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The Tormented Mirror
This is the first book in the Pitt Poetry Series by this popular and enigmatic poet, considered the foremost writer of prose poetry in America. In eleven collections over thirty years, Edson has created his own poetic genre, a surreal philosophical fable, easy to enter, but difficult to leave behind. In The Tormented Mirror, Edson continues and refines his form in seventy-three new poems.
96 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2001
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About the author
Russell Edson
49 books110 followersRussell Edson (December 12, 1928 – April 29, 2014) was an American poet, novelist, writer, and illustrator. He was the son of the cartoonist-screenwriter Gus Edson.
He studied art early in life and attended the Art Students League as a teenager. He began publishing poetry in the 1960s. His honors as a poet include a Guggenheim fellowship, a Whiting Award, and several fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Russell Edson was born in Connecticut in 1935 and lived there with his wife Frances. Edson, who jokingly has called himself "Little Mr. Prose Poem," is inarguably the foremost writer of prose poetry in America, having written exclusively in that form before it became fashionable. In a forthcoming study of the American prose poem, Michel Delville suggests that one of Edson's typical "recipes" for his prose poems involves a modern everyman who suddenly tumbles into an alternative reality in which he loses control over himself, sometimes to the point of being irremediably absorbed--both figuratively and literally--by his immediate and, most often, domestic everyday environment. . . . Constantly fusing and confusing the banal and the bizarre, Edson delights in having a seemingly innocuous situation undergo the most unlikely and uncanny metamorphoses. . . .
Reclusive by nature, Edson has still managed to publish eleven books of prose poems and one novel, The Song of Percival Peacock (available from Coffee House Press).
He studied art early in life and attended the Art Students League as a teenager. He began publishing poetry in the 1960s. His honors as a poet include a Guggenheim fellowship, a Whiting Award, and several fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Russell Edson was born in Connecticut in 1935 and lived there with his wife Frances. Edson, who jokingly has called himself "Little Mr. Prose Poem," is inarguably the foremost writer of prose poetry in America, having written exclusively in that form before it became fashionable. In a forthcoming study of the American prose poem, Michel Delville suggests that one of Edson's typical "recipes" for his prose poems involves a modern everyman who suddenly tumbles into an alternative reality in which he loses control over himself, sometimes to the point of being irremediably absorbed--both figuratively and literally--by his immediate and, most often, domestic everyday environment. . . . Constantly fusing and confusing the banal and the bizarre, Edson delights in having a seemingly innocuous situation undergo the most unlikely and uncanny metamorphoses. . . .
Reclusive by nature, Edson has still managed to publish eleven books of prose poems and one novel, The Song of Percival Peacock (available from Coffee House Press).
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
December 31, 2017
As a novelist works with plot and characters, as a poet plays with words and metaphor, so Russell Edson in his prose poems tools images in oddball combinations. So, if we encounter a man sitting in his chair, the man’s hand could grow potato fingers, his hair stand up straight held in a magician’s trance or his chair could sprout chicken feathers, give birth to old women, play the harmonica or attack the man out of spite. Either this flavor of humor, subtle philosophy and continual metamorphosis speaks to you or it doesn’t. But if it does, you are in for a treat. This little book, The Tormented Mirror, is the plumb fruit of many years of Russell writing his prose poems. Here are three to roll around in your psyche like colorful marbles, intimate and private:
A LETTER FROM HOME
One night a man’s shadow died. Slumping, it groped its heart and dripped down the wall into a dark stain on the floor in the shape of a man who died in his bedroom alone.
The man writes home: Dear mom, my shadow is dead. I may have to be reborn, if you and dad are up to it, and have a new shadow attached . . .
His mother writes back: Dear Ken, please don’t count on it. In truth, dear, given another chance I think I would ask for an abortion . . .
POETRY
You will hear her, the muse; she knocks three times. Past that she knocks no more.
The password is nonsense.
This begins the secret which hides the final message.
You will sit in the dark waiting for the three knocks. Do not be fooled by the coming of the three little pigs, or the old man who hobbles on a cane. The one who slays the Sphinx at the end of the game.
The consummation is nonsense, without which the road of the final message is overgrown with meaning, and the vagueness of everything is everywhere. . .
