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Final Harvest
Emily Dickinson's Open Folios is a scholarly edition and aesthetic exploration of a group of forty late drafts and fragments hitherto known as the "Lord letters." The drafts are presented in facsimile form alongside typed transcriptions that reproduce as fully as possible the shock of script and startling array of visual details inscribed on the surfaces of the manuscripts. Marta L. Werner argues that a redefinition of the editorial enterprise is needed to approach the revelations of these writings - the details that have been all but erased by editorial interventions and print conventions in the twentieth century. Paradoxically, "un-editing" them allows a better understanding of the relationship between medium and messages. Werner's commentary forsakes the claims to comprehensiveness generally associated with scholarly narrative in favor of a series of speculative and fragmentary "close-ups" - a portrait in pieces. Finally, she proposes the acts of both reading and writing as visual poems. A crucial reference for Dickinson scholars, this book is also of primary importance to textual scholars, editorial theorists, and students of gender and cultural studies interested in the production, dissemination, and interpretation of works by women writers.
321 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1961
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About the author
Emily Dickinson
1,551 books6,829 followersEmily Dickinson was an American poet who, despite the fact that less than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime, is widely considered one of the most original and influential poets of the 19th century.
Dickinson was born to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life. After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.
Although Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime.The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.
Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content.
A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson. Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet.
For more information, please see http://www.answers.com/topic/emily-di...
Dickinson was born to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life. After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.
Although Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime.The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.
Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content.
A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson. Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet.
For more information, please see http://www.answers.com/topic/emily-di...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 94 reviews
March 1, 2019
I grew up with Emily Dickinson. I mean her house was nearby in Amherst; I passed it all the time and it was spooky. You had this image of her, right? This is the old vision: a batty old spinster, shut up in her attic, writing her loopy little ditties. She was portrayed as a sort of idiot savant: "Look at what this naif came up with all by herself!" I knew that story when I was very young. I liked her poems when I was very young, too; they work for young people. They're short and rhythmic and they make you feel funny. Anyway, I would pass her place and distinctly feel her white-nightgowned ghost looking out a high window at me.
None of this was accurate, of course, except probably for the ghost part; Dickinson was nothing like an idiot savant. A recluse, sure, but not a primitive. She worked very hard on her poetry; she read other poets; she marketed herself cleverly. She knew exactly what she was doing. Those poems read like someone dropped them on the floor and they shattered, but every syllable, every jarring dash, was obsessed over. They're great because she made them great.
I reread her all the time nowadays. She's on my (ludicrously short) stack of favorite poetry, and when you have a minute to kill Whitman will not work but Dickinson will. It's funny, as many times as I've read her, her poems still shock. They're so immediate, you know? Vital. There is artifice but it's completely buried; what shows is a furious insistence on herself. It's playful - of course it's playful, with that singsong tetrameter - my friend Meghan almost ruined everything by pointing out that most of Dickinson's poems can be sung to the tune of the Gilligan's Island theme - playful and seductive. But there's this feeling under it, a sort of drawing aside of the sheer of the world, right? There's danger.
The first time I got high I had this sudden, awing, vertiginous feeling: my gosh, there's been a whole world under this one this whole time, and no one told me until now. There's a whole reality, I thought, more savage and magical than what I've been gliding over. We'd ducked behind some hedges in Amherst to smoke my first bowl. Looking up and coughing that smoke into the night, I realized - I know this sounds made up but it's true - that we were on Emily Dickinson's front lawn. She was with me then too, ghostly in white, nodding at me not from the attic but from her study: yes. Savage, and magical.
I cannot live with You –
It would be Life –
And Life is over there –
Behind the Shelf
None of this was accurate, of course, except probably for the ghost part; Dickinson was nothing like an idiot savant. A recluse, sure, but not a primitive. She worked very hard on her poetry; she read other poets; she marketed herself cleverly. She knew exactly what she was doing. Those poems read like someone dropped them on the floor and they shattered, but every syllable, every jarring dash, was obsessed over. They're great because she made them great.
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!
I reread her all the time nowadays. She's on my (ludicrously short) stack of favorite poetry, and when you have a minute to kill Whitman will not work but Dickinson will. It's funny, as many times as I've read her, her poems still shock. They're so immediate, you know? Vital. There is artifice but it's completely buried; what shows is a furious insistence on herself. It's playful - of course it's playful, with that singsong tetrameter - my friend Meghan almost ruined everything by pointing out that most of Dickinson's poems can be sung to the tune of the Gilligan's Island theme - playful and seductive. But there's this feeling under it, a sort of drawing aside of the sheer of the world, right? There's danger.
