Heart's Needle

by W.D. Snodgrass

Lyrical works by the emerging American poet reflect his unique vision of everyday life in contemporary America

Genres: Poetry, American, The United States Of America

62 pages, Paperback

Published October 12, 1983

About the author

William De Witt Snodgrass, pseudonym S. S. Gardons, is an American poet and a 1960 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry winner.

Snodgrass's first poems appeared in 1951, and throughout the 1950's he published in some of the most prestigious magazines: Botteghe Oscure, Partisan Review, The New Yorker, The Paris Review and The Hudson Review. However, in 1957, five sections from a sequence entitled Heart's Needle were included in Hall, Pack and Simpson's anthology, New Poets of England and America, and these were to mark a turning-point. When Lowell had been shown early versions of these poems, in 1953, he had disliked them, but now he was full of admiration.

By the time Heart's Needle was published, in 1959, Snodgrass had already won the The Hudson Review Fellowship in Poetry and an Ingram Merrill Foundation Poetry Prize. However, his first book brought him more: a citation from the Poetry Society of America, a grant from the National Institute of Arts, and, most important of all, 1960's Pulitzer Prize in Poetry. It is often said that Heart's Needle inaugurated confessional verse. Snodgrass disliked the term. Still, it should be pointed out that the genre he was reviving here seemed revolutionary to most of his contemporaries, reared as they had been on the anti-expressionistic principles of the New Critics. Snodgrass's confessional work was to have a profound effect on many of his contemporaries, amongst them, most importantly, Robert Lowell.

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This Pulitzer Prize winner is considered to be the first volume of "confessional poetry." Snodgrass hated the term, but it can't be denied that something new began with Heart's Needle (1959). It is as resolutely formal as Yeats or Frost, yet remarkably frank about the particulars of its pain.

Snodgrass grew up in small towns north of Pittsburgh, and was attending local Geneva College when he was drafted into the Navy in the latter days of WW II. After demobilization, he returned home, alienated and drifting, until he anchored himself to Miss Lila Jean Hank. They were married in 1946, Lila soon giving birth to a daughter, Cynthia. Snodgrass decided to transfer his college credits and relocate, so the family packed up and moved to Iowa, where he attended The Writer's Workshop on the G.I. Bill (and was mentored by Berryman and Lowell).

He returned to his hometown of Beaver Falls with a couple of M.A.'s (English, Fine Arts), but no job prospects in higher education. He worked a few low-level jobs, in a hotel and a hospital: it was a difficult period for Snodgrass, and by 1954 his marriage to Lila was over. Soon a new wife, Jan, blessed his life with a new stability, and he began working as an English instructor, first at Cornell and Rochester. Meanwhile, Lila was granted full custody of Cynthia, and Snodgrass saw her only on special occasions: visits to the park, the museum, the zoo, etc. But he continued to cherish her and their time together and--of course--he continued to write poetry.

This is not a particularly remarkable biography of a postwar poet in his early thirties. What is remarkable about it is the sharpness and the honesty with which Heart's Needle conveys its emotional essence--minus many of the names and dates--to the reader.

For example, the alienation of a man returning home from war is touched upon in "Ten Days Leave" and "Returned to Frisco 1946," where Snodgrass speaks of parents who have kept "his dreams asleep here like a small homestead/ Preserved long past its time," and presents the Golden Gate bridge as both a welcome and a barrier to Eden:

Off the portside through the haze we could discern
Alcatraz, lavender with flowers. Barred,
The Golden Gate, fading away, astern
Stood like the closed gate of your own backyard.

Just as moving is "Orpheus," in which the poet cannot save his wife from being lost in a ravaged post-war underworld, a "blank, remembering maze where/ smoke rose."

Most remarkable, however, is the ten poem sequence that gives the book its name. (The title comes from an old Irish saying: "an only daughter is the needle of the heart.") It is the chronicle of the brief, awkward visits that limit and define his relationship with Cynthia, the daughter of his first marriage.

The sequence begins with Cynthia's birth in the wintertime during the Korean war:

Child of my winter, born
When the new fallen soldiers froze
In Asia’s steep ravines and fouled the snows,
When I was torn

By love I could not still,
By fear that silenced my cramped mind
To that cold war where, lost, I could not find
My peace in my will,

All those days we could keep
Your mind a landscape of new snow
Where the chilled tenant-farmer finds, below,
His fields asleep

In their smooth covering, white
As quilts to warm the resting bed
Of birth or pain, spotless as paper spread
For me to write . . .

