Finished reading Birthday Letters today. Each poem is powerful but gains even greater weight in being part of the astonishing whole. There's nothing else like it in the language. (It's odd that though my reading of the book took a couple of weeks, it felt as if I'd finished it in a couple of protracted readings. I suppose this is related to the way that the collection holds together as a single fabric.)
Still reeling from the final poem I thought I'd better put off starting Howls & Whispers until tomorrow. I'm thinking of trying to complete it in a day. I cross-referenced to Bates's biography of Hughes to make sure I'd understood where this final collection stands in relation to the Letters and their inter-relationship. Can't wait to read it.
In the course of my cross-referencing I chanced upon the paragraphs in which Bates deals with Nick's suicide. Heart-breaking. One of the odd effects of reading Birthday Letters is the way in which the children become so real.
No comments:
Post a Comment