepma 's review for:
Whale Day: And Other Poems
by Billy Collins
emotional
funny
lighthearted
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Billy Collins is like the kindly and eccentric neighbor you imagine having, the kind of older man in a quirky, but stylish, sweater who would probably invite you in for tea, but pour you a glass of scotch instead. I don’t know what that means, but it’s the vibe his poetry gives me, so I’m sticking with it.
I’ve been meaning to get back to reading poetry on a semi-regular basis, and Collins’ new book seemed like the gateway I needed. And it was! He has a knack for clever, pithy turns-of-phrase that strike the perfect balance between charm and sadness, and that remains the case throughout the poems collected here. But there was also something missing, for me. I usually find a lot of emotion and intention coursing through the veins of his poetry, but this book seems to have less of that than I was expecting and hoping for. Maybe it’s his very real, looming preoccupation with death, which permeates through most of these pages. It lends the work a more somber tone that I wasn’t entirely ready for, especially considering how much the concept of death already unsettles me. The issue isn’t that, though, but rather, that I didn’t get the impression that Collins is actually examining those sentiments from unique angles.
His free verse, casual, and stream-of-consciousness style doesn’t entirely lend itself to the kinds of meditations here. There’s an honest vulnerability I admire a lot, yet it often seems as though Collins ends a poem just before it gets to the heart of whatever emotion or experience he’s speaking to. For someone as talented and well-versed as him, I can only assume it’s intentional, and maybe a future re-read will help me connect the pieces more. For right now, though, I’m less enthused by this than I was hoping for. I want the cover art frames on my wall, though.
I’ve been meaning to get back to reading poetry on a semi-regular basis, and Collins’ new book seemed like the gateway I needed. And it was! He has a knack for clever, pithy turns-of-phrase that strike the perfect balance between charm and sadness, and that remains the case throughout the poems collected here. But there was also something missing, for me. I usually find a lot of emotion and intention coursing through the veins of his poetry, but this book seems to have less of that than I was expecting and hoping for. Maybe it’s his very real, looming preoccupation with death, which permeates through most of these pages. It lends the work a more somber tone that I wasn’t entirely ready for, especially considering how much the concept of death already unsettles me. The issue isn’t that, though, but rather, that I didn’t get the impression that Collins is actually examining those sentiments from unique angles.
His free verse, casual, and stream-of-consciousness style doesn’t entirely lend itself to the kinds of meditations here. There’s an honest vulnerability I admire a lot, yet it often seems as though Collins ends a poem just before it gets to the heart of whatever emotion or experience he’s speaking to. For someone as talented and well-versed as him, I can only assume it’s intentional, and maybe a future re-read will help me connect the pieces more. For right now, though, I’m less enthused by this than I was hoping for. I want the cover art frames on my wall, though.