And it ends in springtime, some years later, in a park with a zoo:

With crocus mouths, perennial hungers,
into the park Spring comes;
we roast hot dogs on old coat hangers
and feed the swan bread crumbs,

pay our respects to the peacocks, rabbits,
and leathery Canada goose
who took, last Fall, our tame white habits
and now will not turn loose.

In full regalia, the pheasant cocks
march past their dubious hens;
the porcupine and the lean, red fox
trot around bachelor pens

and the miniature painted train
wails on its oval track:
you said, I’m going to Pennsylvania!
and waved. And you’ve come back.

If I loved you, they said, I’d leave
and find my own affairs.
Well, once again this April, we’ve
come around to the bears;

punished and cared for, behind bars,
the coons on bread and water
stretch thin black fingers after ours.
And you are still my daughter.

Heart's Needle is a milestone of personal expression in poetry. If you do not wish to read the whole book, read this sequence. It is dense, rich, and very moving.

[Michael Lindgren · Rating 5 out of 5]

First published in 1960, W. D. Snodgrass's Heart's Needle is one of the finest single-volume collections of poetry I have ever read, a work of sustained verbal and conceptual intensity and remarkable consistency of vision and execution. The structure of the book is loosely narrative, tracing as it does the dissolution of a marriage and the resultant aftermath -- the title poem, which comprises the second half of the volume, is famously addressed in absentia to the poet's young daughter. The voice is by turns astringent, rueful, and defiant, and the prosody consists largely of vigorous yet flexible quatrains, a strong, classical driving line. The poems are full of sadness, but staunchly bereft of self-pity; they achieve a stinging emotional pitch while remaining fundamentally grave and austere. Taken as a whole, they are an achingly perfect expression of a certain kind of middle-aged American Protestant male poetic sensibility -- yearning, loss-haunted, full of inchoate nostalgia -- that I find deeply affecting.

[Benjamin · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't generally care so much for the Confessional poets, but Snodgrass is an exception. A lot of really touching poems here, none better than the title poem - or more accurately, series of ten poems - chronicling his difficult relationship with his estranged daughter. My favorite moment is the seventh entry, which runs as follows:

Here in the scuffled dust
is our ground of play.
I lift you on your swing and must
shove you away,
see you return again,
drive you off again, then

stand quiet till you come.
You, though you climb
higher, farther from me, longer,
will fall back to me stronger.
Bad penny, pendulum,
you keep my constant time

to bob in blue July
where fat goldfinches fly
over the glittering, fecund
reach of our growing lands.
Once more now, this second,
I hold you in my hands.

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

As if I'd never heard
what the birds' song means;
as if I'd ask a bird
to mortify his body.
Wait; from the next ravine,
he's singing again, already.

And he outspeaks a vital
claim to know his needs;
his song's a squatter's title
on his tree and the half acre
in which he hunts and breeds
and feeds the best he's able.

To enemies and rivals,
to mates and quick beetles,
he sings out for survival:
"I want my meals and loving;
I fight nobody's battles;
don't pardon me for living.

The world's not done to me;
it is what I do;
whom I speak shall be;
I music out my name
and what I tell is who
in all the world I am."

[Max Morton · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not super into the rhyming verse stuff. Lot of the stuff in the middle I wasn’t super into. That being said, the title poem made the entire collection 4 stars imo. Stunning. Also the first few I loved as well. I found, with snodgrqss, the more confessional the better. Whereas some of the other confessional poets I find it the other way around.

[Patricia N. McLaughlin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This first collection of Snodgrass’ poetry deservedly won him accolades for his distinctive voice and poetic moxie.

“These trees stand very tall under the heavens.
While they stand, as I walk, all stars traverse
this steep celestial gulf their branches chart.
Though lovers stand at sixes and at sevens
While civilizations come down with the curse,
Snodgrass is walking through the universe.”
“These Trees Stand,” W. D. Snodgrass

Favorite Poems:
“Orpheus”
“The Cardinal”
“These Trees Stand . . .”

[Bradley Hankins · Rating 5 out of 5]

Honestly I have never heard of Snodgrass until I started reading the letters of Anne Sexton, and when she said this book (in particular the poem sharing the same title) was what inspired her to become a poet I knew I needed to read this. This collection of poems from the 1960 Pulitzer Prize is definitely a need to read for any fan of poetry.

[finn · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5/5

“A Cardinal

Well, let them look me up
and take their own sweet time;
I've come to set up shop
under this blue spruce
and tinker at my rhymes.
God knows it's little use;

God knows I have spent ages
peering like a stuffed owl
at these same blank pages
and, though I strained to listen,
the world lay wrapped with wool
far as the ends of distance.”

[Manda · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book of poems is a beautifully written collection. The title poem, written to his daughter, is full of emotion and lyrical beauty. A favorite passage:
“We shout along our bank to hear
our voices returning from the hills to meet us.
We need the landscape to repeat us.”

