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After Poems Jane Hirshfield 9780060779191 Books

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After Poems Jane Hirshfield 9780060779191 Books

In truth, it is difficult for the amateur (and sometimes it seems even for the professional) reviewer to say much else about a collection of poems but, "I loved them" or "I hated them". Poetry that produces neither love nor hate is probably poetry you should not attempt to review...luke warm soup? No thanks!

Anyway, I loved these poems. I used soup above advisedly. You will find more than a couple references in these poems to soup, and, it seems to me, that when a poet repeats images/objects you might want to be alert that, for instance here, soup may be somewhat more than veggies and broth. Along similar lines, Ms Hirshfield will introduce you here to a variety of dogs: real, imagined, past, present, dream, rose-quartz colored, and at least once (in a title) metaphoric. Ms. Hirshfield has written lovingly in "Nine Gates" (her marvelous set of poetic essays on poetry) about James Wright's "messenger angels". It seems, perhaps, that her dogs are sometimes cast in this role in this collection. You might watch/listen for them.

More than one observer has noted the sheen of sadness that overlays much of "After". I think sometimes that the "zen-ness" of these poems leans them in that direction. I'll leave it to more qualified/knowledgeable reviewers to deal properly with that, but it does seem that zen can tend toward the somber. Then, too, it could just be that Ms. Hirshfield is particularly attuned to the bitter-sweetness that life doles out whether we want it or not. Her (along with Mariko Aratani) surpassingly, inexhaustibly wonderful translations of the tanka of the Heian era poets Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu ("The Ink Dark Moon") are full to overflowing with the ineffable transcience of love and life. No doubt that is present throughout the originals, but the deftness of the translations could not have originated in a non-kindred soul.

Still there is, if not great joy, great beauty in these poems. "Beneath the Snow, the Badger's Steady Breathing" ends with "- Sharp starlight coming all the way down to the snow." In her "Assay" on "Translucence" she's following that rose-quartz colored dream dog thusly: "A shadow opened then folded behind her./ I followed as if past a gate latch/ sliding closed of its own silent weight." The already noted "blue green shoulder of the vase" and, possibly the most beautiful image in the collection in "To Judgment: An Assay" in a line eschewing the very judgment of beautiful: a "dawn the color of winter butter -".

There is here, too, the quietly enigmatic. Try the opening poem "After Long Silence". Read closely and ask what "thought" is untranslatable and where, if thoughts start with words, do they go after? Is silence itself an answer to both questions and if so is "after" "post" or "pursuit"? Also, as already noted, "Red Scarf" which notes it's "for L.B. (1950-2004)". Whose scarf is it? Ms Hirshfield's or L.B.'s? Doesn't the "inconceivable before" (with before in italics) change considerably depending? All that's sure is the loss, the grief, the missing.

Two more thoughts and I'll let this go. I used the term quietly above and that's a characteristic of the entire collection. One of the quietest and one of my favorite poems (not likely to be everyone's) is "Sheep's Cheese" which I'd like to quote most of

In the cellar, sheep's milk cheeses
...

Once a week, a man comes to turn them.
Sixty pounds lifted like child after child,
lain back re-wrapped
...

The wheels are only sheep's milk, not ripening souls.
He sings no lullabye to them. But his arms know the weight.

I find this poem full of gentleness, quietness, tenderness; of ritual, of steadfastness; of the love found in certain labors; of the uncommon cosmic found in the most common of objects. And it's probably full of quite a bit more than that. Surely, though, it and the rest of these poems are Ms Hirshfield's wheels and, while they, too, are mere objects - her arms also know the weight.

And finally, the last three lines of the last poem are a kind of zen conclusion to the story of life played out within them. While the lines are addressed specifically, I think they can be read more generally: "Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,/ you slept, you awakened./ Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons." Others have noted these lines, but sometimes stopped before that last line with its heat prepared roasted chestnuts and its cold ripened persimmons, one sweet, the other tart - or slightly bitter, if you will.

Much poetry is written about itself, about art. This poetry is written about life and reading it will enrich your own in quiet but generous ways. If its vision is slightly canted toward the dark, yet it is, as Ms. Hirshfield herself describes in "Pyracantha and Plum": "a self portrait both clearer and darker,/ as if while I slept some Rembrandt or Brueghel/ had walked through the garden, looking hard."

Great stuff.


Tags : After: Poems [Jane Hirshfield] on Amazon.com. *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. An investigation into incarnation, transience, and our intimate connection with all existence, by one of the preeminent poets of her generation,Jane Hirshfield,After: Poems,Harper Perennial,0060779195,POE005010,American - General,American Contemporary Poetry - Individual Poets,POETRY American General,POETRY General,Poetry,Poetry by individual poets

