The powerful new collection from legendary American poet Peter Gizzi, reckoning with the transformative power of elegy through poems of lament and love
‘I am awestruck, dumbfounded … a masterwork’ Ocean Vuong 'Transcendent ... He identifies the thing we're all searching for'The New Yorker
In Fierce Elegy, Peter Gizzi contends with a decade of grief, and learns to transform a broken heart into new strength. These are poems of loss; of love; of the strangeness of being a self amid the fury of the world; and of our ongoing closeness with the dead. They are soaring yet grounded, vulnerable and brave. Ears attuned, grip assured. Mind free.
Educated at New York University, Brown University, and the State University of New York at Buffalo, poet Peter Gizzi is the author of several collections of poetry, including Threshold Songs (2011), The Outernationale (2007), and Artificial Heart (1998).
Gizzi uses both narrative and lyrical gestures to engage and question distance and light in his search for the unmapped. Reflecting on the question of whether his work is narrative or lyric, Gizzi stated in an interview with Poetry Daily, “I think I am a narrative poet—I’m just narrating my bewilderment as a citizen.”
Embracing loss sounds counterproductive; to have to embrace something that one wanted to hold onto is hard to fathom. Yet we will all find ourselves in this position at some point in life (that point growing sharper with age). Peter Gizzi has looked at his in a both challenging and empathetic way; a way that delineates between choice and acceptance.
This feels like the deep poetry you write on the bus home from a night out after you realise maybe brown liquor doesn’t make you horny, like you thought, but rather melancholic and a bit pretentious.
Starting strong, the first poem makes sure we don’t miss the point:
Like when I found you in the back of my mind. I am talking about people and the night. People inside the night. The night and what we are made of. The things and the people. The signal and its noise.
Other times I got a little lost:
I was one day. Possible like any. Either faster. There was one day. From might have been. Were lovely days. And summer. My birds. Had trusted some. Was missing some.
Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of this or the several positive reviews. Maybe I’ll come back to it after a drink :)
El T.S Eliot d'aquest any és un poemari molt breu, amb alguns poemes de versos d'una o dues paraules. M'ha agradat anar-me trobant formes tan diferents. La brevetat no treu la feina increïble del darrera, les profunditats a les que arriba, els diferents paisatges per on ens guia. Una elegia escrita durant 10 anys que ens arriba ara amb força i amb totes les cares del dol.
The poems are about people, how we perceive the world, seeing life from the soul of a poet, muse, words, haunting memories, love, loss, grief, life, expressing emotions through painting, rebuilding memories, after life, inspiration and going though myriad of emotions throughout the life. Sometimes life feels hollow while sometimes it feels complete and the next second, loneliness consumes it. How we feel lonely being surrounded by people and then darkness consumes us. The poems are deep, evocative, poignant, touching and reaches to the soul.
I saw where someone (another poet?) identified “Fierce Elegy” as one of the best poetry collections of the year. I spent a chunk of Sunday morning reading the poems aloud to an empty house. I even looked up a few videos of the author reciting poems from this collection.
Unfortunately, this is exactly the poetry that I cannot stand: no attention paid to form or structure, no regard to conventional poetic elements (rhyme, rhythm, clever wordplay), and written in such an esoteric style that it’s nearly impossible to make heads or tails of it.
Obviously, the poet is playing with the idea of an elegy. Elegies are poems of contemplation, usually about the dead. They are laments. These poems are not just lamenting, though. They are also poems about love, death, joy, poetry, and nature . . . but beyond that, I can’t make much sense of any of it.
I’m sure I must be missing something as I trust the TS Eliot prize but I’ve only just finished this book and already I can hardly remember it? nothing really memorable, hard-hitting or interesting to read and perhaps a little too abstract for my tastes. there were a few poems I enjoyed but most of my appreciation of the writing went to individual lines or ideas, rather than the poems or collection itself. I will be reading more Peter Gizzi though — I feel like this is different from his usual style and I am interested to see his skill in crafting sounds and fragments applied to something that is perhaps a little more my taste.
