Customer Reviews

The Collected Poems: 1956-1998

5 star:		(9)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

My five-star review is for both Zbigniew Herbert's writing and Alissa Valles' translation.

Herbert's poetry can carry monumental meanings, like in "The Envoy of Mr Cogito", or can be humorous, like in "Forest": "A path runs barefoot through the forest. In the forest there are a lot of trees, a cuckoo, Hansel and Gretel, and other small animals. There aren't any dwarfs; they got out in time. When it gets dark the owl locks the forest with a big key, because if a cat got in there, then there would be some damage done."

One reviewer, giving a one-star to this book, criticized it for inaccurate use of words by the translator, Ms. Valles. He wrote "I am not a poet or translator, but I did study Polish during three years I spent in Warsaw in the 1990s." Polish, one of Slavic languages, takes substantially more than three years in order to master it and I would suggest caution prior to claiming any expertise based on "three years in (anywhere)". I am fluent in both Polish and English (each language took me substantially more than three years, especially to be able to understand poetry, and more degrees to back my knowledge) and I actually find the translation by Alissa Valles to be very good. I don't expect a good translation to be completed literally word-for-word, verbatim. Poetic translation should not be an exercise in opening a dictionary and finding precisely matching words. Synonyms are allowed if they don't distort the essence and capture the theme and rhythm of a poem. Ms. Valles' translation does precisely that.

As for Mr. Allen's criticism of the English version of "Biology Teacher" and his calling of misuse of words such as a "bow-tie" vs. a "neck-tie", one explanation may be considered: it was not uncommon for Polish teachers of 1930s to wear bow-ties. Could it be that Herbert himself chose the word "krawat" (neck-tie) over "muszka" (bow-tie) for its sound? English sounds of a "neck-tie" or a "bow-tie" do not differ much. Is it fair to give a book one-star review for that? Returning to the "Biology Teacher" poem and what matters in it, the poem is not about what this biology teacher wore, but how he influenced the youngsters, how he died and what impact he left on a poet:
"(...)
he was the first to show us
(...)
he led us
through golden binoculars
into the intimate life
(...)
in the second year of the war
our biology teacher was killed
by history's schoolyard bullies
(...)"

Herbert grew up in Lvov, a city in eastern Poland (today belonging to Ukraine). The "Second year of the war" would be 1940. This and "history's schoolyard bullies" most likely suggests his teacher's death in Katyn (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katyn). At the time Herbert wrote this and most of his poems, it was forbidden to talk about certain atrocities of WWII, certain ideologies. Considering this, how much shall we care about whether it was a "neck-tie" or a "bow-tie"? The translated into English poem captures its original Polish essence, style and meaning.

I also have a special sentiment to Herbert's poetry. Here is why: my high-school history teacher in Poland was forced to resign because the communistic authorities in 1980s disapproved of his teachings (he taught us about Katyn; that was forbidden). During his last lecture, our professor read us a poem by Zbigniew Herbert, "The Envoy of Mr. Cogito." I found this poem translated by B. and Z. Carpenters but it is Ms. Valles' translation that I find more eloquent and true to the original Polish version:

"Go where the others went before to the dark boundary
for the golden fleece of nothingness your last reward

go upright among those who are down on their knees
those with their backs turned those toppled in the dust

you have survived not so that you might live
you have little time you must give testimony

be courageous when reason fails you be courageous
in the final reckoning it is the only thing that counts

and your helpless Anger - may it be like a sea
whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten

may you never be abandoned by your sister Scorn
for informers executioners cowards - they will win
go to your funeral with relief throw a lump of earth
a woodworm will write you a smooth-shaven life

and do not forgive in truth it is not in your power
to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn

beware however of overweening pride
examine your fool's face in the mirror
repeat: I was called - was there no one better than I

beware of dryness of heart love the morning spring
the bird with an unknown name the winter oak
the light on a wall the splendor of the sky
they do not need your warm breath
they are there to say: no one will console you

Keep watch - when a light on a hill gives a sign - rise and go
as long as the blood is still turning the dark star in your breast
repeat humanity's old incantations fairy tales and legends
for that is how you will attain good you will not attain
repeat great words repeat them stubbornly
like those who crossed a desert and perished in the sand

for this they will reward you with what they have at hand
with the whip of laughter with murder on a garbage heap

go for only thus will you be admitted to the company of cold skulls
to the company of your forefathers: Gilgamesh Hector Roland
the defenders of the kingdom without bounds and the city of ashes

Be faithful Go"

The translation of literature and poetry in particular into another language has always been a source of distress, debate, denunciations. Does anyone remember the flogging of Donald Walsh over his translations of Neruda? But were they bad? Translation is another art form, an invisible one, in which the translator must disappear in order to make her subjects appear and grow luminous in another language. But a translator can't "improve" on the subject or else she is not translating any more. And each language has its own music and power. Just listen to any audio reading by the actual poet. It's not the same as reading the poem silently, it's not the same as reading it in another language.

The reviews of the Collected Poems of Zbigniew Herbert seem to be unfortunately all about the translations, which will never be more than what they are: substitutes. How many translations of Homer or Virgil or Pushkin are there? And which one is best? The one you like? I agree with Helen Vendler on the subject: "Like many reviewers of Herbert, I cannot read Polish, but it has seemed clear to me, as to others, that Herbert's verse is of the spare sort that can carry over many of its strengths, its essential characteristics, into another language."

Please do not be deterred from reading this collection because of the translation. Read the poems for yourselves and discover the staggering brilliance.

