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vabraham's review against another edition
fast-paced
5.0
Always and forever will be one of my favorite poets
rltinha's review against another edition
Chegar a esta poesia 20 anos antes ter-me-ia deslumbrado. A ingenuidade, o optimismo, o vagar tremendo de quem vê a amostra e a toma pelo todo que dispensa gestão de esforços (e de tempo), a generosidade impressionável, tudo isso se foi reduzindo com o volver dos dias e o aperto das suas possibilidades horárias.
Com tais qualidades recuperadas esta leitura teria sido bem distinta, dificilmente determinante de mais do que a pouca vontade de seguir para o segundo volume.
Com tais qualidades recuperadas esta leitura teria sido bem distinta, dificilmente determinante de mais do que a pouca vontade de seguir para o segundo volume.
grasonpoling's review against another edition
3.0
Generally, it felt like very little was at stake for most of these poems, and even with the little, WCW tended to leave them exhausted from building them up to something boisterous.
WCW’s best strength seems to be the opposite of this. Knowing his tendency for the over-wrought, the simplest of his pieces (which have little to no reflection involved) in this collection left me very satisfied haha. makes me curious to read his later work, but it might be a minute before I pick him up again.
WCW’s best strength seems to be the opposite of this. Knowing his tendency for the over-wrought, the simplest of his pieces (which have little to no reflection involved) in this collection left me very satisfied haha. makes me curious to read his later work, but it might be a minute before I pick him up again.
cameronbcook's review against another edition
An astonishing chronicle of one of the most brilliant poets in American literature.
selenajournal's review against another edition
4.0
Let's get past "The Red Wheelbarrow" shall we? William Carlos Williams is a god among poets and artists alike. Having spent his nights with artists like Duchamp and Picabia and his weekends with Wallace Stevens and Marianne Moore, it is no surprise. And yet it is rare to hear anyone singing the William Carlos Williams praises.
Art influenced Williams for lack of any other inspiration. I don't see in his work that he ever really separated art from the writing.
Reading his collection, which covers 1909 until 1939 - it is clear that Williams was in a growing phase. He was learning about himself as a writer and an artist. And of course, a physician.
I've never underestimated the influence that his technical training and work with children had on his work.He was playful but precise yet he knew how to be serious. He used words as words. They weren't to represent anything but what they were. They were concrete, palpable - not abstractions.
I read things in chunks - and it somehow made sense to do that. Considering that I am not the type of person who enjoys "collections," I was actually surprised at how much I drew from this book and relished in reading it. It never once felt like an overwhelming amount of one person's work.
What please me most was that Williams had shown me how to break my own rules. Reading his poems, I found myself writing on the pages of the book - circling words and making notes in the margins. I never do that! I keep my books pristine no matter the circumstance. But it felt right to make notes to myself so that coming back to the poems, I'd remember what I originally thought or the connections I had made.
As an aspiring writer and someone who dabbles in art, I see the nonexistent distinction between the two. It's all just blank canvases with different writing utensils. Few understand that.
Art influenced Williams for lack of any other inspiration. I don't see in his work that he ever really separated art from the writing.
Reading his collection, which covers 1909 until 1939 - it is clear that Williams was in a growing phase. He was learning about himself as a writer and an artist. And of course, a physician.
I've never underestimated the influence that his technical training and work with children had on his work.He was playful but precise yet he knew how to be serious. He used words as words. They weren't to represent anything but what they were. They were concrete, palpable - not abstractions.
I read things in chunks - and it somehow made sense to do that. Considering that I am not the type of person who enjoys "collections," I was actually surprised at how much I drew from this book and relished in reading it. It never once felt like an overwhelming amount of one person's work.
What please me most was that Williams had shown me how to break my own rules. Reading his poems, I found myself writing on the pages of the book - circling words and making notes in the margins. I never do that! I keep my books pristine no matter the circumstance. But it felt right to make notes to myself so that coming back to the poems, I'd remember what I originally thought or the connections I had made.
As an aspiring writer and someone who dabbles in art, I see the nonexistent distinction between the two. It's all just blank canvases with different writing utensils. Few understand that.
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