Jackstraws: Poems

by Charles Simic

A new collection of sixty-two poems from one of the most influential and respected of contemporary poets continues his vaunted ability to create startling and effective images and retain his powerfully original voice. By the author of Walking the Black Cat. 15,000 first printing.

Genres: Poetry, 20th Century

85 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1999

About the author

U.S. Poet Laureate, 2007-2008

Dušan Charles Simic was born in Belgrade, former Yugoslavia, on May 9, 1938. Simic’s childhood was complicated by the events of World War II. He moved to Paris with his mother when he was 15; a year later, they joined his father in New York and then moved to Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago, where he graduated from the same high school as Ernest Hemingway. Simic attended the University of Chicago, working nights in an office at the Chicago Sun Times, but was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1961 and served until 1963.

Simic is the author of more than 30 poetry collections, including The World Doesn’t End: Prose Poems (1989), which received the Pulitzer Prize; Jackstraws (1999); Selected Poems: 1963-2003 (2004), which received the International Griffin Poetry Prize; and Scribbled in the Dark (2017). He is also an essayist, translator, editor, and professor emeritus of creative writing and literature at the University of New Hampshire, where he taught for over 30 years.

Simic has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the MacArthur Foundation, the Academy of American Poets, and the National Endowment for the Arts. His other honors and awards include the Frost Medal, the Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American Poets, and the PEN Translation Prize. He served as the 15th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, and was elected as Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets in 2001. Simic has also been elected into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.

Reviews

[Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

There's no one else like him. The three poems that close the book took the top of my head off.

[Ashly Johnson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my first experience with Simic and I am not totally sure how I feel. I think the content is severely lacking, but the form kind of makes up for it. These pieces are all very short and compact, allowing the reader to fly over the more unsavory parts of the poems.

The language is bizarre at times and a little hard to understand the meaning of, but because the pieces are all so small, it's not an overwhelming difficulty. I think based on this book alone, I would seek more out from this author, simply because it's unlike most other poetry collections I've read.

[Jody Sperling · Rating 4 out of 5]

For the first poem alone I would rate this book more highly than the majority of poetry I have read. "The Voice at 3 A.M." should be taught in every literature class across the country. It is perfect.

Several other standout poems will stay with me for a long time: "Filthy Landscape" is both funny and sad in equal parts, and "Talking to the Ceiling" would, for most writers/poets crown their literary career.

[C. Varn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Simic remains cryptic and sly, yet approachable. Finding the weird in everyday life, finding the common in the strange. His poetry is approachable, at times minimalistic, and often funny. I revisit this book often.

[Catherine Corman · Rating 5 out of 5]

I lie with my eyes tightly shut
Dreaming of a world
Beyond these sad appearances.

-Charles Simic, Jackstraws

[Nathan Albright · Rating 5 out of 5]

I must admit that I had to look up the meaning of the title of this book.  I suppose my age may be a part of it, but I was not familiar with the game jackstraws when I read this book.  There are many games like it that I remember playing as a kid, games where one built some kind of structure out of blocks or related materials and then tried to remove parts of it while keeping the whole tower standing, until someone moved a critical piece that caused everything to fall down.  If one is as pessimist about the state of the world and the fragility of civilization, and it is clear that the author is pessimistic about such matters, it is not hard to see contemporary existence as being like a giant and very dangerous game of jackstraws where one pulls away one support after another in the hope that what is left can hold the full burden of our hopes and aspirations, until everything falls apart [1].  Admittedly, this is not a cheerful matter, but if one is familiar with the author's work as a whole, it is easy to realize that there is little cheer to be found in the author's melancholy reflections.

This particular volume of poetry is divided into three parts and is less than 100 pages in total, a fairly familiar structure and size among the author's body of work.  As one might expect, the author dwells on some familiar themes here, as there are poems about a "non-stop war with bugs," as well as poetry relating to the night and insomnia and bad dreams and the horrors of existence.  None of these themes is likely to be unfamiliar with readers of the author's work in general.  A bit more unusually, the poet seems to be focusing on medieval matters with references to medieval miniature, a barber's college, the myth of St. George and the dragon, as well as occult and esoteric philosophy.  There are also a couple of poems here that relate to marriage, of the soul as well as of ambiguity, and the author focuses on ancient deities and things that are vacant or invisible.  While none of these represent a dramatic shift, they are certainly a characteristic focus of this particular book, and make for a thoughtful if somewhat gloomy reading experience.

One wonders about the placement of the poetry and the theme of the work as a whole.  Is the author trying to imply that occult philosophy and various mystical means like fortune telling and astrology help in propping up civilization, or is it rather that they are among the desperate measures taken by people who are aware that they live in fragile times and are trying to seek assistance and insight wherever they can.  As is often the case with poetry--and particularly the author's poetry--the matter is left ambiguous.  We are left with short poems and sketch-like observations without getting any sort of commentary that would allow the reader to see the author's viewpoint.  But perhaps the author does not wish to provide this viewpoint, but would rather leave his work ambiguous and capable of being enjoyed by many instead of making his own worldview and perspective plain and thus alienate (potentially) a large number of his readers, as is often the case in such matters.  The particular relationship between these dark and reflective poems and the fragility of our own contemporary world is something that must be left to the reader to ponder over and reflect upon in light of our own experiences and perspective.

[1] See, for example:

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2011...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016...

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016...

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Black sorrow running after me
In the street,
Calling me Tom Cat,
Mr. Hot-Nuts.