While I do not normally contribute to Amazon reviews, I can't help doing so in this case. Hoffman's review in Poetry is vicious, hysterical and overall unfortunate, but I was actually prepared to accept his criticism of Valles's work until I had a chance to read substantial samples of her translation against both the Carpenters' versions AND Herbert's original Polish (incidentally, none of the reviewers engaging in character assassination against Valles, with S. Dobyns joining here Hoffman's original offensive, seem to have done the latter). Yes, there are mistakes (hence my four stars) and yes, some of her choices are debatable, but I was amazed to find out in how many cases she vastly improves over the Carpenters, whose versions (however, for the most part, admirable in their own right) sometimes seem excessively bound by the Polish syntax and vocabulary and come through as heavy-footed and almost clumsy as a result. Valles (who, of course, was able to benefit from the earlier translators' experience) also gives us an English Herbert with plenty of room for improvement, but it is by no means a version inferior to those that preceded hers, and certainly nor as dramatically disastrous as some have claimed it to be.

There is simply no excuse for not owning this book. Herbert is a great poet in the same way that T. S. Eliot is a great poet. Like Eliot he is modern and yet timeless but unlike Eliot there is a profound compassion at work in his greatest poems. He can be humourous but it is often a disconcerting humour perhaps suitable to the difficult life he was forced to lead. Though he was a witness to the horros of wars and occupations the voice of sanity that he created for himself is more than a voice of witness. It is the voice of a great writer tempered by his times but not overwelmed. This book gives us all of Herberts published poetry begining with his first volume Chord Of Light and finishing with his last book Epilogue To A Storm. Unlike Yeats his late poetry is not amongst his best but even in his last book ther are a few gems such as the exquisite Tenderness. He was beyond any question one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century.

Herbert may be less well-known in America than a hundred other lesser poets, though the Collected Poems makes such a convincing case for him as a major twentieth century poet that one can only welcome its appearance and hope that it provides the spark necessary to launch him into the general readership. A masterful poet.

Forget about the money, the cost of the book. Forget about anything you might have read about the new Alissa Valles translation. It is fine. Maybe not as fine as the Carpenters, in every verse, but finer, I think, than Milosc and Peter Scott in general. (Strangely, the Milosc/Scott 1968 Selected Poems appear here virtually untouched.) Herbert's work, though, seems unconcerned; the breath still goes shallow, the blood-pressure rises. The book is a monument to one of the greatest poets of the second half of a bloody century. And here it is, in English. Just buy it!

These are awful translations. Alissa Valles hardly knows Polish and her English is clumsy and graceless. These translations of one of the greatest modern poets are a terrible disappointment. Why Daniel Halpern, the publisher, chose Valles instead of John and Bogdana Carpenter, who had published a number of excellent books of Herbert translations with the same press (Ecco) is mind-boggling. Valles has taken a great poet and turned him into a minor poet. It is unlikely that a new collected poems will be published in English for many years and to have the Halpern/Valles edition stand as the only collected poems is like having Popeye stand for Michelangelo. Michael Hofmann's hard review in the May 2007 POETRY is the only accurate review. Simic's review in the New York Review of Books has good information about Herbert, but is otherwise useless. DO NOT BUY this book before reading Hofmann's review. Believe me, I have been reading and teaching Herbert since the early 1970's and Alissa Valles' translations are a travesty. What Herbert predicted in his prose poem, "Episode in a Library," has come true: "Now as I watch the death of the words, I know there is no limit to decay. All that will be left after us in the black earth will be scattered syllables. Accents over nothingness and dust."

Herbert was a great poet, arguably one of the greatest of the 20th century. Prior to the publication of this volume, only selections of his work were available in English. It is, consequently, wonderful to have all his poetry available in a nicely produced volume like this one. Some of the translations in this volume are older work by Czelaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott but most are new translations by Alissa Valles. As can be seen from more of the prior posts, there are differences of opinion regarding Valles' translations, particularly in comparison with the pioneering work of John and Bogdana Carpenter. Valles has certainly made some differing choices. In the great Mr. Cogito Tells About The Temptation of Spinoza, for example, the Carpenters translate some famous lines as;

- I want to be loved
by the uneducated and violent
they are the only ones
who really hunger for me

Valles:

I want to be loved
by the unlearned and fierce
for they are the only ones
who truly hunger after me

I prefer the Carpenters' version but perhaps only because I encountered it first. Valles is different, yes. Better? Worse? Impossible to say. Which is more faithful to the original Polish is a question best left to scholars, and which is more faithful to the poetry may well be a matter of taste. Regardless, if you have even modest interest in poetry, I strongly recommend the work of this great writer.

I purchased this book as soon as I saw it. Although I am not as disappointed as Mr. Dobyns (a wonderful writer himself), early on I did take a number of poems and place them side by side with their respective John and Bogdana Carpenter translations. (Although I don't know Polish, I had sensed something.) Dobyns is right; the Alissa Valles translations are flat and stiff in comparison. Considering Zbigniew Herbert is not only one of the most original poets of the last century but also one of the weightiest, this testament to his life's work falls short. However, it is a great pleasure to have even a reasonable facsimile of his collected poems. Even in the hands of inept translators, Herbert's poems can shine.

Herbert was a unique poetic voice. One needs to live with him over time. Every new book of his added wisdom. Having them collected is a candy story for one who believes in life, has felt its blows, but has Herbert to share the continuing yes belief. He is post-cogito and still standing. Don't just buy this book. Experience it