We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies—
The first time I got high I had this sudden, awing, vertiginous feeling: my gosh, there's been a whole world under this one this whole time, and no one told me until now. There's a whole reality, I thought, more savage and magical than what I've been gliding over. We'd ducked behind some hedges in Amherst to smoke my first bowl. Looking up and coughing that smoke into the night, I realized - I know this sounds made up but it's true - that we were on Emily Dickinson's front lawn. She was with me then too, ghostly in white, nodding at me not from the attic but from her study: yes. Savage, and magical.
October 17, 2021
I always try to shatter an unbookish and usually very compulsive and unavoidable break on my part with a piece of poetry. This happens sometimes coincidently and sometimes premeditated. This time it was purely coincidental.
This book I got in my hand today and I read it.
She is As Fresh as Always!
She rejuvenates me whenever I am in low spirits.
I will only share these lines,
Have you got a Brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And Shadows tremble so
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there
Hoping to get back to my half-read, unfinished books this week onwards!
These white scrappy pages must be reorganized along with my mind which had gone astray for some time in too many worldly affairs.
I seem to have overlooked many important things on GR!
This book I got in my hand today and I read it.
She is As Fresh as Always!
She rejuvenates me whenever I am in low spirits.
I will only share these lines,
Have you got a Brook in your little heart,
Where bashful flowers blow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And Shadows tremble so
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there
Hoping to get back to my half-read, unfinished books this week onwards!
These white scrappy pages must be reorganized along with my mind which had gone astray for some time in too many worldly affairs.
I seem to have overlooked many important things on GR!
April 9, 2017
Some of the most powerful, hair-raising, dynamic, brutal, vivid, imaginitive, ghostly, intense, sheerly dialectical poetry ever.
She has a knack, not at all uncommon among great writers, to seem accessible and surface-level beautiful while being almost unbearably challenging and provocative once engaged with. A genius, no questions asked.
If I had to bring, like, 5 books with me to the moon I think she would have to accompany whatever else I brought. She stands up to re-reading (really the most durable and near-foolproof standard) like few others.
Here's one of my favorites:
202
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond-
Invisible as Music-
But positive, as Sound-
It beckons, and it baffles-
Philosophy- don't know-
And through a Riddle, at the last-
Sagacity, must go-
To guess it, puzzles scholars-
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown-
Faith slips- and laughs, and rallies-
Blushes, if any see-
Plucks at a twig of Evidence-
And asks a Vane, the way-
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit-
Strong Hallelujahs roll-
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul-
I've seriously considered getting the first line tattooed somewhere on myself for a long time.
Here's another that just chills you to the bone:
66
There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons-
That oppresses, like the Heft
of Cathedral Tunes-
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are-
None may teach it- Any-
'Tis the Seal Despair-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air-
When it comes, the Landscape listens-
Shadows- hold their breath-
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death-
I had a teacher in undergrad, a popular and unnpretentious type who wrote poetry of his own and though he was ultra-smart it never seemed to go very far in terms of publication. He cried more than a few times when he read her poetry in class and claimed to be hopelessly in love with her. #66 was a particular favorite of his.
March 24, 2009
I own the collection compiled by the eminent Dickinson scholar, Thomas H. Johnson. It is titled Final Harvest: Emily Dickinson’s Poems. Of the 1,775 poems she wrote, Johnson chose a mere 576 to include in this volume. Emily Dickinson’s poetry is a treasure once you become accustomed to her style.
I wonder how many people neglect to read Dickinson, thinking that she is or her writings are nothing but niceties, preciousness, and womanly stuff. Sure she wrote about nature, like her peers of her time. But Dickinson had an edge; she was an existentialist in an era of transcendentalism. She tackles concepts of humanity’s injustices and broken relationships, be them with men, the church, and/or with God. In a true sense, she was a feminist before its time.
What I sense most in her poetry is a yearning to find her place in society. It’s a yearning that is so strong it nearly explodes from her short, syncopated phrases and lines. In the poems, "Myself was formed a Carpenter;" "A loss something ever felt I;" and "Bind me I can still sing," I see Dickinson creating a matriarchal voice that fellow women can hear, understand and appreciate. If writers look back to great figurehead that represents the wellspring of lyrical genealogy, Dickinson would be that figurehead of women writers.
