Poetry Pit Stop #1

On Saturday morning, I went to Bookmans, the big, local second-hand book store. I browsed, but the only book that wanted to come home with me was Wind Song, a slim volume of Carl Sandburg’s poetry. Many of these are poems that I could probably find online, but I like poetry in books.

On Saturday evening, I decided I wanted to expand my magic library from one shelf to two. This meant displacing most of the books on the second shelf. Some ended up in the closet. A stack of Russian lit ended up atop boxes of paperbacks. And a collection of mostly unread poetry books ended up in the bedroom. “I should start reading poetry on regular basis,” I thought. “Maybe one or two poems a day.”

So that’s my plan. And maybe once a month I’ll share my favorite poems from the previous reading period.

So, the first poem:

Sandburg fits this time of the year for me. Summer is just beginning to recede and I’m reminded of my “good old days” of going off to college in Lincoln, which seemed like it was out on the prairie to me.


Catch-Up: Deal Me A Witchy Horror

season-of-the-witch-button-2016Season of the Witch

“The Dunwich Horror” by H.P. Lovecraft

I’m still not a fan of the cosmicism of Cthulhu mythos, but I’m slowly gaining some appreciation for Lovecraft. Partly, this might be because I’ve been reading some of Lovecraft’s influences. His tales make more sense to me in the context of Ambrose Bierce and Arthur Machen—I just read The Great God Pan not too long ago!

The tale is slowly told, but less dry than some of Lovecraft’s stories. It’s told from an aspect of history. Within the story the events are the Dunwich Horror of 1928, as though a few years past…and seemingly leaving room for the Dunwich Horror of 1929…1930… And indeed the horror lives on. The horror genre is filled with mystical books, tentacled beasts, and backwater towns filled with inbred families. But the Horror also brought to mind a scene from one of my favorite science fiction movies:

Even the odd sound track evokes Lovecraft’s whippoorwills.


Hosted by Jay @ Bibliophilopolis
What is Deal Me In?

“The Ghost to His Ladye Love” by W.S. Gilbert

Card picked: Three of Spades
From: Masterpieces of Terror and the Unknown, edited by Marvin Kaye

Not a story this week, but a poem. W.S. is the Gilbert of Gilbert & Sullivan fame. Published in 1869, this poem is full of Halloween trappings:

Fair Phantom, come! The moon’s awake.
The owl hoots gaily from its brake.
The blithesome bat’s a-wing.
Come, soar to yonder silent clouds;
The ether teems with peoples shrouds:
We’ll fly the lightsome spectre crowds,
Thou cloudy, clammy thing!

It’s a fun, rather sweet poem; the type of thing I would expect Gomez Addams to send to Morticia as a Valentine.*

As with many poems written by Gilbert, “The Ghost to His Ladye Love” found a second life in one of Gilbert & Sullivan’s musicals:

* Fun fact: My first date with Eric was on Halloween. We’ll be celebrating our 19th anniversary this year!

RIPXI Info | Reviews

Review ~ Yevgeny Onegin

This book was provided to me by Pushkin Press via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Cover via Goodreads

Yevgeny Onegin by Alexander Pushkin, translated by A. D. P. Briggs

Eugene Onegin is the master work of the poet whom Russians regard as the fountainhead of their literature. Set in 1820s imperial Russia, Pushkin’s novel in verse follows the emotions and destiny of three men – Onegin the bored fop, Lensky the minor elegiast, and a stylized Pushkin himself – and the fates and affections of three women – Tatyana the provincial beauty, her sister Olga, and Pushkin’s mercurial Muse. Engaging, full of suspense, and varied in tone, it also portrays a large cast of other characters and offers the reader many literary, philosophical, and autobiographical digressions, often in a highly satirical vein. Eugene Onegin was Pushkin’s own favourite work, and it shows him attempting to transform himself from a romantic poet into a realistic novelist. This new translation seeks to retain both the literal sense and the poetic music of the original, and capture the poem’s spontaneity and wit. The introduction examines several ways of reading the novel, and text is richly annotated. (via Goodreads)

One of the first things that Briggs does, something that isn’t retained in the above Goodreads blurb, is revert to the more Russian version of “Eugene”—Yevgeny. He does this because, well, it sounds better. It has better rhythm. Try it out loud: Yev-gen-y On-e-gin.  There’s a rise and fall to that. Better than Eu-gene On-e-gin. But I got the feeling from Briggs’ introduction that if the Anglicized Eugene worked better that’s what he’d have used. That’s the style of his translation and that, he argues, is the most Pushkin way of translating Yevgeny Onegin.

