Customer Reviews

High Windows (York Notes Advanced)

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Phillip Larkin rocks. When I was a sophmore in college I burned down my dorm room and my copy of High Windows. It was truly tragic. This slim little volume contains some of Larkin's best work. It is wry, revealing, and sardonic in true Larkin fashion. I particularly like the title poem and None of the Books Have Time. Also, there's one in there about the stubborn stupidity of old folks that is absolutely delightful and hilarious though the title escapes me at the moment. Anyway, this small book that won't take up either much time to read or much space on the shelf is a delightful and highly recommended piece. One of my all-time favorites.

As a new comer to Philip Larkin I wasn't quite sure what to expect of his work. However, since receiving High Windows it has been a delightful addition to my collection. I've found myself at times tossing it in my bag to take with me only to read and reread it out of sheer enjoyment of this man's talent!

Philip Larkin, High Windows (Faber, 1974)

Larkin, the celebrated librarian-poet, got somewhat cranky in his middle age. He also got more experimental, both qualities that make for fine poetry. Add to these scurrilousness, a wicked sense of humor, and an ear for rhythm matched only in the modern world's finest poets, and you have a recipe for greatness.

So why doesn't Larkin always pull it off? Good question. When he's on, he's very, very on, but when he's off, it's a mess. Unlike most poets, Larkin seems to have been able to switch back and forth between formal and free verse at will a number of times, but he did make the grade-school gaffe of trying to combine the two more than once. And a good deal of his "politically incorrect" (for lack of a better term) poetry smacks more of the juvenile than the Shakespearean:

"Jan von Hogspeuw staggers to the door
And pisses at the dark. Outside, the rain
Courses in cart-ruts down the deep mud land.
Inside, Dirk Dogstoerd pours himself some more..."
("The Card-Players")

Despite these excursions into the ridiculous, however, Larkin does still exhibit his mastery more often than not in this slim volume, and it's worth picking up either for the established Larkin fan or the newcomer who wonders what happened to metrical poetry after World War II. ***