Mary Jane Oliver, R. I. P.

Mary Jane Oliver, R. I. P.

A poet all her life, of her life…

 

 

Mary Jane Oliver (1935-2019)

R. I. P.

 

American poet extraordinaire…

…she kept looking for the right words

 

Mary Oliver shared so much of her being, in compelling, provocatively calming ways.

Mary Oliver invited me to understand the goodness of sitting quietly at the edge of a pond, seeing and hearing its life, feeling connected to our world.

Mary Oliver made much of her “one wild and precious life.”

Mary Jane Oliver, requiescat in pace.

 

[Selection is from Mary Oliver’s “The Summer Day”]

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Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2019 All rights reserved.

Old Friends (book review)

Tracy Kidder tells truth about old age…

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Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: The Cradle Place by Thomas Lux

Book review: The Cradle Place by Thomas Lux

clunky is the word…

 

 

Book review:

The Cradle Place

 

by Thomas Lux (1946-2017)

New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004

61 pages

 

Some folks think Thomas Lux deserves to be a prize winner.

Not likely. He offers joyfully erratic, uncivil, and unimaginable poems.

Lux inclines to clunky excess in his descriptions. No spirits are born in The Cradle Place.

Although the jacket notes refer to “refreshing iconoclasms,” I couldn’t find any.

Mary Oliver doesn’t have to move over…

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

Thieves in the Night

A story of Israel…(book review)

by Arthur Koestler

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Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: Saint Joan

Book review: Saint Joan

Shaw’s calm dissection

      of the myths…

 

 

Book review:

Saint Joan

 

by George Bernard Shaw

Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books, 1964

159 pages, with extended Preface by Shaw and Epilogue

 

I read Saint Joan as a high school kid in 1964. I don’t remember much about that reading, except that I never forgot these words that Shaw wrote for his Joan: “I cannot bear to be hurt.”

It always seemed to me that Jehanne d’Arc (c1412-1431) could be the symbol of an innocent, profoundly driven young woman who was victimized by events that made a sweep in history, yet had only personal inspiration for her.

Joan of arc drawing wikimedia 1429 Contemporaine_afb_jeanne_d_arc

Sketch of Joan from life, 1429

In France, Joan is familiar as “the maid.” Did “la pucelle d’Orléans” (the maid of Orleans) really see and hear the Archangel Michael, St. Margaret, and St. Catherine? Who knows? Was Jehanne a religious nutcase who made confession every day and liked to play soldier? Who knows? Did she inspire great and not-so-great men to do mighty and courageous things in the service of their masters and for the glory of France? She did.

 

 

 

Shaw’s lengthy Preface to his play is a calm dissection of the myths and reality of this young woman, a noble and pitiable mover-and-shaker who led French armies to victory and who was burned at the stake for heresy and for cross-dressing. In Saint Joan, Shaw has few kind words for the men who resisted, accepted, honored, used, betrayed, burned, and finally beatified a peasant girl from Domrémy-la-Pucelle in northeastern France.

The folks in her home town finally named the village for her in 1578. You could say it was the least they could do while they were waiting for the Catholic church to make her a saint in 1920.

 

Shaw’s sympathetic treatment of The Maid inspired me to write this poem:

 

la pucelle

 

Joan, Joan, Joan…

O, you trusted your dream,

you thought it was enough to heed your voices,

you thought that God was on your side

and nothing else mattered,

you risked your beautiful soul

to save France,

and you didn’t understand

that too many of the men wanted

to win something else,

you went to the fire believing

in an eternity of goodness,

and you never knew

how little of your dream was left

for the people who loved you.

 

October 22, 2018

Inspired by George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan

My poem “la pucelle” was published in my fourth collection of 55 poems, As with another eye: Poems of exactitude. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited (search for “Richard Carl Subber”)

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Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison

“…high above that wild width…”

(my poem)

click here

 

As with another eye: Poems of exactitude with 55 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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A tempest in a prison

A tempest in a prison

Alas, Atwood didn’t use

   Shakespeare’s pen

 

 

Book review:

Hag-Seed

 

by Margaret Atwood, New York: Hogarth Shakespeare, Crown Publishing Group, 2016

 

I’m not a fan of writers who write books that are imitations or re-interpretations of other writers’ work. Hag-Seed is a case in point. Let’s be fair. Shakespeare’s plays are complex assemblages of characters, speeches and plots. Atwood’s work, nominally based on The Tempest, has the same characteristics.

Her prose and dialogue are ordinary, for my taste. Her story is about as far as one can get from magical. Of course a reader can figure out which of her characters is aligned with Shakespeare’s Prospero and Caliban and Miranda and so on. Of course a reader can see a transparent image of Shakespeare’s plot.

For my taste, Hag-Seed is an awkward, deliberately mean, and desperately inelegant version of The Tempest.

Cut loose from the Shakespeare connection, Hag-Seed is low-grade storytelling. IMNSHO.

