Robert Bly was an American poet, author, activist and leader of the Mythopoetic Men's Movement. Robert Bly was born in western Minnesota in 1926 to parents of Norwegian stock. He enlisted in the Navy in 1944 and spent two years there. After one year at St. Olaf College in Minnesota, he transferred to Harvard and thereby joined the famous group of writers who were undergraduates at that time, which included Donald Hall, Adrienne Rich, Kenneth Koch, John Ashbery, Harold Brodky, George Plimpton, and John Hawkes. He graduated in 1950 and spent the next few years in New York living, as they say, hand to mouth. Beginning in 1954, he took two years at the University of Iowa at the Writers Workshop along with W. D. Snodgrass, Donald Justice, and others. In 1956 he received a Fulbright grant to travel to Norway and translate Norwegian poetry into English. While there he found not only his relatives but the work of a number of major poets whose force was not present in the United States, among them Pablo Neruda, Cesar Vallejo, Gunnar Ekelof, Georg Trakl and Harry Martinson. He determined then to start a literary magazine for poetry translation in the United States and so begin The Fifties and The Sixties and The Seventies, which introduced many of these poets to the writers of his generation, and published as well essays on American poets and insults to those deserving. During this time he lived on a farm in Minnesota with his wife and children. In 1966 he co-founded American Writers Against the Vietnam War and led much of the opposition among writers to that war. When he won the National Book Award for The Light Around the Body, he contributed the prize money to the Resistance. During the 70s he published eleven books of poetry, essays, and translations, celebrating the power of myth, Indian ecstatic poetry, meditation, and storytelling. During the 80s he published Loving a Woman in Two Worlds, The Wingéd Life: Selected Poems and Prose of Thoreau,The Man in the Black Coat Turns, and A Little Book on the Human Shadow. His work Iron John: A Book About Men is an international bestseller which has been translated into many languages. He frequently does workshops for men with James Hillman and others, and workshops for men and women with Marion Woodman. He and his wife Ruth, along with the storyteller Gioia Timpanelli, frequently conduct seminars on European fairy tales. In the early 90s, with James Hillman and Michael Meade, he edited The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart, an anthology of poems from the men's work. Since then he has edited The Darkness Around Us Is Deep: Selected Poems of William Stafford, and The Soul Is Here for Its Own Joy, a collection of sacred poetry from many cultures.
In my mind, I have long fought against Robert Bly. I was handed a copy of The Maiden King by an ex, one of the good old boys-- a lover of male dominant, female form-worshipping, chauvinistic personalities. I loathed the concept put forth by The Maiden King, but never read it. I loathed the idea of Iron John, but never read that either. I put my ear to the wall of other lit lovers I've also loved and despised and allowed it to guide my opinion. I still don't know what to think about the mythopoetic men's group, but I think it's at least fair to dip my toes in and see what there is to be salvaged and cherished and what can be tossed aside and not subscribed to. That said, there were several passages that made me cringe, but there were far more of them that made me soar.
The heart of the book is a series of poems written about the death of the poet's father. Maybe my reading was colored by what I already knew about Bly's relationship with his father. In any case, I found the writing to be precise, clear, painfully honest. Those poems are more accessible than much of his later poetry. I don't mean it's better. Nor that I enjoy it more. On the other hand, I like that he took a different approach.
There are five excellent poems in this volume and I wavered between a 3 and 4 star rating, the 9 additional poems I marked for a second or third reading swayed me to add the additional star.
The second section is particularly moving as it deals with the deaths of his parents. "My Father at Eighty-Five" comes from that section.
My Father at Eighty-Five
His large ears hear everything. A hermit wakes and sleeps in a hut underneath his gaunt cheeks. His eyes blue, alert, dis- appointed and suspicious complain I do not bring him the same sort of jokes the nurses do. He is a small bird waiting to be fed, mostly beak, an eagle or a vulture or the Pharoah's servant just before death. My arm on the bedrail rests there, relaxed, with new love. All I know of the Troubadours I bring to this bed. I do not want or need to be shamed by him any longer. The general of shame has discharged him and left him in this small provincial Egyptian town. If I do not wish to shame him, then why not love him? His long hands, large, veined, capable, can still retain hold of what he wanted. But is that what he desired? Some powerful river of desire goes on flowing through him. He never phrased what he desired, and I am his son.
A number of the poems in this volume have slightly altered versions in Bly's recent collection of selected poems, "Stealing Sugar From The Castle (5 stars).
Highly recommended for those who love Bly and those with a particular interest in modern American poetry.
I've read many of these poems again two times or more, and what strikes me is the brilliant use of line breaks, the enjambments that bring about double- or triple-meanings and subtle ambiguities of meaning. I would bring it up first, for it is masterful. You see more the more you read them.
The book contains several sections, each with its own flavor and structure. To me, Bly is a master of the powerful natural image, a trope with which he treats all kinds of human issues, like gender, capacity for wisdom, and visionary experience. This imagery is a recurrence that cannot be missed, lending primitivity and power to the verse.
The poems about his father and mother stand out for their short, sharp lines, unbroken in long stanzas of awkward encounters and regret and sadness. They were written as his father was dying (or afterward), and they are very personal reflections in which we in turn may see our own relationships, or ponder their mortality.
A short book, to be read easily but then repetitively for the poems that strike interest.
Pretty good. Collected poems with sections, with arcs to them. One section on the decline and death of his father. Many of the poems full of nature imagery. Only a couple poems that were incomprehensible to me because of references to people I didn't know about. Fairly short poems, can zoom through the collection with ease and a sense of accomplishment. 3.5 stars if I could put that.
Interesting poems that have the power to shake you to the roots. Includes an essay from "The Sibling Society" about the nafs - the greedy and ferocious levels of the soul from the Muslim and Sufi tradition being the lower 2 of the 4 levels - the lower or bitter (al-nafs al-amara) nafs and the blaming nafs. The other, more mature, levels are the inspired nafs and the nafs-at-rest.