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Breezeway

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    Available in PDF - DJVU Format | Breezeway.pdf | Language: ENGLISH
    John Ashbery(Author)

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The poems in Breezeway move lightly between the everyday world, with its pleasures and absurdities, and the worlds of literature and art, with theirs. John Ashbery's poems are haunting, surprising, hilarious, and knowing, the work of an old and always a new master with an uncanny understanding of our age, its fears and fragmentation, its fulfilments. Here is Mr Salteena and the station of the Metro, demystified Middle English mysticism and a peculiarly-paced samba, a drugstore, a supermarket, Batman and his dog Pastor Fido, all concluding in 'A Sweet Disorder', in which Herrick is decisively transformed: 'Pardon my sarong. I'll have a Shirley Temple.'

'He has gone farther from literature within literature than any poet alive. His game is to make an intentionally frivolous style express the full range of human feeling, and he remains funnier and better at it, a game he invented, than his many imitators.' --New Yorker'The lyrics in Breezeway, a new collection by the octogenarian poet John Ashbery are as good as his finest. I especially like the final poem, poignantly reprising the last line of Keats' Ode to a Nightingale', "Do I wake or sleep?"' --The Observer

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Book details

  • PDF | 80 pages
  • John Ashbery(Author)
  • Carcanet Press Ltd; 1 edition (25 Jun. 2015)
  • English
  • 5
  • Poetry, Drama & Criticism

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Review Text

  • By Ashberian on 29 August 2016

    Before i start, would like to make crystal clear that John Ashbery is my absolute favorite poet ... galaxies away from any other; tried plenty other poets but ( maybe ) for my particular taste, nobody come close to the consistent genius lucid state of mind this man has achieved effortlessly since he decided to bless the world with his writing, and we're talking about decades here .Own the whole Ashbery's bibliography ( all his poetry books at least ), that will always hold the best spot on my library as its way too invaluable for me, the kind of books i love to come back to again & again... and that love me back in exchange, always brighten up my day... years pass and i still can read this or that poem for the eleventh time not feeling tired about it and always with a new perspective on it so i can sleep that night with a smile on my head while keeping that feeling in mind.How come i dare to rate this new book the lowest then ?Kills me to face the truth, but this has been coming since 2007. Yes, i'm pointing my finger at "A "Worldly Country" ; that was the very first time some ( few ) of the poems included felt second-rate, fillers even ... an unprecedented filling that made me think i didn't get it then but i'd do on a later reading."Planisphere" was published a couple years later ... and once again was confronted with that very same ( amped even ) feeling .Three more years and a new work from my all-time favorite poet, "Quick Question" was avaliable ... only to slap me with more of the same, only this time was even worse. This was no longer me not feeling his poems, this was a pattern, somethings changed ... and not exactly for the better. If anything, this was a confirmation of a genius decay, leveling down to other average-Joe-poets i've read before... a genuine enough cause to shed tears of defeat.Now, i just finished going through "Breezaway" for the first time and am truly devastated. This is by far the worst poetry book by Ashbery i've ever read !!!! Not even sure i'd tell him apart from a bunch of mediocre modern poets if these poems where mixed among other people's on some random compilation .While writing this review i'm still painfully shocked, still wondering how such unique brain capable of holding your hand while guiding you through distant dimensions, turning your take on life upside down, making any color brighter than it ever was and every breath worth twice than what it was before... ended up like this ?I'm aware this so-called information society is affecting the way we ( humans ) act, think, react, behave ... everything is changing so quick most people doesn't even realize about it ( some are even offended by the mere idea, even if it's a fact ), is even crystal clear when you are one of those strange persons that enjoy art / movies / books / documentaries / interviews / articles / etc... from earlier decades and compare 'em with nowaday's .These days, everything has to be quicker, straight to the point, include a lot of this mediocre so-called popular insta-culture , disguised with references and empty ( politically ultra-correct, always fighting to fit in ) words/facts for those exceptional times where you are allowed to extend yourself a little more than average, include cursing once in a while so you are "cool" and fit among the vast mediocrity... and be judged by twitter-minded people ( 140 characters is all they can process on their minds at once ) .What ( above ) reads like just another rant on nowaday's society is effectively polluting the way many creators are doing things, translated to facts so to speak, and that's why i'm pointing it out ( no other reasons behind, believe it or not ) ... because it's important to stress how influential this can be.Now, for better of for worse... was conviced that most veterant artists / creators / writers / poets .... were capable of living away for today's decadence. Their characters, ideas, mental-mechanics , etc... already have a strong foundation and that's something that won't change all of a sudden just because newer generations are leaning towards short-sighted thoughts & constantly resourcing to ( quick & substance-less ) visual effectism . And was convinced of this until i read "Breezeway"... where i feel the pollution.This is probably one of the saddest days of my reading-life. I'm no longer safe nor i feel like i leaped through a fantastic time-space again. Industry's fumes, traffic lights & noise stabbed my soul while i was on Breezeway ; looks like Ashbery is no longer able to build those colosal spiral walls built with otherworldy materials & out-of-our-mental-range colors to effectively shield us from reality... and for that very reason, today i weep red .


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