wanderingrose's review against another edition
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
3.75
This book contains the sort of poetry that I'm convinced is trying to tell me something even as it's going well over my head. (As I suspect these things are often meant to, to be honest.) But these poems were littered & laced through with imagery so vivid I couldn't resist keeping on, and I'm not mad that I did. Not everything is meant to be understood after all, some things are just for us to feel or - more often than not - to know that we can.
tomhill's review against another edition
4.0
"You were born noble: a tree.
Caustics and acids changed you
to what you now are,
protective, stiff, almost weightless.
Both captive and guard,
your desire is to be frivolous, self-destructive,
undone and opened.
Your bright red necklace announces:
"Tear here."
Inside you, tobacco.
Inside you, peppermints, gingersnaps, gum.
You would not be found
wrapping a mattress or gun.
You were dictated into the world
by the muse of "it could be."
You were unlikely but useful,
so kept.
I include this rather long passage from the poem "Cellophane: An Assay" because I lack the ability to describe Hirshfield's poetry and do it justice. What's interesting about this particular poem is that if you ignore the title, Hirshfield could be writing about a person. There's an intimacy and beauty there, and then you remember she is writing about cellophane. If she writes this way about an inanimate object, just imagine how she writes about people. Also, I like to pretend this poem is about a person. I feel as if I should read this collection at least once more because like any poetry worth reading, this work has depths which could be further delved. The imagery and the inventiveness of the language are wonderful.
Caustics and acids changed you
to what you now are,
protective, stiff, almost weightless.
Both captive and guard,
your desire is to be frivolous, self-destructive,
undone and opened.
Your bright red necklace announces:
"Tear here."
Inside you, tobacco.
Inside you, peppermints, gingersnaps, gum.
You would not be found
wrapping a mattress or gun.
You were dictated into the world
by the muse of "it could be."
You were unlikely but useful,
so kept.
I include this rather long passage from the poem "Cellophane: An Assay" because I lack the ability to describe Hirshfield's poetry and do it justice. What's interesting about this particular poem is that if you ignore the title, Hirshfield could be writing about a person. There's an intimacy and beauty there, and then you remember she is writing about cellophane. If she writes this way about an inanimate object, just imagine how she writes about people. Also, I like to pretend this poem is about a person. I feel as if I should read this collection at least once more because like any poetry worth reading, this work has depths which could be further delved. The imagery and the inventiveness of the language are wonderful.
katepowellshine's review against another edition
5.0
I don't require wisdom from poetry, but when I find it, it is so very satisfying.
snowmaiden's review against another edition
4.0
This may be the first poetry book I ever read based solely on a Goodreads recommendation. Hirshfield certainly has her admirers here, and I see the appeal, but it’s not quite my cup of tea. Still, she has a great way with imagery, and there were many individual poems I loved, particularly “Hamper” and “Entanglement.”
happy_stomach's review against another edition
4.0
I can't wait to re-read this when I have a cold, in winter, when Chicagoans are outside doing dibs for their parking spaces. This and the peoplescapes of Piero della Francesca, Hirshfield knows intimately.