[Tina Barnt · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was such a great collection of poetry. My favorite was "A Cardinal" and should definitely be read aloud. I was skeptical coming into it as it has been called "confessional," but I found it to be one of the best books of poetry I have ever read.

[ebag · Rating 5 out of 5]

poets poeting.
but i was in awe at how plainly the speaker articulates himself, whilst maintaining meter.

the first poem in a while that got me leaping to the desk thinking ‘hmm i should try that’…

[Casey Walsh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pale soul, consumed by fear
of the living world you haunt,
have you learned what habits lead you
to hunt what you don't want;
learned who does not need you;
learned you are no one here?

[Dave Christian · Rating 5 out of 5]

A lovely set of poems but the title poem (consuming half of the book) is the real winner.

[Stelios Mormoris · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a beautiful collection of poetry, so expertly crafted, accessible yet deep, and rooted in hard emotion that achieved at once the rare combination of sentimentality and objectivity. This book had a great influence on my writing. Stelios

[Tristan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Actually Rating: 3.5

This was a very good book. The poems "Orpheus" and "The Operation" were very good, and "Heart's Needle", about his daughter who is became estranged from after his divorce, was great. The rest of the collection was decent but a bit lackluster and extremely personal. He tells readers a lot about himself and his life in his poems. All of the poems in this collection were also both metrical and rhyming, which is fine; they were very well done, but this is not generally my favorite style of poetry when read in large quantities. His second book, After Experience, was better, even though this was the Pulitzer Prize winner.

[Mike · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my favorite collections. Snodgrass's poems are intensely personal, but still have a universal appeal. I can identify with so many small moments that it almost feels as if Snodgrass is inside my head. Even the poems with which I don't identify (like the title poem, which is about an estranged relationship between father and daughter) speak to emotional truths that offer striking epiphanies of insight. Perhaps the best way I can describe these poems is "wounding": they pierce the reader, leaving memorable traces that reflect the scars felt by the poet. Highly recommended.

[Angie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This poem was unconditionally touching. It's no wonder W.D. Snodgrass (or "De" as one my favorite poets, Anne Sexton, called him) won a Pulitzer for this raw - and refreshingly real - account of his divorce's effect on his and his daughter's relationship. I also have a strange affinity for compass references (not sure why? maybe something about them pointing people in the right directions?)...one is in the first section of the poem.

[Erika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Favourite poems: "Heart's Needle", "Home Town", "The Cardinal", "The Campus on the Hill", and "April Inventory"
I don't usually like confessional poems, but I read an interview with Snodgrass published in the 80s and was drawn to this work because of it. While I still find confessional poets self-indulgent, this work is vital to understanding the nuances of that genre. What I enjoyed best was that he uses simple words and phrases to comment on strange and complex emotions.

[PMB · Rating 3 out of 5]

This won the pulitzer for poetry in ’59. kind of hard to review poetry quickly and I wouldn’t want to dismiss this enitre work by simply calling it “good times.” Not as experimental (or nearly as fun) as his later work The Fuehrer Bunker, but is widely considered one of the first collections of confessional poetry. A little mild for my taste but is moody enough to make you think.

[Miguel Vega · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really liked this collection, I can see where many poets, specifically in the 60's received their inspiration from. This work was considered the first in the style of "confessionalism" and I really liked to see where it all started. I do think I would have enjoyed it more had it been less rhyme, but I like his structure.

[Alan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read aloud. I've kept the same copy of this book for many years.

Was saddened to see yesterday (January 17) that W.D. had died. I will take down his book from the shelf, and think of those words.

[Zach · Rating 3 out of 5]

A recommendation from my dear friend, Mr. Ryan Winet. This guy is a master of form, but I didn't find a lot here to get excited about. One of those, "it's not you, it's me" books.

[Stephan Anstey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Meeting Mr. Snodgrass, and then really reading his work, completely changed my understanding and perspective on confessional poetry. His importance can not be overstated!

[Tom · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought this was pretty okay for the most part, but "April Inventory" and especially the long title poem are wonderful.

[Richard Epstein · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some poems never seem to leave me. Early in his career Snodgrass wrote a disproportionate number of them.

[Catherine Pikula · Rating 3 out of 5]

Tight in their form and best read aloud.

[E H · Rating 2 out of 5]

The title poem had some nice moments. But the rhymes often seemed forced.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my favorite books of poetry/modern poets since I read it shortly after publication.

[Christy · Rating 5 out of 5]

The ten poem sequence dedicated to the poet’s daughter is poignant and beautiful.