“sometimes it’s hard to know the outline of a body, there’s so many people inside. so much room for love and mayhem.”
i am a simple woman: give me a poetry collection about elegies of undying love? grief? amidst a broken world? sign. me. up. i am ready to devour it all, and what a delight it was! it’s super short—i read it on the bus like any other pretentious reader and felt satisfied by this wonderful feast. while some poems have faded from memory, there are select ones i want to revisit over and over. i loved the rhythm of each line, it truly felt like elegies but brought me alive with their lyrical beauty, if you get what i mean. but i also understand that each poem strikes you differently, at different moments in your life, and in various ways. i really couldn’t hate a poem—it’s hard to criticize word vomit when it is poured out so gracefully.
the poems i liked: — consider the wound — roxy music — romanticism — notes on sound and vision — creeley song
“and in my outrage, i am immortal because i love—”
????? i’m gagged ?????
i didn’t expect them to approve my request but huge thank you to penguin press uk for this e-arc 🫶🏻
This one begins in a manner worthy of this book's name and purpose -- to create poems (elegies) capable of transform[ing] a broken heart in a fierce world into a fierce heart in a broken world" -- with the lines:
Thus far we have spoken only the codes, a litany of survival. Thus spoke the silvered asphodel next to the factory ruin. (1)
I love this rhyming -- thematic as well as somehow almost linguistic -- of "survival" and "ruin" as well as the direct thus-ness of a concrete image of asphodel next to the factory (I can almost see it in the paper mills in Holyoke) following the very abstract first three lines. These two sentences, these five lines, really knocked me over, and are again an example of what I find powerful about PG's work when it's at its best -- a sort of seeing philosophical fact, dark feeling, in the light of wood grain... That silvered asphodel is a fierce heart in a broken world, silvered as in the way it shines in flood lamps at night and silvered as in getting older, going gray from the stress of living in a world beneath a "chemical sky" (as he puts it in Now It's Dark) you can't get out from.
It was best to let the moon unravel and focus the truth of the music. It was best to let the music unravel and focus the truth of the night. (3)
Which world is more true -- the world of music, or the world of the moon? He writes, speaking of the totality of truth (which has chemicals to add to music and the moon): "war the constant, we the variant" (15)...
I really loved these darkly Emersonian (nature always wears the colors of the spirit) lines from "Good to Ghost":
The world is a veil. Its effects total the imagination. (4)
What does it mean to find beauty (the result of fierceness following its heart) in a broken world? "is there more / sadness in beauty / than beauty / in sadness" (28)? And is the same mind responsible for the world's brokenness as is the mind capable of seeing beauty "nevertheless" (4)?
the elegy becomes the quintessential mode of communication, a collective doxology to the tragedy of existence. Gizzi's latest and very well-received poetry collection it's all about loss and the way we cope with it. It's not a personal, autobiographical collection, but one that includes each and everyone's pain as the "I" of the poems, with which the author assumes a playful stance, throwing it around like a ball, leaving the reader to mentally mask himself with it wherever, whenever it flashes.
Hugely disappointing - follows a poetic style I've never really enjoyed, which is to use a high register with no anchor-point to create a dreamlike atmosphere with nothing to string the words together - disparate and floaty, and doesn't do anything for me as poetry
I would love to give this a five star. Alas, I can’t because there were no bangers or any poems that I liked in this collection—even though there were many great lines: one even inspired me to write my own poem!
Finished this in one sitting. Flows like water. Would recommend.
Gizzi's word choices are simple and elemental; they spurt out in short phrases as if he can't muster a complete thought. But he builds effective poems from them, "To be unleashed as a verb."
"Listening to stone translate into silence. Here is an old rock covered with lichen in the mossy forest inside the self. I like it here when it's green. This is me evolving. I'm hanging on."
ReallY I really like Gizzi. And I liked half of these. Not so much the long very short lines. They seem too "ethereal" breathless. "Roxy Music" and "Spooky Action" Notre Musique"" and others shined for me.
"with its slight aura, archival glamour, gas-lit corridors"