Pushkin is the most highly respected of Russian poets, and he is so probably because he wasn’t high and mighty about the language. Briggs points out that the original novel length poem is written in a combination of high and low Russian with a dash of French. It’s written in iambic pentameter, but Pushkin made the rhyme scheme his own, but wasn’t a slave to perfect rhyme.  It’s Pushkin’s use of what works that almost gives the poem an English sensibility. This is what Briggs tries to bring out in his translation.

I’ve read other translations of Yevgeny Onegin. I have the Nabokov version, but it’s in one of the dusty boxes in my closet. I didn’t feel like digging it out, but I remember it feeling quite serious. The story *is* a bit grim, but Briggs’ light translation also makes it enjoyable. Pushkin is poking fun at the blazé, ball-going, dueling culture of Onegin’s world and is inviting us as readers to commiserate. Briggs’ translation is accessible and very readable. I recommend it.

Publishing info, my copy: ePub format, Pushkin Press, July 12, 2016
Acquired: April 2016, NetGalley
Genre: Poetry, Literary

Mini Reviews, Vol. 4 ~ The Joys of Literary Tangents

Assignment #2 for the Frankenstein MOOC was discussion-board-based. The focus for Week 3 is going to be the literary references and allusions that Shelley uses. These things led me down an enjoyable literary rabbit hole over the weekend. I read all of these in the kitchen of my brother-in-law’s house. We live in great times when I can access three classics in as much time as it takes to type the titles into the search bar.

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Engraving by Gustave Doré
“Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I’ll be honest, after only one reading, there’s a lot I’m missing in this poem. Obviously, there is a Frankenstein connection involving sea-going misadventures and, I do believe, Shelley quotes the poem. Otherwise…themes of the consequences of actions? “Rime” seems to rely on the supernatural to dole out retribution, though Frankenstein’s creature is so super-human that he might as well be supernatural. I’ll give “Rime” another read after I finish Frankenstein.

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Harry Clarke’s 1919 illustration
“A Descent into the Maelström” by Edgar Allan Poe

Not at all connected to Frankenstein, but I was reminded of it while reading “Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”  It can be noted that “Maelström” and “Rime” do share structural features with Frankenstein—the frame story. The mariner in “Maelström” is relating his story to some poor schlub who is afraid of heights, while the ancient mariner in Coleridge’s poem waylaid a  wedding guest (an interesting choice). In Frankenstein, we’re being told the tale by the mariner (Walton) who is relating the story Victor Frankenstein tells (who is relating the tale told to him by the monster…). “Maelström” is pretty tense once it gets going, but it has a slow start. It’s often counted as one of Poe’s ratiocination tales because the narrator figures out how to save himself through the observation of what’s going on around him.

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All the foreign language editions had better covers.
“Herbert West––Reanimator” by H. P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft is not my favorite weird author, but he has his place in the pantheon of horror. Someone on the MOOC discussion board mentioned Herbert West and, while I’ve seen the Stuart Gordon film, I hadn’t read the source material. There is definitely a few similarities between Herbert West and Victor Frankenstein. Both are interested in the reanimation of the dead and both pay for their transgressions against nature in the end. The difference is after West runs away from his first horrid creation, he tries again. And again. And again.

“Herbert West—Reanimator” is actually a set of six stories that were originally serialized. Lovecraft didn’t care for the tales (presumably written for the money) and they are considered some of Lovecraft’s poorest work (according to Wikipedia). Personally, I like these better than the other Lovecraft stories I’ve read. They are less ornate and move along at a good pace. The only problem? If you have any doubt about how racist Lovecraft can be, read the third installment, “Six Shots by Moonlight.” Or, you know, don’t.

Summer Reading ~ Citizen


I’m appropriating Mondays for short reviews of my summer reads (I’m behind in reviewing all the books I’d like to review) and for my weekly preview.