ROUND
When there is no shape there is round. Round has no shape; no more than a raindrop or a human tear . . .
And though the organs that focus the world are round, we have never been happy with roundness; how it allows no man to rest. For in roundness there is no place to stop, since all places in roundness are the same.
Thus the itch to square something. To make a box. To find proportion in a golden mean . . .
---
On the topic of images combining in oddball combinations, I’d like to share one of my own prose poems published years ago. And, yes, Russell Edson is my favorite poet, a true inspiration:
JACK-IN-THE-BOX
I find a jack-in-the-box and crank the handle. At the end of the tune out pops the jack-in-the-box. I stuff him back in the box and the jack moans.
In the darkness of the box the jack continues to moan as I crank the handle and the music plays. And again, at the end, the jack pops up, but he isn’t smiling this time. The jack screams when I stuff him back in.
Now when I crank the handle, a dirge plays. The jack-in-the-box pops up dead. The jack is silent when I stuff him in his box, which I notice for the first time, is a black box with all the gold trimmings, veiled in grief.
March 19, 2016
A quaint assortment of poems actually but to be honest I did have to reread a few to gain comprehension. I haven't really read many poetry books since school so going into it my excitement was high and the level didn't lessen much even though some I had to go through again.
July 22, 2008
Edson is amazing. Sometimes I would like to see the world through his eyes. He has such a unique way of looking at relationships between people, between things, and he doesn't shy away from the difficult or strange or disgusting, a trait that I always admire in writers. Definitely one of the most exciting writers of prose poetry I've ever read. I think he has a novel and a play as well that I'm dying to read.
Only reason I give this a minus is because I think he overuses some of his themes sometimes.
Grade: A-
Only reason I give this a minus is because I think he overuses some of his themes sometimes.
Grade: A-
July 14, 2018
What is a prose poem? Nobody knows... Here is an example:
That feels to me like a short-story by Borges, but Borges would have continued for a few more pages. Edson pares each story down to the key point and then ends with ellipses. When the stories resonate with me, that shortness is an advantage. When they don't, the shortness is also an advantage...
“Remember, words are the enemy of poetry.”
Characters
After certain difficulties a family decides to become a cast of characters in a play. The setting to be the interior of a house much like their own. In fact, exactly like their own.
They'll go on living their regular lives, but now their lives won't be real. Father will play the father, and mother will play the mother. Dick and Jane, their real children, will play Dick and Jane, their stage children...
That feels to me like a short-story by Borges, but Borges would have continued for a few more pages. Edson pares each story down to the key point and then ends with ellipses. When the stories resonate with me, that shortness is an advantage. When they don't, the shortness is also an advantage...
“Remember, words are the enemy of poetry.”
March 7, 2008
In this collection of prose poems, Mr. Edson gives the reader excellent examples of all the manifestations this modern form has taken. He uses their mystical and fable-like qualities to take cultural clichés and retell them (“Sweet Tooth,” 11; “The Flowerpot,” 13). The sometimes humorous tone is used as social satire (“The Clock,” 38). The parallelism of the language and sentence structure charges some of the best pieces with rich double entendre (“Madam’s Heart,” 29). But, most telling, is the poem titled “The Method” (79), which could be read as Mr. Edson’s ars poetica for prose poems, examining for the reader how he follows one thought to another, letting one image blend and bleed into the next.
January 28, 2011
This didn't feel as good as "the very thing that happens". It felt like all the stories should have ended in a rimshot, like it was telling me, "Did you see what I did there." This collection felt more calculated in a way to tell people, "Hey, I'm clever." Don't mean to pile up on it though. It was still good. Will read other stuff by Edson.
I laughed at this part:
"After going through an inventory of names they decided to name their daughter Testicle after one of the father's glands. And since Testicle had a twin sister they thought to caller her Testicle too, after another of fathter's glands."
I laughed at this part:
"After going through an inventory of names they decided to name their daughter Testicle after one of the father's glands. And since Testicle had a twin sister they thought to caller her Testicle too, after another of fathter's glands."
April 16, 2008
Edson has changed the way I think about poetry. I did an oral presentation on him for school...very interesting person indeed. My wife bought me this one, for which I have thanked her many times. It's fairly recent...2001 I guess. He certainly has not lost his voice.
