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iainiainiainiain's review against another edition
4.0
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed
befsk's review against another edition
3.0
I can't help but feel that maybe I read this at the wrong time in my life. Or maybe W. S. Merwin's translations were wrong for me. Or some other excuse. Because I've heard such brilliant things about this collection. That it's one of the best poetry collections of all time. That it's about love and lust. Mostly, I found it to be about nature and sadness. And I'm really not fond of poetry about nature.
I know, a lot of poetry is about nature. And maybe it's a sign of immaturity that when I see someone describing tree branches and sunsets and the ocean I can't help but roll my eyes. But every time Neruda describes his lover, he uses nature imagery. EVERY TIME. It drove me mad. Sometimes I wasn't sure whether the subject of the poem was a woman, or Neruda writing a love poem about nature itself. Which would be fine, except it states on the back "one of the most celebrated and admired books of erotic poetry published".
I'm not hating on nature here. I know it can be beautiful. But poetry about nature seems to be the only poetry they teach in school. I know, for one, that I got sick of hearing Seamus Heaney harping on about potatoes and Ireland back in high school (not helping the stereotype there, Seamus). And Gillian Clarke with that fucking poem about a sheep giving birth. So I make a point of avoiding poetry about nature. I should've looked more into this book before buying it.
I also know that all the nature description is metaphorical. That he's just describing his lover. After all, this is poetry. But for a book supposedly about love, it's all just that. Descriptions of her physical appearance. There's no description of her personality. Probably because you can't describe someone's personality so easily using only metaphors about trees and oceans.
It just didn't sit all that well with me. I was promised in the title poems about love, but I found poems about love based on appearances. Lust, I guess, though some poems didn't feel passionate enough to be called lust for me. Probably because I don't find nature imagery exciting or sexy. Especially when you write things like "Your breasts seem like white snails".
Rant about that over, the poems that were brilliant were brilliant. I, V, X and XX were particular favourites.
And they're part of the reason why I can't justify claiming that this is a bad collection of poetry. It is good. I just didn't connect with it. I'll try again in a few years time. Maybe by then, I'll be less traumatised by my high school education.
(As a side note, was Neruda a fisherman? He writes about nets and oceans and lakes and rivers and ponds and boats a lot. And the words moist and damp and wet and spray and waves. He REALLY likes nets, in fact.)
(To continue the list of frequently used words: trees and leaves and fruit and flowers. Birds and butterflies and kisses. Wind and breast and love and twilight.)
(If you can go a verse in any of these poems without finding one of the above words then pat yourself on the back. I mean, take out kisses, love and breast, which are very much words you'd use in poems about love or lust, and look for the other words. There will be some variety of one or more of those words in each poem. In most verses and even in most lines.)
(Like I say, I should've been smarter. This is very much a collection of poems about loving nature.)
I know, a lot of poetry is about nature. And maybe it's a sign of immaturity that when I see someone describing tree branches and sunsets and the ocean I can't help but roll my eyes. But every time Neruda describes his lover, he uses nature imagery. EVERY TIME. It drove me mad. Sometimes I wasn't sure whether the subject of the poem was a woman, or Neruda writing a love poem about nature itself. Which would be fine, except it states on the back "one of the most celebrated and admired books of erotic poetry published".
I'm not hating on nature here. I know it can be beautiful. But poetry about nature seems to be the only poetry they teach in school. I know, for one, that I got sick of hearing Seamus Heaney harping on about potatoes and Ireland back in high school (not helping the stereotype there, Seamus). And Gillian Clarke with that fucking poem about a sheep giving birth. So I make a point of avoiding poetry about nature. I should've looked more into this book before buying it.
I also know that all the nature description is metaphorical. That he's just describing his lover. After all, this is poetry. But for a book supposedly about love, it's all just that. Descriptions of her physical appearance. There's no description of her personality. Probably because you can't describe someone's personality so easily using only metaphors about trees and oceans.
It just didn't sit all that well with me. I was promised in the title poems about love, but I found poems about love based on appearances. Lust, I guess, though some poems didn't feel passionate enough to be called lust for me. Probably because I don't find nature imagery exciting or sexy. Especially when you write things like "Your breasts seem like white snails".
Rant about that over, the poems that were brilliant were brilliant. I, V, X and XX were particular favourites.
And they're part of the reason why I can't justify claiming that this is a bad collection of poetry. It is good. I just didn't connect with it. I'll try again in a few years time. Maybe by then, I'll be less traumatised by my high school education.
(As a side note, was Neruda a fisherman? He writes about nets and oceans and lakes and rivers and ponds and boats a lot. And the words moist and damp and wet and spray and waves. He REALLY likes nets, in fact.)
(To continue the list of frequently used words: trees and leaves and fruit and flowers. Birds and butterflies and kisses. Wind and breast and love and twilight.)
(If you can go a verse in any of these poems without finding one of the above words then pat yourself on the back. I mean, take out kisses, love and breast, which are very much words you'd use in poems about love or lust, and look for the other words. There will be some variety of one or more of those words in each poem. In most verses and even in most lines.)
(Like I say, I should've been smarter. This is very much a collection of poems about loving nature.)
vibhureads's review against another edition
3.0
This is truly a work of a genius. Naruda is able to decorate the sadness enshrined in the human combined with the beautiful embroidery of poignant romance. Ah, do I have the words to express how I feel about the book?
Since I have a preliminary knowledge of Spanish, I was in a position to appreciate the poem in it's true medium. And it is extremely annoying at times, when the melancholy and poignancy is so pathetically lost in translation. It's truly a huge let down. But then, I believe Naruda and Borges could be good excuses for the reader to go ahead and learn the language. It's an absolute joy, I must tell you.
Since I have a preliminary knowledge of Spanish, I was in a position to appreciate the poem in it's true medium. And it is extremely annoying at times, when the melancholy and poignancy is so pathetically lost in translation. It's truly a huge let down. But then, I believe Naruda and Borges could be good excuses for the reader to go ahead and learn the language. It's an absolute joy, I must tell you.
ghsr's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
fast-paced
5.0