What do You think about The Talking Horse And The Sad Girl And The Village Under The Sea: Poems (2006)?
This is Mark Haddon's new book of poems. I did not like it.There is one poem that I felt lukewarm feelings for. Read it below.Overall Grade: 1 out of 5 stars.DaysLeuconoe, stop examining yourBabylonian horoscopesand wondering what kind of deaththe gods have got in mind for us.We'll never know. Accept it.This winter pummeling the ocean on the pumice rocks of Tuscanymay be our last.Or not. Be sensible and pour the wine.This life's too short for longingand the clock spins as we speak.Days come and go. Hold on to this one.
—Erica
I sometimes wonder if my opinion of this book has devalued my integrity as a literary critic. I loved it, and so few other poetry lovers seem to. Perhaps in the same way some people are moved to tears by a Rothko painting while others see nothing but a big red blotch, readers of this book will find their hearts profoundly stirred only if they want them to be. Haddon's poetry captivated me because for the most part, I felt without thinking. It asks you to trust it. I found trusting it a very enjoyable, moving experience-- and I usually only see the blotch. In some verses, the sheer scope of Hadden's imagination (where is he GETTING all of this!?) is what makes these poems so epic. In others, a pervading, sometimes cosmic sense of intimacy made me hold my breath for simpler, more directly emotional reasons. Beautiful imagery, evocative concepts, like the glassy surface of a mythical pool, beckoning you to dive head heart first and live in that world for a while.
—Samantha
I read Mark Haddon's collection of poetry shortly after I read and thoroughly enjoyed his most famous novel "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime". That said, I didn't enjoy his poetical work nearly as much. I couldn't find any rhyme or reason or connecting theme between the selected works, and couldn't find any idea of rhythm or intention within individual poems themselves. It seems to be a lot of imagery and little idea. With the exception of the poems "Cabin Doors to Automatic" and "Lullaby", I begrudgingly read through the the book in its entirety with none of its words connecting with me.
—Nikolas Kalar