May 12, 2011
Edson is not for everyone, but if you like quirky and weird, you will like his prose poetry. He is as unique and original as they get. Thee poems turn inward and end up reflecting on just what you didn't expect. And fun to read, too.
January 19, 2013
Another fantastic installment of absurd prose poems.
April 18, 2020
Russell Edson's prose poems are quirky and surreal, some may even say, madcap and oddball. The freely associative flow his prose poetry can dig into can feel relaxing and yet also supremely dreamlike and odd. Edson's obsessions here also can be a bit bodily in ways that feel very linked to aging in some clearly pross ways. Enjoyable.
March 21, 2010
love love wacky love
February 25, 2019
I read THE TORMENTED MIRROR by Russell Edson because it’s very short. I try to read a book a week and there was a day or so left in the week, so I needed to fill it. There are worse reasons to read a book. No reason to read Edson is poor as he’s a richly expressive and surreally hilarious poet of narratives that are unreal in their reality. That’s a cute way of saying I probably read this book too fast. I need to slow down and savor the cast of characters, such as the tormented mirror, but this book is safe at any speed. Just put on your seatbelt.
March 29, 2025
Profoundly silly. Sillily profound. Some of the poems were baffling. Many were funny. Taken as a set they seem to be saying something. Playful and goofy and weird. I liked them. I did read the whole book, which lately is rare for me. I think the political world is destroying my ability to concentrate. Alas.
November 11, 2019
MANY years ago, I found Edson's "The Wounded Breakfast" in a used book store and loved it. His crazy-quilt surrealist poems really influenced me in my own writing. He and Donald Bartheleme were my early off-the-rails mentors, though I never met either one.
And so, now I come--belatedly--to "The Tormented Mirror", expecting more of the same delight. Well, life is full of disappointments, isn't it? I'm not sure if it's him that's different, or if it's me, but while this collection had its moments, it dealt too repeatedly with the themes of old men and women, babies, and bodies and bodily functions. Was he getting soft in the head?
To be sure, there are some wonderful lines, like this opener from "The Stuff of Dreams":
"There was a man who had distilled a tiny woman from several dreams."
With disheartening frequency, though, Edson keeps wandering off into stuff about breasts, rectums, "deltas" and so on. It had me picturing some fogey in the rest home, writing this stuff down, contemplating his regular-or-irregularity, and waiting for 4 o'clock so he could eat Salisbury steak in front of "Matlock" in the day room.
Not really recommended.
And so, now I come--belatedly--to "The Tormented Mirror", expecting more of the same delight. Well, life is full of disappointments, isn't it? I'm not sure if it's him that's different, or if it's me, but while this collection had its moments, it dealt too repeatedly with the themes of old men and women, babies, and bodies and bodily functions. Was he getting soft in the head?
To be sure, there are some wonderful lines, like this opener from "The Stuff of Dreams":
"There was a man who had distilled a tiny woman from several dreams."
With disheartening frequency, though, Edson keeps wandering off into stuff about breasts, rectums, "deltas" and so on. It had me picturing some fogey in the rest home, writing this stuff down, contemplating his regular-or-irregularity, and waiting for 4 o'clock so he could eat Salisbury steak in front of "Matlock" in the day room.
Not really recommended.
June 6, 2019
Edson's poetry relaxes me. It seems he locks in subjects and moves interpretive sliders back and forth until what you're reading conforms to what he's feeling, but it always seems less than ideal. Sometimes this absurd barrier feels like a hindrance, sometimes it feels like the insight ("because when I give birth to mice I like them to be mice"). Really, it's just the way he is. It's what his mind does and it's unique. What comes from that is a very personal exchange of comprehension and inquiry. It's a two way street with him ("what about all these clams?"). One is never confident what he knows about you in a given poem. One walks away with a few new ways to look at their own mind, their own insights. And to scrutinize HIS mind through this work, well, that is a multi-year project well worth the time of certain readers, I'm sure.
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May 9, 2020I'm going to leave my rating blank since poetry of any nature is new to me. I picked this up when a friend compared a short story of mine to Edson's work.
Some of these worked for me, but most poems felt like reading nothing at all. None I enjoyed enough to take note of--something I sometimes do while reading when finding a passage or story I want to return to one day.
