
But alas, I've never intended to be a critic. I try (with varying degrees of success) to remember and steer clear of reviews as such. It was never my intention to tell people what to read or what not to read, or what to like or what not to like. When I title each post "Reader's Diary" I'm hoping they'll be just that; my thoughts about a particular piece I've read that day. And I'm entitled to an opinion, even if I'll never be on a Nobel panel. (How do they pick Nobel winners? Jury?)
Fortunately, I'm liking Heaney's poems so far. With such accolades, I was expecting to find all sorts of words like "ephemeral" and "ethereal" and other big poem words I've never quite gotten a handle on. That's not the case. Heaney's poems are quite down to Earth. Even literally. Hmmm. Well, what I mean is, they seem to revolve around earth (lowercase e). The very first poem (which I was surprised to find that I had read before) was called "Digging" and drew comparisons between the work of a poet and a farmer. But the dirt imagery didn't stop there. Other poems mention sods, fungus, ploughs, roots, and so forth. It's nature I haven't seen a lot of in poetry. I've read a lot about mountains, trees, flowers, skies and oceans, but there's something more fertile about Heaney's writing and the ground itself seems like an obvious source of poetic inspiration. It's that "obviousness" which shows Heaney's skill. Like a professional figure skater, he has the ability to make his craft seem easy- but then you try a triple axle and fall flat on your...face.
4 comments:
I am constantly intimidated by books. However, I work in Neuroscience and am an idiot, so I have a ready excuse.
Idiot and you work in neuroscience? Is that an oxymoron?
It should be an oxymoron, but I've been faking my understanding of the subject all these years. One of these days they are going to find out and fire me.
Chances are everyone around you feels the same way about themselves(but they just don't admit it). I think everyone feels fraudulent at times.
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