bankrupt_bookworm's review
5.0
"I'm back where my life and I parted ways.
I'm talking to the coffeemaker, to the face
towels folded by the sink, to the air
conditioner that conspires with my enemies. Even now,
in the midst of my extremity my eyes are dry,
and if I jump repeatedly against the window
I can tell myself I'm being lifted by a great joy -
until the glass smites my face and I cry out
your old name. The room is empty, lonely
as a still life, but the water stains speak
with your voice, Honor me, honor everything."
.
.
RATING: 4.75/5
I had purchased Jeet Thayil's Collected Poems last year just after finishing Agha Shahid Ali's The Veiled Suite, which I always recommend to anyone who reads poetry even a little bit. I had of course heard of him because of Narcopolis, which had been on my wishlist for quite a while, but I was unaware about his substantial body of poetry. As I progressed through the book, moving across the sections chronologically, I found myself an ardent fan of his verses more and more. A couple of my favourite poems are attached as images. I was not able to find Suicide's Sonnet online, which is a total gem. These Errors Are Correct and English were my favourite sections out of them all. Thayil navigates between the rigidity of structured poetry (which becomes extraordinarily malleable in his hands) and bounties of free verse expertly.
.
.
Each poem is expertly crafted with not a word out of place. After Agha Shahid, he is the only author whose English ghazals I have found really masterful. He explores his long history with drug addiction, especially cocaine, in detail in multiple poems without resorting to shallow black and white sketches. It is a great example of the heights contemporary Indian Poetry in English can reach in the hands of an expert wordsmith. Thayil is also a master of the unsaid. A large body of thought hides beneath the surface that reveals to you once you diligently parse his poems. It would then come as no surprise that his verses are hauntingly profound, rich in meaning and deeply moving. It's a shame that he has resolved to publish no more poetry after the death of his wife.
I'm talking to the coffeemaker, to the face
towels folded by the sink, to the air
conditioner that conspires with my enemies. Even now,
in the midst of my extremity my eyes are dry,
and if I jump repeatedly against the window
I can tell myself I'm being lifted by a great joy -
until the glass smites my face and I cry out
your old name. The room is empty, lonely
as a still life, but the water stains speak
with your voice, Honor me, honor everything."
.
.
RATING: 4.75/5
I had purchased Jeet Thayil's Collected Poems last year just after finishing Agha Shahid Ali's The Veiled Suite, which I always recommend to anyone who reads poetry even a little bit. I had of course heard of him because of Narcopolis, which had been on my wishlist for quite a while, but I was unaware about his substantial body of poetry. As I progressed through the book, moving across the sections chronologically, I found myself an ardent fan of his verses more and more. A couple of my favourite poems are attached as images. I was not able to find Suicide's Sonnet online, which is a total gem. These Errors Are Correct and English were my favourite sections out of them all. Thayil navigates between the rigidity of structured poetry (which becomes extraordinarily malleable in his hands) and bounties of free verse expertly.
.
.
Each poem is expertly crafted with not a word out of place. After Agha Shahid, he is the only author whose English ghazals I have found really masterful. He explores his long history with drug addiction, especially cocaine, in detail in multiple poems without resorting to shallow black and white sketches. It is a great example of the heights contemporary Indian Poetry in English can reach in the hands of an expert wordsmith. Thayil is also a master of the unsaid. A large body of thought hides beneath the surface that reveals to you once you diligently parse his poems. It would then come as no surprise that his verses are hauntingly profound, rich in meaning and deeply moving. It's a shame that he has resolved to publish no more poetry after the death of his wife.
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