They were funny at times, but more often forgettable. I struggled to find the point to much of it, though I expect that says more about me than the book. I felt like these poems were more about whimsy than much else.
It was a quick, sometimes cute and curious read. I don't expect I'll be reading more of his work.
Some of these worked for me, but most poems felt like reading nothing at all. None I enjoyed enough to take note of--something I sometimes do while reading when finding a passage or story I want to return to one day.
They were funny at times, but more often forgettable. I struggled to find the point to much of it, though I expect that says more about me than the book. I felt like these poems were more about whimsy than much else.
It was a quick, sometimes cute and curious read. I don't expect I'll be reading more of his work.
November 14, 2020
I generally find reading a poetry collection is like walking through a museum--there's a lot of sauntering by, every now and then getting absorbed into a work. Reading this Edson collection, that came out well after Edson had earned his chops, was like walking through a museum that had only surrealist or cubist work, where the absorptions were more absorbing, but fewer of them, and the others felt like getting numb on overkill. Edson has made his mark, that's for sure, but this book felt like it was trying to make up for the years that Edson was changing the world and the more upscale publishers weren't taking much note.
August 27, 2019
A wonderful collection worth multiple reads. The narratives of Edson are so signature and I never grow tired of them. 'The Twilight of the Gods' is a particular favorite here: https://twitter.com/neonpajamas/statu...
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September 1, 2019For reviews of this & other books, please visit:
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May 17, 2020
Brilliant! Some of these stories took me by surprise with how funny they were.
October 18, 2023
Great Book
April 8, 2024
this is a book i have more to say on rather than platitudes of my enjoyment, but in that i have grown an appreciation for the absolute and unique structure and tone found here
April 9, 2022
This book is a meaningful conversation between the poet and the reader, but what he is sharing on the surface with you feels like the same difference as sitting down with your mates to crack open a few beers so you can talk about guy things like women, sports and the job.
And in those seemingly superficial conversations, there is sometimes more going on there as is this case.
He enjoys playing with cliches, making new cliches out of old cliches, and even obliterating some cliches with how he plays around with his words.
In one example, Edson takes a cliche about horses and flips it on itself so the subject of the horse dissolves and his recurring theme about depravity of life shows through, which the reader observes with his constructed microscope, and then as you look closer with him you see more (oh... The trickery.).
Edson isn't as depressing as he sometimes comes across and he seems to know some things about physics and he is constantly playing with this knowledge in mind which affects everything he knows in his life, on multiple planes of existence.
He enjoys bouncing around like a quazi particle on no particular mission besides the ones he makes you believe he doesn't actually know he's on(oh... He knows, alright...).
The ghost, the tormented mirror, is nothing and everything (a swirl) that becomes what he thinks his own life is.
He clearly states, (in other words), how brave he thinks he is for facing old age and yet that truth is really just a pointless backdrop to all the little things in life he actually enjoys, like horses.
He's a good writer and it was fun to read.
And in those seemingly superficial conversations, there is sometimes more going on there as is this case.
He enjoys playing with cliches, making new cliches out of old cliches, and even obliterating some cliches with how he plays around with his words.
In one example, Edson takes a cliche about horses and flips it on itself so the subject of the horse dissolves and his recurring theme about depravity of life shows through, which the reader observes with his constructed microscope, and then as you look closer with him you see more (oh... The trickery.).
Edson isn't as depressing as he sometimes comes across and he seems to know some things about physics and he is constantly playing with this knowledge in mind which affects everything he knows in his life, on multiple planes of existence.
He enjoys bouncing around like a quazi particle on no particular mission besides the ones he makes you believe he doesn't actually know he's on(oh... He knows, alright...).
The ghost, the tormented mirror, is nothing and everything (a swirl) that becomes what he thinks his own life is.
He clearly states, (in other words), how brave he thinks he is for facing old age and yet that truth is really just a pointless backdrop to all the little things in life he actually enjoys, like horses.
He's a good writer and it was fun to read.
May 11, 2011
Pretty weird stuff, more prose than poetry, but a good solid 8 laugh-out-loud moments. The double entendres and symmetry word play didn't consistently work for me, but when it did, it was hilarious.
June 4, 2014
what the hell have I been reading.....
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September 20, 2007It's nice - it really gets your imagination going.
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews