John Ciardi (1916–1986)

Has anyone else noticed that this book is filled with examples of excellent poetry that are all, with the exception of a few from Dickinson, written by men, while most of the examples of poor poetry are written by women? And some of the examples of excellence are truly misogynistic pieces on the cruelty and deceptive beauty of women? Am I alone here? I know it was published in 1959, but really? REALLY?!

The guy clearly knows his craft, and there are some excellent pieces of guidance in here, show more but his obvious bias against women poets has become tiresome.

Not to mention this gem from page 2, in which he bemoans America's sports-obsessed culture in comparison with the literary culture of other countries: "...even retarded boys in the United States are capable of reciting endlessly detailed football stories..."

This era I inhabit sure ain't perfect, but I am so glad I don't live in 1959. show less

Many of the poems chosen as illustrations are ones I found myself skipping over, either because of their sheer length or because they looked more modernist than I like, but the explanatory prose was almost all very sensible, including some points that gave insight on why I instinctively like some particular poems, and bears much thinking on both as a reader of poetry and as a poet. I really need to reread this with a pad in hand and take notes.

This is another book that came to me accidentally via a library book sale. I knew of John Ciardi and so picked up the book for .50 or .10, whatever pittance it was going for. The poetry in it is competent but I kept it primarily for those that are amusing, such as "On the Orthodoxy and Creed of My Power Mower," which provides a valid impression of the general subject matter of the book: conventional, suburban, middle-aged--with full awareness of life's absurdity even in the simplest things. show more There's a poem about his digging a hole in his yard to the dismay and perplexity of various people around him. In typical, yet humorous, middle-aged fashion, he bemoans the activities and choices of his children in a section called "Generation Gap." But he does all of this with considerable language art and often an elevated diction that adds to the humor. I liked this book but could really only recommend it to someone caught in that suburban middle to upper middle class life who needs to laugh at themselves and their general situation. I'll risk quoting most of "Encounter":

"We," said my young radical neighbor, smashing my window,
"speak the essential conscience of mankind."

"If it comes to no more than small breakage," I said, "speak away.
but tell me, isn't smashing some fun for its own sake.."

"We will not be dismissed as frivolous," he said,
grabbing my crowbar and starting to climb to the roof.

"You are seriously taken," I said, raising my shotgun.
"Please weigh seriously how close the range is."

"Fascist!" he said, climbing down. "Or are you a liberal
trying to fake me with no shells in that thing?"

"I'm a lamb at windows, a lion on roofs," I told him.
"You'll more or less have to guess for yourself what's loaded

until you decide to call what may be a bluff.
Meanwhile, you are also my neighbor's son:

if you'll drop that crowbar and help me pick up this glass,
I could squeeze a ham-on-rye from my tax structure

________

So leave this book alone unless you can laugh at both yourself and others. show less

At once an introduction to the art of poetry and a selection of poetry both fine and interesting. The authors attempt to penetrate the mystery that surrounds poetry with some success. One may not agree with all of their opinions but the experience of engaging with poetry under their direction yields benefits that lead to more enjoyment of poetry going forward.