Customer Reviews

Nine Horses: Poems

5 star:		(20)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

If you've read the one star review that talks about Billy Collins writing about nothing and how worthless that is, then you've gotten one point of view - allow me to offer another. Doing "nothing" can be the height of human existence, and "nothing" can also be a very subjective perspective. I don't see myself as doing "nothing" when I'm laying in the summer grass staring at the shapes of clouds. I don't know if it is an American or simply a modern trait to categorize a lack of physical action as "doing nothing" but it certainly isn't a viewpoint shared by everyone. I happen to think that poetry about an awareness of things going on around and inside of us that we are not normally aware of is beautiful, and is as worthy a subject for poetry as any. In "Nine Horses" words once again flow off pages and trickle into the recesses of my soul, filling pockets of emptiness that I hadn't been aware sat idle amongst the consciousness of their surroundings. Turning these pages is shocking, humorous, sad, enriching, challenging and altogether enjoyable. There is a simple appeal, but the words are not simple. This is a fine craftsman in his workshop, doing what he's driven to do, and we are all better for it.

How bold it would be to be critical of a man who is Poet Laureate of the United States. Fortunately, I don't have a lot of criticisms to make. I have been a Collins fan for some time, having come across a poem of his in Poetry magazine and then reading his collection Questions About Angels. I've been reading his stuff ever since.

I've never read a poet who keeps me enthralled on every page and Collins is no exception; however, there is a lot of good stuff here. "Night Letter to the Reader," "The Country," "Velocity," "Istanbul," "Love," "Creatures," "Birthday," "Albany," "Litany," "Bermuda" and "The Only Day in Existence" are among my favorites.

I particularly like a poem called "Tipping Point" where Collins brings out the arbitrariness of measuring time and the subtlety of our sensations of time: "...the sensation you might feel/as you passed through the moment//at the exact center of your life/or as you crossed the equator at night in a boat." Would we want to be able to sense the midpoint of our lives? Could we? Any more than we could sense passing over the equator?--another arbitrary way to measure our world. And yet, we do sense things deeply, if only in the deep dark night or while walking in the rain.

But Collins never dips to far into pretentiousness. In fact, in "Study in Orange and White" he illuminates the pretentiousness of titles. How many of us know that the painting generally referred to as "Whistler's mother" is in fact entitled "Arrangement in Gray and Black"? Then why not, Collins asks, Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" as "Composition is Blue, Ocher, Green, and Pink" or, best of all: "...a chef being roasted on a blazing spit/before an audience of ducks/and calling it ¡„Study in Orange and White.'" I always enjoy a poet who can bring in some humor because I find this to be a weakness in my own poetry.

Ultimately, as you read this poetry, you begin to realize that Collins is never far from you. This is not confessional poetry and yet the pronoun "I" appears in every single poem. But Collins is more of a friendly guide through his poetry than someone who is trying to beat you over the head with his themes. Collins has been compared to Frost and I think there is some truth in this. In this collection, Collins shows his Frost-like skill at presenting poems that are relatively short and very accessible in a surface reading but yield more if you want to put in some effort to dig a little deeper. This is an uncommon skill.

Modern poetry is too often neglected in this country today. That is too bad. Here is a collection of poetry that deserves to be read. In these rather short poems, Collins uses his personality and experiences to give his readers a share of those experiences--experiences that are worthwhile.

I don't know where I have been, but I just discovered Billy Collins a couple of weeks ago when he appeared in person for a poetry reading in Traverse City, Michigan. Wow! I bought Nine Horses and The Art of Drowning that night. Nine Horses is a wonderful book. Full of wit and humor along with very profound and meaningful poems. Most are short and the entire book can be read in no time at all. It was awesome seeing him in person, and I am glad I heard him read because I can now picture him and hear his voice when I read the poems. Nine Horses left me with a desire to read everything he has ever written - and I intend to do just that! His poems are fun, and some have an element of surprise at the end. Many are just the kind of thoughts that anyone might have on a lazy, summer afternoon while staring up at the clouds. Get this book. Read his poems, you will definitely not be disappointed.

Last night I received Billy Collins' new book of poems, "Nine Horses" and inhaled it in a single sitting. I then sat down and read it through a second time. This morning I am skipping through its pages, reliving favorite moments as if it were my own well-lived life. I am madly, impetuously, and hopelessly in love with this book. I wish that I was a droplet of water and that this book were a sponge.

In Sailing Alone Around the Room, Billy Collins gathered some of his most breath-taking pieces, some new ones and many drawn from his previous works like Scotland, Not Touching, and I Chop Some Parsley...I am sure his readers, who were enamored with his engaging and unpretentious style wished that Nine Horses would serve a similar dish or even better, but it does not. Simplicity was beauty in Sailing, but Nine Horses is too plain. How I wish Collins would write more poems similar to Duck/Rabbit and Not Touching.

