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Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow (1970)

by Ted Hughes

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9992120,810 (4.02)32
Compendium of poems which powerfully explores the realm of primeval consciousness.

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» See also 32 mentions

Showing 1-5 of 21 (next | show all)
Creo que es la primera vez que consigo entender un poema. Pero antes he tenido que volver a Janet Malcolm por los remordimientos de disfrutar una lectura de Ted Hughes, el odioso. Tales han sido las informaciones que copan algunas críticas literarias.
Este cuervo es el precedente del cuervo de Max Porter, pero con la diferencia que este curaba y el de Hughes aguanta con todo lo que le echen antes de llegar a curarnos. El cuervo de Hughes soporta todo lo que dios le envía, y además le gana. A él y a la muerte y al sufrimiento. Riéndose de todo, incluido él mismo. El cuervo de Hughes es el aguante con el que podemos sobrellevar esta vida, aunque nosotros no podamos ganarle a la muerte, como él hace.
Dicen que esta es una obra muy influenciada por la de su suicidada esposa, Sylvia Plath. Así que lo siguiente es la obra completa de Plath. ( )
  Orellana_Souto | Jul 27, 2021 |
Ted Hughes combines primal human storytelling, cultural myths, and violence to create some of the most startling poetry that I've ever read. His themes of deception, fear, blood, and physical love (not to be confused with emotional love) touch the centre of human existence, giving the reader a profound sense of unease combined with familiarity.

Crow imagery dominates the collection, drawing motifs from Isles and Native American mythology, and Hughes proves his deep understanding of this dichotomous character. Crow is at once the father who births the world, the child who molds his surroundings through curiosity, and a primal source of destruction. He can be seen as a being that is the universe itself, but also a being that strives against the being that created him, which implies that the nature of existence is circular/cyclical in nature; Crow is doomed to repeat his actions in the same way that mythological characters are doomed to repeat themselves throughout varying tellings of their stories through the ages. ( )
  JaimieRiella | Feb 25, 2021 |
Max Porter's Grief Is The Thing With Feathers is one of my favourite books. It was one of those books that one picks up and that totally redeems the otherwise losing game of picking up books at random, on suggestion, or on a whim. One of those rare books that found me just when I needed it. (I usually find the perfect book that I needed about 10 years after it is no longer relevant to me.) I read it in one go, gripped so that all other responsibilities faded away until finished, I could snap back into real life.

Crow by Ted Hughes is an obvious inspiration behind the protagonist (?) of Grief. I must say, though, I found Grief to be so much more intelligible and stimulating, and easier to read as a result. Grief promises to take you somewhere, and fulfils its promise. Crow does no such thing, although it is definitely original and creative.

Porter is obviously incredibly well learned, but he does something more with it than just show off. I wouldn't quite put Hughes in that category either, but there is a whiff of sometimes T.S. Eliot in Crow. I will have to keep excavating back to Eliot next - and Emily Dickinson, too. I love the idea of poetry but dislike most poems. If Grief is the gateway, then so be it. Onward! Or, more accurately, backward! ( )
  GeorgeHunter | Sep 13, 2020 |
Incredible. I read this back in 2010 and I still think about it often. Dark, winding and deep poetry. ( )
  Cail_Judy | Apr 21, 2020 |
Wow! Crow truly kicked my ass. It's dark, mushy and blasphemous. Crow is a reoccurring character in this collection that Hughes drops into myth, both biblical and Greek, and also more current circumstances but he never fails to wretch and devour. Not for the faint of heart but well worth a read.
  b.masonjudy | Apr 3, 2020 |
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In Memory of Assia and Shura
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Black was the without eye / Black the within tongue / Black was the heart / Black the liver, black the lungs / Unable to suck in the light / Black the blood in its loud tunnel / Black the bowels packed in furnace / Black too the muscles / Striving to pull out into the light / Black the nerves, black the brain / With its tombed visions / Black also the soul, the huge stammer / Of the cry that, swelling, could not / Pronounce its sun.
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Compendium of poems which powerfully explores the realm of primeval consciousness.

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