Robert Lowell (1917–1977)

9.0/10

I have run the emotions of life through Robert Lowell -- not a mean feat, in a few weeks. No wonder I'm exhausted. And elevated. Depressed. And inspired.

Who is Robert Lowell? And how much time do you have?

Thoughts that occurred to me, in reading this collection: Prophetic. Pessimistic. Awe-Inspiring. Eccentric. Fun. And funny. Affectionate. Intimate. Gossipy. Private. Confessional. Self-centered. Self-effacing. Devoted. Formidable.

And, if read all in one go, much as I have done, show more overwhelming. Overwhelming in his scope, capacity, and understanding.

I did not know, until after reading this collection, that Robert Lowell suffered from bipolar disorder, which suddenly made clear all the emotions I had been experiencing. To be in such a mind! ... for a day, for a week, was an electrifying and emotional privilege; to have to live in it, for the better part of his life would have been exhausting; depleting.

This is poetry in which my mind finds a home.

READING MYSELF

Like thousands, I took pride and more than just,
struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire —
Somehow never wrote something to go back to.
Can I suppose I am finished with wax flowers
And have earned my grass on the minor slopes of Parnassus…
No honeycomb is built without a bee
adding circle to circle, cell to cell,
the wax and honey of a mausoleum —
this round dome proves its maker is alive;
the corpse of the insect lives embalmed in honey,
prays that its perishable work lives long
enough for the sweet-tooth bear to desecrate —
this open book … my coffin. show less

Lowell has long been one of my favorite 20th century American poets. I especially like his early work--there's something about the stern, stentorian rhythm of the verse, combined with a hardscrabble New England outlook on life, that never fails to thrill. He's a formal master, alive to his influences, who also has a keen eye for the arresting detail and a penetrating honesty. Some of his poems, like The Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket, have haunted me for years.

Lowell pushed into my head without any kind of politeness, without hesitation, and he has stuck like a burr ever since. I love his work, from Lord |Weary onwards. It was 1962 when I picked up a paperback Faber edition and found myself overwhelmed by the directness of his work. Farrar Strauss Giroux eventually got around to compiling his collected works years after Lowell died, but I thank them for it. It is worth the wait, and I reckon this great writer has immotality in his wonderful work. show more But who the hell knows? I could be entirely wrong.... show less

This is Lowell before his confessional period when he was writing formal verse steeped in literary allusions and New England angst. I really liked this when I was in college. But when I tried to reread it recently, it left me cold. If you like formal poetry and are interested in the literature of New England, you might give it a try.