Rather than reciting the names of poets who Billy Collins *isn't*, I'll simply say who Billy Collins *is* (in addition to being the U.S. Poet Laureate, and with good cause). Billy Collins is the first poet in a long time to have a huge readership, both among those who were admittedly NOT fans of poetry, and among those who are conoisseurs of poetry. Billy Collins is, then, the envy of poets who wish for high exposure, a large readership, and huge book sales. These things don't happen to just any poet. Collins is not just any poet. He's Billy Collins, in a category all his own.

Collins's poems are fresh and inventive and at the same time take for their subject matter the everyday things we take for granted. He takes the most simple things and turns and turns them in a poem until we see them in a way we never could have without the intervention of his brilliant mind. He processes fresh, raw words and injects wit and feeling and makes of them a very fine wine.

NINE HORSES is just as good a work as SAILING ALONE AROUND THE ROOM, which contains works from his previous books. Collins is at the top of his form, and without giving a play-by-play of some of the highlights of the book, I will just say that "Litany" alone is worth the cover price.

Collins's intellect is richly sophisticated yet he talks like the neighbor next door. And, passing the test of true intelligence, he is able to explain lofty concepts so that even the simplest of minds can understand. Though, of course, he enraptures high-minded folks in the process.

Billy Collins has previously published six collections of poetry. This is not only his first volume of new poetry since PICNIC, LIGHTNING in 1998, but his first book of new poetry since his appointment as the Poet Laureate of the United States (2001-2003). While some readers new to Collins may read him because of his impressive credentials, I will always return to him hoping to experience a quirky poet sailing around the room, once again, with a Buddhist's eye for finding the mystery in the mundane, the small wonders in the ordinary.

In the collection's title poem, addressing a photograph on his wall, Collins writes: "Let your suffering eyes/ and your anonymous deaths/ be the bridle that keeps us from straying from each other/ be the cinch that fastens us to the belly of each day/ as it gallops away, hooves sparking into the night" (p. 65). In another poem, we find him revisiting the familiar subject of his insomnia, standing outside in his pajamas, on the wet grass with his dog, comparing the moon to Shakespeare's famous forehead (pp. 5-6). And whether he is meditating on a noisy bird from his warm, soapy bath in Paris (pp. 23-5), or contemplating a clean, white shirt, a wren's nest, a dead mouse (pp. 17-8), asparagus (pp. 47-8), roadkill (p. 41-2), roadside flowers (p. 43-4 ), obituaries (pp. 33-5), or the poetry of William Carlos Williams (pp. 71-2), or whether we find him with a Bee Gees' song playing uncontrollably in his head (pp. 14-6), Collins succeeds again in these poems at revealing the small wonders of this "vast and speckled" world, "so full of ink and sorrow" (p. 62). Always finding the extraordinary in familiar territory, this collection of 51 new poems from our Poet Laureate was worth the wait.

G. Merritt

Like some expensive and well-prepared full-course meal at the most impressive restaurant in town, NINE HORSES leaves you satisfied and wanting to come back for more. The expert craftsmanship of this poetry is staggering. Beautifully constructed and paced with a brilliance not previously seen before, this collection will take your breath away. Finally, someone who knows how to write poetry that "makes sense" yet doesn't pander to the lowest common denominator.

Also recommended: "Questions About Angels," McCrae's "Bark of the Dogwood" and "The Hours"

Through Nine Horses, ones sees the world through the eyes and the words of one of America's best poets. Simple everyday, ordinary events are described, explained, and examined in colorful detail that does not lose the reader in a maze of words. Most poets, both contemporary and old, overextend themselves and the words almost always seem to get in the way.
We are not spectators to what Billy Collins sees or feels, we are what he sees and feels. He simply allows us to enter his world, and shows it to us through our imagination.

Billy Collins didn't publish his poems in book form until after he was forty. Despite this fact, he became Poet Laurette for the United States from 2001-2003 (and he may be again, for all we know). There are plenty of people who like to dismiss his writing as simple, or who will say that it deals with bland subjects.

I am not one of those people.

From the first full poem, "The Country," Collins generates words that count more and more as the book goes on. He can titilate a reader's sense of fancy, as he does in "The Country," or create a moment of true wonder about the lives of people outside a reader's world, as he does in the bathhouses of "Istanbul." He doesn't waste words, and I for one was thankful for that mark of respect. He values his reader because he writes the poems in "Nine Horses" with clarity and precision, and yet maintains an easy grace as he moves from line to line.

In "Litany," Collins turns the idea of poetic imagery on itself with sparkling joviality, and it is easy to see why such poems have entered the popular mind so quickly. A personal favorite is "Tipping Point," which asks the question, When does life's wave crest to become an ebbing and not a flowing? No matter which poem I read, however, I couldn't wait to get to the next one.

Collins is a modern talent, who is bringing poetry to the forefront of popular literature again (no, it never really went away, of course, but without poets like Collins, it might). I respect him because he, as a writer, respects his reader. I like his words because, well, they are fine words. Perhaps in time, his sparks of poetic brilliance will be a part of a great literary fire indeed.