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adamz24's review
4.0
First encounter with Objectivist poetry (the movement has nothing to do with Ayn Rand or any of that nonsense, lest that scare you off). It was very good.
A few samples:
"Clarity
In the sense of transparence,
I don't mean that much can be explained
Clarity in the sense of silence."
"Obsessed, bewildered
By the shipwreck
Of the singular
We have chosen the meaning
Of being numerous."
"Strange that the youngest people I know
Live in the oldest buildings
Scattered about the city
In the dark rooms
Of the past--- and the immigrants,
The black
Rectangular buildings
Of the immigrants.
They are the children of the middle class.
'The pure products of America---'
Investing
The ancient buildings
Jostle each other
In the half-forgotten, that ponderous business.
This Chinese Wall."
A few samples:
"Clarity
In the sense of transparence,
I don't mean that much can be explained
Clarity in the sense of silence."
"Obsessed, bewildered
By the shipwreck
Of the singular
We have chosen the meaning
Of being numerous."
"Strange that the youngest people I know
Live in the oldest buildings
Scattered about the city
In the dark rooms
Of the past--- and the immigrants,
The black
Rectangular buildings
Of the immigrants.
They are the children of the middle class.
'The pure products of America---'
Investing
The ancient buildings
Jostle each other
In the half-forgotten, that ponderous business.
This Chinese Wall."
tashtonnes's review against another edition
5.0
If possible I would recommend listening to Oppen read this himself
There is something so fragile and weary in his reading that punches me in the heart especially hard when there is a sort of immediate self undermining in his poetry, the first instance of this (and me having my heart broken) is the forth stanza:
The sad marvels;
Of this was told
A tale of our wickedness.
It is not our wickedness.
And content wise too there's philosophy, social critique and just life, all the good (sad) stuff
(((Listen to him read here: http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Oppen.php )))
————-
Reread number 3: homie hit different after reading Hegel
There is something so fragile and weary in his reading that punches me in the heart especially hard when there is a sort of immediate self undermining in his poetry, the first instance of this (and me having my heart broken) is the forth stanza:
The sad marvels;
Of this was told
A tale of our wickedness.
It is not our wickedness.
And content wise too there's philosophy, social critique and just life, all the good (sad) stuff
(((Listen to him read here: http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Oppen.php )))
————-
Reread number 3: homie hit different after reading Hegel
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