In the poem "A loss something ever felt I," Dickinson seems to realize that she has no place of origin and that, possibly, because she is a woman and a poet, she is cast out from society. This is why she explained herself "As one bemoaning a Dominion / Itself the only Prince cast out;" and admitted "I find myself still softly searching/For my Delinquent Palaces."
In her search for her own place of acceptance, Dickinson writes: "And a Suspicion, like a Finger/Touches my Forehead now and then/That I am looking oppositely/For the site of the Kingdom of Heaven." She seems to suggest that her conscience is pricking her, telling her that she is going contrary to society (whether that be masculine or religious establishments) and its set role for women.
In her short poem "Bind me I can still sing," I sense a strong will to not only find a physical place, but to keep hold of her inner-place (her heart and soul). The strength of her inner will is rivaled only by the strength of the poem’s alliteration and it’s content.
Bind me – I still can sing
Banish – my mandolin
Strikes true within –
Slay – and my
Soul shall rise
Chanting to Paradise –
Still thine.
Her message seems to be pointed towards the male society and their tactics of oppression. Consider the violent images present in the words bind, banish, strike, and slay. The power of her message lies in the meaning that whoever or whatever tries to bind her, banish her, strike her, or even slay her, she will have the final victory because she owns her voice and heart–that can never be taken from her. The caged bird has often been an image representing women in an oppressive situation. This poem seems to have that image in mind. But moreover, Dickinson focuses on freedom despite being compelled to be silent, hurt, or slain. Consider the lines "I still can sing," "my mandolin strikes true within," and "my soul shall rise."
In the poem "Myself was formed a Carpenter, I see Dickinson as the Carpenter who is building that place for women. When the builder comes, she writes that she toils "against the man." She states at the beginning of stanza three that "My tools took Human Faces." If toiling "against the man" represents fighting against male domination, her tools may represent women– the tools are her words; and they are toiling to build a place for themselves in society.
"We Temples Build" she writes in the last line reveals her purpose. Dickinson suggests that she, along with her tools, are building their own place, a safe place, a sacred place, all from the confinements of male society. Words such as Temples and Carpenter and Builder give the poem a sacred, even religious element. If the Builder is God, the Carpenter Christ, and Temples the Houses of God, then maybe Dickinson is trying to create a Mother-land. And she, because of this intent, being the Carpenter, establishes her as the Matriarch of feminine poetry.
Some personal favorites from Emily Dickinson's collection:
Page 3: The Gentian weaves her fringes....
Page 12: Bring me the sunset in a cup....
Page 12: To fight aloud is very brave...
Page 13: These are the days when birds come back....
Page 20: "Faith" is a fine invention.....
Page 26: Savior I’ve no one else to tell.....
Page 34: "Hope" is the thing with feathers....
Page 297: The bible is an antique volume....
Page 307: A word made flesh is seldom....
Page 314: My life closed twice before its close.....
Page 427: Tell the truth but tell it slant/The truth must dazzle gradually/or every man be blind
I wonder how many people neglect to read Dickinson, thinking that she is or her writings are nothing but niceties, preciousness, and womanly stuff. Sure she wrote about nature, like her peers of her time. But Dickinson had an edge; she was an existentialist in an era of transcendentalism. She tackles concepts of humanity’s injustices and broken relationships, be them with men, the church, and/or with God. In a true sense, she was a feminist before its time.
What I sense most in her poetry is a yearning to find her place in society. It’s a yearning that is so strong it nearly explodes from her short, syncopated phrases and lines. In the poems, "Myself was formed a Carpenter;" "A loss something ever felt I;" and "Bind me I can still sing," I see Dickinson creating a matriarchal voice that fellow women can hear, understand and appreciate. If writers look back to great figurehead that represents the wellspring of lyrical genealogy, Dickinson would be that figurehead of women writers.
In the poem "A loss something ever felt I," Dickinson seems to realize that she has no place of origin and that, possibly, because she is a woman and a poet, she is cast out from society. This is why she explained herself "As one bemoaning a Dominion / Itself the only Prince cast out;" and admitted "I find myself still softly searching/For my Delinquent Palaces."
