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The Monster Loves His Labyrinth

par Charles Simic

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763351,963 (3.5)2
"Nabokovian in his caustic charm and sexy intelligence, Simic perceives the mythic in the mundane and pinpoints the perpetual suffering that infuses human life with both agony and bliss. . . . And he is the master of juxtaposition, lining up the unlikeliest of pairings and contrasts as he explores the nexuses of madness and prophecy, hell and paradise, lust and death."--Donna Seaman,Booklist "As one reads the pithy, wise, occasionally cranky epigrams and vignettes that fill this volume, there is the definite sense that we are getting a rare glimpse into several decades worth of private journals--and, by extension are privy to the tickings of an accomplished and introspective literary mind."--Rain Taxi Written over many years, this book is a collection of notebook entries by our current Poet Laureate. Excerpts: Stupidity is the secret spice historians have difficulty identifying in this soup we keep slurping. Ars poetica: trying to make your jailers laugh. American identity is really about having many identities simultaneously. We came to America to escape our old identities, which the multiculturalists now wish to restore to us. Ambiguity is the world's condition. Poetry flirts with ambiguity. As a "picture of reality" it is truer than any other. This doesn't mean that you're supposed to write poems no one understands. The twelve girls in the gospel choir sang as if dogs were biting their asses. What an outrage! This very moment gone forever!… (plus d'informations)
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» Voir aussi les 2 mentions

Curiosando tra i nuovi arrivi in biblioteca, la mia attenzione è stata catalizzata da questo libretto di 150 pagine scarse. Sono rimasta colpita dal titolo: Il mostro ama il suo labirinto. Mi è subito venuto in mente il Minotauro, che, rinchiuso nel Labirinto perché Minosse si vergognava di lui, si suppone odiasse la sua prigione. Invece, Simic ci dice che lo ama: una sorta di Sindrome di Stoccolma dei luoghi. Forse il Minotauro è grato a Minosse per averlo nascosto dalle pubbliche manifestazioni di orrore nei suoi confronti. O forse è solo felice di poter svolgere il suo ruolo di mostro con l'approvazione del re.

Comunque sia, Il mostro ama il suo labirinto è un taccuino, un insieme di pensieri sparsi del poeta. Si va dai suoi ricordi personali a pensieri fulminei (e poco lusinghieri) su politici e intellettuali. A Simic piace stravolgere il modo comune di vedere le cose (e qui ricorda un po' Il dizionario del diavolo di Ambrose Bierce) e spesso ci ricorda la bellezza della corporeità e della carnalità che la religione e il cosiddetto amore puro amano demonizzare e svilire in virtù della presunta superiorità dell'anima e degli alti sentimenti.

”Ti fanno male” mi dicono i miei amici. Come se fra me e l'immortalità si frapponessero soltanto un paio di salcicce.

Non dimentichiamoci che anche Romeo e Giulietta ogni tanto scoreggiavano e si grattavano il culo.

La bellezza di un attimo fuggente è eterna. ( )
  lasiepedimore | Aug 28, 2023 |
Very uneven. The bulk of the book is comprised of one-liners, which alternate between banal and interesting. Occasionally one contains the germ of what makes his poetry so striking. But most people will prefer the poetry. ( )
  Laura400 | Feb 22, 2012 |
Poetic fancy, dream thoughts, wisdom snatched from the subconscious. Mr. Simic's elegant little book defies convention and obeys only the whimsical dictates of his unique and discerning mind.

"In a house closed up since last summer, the phone won't stop ringing."

"I dreamt that God asked me for a blurb for his creation."

and, brilliantly:

"...there's a lot of space inside words."

Koan-like utterances but infused with depth of thought and a fierce, observant intellect.

Highly recommended. ( )
  CliffBurns | Sep 4, 2010 |
3 sur 3
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"Nabokovian in his caustic charm and sexy intelligence, Simic perceives the mythic in the mundane and pinpoints the perpetual suffering that infuses human life with both agony and bliss. . . . And he is the master of juxtaposition, lining up the unlikeliest of pairings and contrasts as he explores the nexuses of madness and prophecy, hell and paradise, lust and death."--Donna Seaman,Booklist "As one reads the pithy, wise, occasionally cranky epigrams and vignettes that fill this volume, there is the definite sense that we are getting a rare glimpse into several decades worth of private journals--and, by extension are privy to the tickings of an accomplished and introspective literary mind."--Rain Taxi Written over many years, this book is a collection of notebook entries by our current Poet Laureate. Excerpts: Stupidity is the secret spice historians have difficulty identifying in this soup we keep slurping. Ars poetica: trying to make your jailers laugh. American identity is really about having many identities simultaneously. We came to America to escape our old identities, which the multiculturalists now wish to restore to us. Ambiguity is the world's condition. Poetry flirts with ambiguity. As a "picture of reality" it is truer than any other. This doesn't mean that you're supposed to write poems no one understands. The twelve girls in the gospel choir sang as if dogs were biting their asses. What an outrage! This very moment gone forever!

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