The Talking Horse and the Sad Girl and the Village Under the Sea: Poems

I read this book for #15 of #26bookswithbringingupburns: 'a book of poems'.

I have basically never read poetry for fun before. Especially not a whole book by one author. Anyway, I picked this because I enjoyed Mark Haddon's novels The Curious Incident and A Spot of Bother. From that I could deduce what his poetry might be like, and I was right: bloody random.

It was quite surreal and many pieces on first reading seemed to make little to no sense, but after re-reading you can sortof see what he is alluding to. Maybe this is just me not being used to reading poetry, however.

There were a few I liked; Miaow and Woof, Days, and the note from the censorship board. I can't say however that this has converted me into a poetry lover. Better luck show more next time, Mark Haddon! show less

Oy. I know I'm not an expert at reading poetry, but I've enjoyed a fair bit of it. This book, not so much. Sorry. I wish I could say why in terms that would help you - but all I can say is that *to me* it seemed like almost all of these were playing with words & allusions to no actual purpose. No insights, no revelations, no new perspectives. Ok, a couple did reference that exact attitude, did briefly explore what it means to be a poet and what a poet's role is... but those seemed more like self-indulgent navel-gazing, y'know? One poem I did like - but then this one seemed more like the kind of simplistic narrative verse fed to school-children. Judge for yourself:

A Tally Stick

The bark is notched six times, one notch
for every cow left in show more the pound,
then split, the cowman and the poundman
taking half each, so that when
the cowman comes to claim his stock
six cows are led out from the pound
though neither of the men can count.

Connemara, 1610:
A cowman spreads his hands and watches
as a priest names all his fingers.
He starts to count potatoes, hens,
the steps across his single field
whose blades the Lord alone can sum.

Then pausing at the gate one night
he thinks of seven. Not trees. Not dogs.
Just seven. Like the Plough
before God put the stars in. show less

I much prefer Haddon's novels to his poetry. There was maybe one poem I actually enjoyed; mostly they just didn't make any sense to me. I have never been much of a poetry fan to begin with (exepct for Longfellow and Bukowski) but for some reason I keep trying. I think I should just give it up and realize poetry just isn't for me. This book of poems did not help.

Very mixed bag.
Okay, not inspiring. Apart from "This poem is certificate 18" which I thought was wonderful.

Unfortunately I listened to this rather than read it. Like all poetry one needs to go back and forth not easy to do on audio. Also I never knew the works that were abridged so it lost all meaning.

A great book of observant poetry for a great writer of novels.

“Spring and warm winds unlock the fist of winter.”