In her search for her own place of acceptance, Dickinson writes: "And a Suspicion, like a Finger/Touches my Forehead now and then/That I am looking oppositely/For the site of the Kingdom of Heaven." She seems to suggest that her conscience is pricking her, telling her that she is going contrary to society (whether that be masculine or religious establishments) and its set role for women.
In her short poem "Bind me I can still sing," I sense a strong will to not only find a physical place, but to keep hold of her inner-place (her heart and soul). The strength of her inner will is rivaled only by the strength of the poem’s alliteration and it’s content.
Bind me – I still can sing
Banish – my mandolin
Strikes true within –
Slay – and my
Soul shall rise
Chanting to Paradise –
Still thine.
Her message seems to be pointed towards the male society and their tactics of oppression. Consider the violent images present in the words bind, banish, strike, and slay. The power of her message lies in the meaning that whoever or whatever tries to bind her, banish her, strike her, or even slay her, she will have the final victory because she owns her voice and heart–that can never be taken from her. The caged bird has often been an image representing women in an oppressive situation. This poem seems to have that image in mind. But moreover, Dickinson focuses on freedom despite being compelled to be silent, hurt, or slain. Consider the lines "I still can sing," "my mandolin strikes true within," and "my soul shall rise."
In the poem "Myself was formed a Carpenter, I see Dickinson as the Carpenter who is building that place for women. When the builder comes, she writes that she toils "against the man." She states at the beginning of stanza three that "My tools took Human Faces." If toiling "against the man" represents fighting against male domination, her tools may represent women– the tools are her words; and they are toiling to build a place for themselves in society.
"We Temples Build" she writes in the last line reveals her purpose. Dickinson suggests that she, along with her tools, are building their own place, a safe place, a sacred place, all from the confinements of male society. Words such as Temples and Carpenter and Builder give the poem a sacred, even religious element. If the Builder is God, the Carpenter Christ, and Temples the Houses of God, then maybe Dickinson is trying to create a Mother-land. And she, because of this intent, being the Carpenter, establishes her as the Matriarch of feminine poetry.
Some personal favorites from Emily Dickinson's collection:
Page 3: The Gentian weaves her fringes....
Page 12: Bring me the sunset in a cup....
Page 12: To fight aloud is very brave...
Page 13: These are the days when birds come back....
Page 20: "Faith" is a fine invention.....
Page 26: Savior I’ve no one else to tell.....
Page 34: "Hope" is the thing with feathers....
Page 297: The bible is an antique volume....
Page 307: A word made flesh is seldom....
Page 314: My life closed twice before its close.....
Page 427: Tell the truth but tell it slant/The truth must dazzle gradually/or every man be blind
June 14, 2021
The imagery that Emily brings is really something and quite beautiful, but I am not a fan of the cadence of her poetry. The lyrical timber of them feels off to me and I am not a fan of how they read.
August 2, 2016
I admit upfront that I don't consider myself much of a poetry person, but I also feel like I gave this far more consideration than anyone else would have.
If anything turned me off the most it was the extensive use of near-rhymes. I have no problems with non-rhyming poetry, but if you can't just approximate rhymes and expect it to work. At least for me, following an ABAB with an ABAJ clangs like a rusted church bell. It's one thing if you aren't rhyming from the beginning, but when you set an expectation, a flow, how can you expect the reader to slide over the off note? Maybe I'm wrong, or somehow different from most readers. Maybe other people don't hear what they read? Her conspicuous non-rhymes often look similar even when I can't find an accent in the world that would balance the sounds, so that would explain a lot.
There was also the problem of the bizarre philosophy and ideas embedded in individual poems, but I would be inclined to give that a pass even if I were willing to go back and find the ones that I found odd. Which I'm not.
I found her at her best when she was describing something particular, especially birds and the like. When she has a special focus, like a Jay, she reveals herself to be witty, whimsical, and deep. When she is gives herself nothing to focus on she's scattered, shallow, and nearly incoherent. But that's just my opinion and, while I read this slowly and carefully, I still just don't like poetry.
If anything turned me off the most it was the extensive use of near-rhymes. I have no problems with non-rhyming poetry, but if you can't just approximate rhymes and expect it to work. At least for me, following an ABAB with an ABAJ clangs like a rusted church bell. It's one thing if you aren't rhyming from the beginning, but when you set an expectation, a flow, how can you expect the reader to slide over the off note? Maybe I'm wrong, or somehow different from most readers. Maybe other people don't hear what they read? Her conspicuous non-rhymes often look similar even when I can't find an accent in the world that would balance the sounds, so that would explain a lot.
