Seeing Things

Perhaps this book represents Heaney's finest poetry since 'Field Work.' It contains the magnificent sequence 'Squarings,' and a continuation of his Glanmore sonnets. The craftsmanship impeccable, the voice down-to-earth.We remember especially his sonnet on Lent in which the poet deals with 'A fasted will marauding through the body,' and the poem "Wheels within Wheels," where a child spins the pedals of an inverted bicycle and notes "The way the space between the hub and rim / Hummed with transparency." Note the unobtrusive assonances, & the exact right words.In one of the twelve-line poems of 'Squarings', Heaney counsels himself and other poets: 'Do not waver / Into language. Do not waver in it.' In this sequence, it is Heaney's happy accomplishment to have heeded that counsel in an exemplary fashion. Driving through an avenue or tunnel of trees, arching over a quarter-mile stretch of country road, Heaney sees the trees as 'Calligraphic shocks / Bushed and tufted in prevailing winds.' Could Thomas Hardy or Wallace Stevens have done as well?Talking about it isn't good enough,But quoting from it at least demonstratesThe virtue of an art that knows its mind.

i thought i'd read a irish writer. i couldn't think of a better choice than heaney. the poems here are subtle, but infinitely brilliant. i love the way he uses mythology in some of the pieces, taking references from dante and homer. he draws from his family life, childhood, and his lifelong experiences to create poems that are wondrous in form and content.

Seamus Heaney won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1995, in large part because of this book. The poetry isn't archaic or highbrow or needing 80 pages of notes to understand. It's written comfortably and easily, about simple things from his childhood and life. I bought this to take on a trip to Ireland, and it was fantastic reading it while walking the green meadows and rocky coastline. It breathes Irish air. If you have a love for the misty grasses, or simply enjoy rural, quiet life, read through these poems. The poems talk of birth, and love, and death, of heather bells and boats in docks. Give them a try, and be swept away in their gentle language.

Mr. Heaney's titled poem "Seeing Things" takes us to a fishing trip between father and son. It is a calming journey about childhood, youth and the bond between father and son, and poet and audience. I wish that learning to read poetry is as mystical and unassumingly peaceful as learning to fish with one's parent. My wish may be true.