Second Opinion

november 30, 2013

Op Toofisme

the reader

Voor Anis Shivani lijdt het geen twijfel: “F” van Franz Wright is het poëzieboek van de eeuw:

f“I could make the case that this book will outlast nearly everything else being published in American poetry these days, and will emerge as the standout book of the era when all is said and done. Wright deals here with mortality in a direct and sincere manner few other poets today can match. After reading Wright, the faux hysteria of most contemporary poets when it comes to grief, mourning, and allied emotions appears almost juvenile by comparison, whereas every word in Wright’s poems is fully earned, leaving no doubt about the poet’s reservoirs of courage and honesty. This, at last, is the answer to what comes after the alleged end of lyric poetry: not the gamesmanship of conceptual poetry and associated mannerisms, but a lyric poetry so illuminating and forthright that it turns the whole tradition of the last 100 years–say, since Rilke–on its head. Nobody but nobody deals with death like Wright. He is our greatest contemporary poet.” (huffingtonpost)

Essays van Zadie Smith

november 12, 2013

Zadie_Smith

“For writers have only one duty, as I see it: the duty to express accurately their way of being in the world.”

7 essays van Zadie Smith online.

Lou Reed – final interview

november 10, 2013

reed

“The first memory of sound would have to be your mother’s heartbeat.”

“You grow up, from when you’re a peanut, listening to rhythm.”

“But then there are nature sounds. . . The sound of the wind. The sound of love.”

Prachtig interview met Lou Reed. Het is het laatste dat hij weggaf. Een duidelijk zieke, vermoeide Lou Reed maar dat belet hem niet om helemaal to the point te zijn. Het filmpje staat hier.

Spring and fall

to a young child

Márgarét, áre you gr’eving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Áh! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you w’ll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Gerad Manley Hopkins

Dit gedicht wordt gebruikt in de film Margaret van Kenneth Lonergan.

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