There was also the problem of the bizarre philosophy and ideas embedded in individual poems, but I would be inclined to give that a pass even if I were willing to go back and find the ones that I found odd. Which I'm not.
I found her at her best when she was describing something particular, especially birds and the like. When she has a special focus, like a Jay, she reveals herself to be witty, whimsical, and deep. When she is gives herself nothing to focus on she's scattered, shallow, and nearly incoherent. But that's just my opinion and, while I read this slowly and carefully, I still just don't like poetry.
September 26, 2021
mrs emily d does not disappoint!
i have never read dickinson and i’ve seen enough snippets to decide to pick up an anthology of her work at the library. i think what makes me so curious about her is the mystery around the author being the og hermit.
i really enjoyed her poems that focused on death as they felt like the most profound to me. i think there is a lot that can be unpacked with each of the poems which makes it great for discussion and discerning your own truths.
i docked her a star because there were some poems that i just didn’t understand because i think i needed more context about the period to understand the writing. so i didn’t feel totally connected, that’s all!
i have never read dickinson and i’ve seen enough snippets to decide to pick up an anthology of her work at the library. i think what makes me so curious about her is the mystery around the author being the og hermit.
i really enjoyed her poems that focused on death as they felt like the most profound to me. i think there is a lot that can be unpacked with each of the poems which makes it great for discussion and discerning your own truths.
i docked her a star because there were some poems that i just didn’t understand because i think i needed more context about the period to understand the writing. so i didn’t feel totally connected, that’s all!
October 12, 2019
Hard to do justice to the variety of thoughts I have about Dickinson in this format, and I hope to write something more extended on her at some point. There is so much to be amazed by in her work. The subtlety of her linguistic dexterity astounds. Her metaphors are so imaginative and unusual that it often takes me going over a phrase over-and-over again that I initially casually read before I'm able to grasp what she's doing. The thematic content is equally wonderful. Her reckoning with spirituality fits the secular / nature loving poetic tradition, but she grapples with it uniquely and often expresses her own inspiring philosophy. The psychological drama and intensity she compacts in such short poems is hard to approach if one isn't in the right mood, but utterly devastating when properly confronted. Her stereotypically poetic depth of feeling feels sincere and makes me question my own relative lack. Whether it be celebration of nature, meditation on life/death, or psychological examination of loss/grief/love/friendship she achieves so much moral clarity. But at the same time she preserves an irony and humor that delights. Many of her poems tone I find myself conceiving as sincere and inspiring in one instant and then sarcastic and brilliant in the next. Negative capability indeed. Above all, it is her sense of tempo and pace that stands out for me. The amount she is able to convey in such short poems derives from her syntactical experimentation. The characteristic dash does so much for her, and I think good readings of most of her poems coming from finding the right tempo. Gah. None of these thoughts came out how I wanted them to, but it is inevitable to feel one's own expressive lack after reading someone like Dickinson. The type of work worth revisiting again and again.
July 3, 2024
Some of her poems are stunning, absolutely stunning. Many of them are fine.
December 10, 2024
“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire ever can warm me, I know that is poetry.”
I thought it fitting to finish my reading goal this year with some of my bday twin 🥳
I thought it fitting to finish my reading goal this year with some of my bday twin 🥳
September 29, 2023
Unfortunately, I have come to the conclusion that I just don't particularly like Emily Dickinson.
December 2, 2022
Controversial opinion time. I really really dislike Dickinson's poetry. Hence why this collection of 576 short poems took me about a year to read (the same time it took to read The Cantos which are far longer and are basically incomprehensible to me). Reading Dickinson feels like reading nursery rhymes about being sad that you're going to die. I relate to the latter part, but like, once I'm 100 poems in, I'm gonna start getting bored of this idea, especially in the way it's repeating themes rather than layering them or viewing them in varying ways. I actually originally gave up about 50/321 pages in but decided to finish by reading two pages a day every morning. Do I regret it? No, not at all, because I don't think she's a bad poet, and she's certainly a very important/influential poet. She's just unfortunately the exact thing I don't like when it comes to poetry. Don't take my word for it though, because I'm clearly out of the norm here - try a few out yourself and then maybe get this collection if you like it.
