zombi's review against another edition
5.0
Lee's lyrical and quiet voice speaks volumes in his work, and Book of My Nights is no exception. His choice of words continues to be unparalleled, his voice thoughtful and precise without being clinical. Book of My Nights discusses the relationships between father, mother, and child as well as the themes of death and loss, using beautiful and poignant imagery and simple language.
In 2002, this book won the William Carlos Williams Award.
In 2002, this book won the William Carlos Williams Award.
rebekahvldz's review against another edition
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
3.0
A little bit more difficult to get through than the last one I read, The City in Which I Love You. This one felt a lot more difficult to decipher and specific to Lee's life than the previous collection which was surprisingly relatable and deeply moving when not. I obviously did not enjoy it as much as the previous.
saturnraised's review against another edition
challenging
dark
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
relaxing
sad
fast-paced
4.0
bbshams's review against another edition
4.0
every poem in this collection drips longing for a sense of purpose or place, and often they deal in family narratives which leave the reader bearing the brunt of some relatable and passionate reflections. Lee paints some wonderful images in this book! A lot of archaic uses of the word “heart”, but it’s done well enough as to not hinder every poem it’s in! Lee is becoming a favorite poet of mine.
elianachow's review against another edition
“…and that’s why you can’t sleep except by forgetting / you can’t love except by remembering.”
(from “Restless”)
(from “Restless”)
halfcactus's review against another edition
5.0
Does someone want to know the way to spring?
He’ll remind you
the flower was never meant to survive the fruit’s triumph.
bhaines's review against another edition
A lot of these felt like just words that's ok
itschlve's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
4.5
play lonely by rm
kiramke's review against another edition
4.0
"But in poetry just by nature, we're using language as silence."
One of the many things I love about this collection.
One of the many things I love about this collection.
margaret_j_c's review against another edition
5.0
I don't love poetry. I love really, really good poetry.
Everyone has a different definition of what good art is, some even have many, and swap them out depending on the day or situation. While I try to be consistent in my daily life I am still very young, and my opinions are therefore in transit. But my primary method of discerning whether something is good art or not has almost nothing to do with what I think and everything to do with how I feel. Does it transport me? Does it evoke emotions in me that I didn't know another human could feel? Does it bring me closer to an experience I've never had? Does it motivate me to go create something myself?
I ask these questions subconsciously with every book I read, every film I watch, every song I hear. Now that I've stated it like that I suppose there is quite a lot of mental analysis happening here, but these questions are so closely tied to my emotions that the two are almost inseparable. So what, in my opinion, makes good art good?
I've been reading this book for upwards of two weeks now, enthusing and agonizing over every line. It doesn't matter where I am, the instant I dive into Lee's words I am completely immersed in another world. The very way he sets the words on the page lend the lines a sort of breathlessness, fatigue, a deep, evergreen sadness.
There is no more appropriate title for this book than the one it bears. We're all friends with our pitch-dark nights, and whoever you are, you will find that commonality present here. Li-Young's poems are intoxicating; I want to experience them, feel them, live in them. Though I reread pages, lines, whisper them, read them aloud, scribble them down in my own rushed handwriting, I can't seem to understand them deeply enough.
And I think, my friends, that that is good art.
Everyone has a different definition of what good art is, some even have many, and swap them out depending on the day or situation. While I try to be consistent in my daily life I am still very young, and my opinions are therefore in transit. But my primary method of discerning whether something is good art or not has almost nothing to do with what I think and everything to do with how I feel. Does it transport me? Does it evoke emotions in me that I didn't know another human could feel? Does it bring me closer to an experience I've never had? Does it motivate me to go create something myself?
I ask these questions subconsciously with every book I read, every film I watch, every song I hear. Now that I've stated it like that I suppose there is quite a lot of mental analysis happening here, but these questions are so closely tied to my emotions that the two are almost inseparable. So what, in my opinion, makes good art good?
I've been reading this book for upwards of two weeks now, enthusing and agonizing over every line. It doesn't matter where I am, the instant I dive into Lee's words I am completely immersed in another world. The very way he sets the words on the page lend the lines a sort of breathlessness, fatigue, a deep, evergreen sadness.
There is no more appropriate title for this book than the one it bears. We're all friends with our pitch-dark nights, and whoever you are, you will find that commonality present here. Li-Young's poems are intoxicating; I want to experience them, feel them, live in them. Though I reread pages, lines, whisper them, read them aloud, scribble them down in my own rushed handwriting, I can't seem to understand them deeply enough.
And I think, my friends, that that is good art.