thesinginglights's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars
I just realised that this is the first book of poetry I've read from start to finish. The first time I've shelved something under "poetry". So I acknowledge I come from a point of potential ignorance.
But.
My first collection was haunting and confusing. As is wont to happen in a collection of everything, not all poems are created equal. There's enough here to excite but also not everything sings.
Among my favourites were:
The eponymous poem "Crossing The Water"
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
"Face Lift"
For five days I lie in secret,
Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
Even my best friend thinks I'm in the country.
The view from the window scene in "Parliament Hill Fields"
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge.
Faceless and pale as china
The round sky goes on minding its business.
"I Am Vertical"
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
...among others like "Mirror" or "Insomniac".
This might be me but there's a lot of darkness and foreboding in this collection, blackness and longing for motion when there's not a lot of it, birds and violent colours. We have the privilege of perspective but there's a weight to every line Plath has put down, of struggle and sacrifice.
I enjoyed it overall, some of it's dated, some of it is a bit inscrutable for me untrained poetic mind. I think this will reveal itself in re-reads.
I just realised that this is the first book of poetry I've read from start to finish. The first time I've shelved something under "poetry". So I acknowledge I come from a point of potential ignorance.
But.
My first collection was haunting and confusing. As is wont to happen in a collection of everything, not all poems are created equal. There's enough here to excite but also not everything sings.
Among my favourites were:
The eponymous poem "Crossing The Water"
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
"Face Lift"
For five days I lie in secret,
Tapped like a cask, the years draining into my pillow.
Even my best friend thinks I'm in the country.
The view from the window scene in "Parliament Hill Fields"
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge.
Faceless and pale as china
The round sky goes on minding its business.
"I Am Vertical"
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
...among others like "Mirror" or "Insomniac".
This might be me but there's a lot of darkness and foreboding in this collection, blackness and longing for motion when there's not a lot of it, birds and violent colours. We have the privilege of perspective but there's a weight to every line Plath has put down, of struggle and sacrifice.
I enjoyed it overall, some of it's dated, some of it is a bit inscrutable for me untrained poetic mind. I think this will reveal itself in re-reads.
tobypdf's review against another edition
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
aceface's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
4.5
spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition
4.0
LOVE LETTERNot easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no—
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.
That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter—
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.
And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.
Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.
sofm's review
3.0
Honestly, most of these poems went over my head but the ones I got I really enjoyed. My favorite was The Surgeon at 2AM.
sylviaplth's review against another edition
dark
emotional
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0