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Liam’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Liam’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Liam Guilar’s Followers (60)
1,092 books
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232 friends
499 books
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1,170 friends
1,143 books
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30 friends
2,355 books
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270 friends
1,160 books
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27 friends
584 books
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23 friends
156 books
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436 friends
501 books
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365 friends
More friends…
Liam Guilar
Goodreads Author
Born
Coventry, The United Kingdom
Website
Genre
Member Since
September 2010
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Anhaga
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Lady Godiva and me
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published
2008
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A Presentment of Englishry
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A Man of Heart
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Rough Spun to Close Weave
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published
2012
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2 editions
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Lady Godiva and Me
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published
2008
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I'll Howl Before You Bury Me
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published
2003
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The Fabled Third
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Anhaga: An exploration in poetry of narrative, memory and identity
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Anhaga
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The Invention of Charlotte Bronte by Graham Watson
This book tells the stories of Charlotte Bronte’s last years and the writing of Elizabeth Gaskell’s biography. Unusually, Watson takes the command ‘show don’t tell’ and applies it to the writing of a biography, narrating events, but leaving his readers to draw their own conclusions. The style, with its obsession with the weather, hard journeys, long descriptions of the interior of houses, lingeri
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| This book tells the stories of Charlotte Bronte’s last years and the writing of Elizabeth Gaskell’s biography. Unusually, Watson takes the command ‘show don’t tell’ and applies it to the writing of a biography, narrating events, but leaving his reade ...more | |
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Liam Guilar
rated a book it was ok
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Don't publishers fact check history books anymore? 'Hubert de Burgh rose from obscure beginnings to become one of the most powerful men in England'. This statement on the inside of the dust jacket is undeniably true. The rest of the book is not alway ...more |
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Liam Guilar
is currently reading
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Liam Guilar
is currently reading
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Liam Guilar
rated a book liked it
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Quoted on the back, The Washington Post claims: 'The finest twentieth-century writer of English Ghost stories.' Given that both M.R. James and Arthur Machen wrote in the twentieth century it seems an untenable claim. Perhaps the problem lies with Gati ...more |
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Liam Guilar
rated a book it was ok
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| This book tells the stories of Charlotte Bronte’s last years and the writing of Elizabeth Gaskell’s biography. Unusually, Watson takes the command ‘show don’t tell’ and applies it to the writing of a biography, narrating events, but leaving his reade ...more | |
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Liam Guilar
rated a book liked it
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Quoted on the back, The Washington Post claims: 'The finest twentieth-century writer of English Ghost stories.' Given that both M.R. James and Arthur Machen wrote in the twentieth century it seems an untenable claim. Perhaps the problem lies with Gati ...more |
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Liam Guilar
rated a book liked it
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“You didn’t ask me for the moon.
I would have wrapped the world
around your shoulders. Harrowed hell
or pillaged heaven. But you assumed
I’d let you go, and trust you would return.
The hours between stretched
on the rack of your absence,
amongst swift talking ladies’ men
competing for your hand
fear shuffled in the silence.
Devotion didn’t cut me from the crowd
but love’s a cold and lonely place to stand.”
―
I would have wrapped the world
around your shoulders. Harrowed hell
or pillaged heaven. But you assumed
I’d let you go, and trust you would return.
The hours between stretched
on the rack of your absence,
amongst swift talking ladies’ men
competing for your hand
fear shuffled in the silence.
Devotion didn’t cut me from the crowd
but love’s a cold and lonely place to stand.”
―
“I wish for you constantly for I want to talk about everybody and everything. I can't go up to a stranger & say 'your manners &looks have stirred me to this profound meditation'-”
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“The Cabbage White
The butterfly, a cabbage-white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has- who knows so well as I?-
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the acrobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.”
― The Complete Poems
The butterfly, a cabbage-white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has- who knows so well as I?-
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the acrobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.”
― The Complete Poems
“On Portents
If strange things happen where she is,
So that men say that graves open
And the dead walk, or that futurity
Becomes a womb and the unborn are shed,
Such portents are not to be wondered at,
Being tourbillions in Time made
By the strong pulling of her bladed mind
Through that ever-reluctant element.”
―
If strange things happen where she is,
So that men say that graves open
And the dead walk, or that futurity
Becomes a womb and the unborn are shed,
Such portents are not to be wondered at,
Being tourbillions in Time made
By the strong pulling of her bladed mind
Through that ever-reluctant element.”
―
“Cradle Song for Eleanor”:
Sleep, my darling, sleep;
The pity of it all
Is all we compass if
We watch disaster fall.
Put off your twenty-odd
Encumbered years and creep
Into the only heaven,
The robbers’ cave of sleep.
The wild grass will whisper,
Lights of passing cars
Will streak across your dreams
And fumble at the stars;
Life will tap the window
Only too soon again,
Life will have her answer –
Do not ask her when.
When the winsome bubble
Shivers, when the bough
Breaks, will be the moment
But not here or now.
Sleep and, asleep, forget
The watchers on the wall
Awake all night who know
The pity of it all.”
―
Sleep, my darling, sleep;
The pity of it all
Is all we compass if
We watch disaster fall.
Put off your twenty-odd
Encumbered years and creep
Into the only heaven,
The robbers’ cave of sleep.
The wild grass will whisper,
Lights of passing cars
Will streak across your dreams
And fumble at the stars;
Life will tap the window
Only too soon again,
Life will have her answer –
Do not ask her when.
When the winsome bubble
Shivers, when the bough
Breaks, will be the moment
But not here or now.
Sleep and, asleep, forget
The watchers on the wall
Awake all night who know
The pity of it all.”
―
“A book of verses underneath the bough
A flask of wine, a loaf of bread and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness
And wilderness is paradise now.”
― Edward Fitzgerald's The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
A flask of wine, a loaf of bread and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness
And wilderness is paradise now.”
― Edward Fitzgerald's The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
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Thanks for the friend request. It looks as though we like similar poets and I look forward to some interesting conversations.
Interesting conversations are always welcome. But I think it's your turn to answer "Who is your favorite poet and why?" I have the horrible feeling I spelt Yeats 'Yates' when i answered yours.