Scan barcode
sloatsj's review
4.0
[b:The Shadow of Sirius|3401950|The Shadow of Sirius|W.S. Merwin|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1267982341s/3401950.jpg|3442065]
I really love W.S. Merwin. He takes the most basic materials and finds their power, hammering them until they’re . . . until they’re what . . . something eternal. There’s nothing fancy about his word choices, no overly weird layouts on the page. He does forgo punctuation, but it somehow adds to his simplicity, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the train of thought, and that draws you into thinking along with him.
There’s no unnatural posing going on. Merwin relies entirely on the resonant power of language. He writes often of nature but it’s almost degrading to call him a “nature poet.” Has anyone done this? Desist. It also seems completely unnecessary to give him a Pulitzer Prize, like throwing a twig on the bonfire.
Whenever I think about the Nobel Prize committee complaining about how caught up American writers are with themselves and their culture - and I often agree with them - I want to shout “NOT W.S. MERWIN! Give HIM the Nobel Prize!” Really, he deserves it. I hope he lives long enough for them to realize it.
I opened the book pretty much daring Merwin to do it again. Surely there couldn’t be more he could say after "The Lice," "The Rain in the Trees," "The Carrier of Ladders," the translations, etc. He can’t make the tired spring or stone or river into something so deep again, can he? Yes, he can. But Sirius is the brightest, most searing, most serious star. It’s the one you can sometimes see in the daylight.
"The Shadow of Sirius" is largely concerned with memory, with time and the reflection afforded only by getting older (and nature, too).
As a footnote, I will say "The Shadow of Sirius" isn’t my favorite of Merwin’s collections. Of the later poems, I prefer the beautiful “The Rain in the Trees.” I went back and forth on four and five stars. I gave this four because it isn’t my favorite Merwin, but then I thought about some poetry books that I’ve given five stars to that could never approach his greatness. In the end, I have to judge him in his own separate category, so that although this seriously kicks the ass of some of the other books I’ve rated the same or even better, it doesn’t actually kick Merwin’s own ass.
I really love W.S. Merwin. He takes the most basic materials and finds their power, hammering them until they’re . . . until they’re what . . . something eternal. There’s nothing fancy about his word choices, no overly weird layouts on the page. He does forgo punctuation, but it somehow adds to his simplicity, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the train of thought, and that draws you into thinking along with him.
There’s no unnatural posing going on. Merwin relies entirely on the resonant power of language. He writes often of nature but it’s almost degrading to call him a “nature poet.” Has anyone done this? Desist. It also seems completely unnecessary to give him a Pulitzer Prize, like throwing a twig on the bonfire.
Whenever I think about the Nobel Prize committee complaining about how caught up American writers are with themselves and their culture - and I often agree with them - I want to shout “NOT W.S. MERWIN! Give HIM the Nobel Prize!” Really, he deserves it. I hope he lives long enough for them to realize it.
I opened the book pretty much daring Merwin to do it again. Surely there couldn’t be more he could say after "The Lice," "The Rain in the Trees," "The Carrier of Ladders," the translations, etc. He can’t make the tired spring or stone or river into something so deep again, can he? Yes, he can. But Sirius is the brightest, most searing, most serious star. It’s the one you can sometimes see in the daylight.
"The Shadow of Sirius" is largely concerned with memory, with time and the reflection afforded only by getting older (and nature, too).
As a footnote, I will say "The Shadow of Sirius" isn’t my favorite of Merwin’s collections. Of the later poems, I prefer the beautiful “The Rain in the Trees.” I went back and forth on four and five stars. I gave this four because it isn’t my favorite Merwin, but then I thought about some poetry books that I’ve given five stars to that could never approach his greatness. In the end, I have to judge him in his own separate category, so that although this seriously kicks the ass of some of the other books I’ve rated the same or even better, it doesn’t actually kick Merwin’s own ass.
lukija's review
3.0
Luin Merwinin suomennettujen runojen kokoelman, jota en löytänyt Goodreadsista.
W.S.Merwin: Siriuksen varjo ja muita runoja. Suom. Kimmo Räntilä (Parkko, 2023). Runot vuosilta 1954-2016.
