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Dream Song: The Life of John Berryman
Examines the life of John Berryman one of the most gifted poets of our time, using unpublished letters and interviews with those who knew him
519 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1990
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
February 20, 2016
Mariani's thorough and readable account of Berryman's life provides invaluable insight into the poet's work. It is also a fascinating story of an American life in the Twentieth Century. It's all there: war, love, sex, booze, ambition, competition and, of course, poetry.
October 10, 2014
And the he wrote a poem. And then he was drunk. And then he was an academic and then he was a poet. And then the nightmares.
The writing in this book drove me a little crazy. I felt like I was reading a Hemingway novel.
The writing in this book drove me a little crazy. I felt like I was reading a Hemingway novel.
July 11, 2007
Good look into Berryman's life. Is the only bio I've read of JB, so I don't know if it's the seminal one or not.
July 30, 2008
I read this book to try to get a better understanding of Berryman's Dream Songs. I think it helped.
February 1, 2014
Just arriving now at the dreamsongs. Early Berryman poems are lame, but things are really starting to heat up, and I found out who Henry is....very exciting.
December 4, 2012
Very solid read.
February 5, 2012
An exemplary biography of one of America's greatest poets.
Read
May 9, 2026“Six days later he recorded another nightmare. He was in a museum, standing in front of a ‘prehistoric statue’ of a buffalo, when he saw a girl come over and touch it. As he went to touch the buffalo’s hump, he noticed a couple in the next room watching him and found himself explaining that he’d already seen ‘a young artist’ touching it. Then he put his hand out to touch the hump and suddenly it was shooting an ‘electric thrill’ through his body. He stood amazed, as if ‘inspired by old magic.’ When he woke up, he knew that what he’d touched in his dream was something of the old power he was afraid now was gone forever.”
“Too late—too far distrust & guilt & pain
too late for any return or any beginning
of any nearness or hope again.
All desire’s blown out of me by loss,
an aching backward only, dull, of our marvelous love.”
“He thought constantly of suicide now, even as he told himself that that way out was ‘cowardly, cruel, and wicked.’…He was terrified too that his religious faith might really be the final delusion after all, and found it increasingly harder to pray. He still wondered whether or not Hell existed and thought constantly now of his father’s grave. He found it more and more difficult even getting out of bed, though he knew if he stayed there, his mind would begin replaying the same old ‘boring’ mysteries about life and death.”
“He thought of taking his Spanish knife and a gun and checking into a hotel in Minneapolis and just doing it.”
“Friday morning, January 7, after another restless night, Berryman told Kate he was going to his office to put his things in order….’You won’t have to worry about me anymore,’ he told her as she went out….
A hundred feet below and to his right rode the river: narrow, gray, and half frozen. In front of him were the snow-covered coal-storage docks, and directly below the winter trees and a slight knoll rising like a grave. So it was still there, waiting. He climbed onto the chest-high metal railing and balanced himself. Several students inside the walkway stopped what they were doing when they saw him and stared in disbelief. He made a gesture as if waving, but he did not look back. From this height, he must have figured, the blade did seem redundant after all. Then he titled out and let go.”
“Too late—too far distrust & guilt & pain
too late for any return or any beginning
of any nearness or hope again.
All desire’s blown out of me by loss,
an aching backward only, dull, of our marvelous love.”
“He thought constantly of suicide now, even as he told himself that that way out was ‘cowardly, cruel, and wicked.’…He was terrified too that his religious faith might really be the final delusion after all, and found it increasingly harder to pray. He still wondered whether or not Hell existed and thought constantly now of his father’s grave. He found it more and more difficult even getting out of bed, though he knew if he stayed there, his mind would begin replaying the same old ‘boring’ mysteries about life and death.”
“He thought of taking his Spanish knife and a gun and checking into a hotel in Minneapolis and just doing it.”
“Friday morning, January 7, after another restless night, Berryman told Kate he was going to his office to put his things in order….’You won’t have to worry about me anymore,’ he told her as she went out….
A hundred feet below and to his right rode the river: narrow, gray, and half frozen. In front of him were the snow-covered coal-storage docks, and directly below the winter trees and a slight knoll rising like a grave. So it was still there, waiting. He climbed onto the chest-high metal railing and balanced himself. Several students inside the walkway stopped what they were doing when they saw him and stared in disbelief. He made a gesture as if waving, but he did not look back. From this height, he must have figured, the blade did seem redundant after all. Then he titled out and let go.”
August 18, 2020
It's difficult to truly enjoy a biography of a person who was as genuinely troubled as Berryman. However, it gave a lot of insight to The Dream Song poems, which, to my mind, are some of the most interesting poems written in the 20th century.