After Poems Jane Hirshfield 9780060779191 Books Reviews

Jane Hirshfield's poems in April merit reading and re-reading to appreciate their obvious merits and hidden surprises
The most informative book on learning to understand poetry
gaining the insight needed for deeper appreciation of context
and meaning
Jane Hirshfield's poems in her book, "After" are both lyric and lucid. Well crafted beauty. Exquisite images are controlled and delivered in such a way as to manage insight and meaning. The reader is led by the experience of the poem to a new place, a new understanding of the world, the heart and spirit.
She is a genius. I am always amazed, awed and inspired by her imagery and craft.
Jane Hirshfield consistently writes consistently good poems. She is always worth a reading as she lays her perceptions either gently or compellingly before you.
I like Jane's poetry in this book as she gives background information in addition to the poem. This my 3rd book by her, and I will be watching for more. It feel like i am back in my poetry classes. Oh, that is why she is also a teacher. I would love to take a class from her.
Jane Hirshfield tackles some tough territory in this collection. The poems demand very deep thought and require careful examination and several re-readings. It is worth the effort and brings rewards to the reader. It is the first of her books that I read. I ordered more of her books after reading it. I would recommend reading some of her other works before tackling this collection because of the depth and significance of the subjects.
In truth, it is difficult for the amateur (and sometimes it seems even for the professional) reviewer to say much else about a collection of poems but, "I loved them" or "I hated them". Poetry that produces neither love nor hate is probably poetry you should not attempt to review...luke warm soup? No thanks!

Anyway, I loved these poems. I used soup above advisedly. You will find more than a couple references in these poems to soup, and, it seems to me, that when a poet repeats images/objects you might want to be alert that, for instance here, soup may be somewhat more than veggies and broth. Along similar lines, Ms Hirshfield will introduce you here to a variety of dogs real, imagined, past, present, dream, rose-quartz colored, and at least once (in a title) metaphoric. Ms. Hirshfield has written lovingly in "Nine Gates" (her marvelous set of poetic essays on poetry) about James Wright's "messenger angels". It seems, perhaps, that her dogs are sometimes cast in this role in this collection. You might watch/listen for them.

More than one observer has noted the sheen of sadness that overlays much of "After". I think sometimes that the "zen-ness" of these poems leans them in that direction. I'll leave it to more qualified/knowledgeable reviewers to deal properly with that, but it does seem that zen can tend toward the somber. Then, too, it could just be that Ms. Hirshfield is particularly attuned to the bitter-sweetness that life doles out whether we want it or not. Her (along with Mariko Aratani) surpassingly, inexhaustibly wonderful translations of the tanka of the Heian era poets Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu ("The Ink Dark Moon") are full to overflowing with the ineffable transcience of love and life. No doubt that is present throughout the originals, but the deftness of the translations could not have originated in a non-kindred soul.

Still there is, if not great joy, great beauty in these poems. "Beneath the Snow, the Badger's Steady Breathing" ends with "- Sharp starlight coming all the way down to the snow." In her "Assay" on "Translucence" she's following that rose-quartz colored dream dog thusly "A shadow opened then folded behind her./ I followed as if past a gate latch/ sliding closed of its own silent weight." The already noted "blue green shoulder of the vase" and, possibly the most beautiful image in the collection in "To Judgment An Assay" in a line eschewing the very judgment of beautiful a "dawn the color of winter butter -".

There is here, too, the quietly enigmatic. Try the opening poem "After Long Silence". Read closely and ask what "thought" is untranslatable and where, if thoughts start with words, do they go after? Is silence itself an answer to both questions and if so is "after" "post" or "pursuit"? Also, as already noted, "Red Scarf" which notes it's "for L.B. (1950-2004)". Whose scarf is it? Ms Hirshfield's or L.B.'s? Doesn't the "inconceivable before" (with before in italics) change considerably depending? All that's sure is the loss, the grief, the missing.

Two more thoughts and I'll let this go. I used the term quietly above and that's a characteristic of the entire collection. One of the quietest and one of my favorite poems (not likely to be everyone's) is "Sheep's Cheese" which I'd like to quote most of

In the cellar, sheep's milk cheeses
...

Once a week, a man comes to turn them.
Sixty pounds lifted like child after child,
lain back re-wrapped
...

The wheels are only sheep's milk, not ripening souls.
He sings no lullabye to them. But his arms know the weight.

I find this poem full of gentleness, quietness, tenderness; of ritual, of steadfastness; of the love found in certain labors; of the uncommon cosmic found in the most common of objects. And it's probably full of quite a bit more than that. Surely, though, it and the rest of these poems are Ms Hirshfield's wheels and, while they, too, are mere objects - her arms also know the weight.

And finally, the last three lines of the last poem are a kind of zen conclusion to the story of life played out within them. While the lines are addressed specifically, I think they can be read more generally "Your story was this you were happy, then you were sad,/ you slept, you awakened./ Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons." Others have noted these lines, but sometimes stopped before that last line with its heat prepared roasted chestnuts and its cold ripened persimmons, one sweet, the other tart - or slightly bitter, if you will.

Much poetry is written about itself, about art. This poetry is written about life and reading it will enrich your own in quiet but generous ways. If its vision is slightly canted toward the dark, yet it is, as Ms. Hirshfield herself describes in "Pyracantha and Plum" "a self portrait both clearer and darker,/ as if while I slept some Rembrandt or Brueghel/ had walked through the garden, looking hard."

Great stuff.