W.S.Merwin: Siriuksen varjo ja muita runoja. Suom. Kimmo Räntilä (Parkko, 2023). Runot vuosilta 1954-2016.
tomhill's review
3.0
Rain Light
All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
marginaliant's review
3.0
I picked this up on my dad's recommendation and, don't get me wrong, I can definitely see that Merwin is a talented poet. There are a few moments of true brilliance in this book, "One of the Butterflies" for example, but also a lot of incomprehensible /stuff./ I hate saying "I don't get it" when talking about poetry because I do understand, it just doesn't appeal to me and my understanding of good poetry. But what's the point of reading poetry books if not to find a few ones that speak to you in a sea of waffle? Give it a look.
jemmania's review
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
4.0
A misty stroll through an old park of a short poetry collection focused on Autumn and the nature of our memories and past. Poems nicely portioned and structured into bite sized pieces
Content Warnings
Minor: Death and Death of parent
nodogsonthemoon's review
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Minor: Animal death, Death of parent, Child death, and Death
baelgia's review
4.0
Favs: Youth, Nocturne, Unknown Age, Recognitions, Heartland, To Paula in Late Spring, One of the Butterflies, Lights Out
Also: The Pinnacle, The Piano, Secrets, Calling a Distant Animal, At the Bend, The Long and Short of It, The Morning Hills, September's Child
Also: The Pinnacle, The Piano, Secrets, Calling a Distant Animal, At the Bend, The Long and Short of It, The Morning Hills, September's Child
jonjeffryes's review
3.0
I'm not sure I get poetry. And nature poetry is definitely not my favorite, but still some good stuff in this book. I'll take the mulligan on this one...it's probably not the fault of the two-time Pulitzer winner.
csnow33's review
2.0
I'm starting to be less and less surprised when I'm disappointed by award-winning things. The fact that this collection won a Pulitzer no longer shocks me.
While there were a few lines that I think were genuinely noteworthy, the vast majority of this can be summed up as intellectually lazy. It's not saying anything I haven't heard a thousand times before in more interesting and nuanced ways. Humans age, forget things, and die. Those who are left behind mourn them and wonder what happens beyond death. Also, space is awesome. Yes, yes, yes. I know that already.
Merwin uses simple, common language to talk about complex topics like moments of existentialism, fading memories, and death. However, because his language is straightforward, there's not much to what he's saying. It reads like a smart, well-intentioned high schooler who lacks the life experience to understand his "deep" poetry is not actually as "deep" as they think it is (which is surprising because Merwin has both the life and writing experience to have successfully pulled this off). Once you read a poem, you get it, and there's little to no re-read value because there's nothing profound to dissect.
Other technical issues I had with these poems include the wasted stylistic choice to not use punctuation or capitalization. It had no bearing on the overall meaning and if anything just messed up the flow. There were times when it was legitimately infuriating in its tediousness because the line breaks meant nothing and there's no punctuation to tell me where one mundane thought stops and another begins.
While there were a few lines that I think were genuinely noteworthy, the vast majority of this can be summed up as intellectually lazy. It's not saying anything I haven't heard a thousand times before in more interesting and nuanced ways. Humans age, forget things, and die. Those who are left behind mourn them and wonder what happens beyond death. Also, space is awesome. Yes, yes, yes. I know that already.
Merwin uses simple, common language to talk about complex topics like moments of existentialism, fading memories, and death. However, because his language is straightforward, there's not much to what he's saying. It reads like a smart, well-intentioned high schooler who lacks the life experience to understand his "deep" poetry is not actually as "deep" as they think it is (which is surprising because Merwin has both the life and writing experience to have successfully pulled this off). Once you read a poem, you get it, and there's little to no re-read value because there's nothing profound to dissect.
Other technical issues I had with these poems include the wasted stylistic choice to not use punctuation or capitalization. It had no bearing on the overall meaning and if anything just messed up the flow. There were times when it was legitimately infuriating in its tediousness because the line breaks meant nothing and there's no punctuation to tell me where one mundane thought stops and another begins.