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…and now for something completely different:

 

Hag-seed

 

Their hands are busy, rhythmic moves,

the three bend in to pace their work,

all hunched, with withered, trembling hands,

with eyes alert,

and silent lips that need not speak

the thoughts they share.

 

These crones engage each day to toil,

they do not keep a pot a-boil…

but a warming fire, as they need.

From different skeins

they draw their custom works in needled plait,

these hags intent on what’s in hand,

and hushed in awe of what’s at hand,

they huddle, each to each,

all cloaked in drab and drear,

their plainest miens

betray the luminous welling of their keenest joy,

and one of them, in blooming,

swells the hearts of all.

 

A spark of expectation lights and lightens

the artful labor of their crabbed fingers,

grasping small things of great portent—

a tiny cap, a shawl, a swaddling robe—

for the child to be born.

 

In waiting they are ladies

bound in common by certainty

and their exaltation

in believing that the babe will be a girl—

a budding rose without a thorn.

 

January 29, 2017

My poem “Hag-seed” was published January 23, 2018, in my second collection of 47 poems, Seeing far: Selected poems. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited, search for “Richard Carl Subber”

It’s easy to remember the sauce

(my nature poem)

“Debut”

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The Reader (Der Vorleser)

Not just a rehash of WWII…

by Bernhard Schlink

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I offer my kind of thoughtful book summary above. I write a serious review about almost every book I read. You can read other reviewers to get a detailed summary of what the book offers, and to learn specifics about the characters and plot. My reflective commentary is stimulated by the contents and the overall impact of the book, be it a love story or a history or a treatise or classic literature… Generally, I don’t have to post a spoiler alert. I’ll tell you about aspects of the book—the good, the bad, and the ugly—that make it exceptional. I’ll give you something to think about.

Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 53 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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How does a poem end?

How does a poem end?

“…such words, the richest fare…”

 

 

Finis

 

To make a race, I mind the end

   and where to start the race, and when.

To craft a plan, the goal is key,

the outcome must be clear to see

 

To make a poem is not a race,

and not a plan, but what I face

   is how to start—not how to end—

      and what some musing may portend…

 

Some will say it’s hard to know

   just what comes first and what fills in,

and what sings out, and what can spin,

and what must stay, and what can go.

 

The ending, though, is something rare,

a mystery while scribbles dare

   to frame the poem, with rhyming, O!

 

…and then, such words, the richest fare,

in rampant form that lets me know

   the poem is done—the end, just so—

      the marvel: how my pen gets there.

 

July 2, 2018

This is not a tutorial on writing poems.

It’s just my story about writing poems.

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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi”

“…two foolish children…”

click here

 

Seeing far: Selected poems with 47 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: Sketches by Boz

Book review: Sketches by Boz

The buzz about Boz!

 

Of course, they don’t write ‘em like this anymore.

Hooray for Charles Dickens (1812-1870). I’m talking about Sketches by Boz, his first book published in 1836.

I’m talking not only about the obvious point (Dickens has been dead these many years), but also about my understanding of the palpably inimitable Dickensian style.

Dickens does not fail to offer, time after time after time, character portraits that spring to life as you turn the pages—he sketches his characters with disinterested honesty, stout-hearted realism, generous indulgence, often a touch of whimsy…

 A case in point: “The Four Sisters,” who inhabit No. 25 Gordon Place in Sketches by Boz. In his brief (five pages) exposition of these cloistered ladies, Dickens ventures to create four personae that are not, will not, cannot be demeaned as a stereotype.

The Miss Willises—the master doesn’t trouble himself about not calling them the Misses Willis—are a scream, in a fastidiously literary kind of way.

Here’s a taste:

“The house was the perfection of neatness—so were the four Miss Willises. Everything was formal, stiff, and cold—so were the four Miss Willises. Not a single chair of the whole set was ever seen out of its place—not a single Miss Willis of the whole four was ever seen out of hers. There they always sat, in the same places, doing precisely the same things at the same hour…They seemed to have no separate existence, but to have made up their minds just to winter through life together…The eldest Miss Willis grew bilious—the four Miss Willises grew bilious immediately. The eldest Miss Willis grew ill-tempered and religious—the four Miss Willises were ill-tempered and religious directly. Whatever the eldest did, the others did, and whatever anybody else did, they all disapproved of…”

I think this passage, like so many scenes in Dickens, is a singularity.

Re-reading Dickens is a singular treat for me.

 

You’re right, this is not quite a book review. I have a love affair with words, the carefully chosen words, words that express in exceptional ways the boundless variety of our thoughts, experiences, and emotions. I think a lot about life, the human condition, loving relationships with others, and the many levels of beauty, serenity, and delight in our natural environment. Reading the pithy words of real wordsmiths is always a learning opportunity.

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

Book review: The Blithedale Romance

by Nathaniel Hawthorne, not his best…

click here

Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Thoughtful book reviews by Rick Subber

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