February 20, 2017
122 (numbers differ with editors and editions) is one of my favorites.
Eta: While I was rereading Final Harvest, the book, dating from my college days, fell apart at the spine. S. noted my distress, and today, I received an incredibly wonderful gift of a first edition The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (my attempts to add a bit of html coding here are not meeting with success). In this edition, Poem 122 is Poem 341. The inscription from S., with reference to a certain poem, I shall not reveal.
Eta: While I was rereading Final Harvest, the book, dating from my college days, fell apart at the spine. S. noted my distress, and today, I received an incredibly wonderful gift of a first edition The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (my attempts to add a bit of html coding here are not meeting with success). In this edition, Poem 122 is Poem 341. The inscription from S., with reference to a certain poem, I shall not reveal.
November 11, 2019
I'm going to assume that if you're reading this you've gotten past, or better, never encountered the
"mousy little recluse whose poems can be sung to the Yellow Rose of Texas" approach to Dickinson (which, sadly was common when I was in high school.) The fact is that Dickinson is existentially searching, often bleak as hell, tormented in her grappling with God, and one of the most innovative formal thinkers in the American (or far as I know any other) tradition. Not to mention, as Adrienne Rich made clear, foremother of feminist poets she probably would have had trouble imagining, but would have seen clearly.
Final Harvest is the best book of Dickinson's poetry, case closed. Editor Thomas Johnson deserves literary sainthood for getting the punctuation and rhythms right and the selection--roughly a third of the Complete Dickinson--is flawless. Nothing on my list of poems that should be there wasn't.
Reading the 500 poems in sequence over a couple of weeks, two things struck me. First, the poems of 1862 are just flat amazing. You can see it coming in 1861 and the energy carries for a couple of years after, but, damn 1862 is incredible.
Second, the energy tails off. There are a few strong poems interspersed over the last couple hundred, but if what you want is Dickinson as peak, you're reasonably safe stopping around 400 with 554 and 559 mixed in.
"mousy little recluse whose poems can be sung to the Yellow Rose of Texas" approach to Dickinson (which, sadly was common when I was in high school.) The fact is that Dickinson is existentially searching, often bleak as hell, tormented in her grappling with God, and one of the most innovative formal thinkers in the American (or far as I know any other) tradition. Not to mention, as Adrienne Rich made clear, foremother of feminist poets she probably would have had trouble imagining, but would have seen clearly.
Final Harvest is the best book of Dickinson's poetry, case closed. Editor Thomas Johnson deserves literary sainthood for getting the punctuation and rhythms right and the selection--roughly a third of the Complete Dickinson--is flawless. Nothing on my list of poems that should be there wasn't.
Reading the 500 poems in sequence over a couple of weeks, two things struck me. First, the poems of 1862 are just flat amazing. You can see it coming in 1861 and the energy carries for a couple of years after, but, damn 1862 is incredible.
Second, the energy tails off. There are a few strong poems interspersed over the last couple hundred, but if what you want is Dickinson as peak, you're reasonably safe stopping around 400 with 554 and 559 mixed in.
June 6, 2012
I'm not a huge fan of poetry but I decide to give this book an opportunity. I read every single poem. Dickinson talks about Nature, God, and Death and yes, she is morbid but she also has poems about life and love. They are worth exploring.
Some were boring, some I paid little attention to but some I read and re-read searching for meaning, repeating it as if it were a song. Some poems ended up inspiring me and I learned tons of new words. Overall it was an experience worth experiencing and a risk work taking. I'm still not fond of poetry but I can say I enjoy art at its best.
Some were boring, some I paid little attention to but some I read and re-read searching for meaning, repeating it as if it were a song. Some poems ended up inspiring me and I learned tons of new words. Overall it was an experience worth experiencing and a risk work taking. I'm still not fond of poetry but I can say I enjoy art at its best.
January 2, 2017
Qué poemas más hermosos, la elegancia, la rima, la profundidad. Este libro es para el alma. La mejor forma de terminar un año y empezar otro. Totalmente recomendado. Dickinson era una genio tierna.
"I have no Life but this -
To lead it here -
Nor any Death - but lest
Dispelled from there -
Nor tie to Earths to come -
Nor action new -
Except through this extent -
The Realm of you -"
"I have no Life but this -
To lead it here -
Nor any Death - but lest
Dispelled from there -
Nor tie to Earths to come -
Nor action new -
Except through this extent -
The Realm of you -"
November 19, 2016
So good it hurts.
