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Abraham Lincoln read it with approval, but Emily Dickinson described its bold language and themes as "disgraceful." Ralph Waldo Emerson found it "the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet produced." Published at the author's expense on July 4, 1855, Leaves of Grass inaugurated a new voice and style into American letters and gave expression to an optimistic, bombastic vision that took the nation as its subject. Unlike many other editions of Leaves of Grass, which reproduce various short, early versions, this Modern Library Paperback Classics "Death-bed" edition presents everything Whitman wrote in its final form, and includes newly commissioned notes.… (plus d'informations)
This is a book that has been neglected on my bookshelves for WAY too long. I have been circling ever closer to it since starting the Less Stupid Civil War Reading Group years ago, and all the reading on the war and the Reconstruction period after, including a collection of some of Whitman’s poems and some of his Civil War writings.
I will not lie, there were sections I had to drag myself through here with a brain full of mush. But like I could give up on Walt “I contain multitudes” Whitman? Walt “This is What You Shall Do” Whitman? Clearly, no. Because when this poetry caught wind — the heights that it soared to!
This edition contained some reflections by Whitman at the end, on what he had attempted to do with this verse, on how it had been received, trying to place it in context of the poetry before. This is poetry that celebrates America, from Coast to Coast, from destitution to riches, man and woman, Black, white, and Native, and every kind of labor. From this point in history, parts of that celebration leave a bitter taste, but the celebration of humanity itself, and especially the humble, is remarkable.
What it captures of its time and place — the years of war, the explosion into the West, in so few pages is something only poetry can do.
4 1/2 stars, really, but we can't do that. This is the original 1855 version. Whitman added to the collection throughout his life, ending up with an overstuffed and very uneven "deathbed" version, which is better known. There are some good poems in it which aren’t in the original, such as When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom’d, but there’s a lot of pretty weak stuff, too. The 1855 has a small number of pretty consistently excellent poems which are highly original and loosely but definitely connected. Reading it is a very different experience from wading through the bloated, inconsistent final version – there’s something Whitmanesque (i.e., at it’s best) about the original collection as a unit. I also recall Malcolm Cowley’s introduction being a bit wild and wooly (written in the late 60s or early 70s), but being interesting and enlightening. ( )
Rambling Charter towards inner freedoms and a diary of sorts in prose. There is much that Whitman explores about sexuality and as a radical, his enduring take on the world, as much an outsider as an insider, it was a shame it took so long for his work to be recognised. "Song of the Open Road", a particular favourite section, and "By the Roadside", some incredibly rich sexually explicit desires thrust forward as I imagine Walt like D.H.Lawrence exuding all that natural naked strength in spirit and in mind. ( )
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
I celebrate myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
The original edition of Leaves of Grass had just 95 pages of poetry, and a lengthy introduction. The only titles were “Leaves of Grass” or a marker, indicating a new poem. The original book listed no author, with a small engraving of himself in a loose open shirt and tipped hat, one hand on hip, the other in his pocket (to “loafe” at that time meant to be seen idling stylishly about town). The engraving by Samuel Hollyer was based on a photo by Gabriel Harrison (a common printing conversion by skilled professionals in the pre-digital age).
(from the America essay) America does not repel the past or what it has produced under its forms or amid other politics or the idea of castes or the old religions … accepts the lesson with calmness … is not so impatient as has been supposed that the slough still sticks to opinions and manners and literature while the life which served its requirements has passed into the new life of the new forms … perceives that the corpse is slowly borne from the eating and sleeping rooms of the house … perceives that it waits a little while in the door … that it was fittest for its days … that its action has descended to the stalwart and wellshaped heir who approaches … and that he shall be fittest for his days.
its forms or amid other politics or the idea of castes or the old religions…accepts the lesson with calmness…is not so impatient as has been supposed that the slough still sticks to opinions and manners and literature while the life which served its requirements has passed into the new life of the new forms…perceives that the corpse is slowly borne from the eating and sleeping rooms of the house…perceives that it waits a little while in the door…that it was fi ttest for its days…that its action has descended to the stalwart and wellshaped heir who approaches…and that he shall be fittest for his days.
Citations
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
You are also asking me questions, and I hear you; I answer that I cannot answer … you must find out for yourself.
Derniers mots
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
Great is life . . and real and mystical . . wherever and whoever, Great is death . . . . Sure as life holds all parts together, death holds all parts together; Sure as the stars return again after the merge in the light, death is as great as life.
(from A Backward Glance) In the free evening of the day I give to you, reader, the foregoing garrulous talk, thoughts, reminiscences, As idly drifting down the ebb, Such ripples, half-caught voices, echo from the shore Concluding with two items for the imaginative genius of the West, when it worthily rises: fi rst, what Herder taught to the young Goethe, that really great poetry is always (like the Homeric or Biblical canticles) the result of a national spirit, and not the privilege of a polished and select few; second, that the strongest and sweetest songs yet remain to be sung.
Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais.Modifiez pour passer à votre langue.
Whitman significantly revised Leaves of Grass over his lifetime. This represents those works containing the first edition, originally published in 1855 and consisting of only 12 unnamed poems.
Please do not combine with other editions, particularly the "Deathbed edition", which contains over 400 poems.
Directeur de publication
Courtes éloges de critiques
Langue d'origine
DDC/MDS canonique
LCC canonique
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Références à cette œuvre sur des ressources externes.
Wikipédia en anglais
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▾Descriptions de livres
Abraham Lincoln read it with approval, but Emily Dickinson described its bold language and themes as "disgraceful." Ralph Waldo Emerson found it "the most extraordinary piece of wit and wisdom that America has yet produced." Published at the author's expense on July 4, 1855, Leaves of Grass inaugurated a new voice and style into American letters and gave expression to an optimistic, bombastic vision that took the nation as its subject. Unlike many other editions of Leaves of Grass, which reproduce various short, early versions, this Modern Library Paperback Classics "Death-bed" edition presents everything Whitman wrote in its final form, and includes newly commissioned notes.
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4
I will not lie, there were sections I had to drag myself through here with a brain full of mush. But like I could give up on Walt “I contain multitudes” Whitman? Walt “This is What You Shall Do” Whitman? Clearly, no. Because when this poetry caught wind — the heights that it soared to!
This edition contained some reflections by Whitman at the end, on what he had attempted to do with this verse, on how it had been received, trying to place it in context of the poetry before. This is poetry that celebrates America, from Coast to Coast, from destitution to riches, man and woman, Black, white, and Native, and every kind of labor. From this point in history, parts of that celebration leave a bitter taste, but the celebration of humanity itself, and especially the humble, is remarkable.
What it captures of its time and place — the years of war, the explosion into the West, in so few pages is something only poetry can do.
I am glad to have finally gotten to this one! (