What I Read Last Week

Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Cover via Goodreads

Claudia Rankine’s bold new book recounts mounting racial aggressions in ongoing encounters in twenty-first-century daily life and in the media. Some of these encounters are slights, seeming slips of the tongue, and some are intentional offensives in the classroom, at the supermarket, at home, on the tennis court with Serena Williams and the soccer field with Zinedine Zidane, online, on TV–everywhere, all the time. The accumulative stresses come to bear on a person’s ability to speak, perform, and stay alive. Our addressability is tied to the state of our belonging, Rankine argues, as are our assumptions and expectations of citizenship. In essay, image, and poetry, Citizen is a powerful testament to the individual and collective effects of racism in our contemporary, often named “post-race” society. (via Goodreads)

On my list as part of the Estella Project and due to a discussion about poetry recently at the Socratic Salon. (The Socratic Salon also has a discussion of Citizen, which I hadn’t read until this morning.)

This is hard for me to “review” because I feel like I’m just some white girl blathering on about something she knows nothing about. Which is pretty much true. But Citizen did shift my paradigm. I was struggling to wrap my head around the notion of accumulation until I came up with this: I tried to imagine what it would be like to go around wearing a sandwich board sign listing every attribute I have and belief I hold that someone could be prejudiced against. And I was born wearing that sign and I don’t ever get to take it off. What would it be like to live with those automatic negative judgements being made against me *everyday* by *everyone*? I don’t get the benefit of doubt. Part of me feels cowardly for not having to wear that sign and another part of me is extremely thankful.


What I’m Reading This Week

  • From my gothic list (fiction): The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
  • From my Abbott Project list (nonfiction): The Linking Rings by James David Robenalt
  • Shorts: “Next Gen Species – The Chip” by Jason Cole and “Catskin” by Kelly Link
  • Although I suspect that this list will be interrupted by It’s What I Do by Lynsay Addario becoming available at the library.
10-books EstellaProject3-1024x614

Short Review ~ In Reckless Ecstasy

In Reckless Ecstasy by Carl Sandburg


Nevertheless there are thoughts beyond the reach of words and these the seers transmit only by lurid splashes of verbiage that cannot be gauged by common sense but must be sought out by the spirit of sublimity in us. I try to express myself sensibly but if that fails I will use the reckless ecstasy. ~ Carl Sandburg

I had a yen to read more Sandburg and decided to start at the beginning. In Reckless Ecstasy was Sandburg’s first published collection. It’s a bit of poetry and a bit of prose, as you can see from above. While the use of language that I’m used to from Sandburg is there, this is definitely the work of a younger man. It is most often a proclamation of philosophy with all the enthusiasm and exuberance of a 26 year-old idealist. What I did miss was the more concrete aspects of Smoke and Steel and Slabs of the Sunburnt West, the connection to the land and cities that I spoke to me in those collections.

Publication date: 1904 by Asgard Press

Review ~ Smoke and Steel & Slabs of the Sunburnt West

Smoke and Steel & Slabs of the Sunburnt West by Carl Sandburg

Cover via Goodreads

1920. Sandburg, Pulitzer Prize winning poet, was virtually unknown to the literary world when, in 1914, a group of his poems appeared in the nationally circulated Poetry magazine. His work found beauty and glory in the simple America that surrounded him: the farms, industry, landscape, culture, and most importantly, the American people. Smoke and Steel, one of his earlier collections of poems, helped establish his reputation. (via Goodreads)

Carl Sandburg knew Joseffy. Even wrote a short “appreciation” of the magician which was published as a publicity flyer. That is the long and the short of why I chose a random book of Sandburg’s poetry from Open Library. Actually, it’s two collections smashed together in a 1920s-ish edition. The dubious beauty of Open Library is that the scans are of old books, missing flyleaves and student doodles included. This one had no publication data.

I’m not very analytic when it comes to poetry. What I like tends to be fairly arbitrary.

I like Sandburg.

I’m from the Mid-West/Heartland. I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. My dad worked for Union Pacific. I remember when the Union Stockyards still processed livestock. There is an interesting tension in Mid-Western cities between industry and agriculture. And Sandburg is all over that. He paints a picture of Chicago and parts westward during the early years of the 20th century and makes me miss cornfields even as I appreciate the mountains outside my door.

I really don’t have much more to say other than that. I’ll close with my favorite from the collection, which is about none of the things above.

“Old-fashioned Requited Love”

I have ransacked the encyclopedias
And slid my fingers among topics and titles
Looking for you.

And the answer comes slow.
There seems to be no answer.

I shall ask the next banana peddler the who and the why of it.

Or—the iceman with his iron tongs gripping a clear cube in summer sunlight—maybe he will know.

Genre: Poetry
Why did I choose to read this book? Sandburg knew Joseffy
Did I finish this book? (If not, why?) Yes!
Format: In-browser ebook.
Procurement: Open Library