November 21, 2016
Always a great author to choose for poems that touch your soul.
August 4, 2014
review to come
June 22, 2024
I have not read an entire book aloud in years, if ever. Such was my pleasure for the past few days roaming this stunning collection of poems by Emily Dickinson. It is hard for me to describe because it didn't feel like reading words. As quickly as they formed out of the stream of characters, I stole into planes of virgin experience and transfixing beauty. Maybe it was perfect reading, which is not to say I “understood” even the half of it, only that language, in certain of her poems, passes into pure ecstasy. As much as words, she has a way with eyes, heart, and mind. Her vision is SO distilled, it makes the small large and the finite infinite. I was only craving a few poems, and maybe something a little more—could’ve been wisdom, could’ve been sympathy—I'm not sure what it was because I don't feel it anymore, only a difference.
September 28, 2018
I feel like that 3 is pretty generous and it's only given because there are some really great poems in here. But for the most part, no one's lying when they say that Emily Dickinson has been highly overrated as a poet. She's okay. She's written a few amazing poems, some great ones, but mostly average-good ones.
January 6, 2020
This is the first time I've read this straight through, instead of picking around. Many of the poems were new to me. I was a little surprised at how many were about death. I suppose I should have known. I'm hesitant to say much more, because I'm still thinking about it all. I did like it very much, though.
April 2, 2021
"Still waters run deep." Much about flowers, birds, bees, and always the grave, death, and eternity.
In 'Final Harvest', a carefully observed natural world emerges in which art and the individual creative force is admired and considerable, but God always reigns supreme in the poetry of Emily Dickinson. The quiet life can be fierce indeed.
In 'Final Harvest', a carefully observed natural world emerges in which art and the individual creative force is admired and considerable, but God always reigns supreme in the poetry of Emily Dickinson. The quiet life can be fierce indeed.
June 19, 2024
Tengo un cariño muy especial a este libro, lo conseguí de segunda mano en Strands Book Store y vuelvo a él decenas de veces a lo largo del año. El vocabulario y las expresiones como hablante de inglés no nativa me han enriquecido mucho y me emocionan.
Adoro a Emily Dickinson así como su historia, y poder leer su obra en el idioma en el que fue creada lo valoro muchísimo.
Adoro a Emily Dickinson así como su historia, y poder leer su obra en el idioma en el que fue creada lo valoro muchísimo.
July 13, 2017
No one like her, no voice like hers, no wonder we're still trying to parse her out, catch up to her, catch the hem of her garment.
Eternity's disclosure
To favorites - a few -
Of the Colossal substance
Of Immorality
Thank you, Emily.
Eternity's disclosure
To favorites - a few -
Of the Colossal substance
Of Immorality
Thank you, Emily.
November 18, 2018
Still don't love E.D. but I can appreciate why others do. Value from me is her views of the CT River Valley and generally, the natural landscape of New England in the 1800s. I just wish she got out more :)
December 13, 2018
A huge collection of chronologically organized poems by Emily Dickinson. What is great about that is you see her artistic progession over the years. Not all poems are great, but the few that are are extraordinary. Dickinson is perhaps the best woman poet in American history.
July 3, 2021
It’s amazing how poetry written so long ago, crafted by a woman who lead such a different life than I, could resonate so strongly with me, but I highlighted or underlined so many poems in this book, and I think I’ll crack it open again to search for gems I missed on the first go-round.
June 25, 2023
i feel like thomas’s selections honestly take away from how radical emily’s poetry was during this time due to his own opinions/beliefs & blocking emily’s inherent atheism & lesbianism. it’s just tired
April 29, 2024
I enjoyed reading most of these poems though I didn’t quite understand all of them. Emily Dickinson has a lot of great poems and some more mediocre ones. I would recommend reading this book out of order and based on the most interesting first lines of the poems. I enjoyed “Because I could not stop for Death”, “She sweeps with many-colored Brooms” and “Many a phrase has the English language”. I noticed a lot of religious and nature symbolism that I did really enjoy, but at times it didn’t seem to make much sense in the given context. She also used many interesting words like adamantine, pallid, and meridian, none of which I knew before reading this book. I would recommend this to people who like poetry and nature.
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