May 3, 2023
what an utter bastard, but one in whom i cannot help but recognise some parts of myself, sadly not the poetry
November 10, 2019
I didn't know who John Berryman was, nor the poetry and writings he became famous for, but I was drawn in by the title of his work..."Dream Songs". A beautiful label I thought, for the way that dreams speak to the world of the awake....but then I started reading the book.
For nearly a third of the book I questioned why I was continuing to read his story. The life of John Berryman was chaotic, self obsessed and full of unfulfilled entitlement. He was portrayed as poor, yet he went to a boarding school, travelled extensively, lived overseas and managed to create a personal library of books that he often had to store while traveling. Certainly not a life that I recognized as poor. Berryman had a "struggling artist" temperament, full of depression and addictions, filled with self loathing in one moment then haughty and looking down his nose at others in the next.
A little over half way through the book I realized I was hooked....as I witnessed his addictions...to alcohol, to sex, to being an intellectual...I began to find a lost boy filled with sadness in his poetry, a man who saw the life in front of him but could not break the code, a man who was blind to his inability to really connect to others, yet had seemed to capture with exceptional clarity the human condition in his writing. And I was curious how it was that people in his life loved and forgave him his transgressions time after time.
There was also a touch of home in the book, in that he eventually moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota, my home town.
I struggled with how to rate this book, because in the end I didn't like John Berryman. He could be boorish, he could be cold and cruel, and he couldn't see the destructive forces he brought to those around him, and to himself. He seemed terrified that people would see him for his failures, yet also expected those around him recognize his unparalleled talents and worth.
Still, I found I was moved by his story; I wondered about his family, his children and wives, and the many students who learned from him. I became curious about the poets and writers in his circle, and I learned about history and poetry and writing. I was so curious about the draw to John and his work that I went online to find recordings of him reading his Dream Songs. His voice fit the man in my imagination and I could see the attraction to the madness...he lived so close to the flames he couldn't seem to see the fire.
Paul Mariani's writing made the book easy to read and brought John Berryman to life in front of me. I could see him sitting at the Brass Rail downing drinks, or locked in his home struggling to put words on paper with filled ashtrays all around. John must have been a prolific writer, journaling and writing letter after letter filled with the details of his life, and Mariani pulled it all together and made order of the chaos. It deserves 4 stars for the skilled writing, for the complexity of the life portrayed, and for leaving the reader with an experience and not just entertainment.
For nearly a third of the book I questioned why I was continuing to read his story. The life of John Berryman was chaotic, self obsessed and full of unfulfilled entitlement. He was portrayed as poor, yet he went to a boarding school, travelled extensively, lived overseas and managed to create a personal library of books that he often had to store while traveling. Certainly not a life that I recognized as poor. Berryman had a "struggling artist" temperament, full of depression and addictions, filled with self loathing in one moment then haughty and looking down his nose at others in the next.
A little over half way through the book I realized I was hooked....as I witnessed his addictions...to alcohol, to sex, to being an intellectual...I began to find a lost boy filled with sadness in his poetry, a man who saw the life in front of him but could not break the code, a man who was blind to his inability to really connect to others, yet had seemed to capture with exceptional clarity the human condition in his writing. And I was curious how it was that people in his life loved and forgave him his transgressions time after time.
There was also a touch of home in the book, in that he eventually moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota, my home town.
I struggled with how to rate this book, because in the end I didn't like John Berryman. He could be boorish, he could be cold and cruel, and he couldn't see the destructive forces he brought to those around him, and to himself. He seemed terrified that people would see him for his failures, yet also expected those around him recognize his unparalleled talents and worth.
Still, I found I was moved by his story; I wondered about his family, his children and wives, and the many students who learned from him. I became curious about the poets and writers in his circle, and I learned about history and poetry and writing. I was so curious about the draw to John and his work that I went online to find recordings of him reading his Dream Songs. His voice fit the man in my imagination and I could see the attraction to the madness...he lived so close to the flames he couldn't seem to see the fire.
Paul Mariani's writing made the book easy to read and brought John Berryman to life in front of me. I could see him sitting at the Brass Rail downing drinks, or locked in his home struggling to put words on paper with filled ashtrays all around. John must have been a prolific writer, journaling and writing letter after letter filled with the details of his life, and Mariani pulled it all together and made order of the chaos. It deserves 4 stars for the skilled writing, for the complexity of the life portrayed, and for leaving the reader with an experience and not just entertainment.
March 22, 2017
I know more about the other Confessional poets (Plath, Sexton, and Lowell) than I know about Berryman, and listening to Okkervil River's song about Berryman ("John Allyn Smith Sails" on _The Stage Names_) has tempted me...
http://www.okkervilriver.com/index.php
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This was a bit too male for me at the moment. And it was overdue at the library.......
http://www.okkervilriver.com/index.php
**************
This was a bit too male for me at the moment. And it was overdue at the library.......
August 13, 2007
He was a tortured and narcississtic man. And a Umich alum.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews