Sixty Selected Poems [Paperback]

Joseph Payne Brennan (Author)

Product Details

• Paperback
• Publisher: New Establishment Pr (March 1985)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0932445101
• ISBN-13: 978-0932445100
• Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #4,884,462 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars chilling and macabre--great, September 8, 2003

By 

J from NY (New York) - See all my reviews
(VINE VOICE)   

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This review is from: Sixty Selected Poems (Paperback)

in an embittered introduction, brennan attacks the publishers and editors who rejected his poetry out of hand for years. brennan was writing in the 60's and 70's, when traditional verse was mostly shoved aside for more new, 'avant garde' forms of poetry. but once one begins to actually read the poems, one realizes the real reason he had such trouble getting attention as a poet: his work was too pessimistic for most people. like a modern leopardi, brennan recognizes the unreality and agony of existence. he has a bone to pick with life. he evokes truly chilling images of torment and suffering, boredom/'ennui'. "The Scythe of Dreams" should be mandatory for college students to read as introduction to this form of poetry. His publisher was right: it should be in line for a national award.

5.0 out of 5 stars Joseph, the unheralded, December 20, 2011

By 

Anthony B. Cline "ABC" - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: Sixty Selected Poems (Paperback)

J from New York's review is quite on the ball. Brennan is perhaps the most underrated poet I've ever come across (he, and the severely neglected Eric Basso). References to Leopardi and Larkin are appropriate, as there is a very personal melancholy that carries through this collection. I often have trouble with poetry, both present and past, that relies heavily on the trappings of things like autumn, snow, summer, and the general season cycle. I think that these things have been written about, regurgitated, then covered again for good measure. But a poet like Brennan serves to remind us that these textures aren't cliche in and of themselves; it's the stale approach of a thousand generic poets that stunts their vitality and therefore their impression on the reader.

What an authentic voice like Brennan's does with the material is to make the poet front and center in all his failings and regrets. In his unabashed pessimism and longing. The horror author Thomas Ligotti has said that his influences (running the gamut from Poe and Bruno Schulz to the philosophy of Cioran and Schopenhauer) were chosen for one predominate reason: that all laid themselves bare on the page, honestly, and with a twist of bitterness. Brennan's eloquence, his crystalline prose, the morose undercurrent that runs through this whole collection, has rare personality. It transcends whatever physical or naturalistic bases it starts out with, until its writer is a central ghost lamenting a bleak New England existence. It's no surprise to learn that Ligotti was, at one point, a serious admirer of Brennan's poems as well.

And a word on Brennan's introduction, which was prescient then and continues to be so. The world of obscure presses and collage/avant-garde writing is invaluable and totally necessary. I myself am a fan of the surrealist poets, namely Paul Eluard and Andre Breton, and I even enjoy Antonin Artaud's poetic mishmashes. But we can't dismiss any poetry that rhymes or has meter as being trite or out of date. To do that is to negate the playful, despondent phrasing that Verlaine and Baudelaire turned to art. In 2011, we are inundated with chapbooks by poets who intentionally shroud themselves in incoherence and choppiness, as though failing to connect were an art form. And still, as a poet, Joseph Payne Brennan is utterly obscure. That is sad, first and foremost because he is gone. Secondly, because he was quite simply better than many who received much more attention.

And to anyone wondering, Brennan's poetry has little or nothing to do with his horror fiction. Closer to nothing, probably. If you aren't a fan of his fiction, don't let that deter you from seeking out his poetry.