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Just divine. Transformative. Will reread ad infinitum.
xxiv. and kneeling at the edge of the transparent sea i shall shape for myself a new heart from salt and mud
WowSome tangos pretend to be about women but look at thisWho is it you seereflected smallin each of her tearsWatch me fold this page now so you think is you.Wow
I missed a lot in this book, I'm sure - allusions, subtleties - because Carson is too smart and erudite for me. But this doesn’t mean I didn’t love the book. The rawness of it, the 'politically incorrect' praise of beauty and admission of the power of Eros, the stunning language, the delicious rhythm. A lot of it went over my head, but then went straight into my viscera. Carson is a woman I’d have loved to have a Campari with in some dark bar that plays tangos.
The Beauty of the Husband: A Fictional Essay in 29 Tangos by Anne Carson is one of her more accessible books; a volume of poetic prose describing the painful breakdown of a marriage in which the major hold is, as said, the husband's beauty. Unfortunately, this beauty comes at a high price as he seems incapable of fidelity.Using Keats as a source (along with a host of others, including Thucydides and Beckett), Carson uses her always amazing language to weave a story of love and loss and the lure
VIII. IT WAS JUST NIGHT LAUNDRY SNAPPING ITS VOWELS ON THE LINE WHEN MOTHER SAID WHAT'S THAT SOUNDPoets (be generous) prefer to conceal the truth beneath strata of ironybecause this is the look of truth: layered and elusive.Was he a poet? Yes and no.His letters, we agree, were highly poetic. They fell into my lifelike pollen and stained it. I hid them from my motheryet she always knew. Lover, merciful one you write me but you do not come to me. This one my mother did not read. Rabbis liken the T...
Never have I read a book similar in either syntax or form to The Beauty of the Husband. Where initially I thought we would move languorously through the marriage and its inevitable end the 'tangos' as Anne Carson describes them pick up speed and seem to skim through years at a breakneck speed much like a crescendo toward which the dancers feverishly move. It leaves you just as a good book should- slightly breathless, with the taste of certain lines still lingering on your tongue, and wanting to
This entire book is one progressive poem, told from the point of view of the wife. She is a totally unsympathetic figure, except for maybe when she is remembering how she first met her husband, how she was first ensnared. Carson has written a complex and melancholy tale of the pitfalls of beauty, presented in 29 Tangos, or interconnected poems. The poems build upon eachother, grow from eachother, and I would gladly be rating this 5 stars if the final poem had not felt so limp when compared to th...
Her lady shadow mounted the stairs ahead of her experimentally.Fiction forms what streams in us.Naturally it is suspect.What does not wanting to desire mean?
What is it that binds one person to another?Why does beauty have such sway?How is it that one is bound to someone who is destructive, or faithless, or fickle, or deceitful, or who constantly disappears, or who can never love you the way you want or need? Or all of the above, and yet the bond persists: Why? How is it that you can not escape?What cruel trick of fate or nature can give you over to such a creature?"Don't call it my choice,I was ventured:by some pure gravity of existence itself,consp...
4.5/5Good thing I don't have Keats on hand, else there I go.A lie, for I have a form of it in nightingale, third from the top of a section labeled 'Poetry' in some chimera thing brewed for the last six years if the transcribed origin date does not lie. Six hundred pages passed just this week, the cut and paste accumulating in smallish fur, micro soft for the consumer, so pardon my crankiness whenever the adulation for paper and pen and etc grow a bit much. I chomped the bit in typing school on t...
Reader, I Divorced HimIdentify the source of the following passage:Coward.I know.Betrayer.Yes.Opportunist.I can see why you would think that.Slave.Go on.Faithless lecherous child.Okay.Liar.What can I say.Liar.But.Liar.But please.Destroyer liar sadist fake.Please.Please what.Save me.Who else do you say that to.No one.Is it from:A) Pride and Prejudice by Jane AustenB) Jane Eyre by Charlotte BronteC) The Beauty of the Husband by Anne CarsonorD) Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding?The correct an...
i did not need a 145-page book—fraught with high-flown referential material—to tell me that men aren't shit. sorry, anne 💔
