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New
and Collected Poems 1931-2001 by
Czesław Miłosz (2001), 776 pages.
Of course, our Library has most Miłosz’s Polish writings in verse and in prose. The author states that he only reluctantly agreed to write a few paragraphs of introduction, even though this is a condensed presentation of his life's work offered to the English-speaking public, and so ought to be reader-friendly. It would have been helpful to include commentary, placing these poems in some historical context; they were written within the period of 70 years. As it is, it is really difficult to appraise Miłosz. An academic expert might have provided such comment, even if the author himself was not interested. Miłosz's
poetry is free-form, in contrast with rhymed verse or blank verse (iambic
pentameter) favored by many English poets, especially Shakespeare. For
inexperienced readers, free verse poses a stumbling block, as there seems to
be no structural order. Bi-lingual readers may also find free verse
disappointing since they are spoiled by the Polish poetry masters of the 18th
and 19th centuries. Some readers may remember the words of Robert Frost that
“Poetry without rhyme is like playing tennis without a net.” To be sure,
this is a personal opinion that can be challenged. Indeed, there are experts
who know more about poetry, and the dust jacket contains admiring
testimonials. For example, Joseph Brodsky describes Miłosz as "one of
the greatest poets of our time," who possesses a "relentless
mind" resembling that of the biblical character Job (in Polish Hiob).
There are indeed hiobowe wieści that Miłosz refers to in his work,
which is deeply entangled in his philosophical attitude permeating it. He
quotes the German philosopher Adorno to the effect that after World War II
lyrical poetry is impossible. This may be an exaggeration as life will go on,
and people quickly forget history. Still, the somber tone and gloomy view mark
many poems of this author, and readers who are optimistic by nature will have
difficulty accepting hundreds of reflections attesting to man's sad fate. In
perusing this collection, one is occasionally puzzled to find very short
presentations such as these: In
"From my Dentist IS T4indow" : "Extraordinary. A House. Tall.
Surrounded by air. It stands. In
the middle of a blue sky." (page 649) In
"Autumn": "Cathedral of my enchantments, autumn wind, I grew
old giving thanks." (page 650) To
be sure, most poems in this book are not as self-centered as the above
examples. Besides, the publishers openly appeal to libraries to purchase this
$45 book, implying that it is a reference work. George E. Suboczewski |
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