That's why I break my neck,
Dart left and right
Looking for a hole to hide in,
Pretend I don't know her.

A lovey-dovey, hootchie-kootchie
Kind of sorrow.
The poeple stopping to watch
Think we are both wacko.

- - -

The season of lurid wildflowers
Strewn on the meadows
Drunk with kissing
The red-hot summer breezes.

A ditch opens its legs
In the half-undressed orchard
Teeming with foulmouthed birds
And smutty shadows.

Scandalous view of a hilltop
In pink clouds of debauchery.
The sun peeking between them
Now and then like a whoremaster.

[chris · Rating 3 out of 5]

Who put canned laughter
Into my crucifixion scene?
-- "The Voice at 3 A.M."

My hunch is, you prefer to remain forever
Unthinkable and unsayable,
Merely delectable, so that I may continue
To sate myself on your sweet appearances,
Your luscious, flower-strewn meadows,
Your vast bouquets of evening stars.
-- "Midsummer Feast"

The beast with serene table manners
Is behind that white curtain.
The thin knife and fork it uses
Silhouetted stabbing a heart.
-- "House of Horrors"

Coming down from the trees was a big mistake.
-- "Talking to the Ceiling"

With tiny love bites she ate my heart.
Didn't want the salt and pepper I offered.
-- "Talking to the Ceiling"

[Donald Armfield · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another drop the mic performance from the great Simic. This collection draws the cryptic, gritty, dirty old man imagery of classic Hollywood monsters, things you could poke with a stick and simple conversations you may have with your ceiling.

FAVORITES
-Private Eye
-Live at Club Revolution
-Non-Stop War with Bugs
-Barber College Shave
-The Streets of Martyrs
-Bug Doctor
-Modern Society
-Prison Guards Silhouetted Against the Sky
-Head of a Doll
-Empty Rocking Chair
-Talking to the Ceiling

[Will · Rating 3 out of 5]

"THE HIDING OF COSTUMES

Tops hats and tight-fit monkey suits,
You pointed to the map of the world
With your silver-tipped walking stick
And fixed my fate forvever on a dot.

Already on the very next page,
I saw my white sailor suit parachuting
Among bricks and puffs of smoke
In a building split in half by a bomb,

The smoke that was like the skirts
Slit on the side to give the legs the freedom
To move while dancing the tango
Past ballroom mirrors on page 1944."

[Benjamin Niespodziany · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's important to always have a Charles Simic collection close at hand. In your backpack, on your nightstand. This book is yet another wonder. I especially love the second-to-last poem, "Talking to the Ceiling", where each dizzying line stands on its own. Like this one, a favorite:

"There was a funeral in my coffee cup tonight."

[R.K. Cowles · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 1/2 stars

[Kate Peterson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Apparently I’ve been taking my insomnia for granted and should have been using it to write some strange Simic-y poems.

[Daniel Quinn · Rating 4 out of 5]

like a master criminal dodging his sleeplessness
i sleep in a different bed every night

on the gallows i’ll be offering to pick up the check

[Owen Mayfair · Rating 4 out of 5]

Contemporary, and brought a form of chaos that I gladly read from start to finish. Had me entertained fully.

[Scott Ballard · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Wintry light
My memories are
Steep stairwells
In dusty buildings
On dead-end streets”

[Bruce Cline · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book got 4 stars because I rounded up.

[March · Rating 4 out of 5]

My favorite of the poems were "The Voice at 3 AM" (the shortest) and "Talking to the Ceiling" (the longest), both of which typify Simic at his most wry and arresting. Simic dramatically revised "Talking to the Ceiling" for his New and Selected Poems, but I prefer this earlier version - his revision excised some of the funniest lines.

[Robert Beveridge · Rating 4 out of 5]

Charles Simic, Jackstraws (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1999)

I've written so many glowing words about Charles Simic in the past year that anything more would really be superfluous (cf. reviews of The World Doesn't End, Return to a Place Lit by a Glass of Milk, Classic Ballroom Dances, Charon's Cosmology, etc. etc.). All I can really say about Jackstraws is "another worthy entry in the corpus of Mr. Simic, which is already stacked full of quality material." Every new book from Charles Simic is an unalloyed pleasure to read, full of little unexpected pleasures and twists of phrase that cannot help but delight the reader. If you're not familiar with the work of Mr. Simic, I cannot but urge you to become so at your earliest opportunity; the man should be a living legend. As it is, he's just another poet trying to eke out a living, and that's a crime. ****

[Steven · Rating 3 out of 5]

Simic uses point-of-view, humor and personification in this collection to again and again point out how small each of our existences is in the scheme of the universe. He also satirizes religions’ attempts at reconciling this gap in human logic by repeatedly addressing the “ceiling” as if it were a god. By combining all of this, Simic is able to craft a book of seemingly lighter pieces that delve deep into a core human issue. The only time this fails is with the ambitious eight-page piece “Talking to the Ceiling” (74-81), and only because the length of the poem dissipates the power of the humor and images as the reader struggles to connect too many conflicting statements. Finally, I appreciated how Simic often juxtaposes serious topics (such as war) with lighter images (such as costumes or toys), providing interesting leaps for the reader.

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Surrealist poetry is not always easy for me to read. The comments on the back of the books helped me a lot in knowing how to read these poems. So I copy part of said comments here for people who may have a different edition.

"The poems are like self-developing polaroids, in which a scene, gradually assembling itself out of unexplained images, suddenly clicks into a recognizable whole . . . Two motives -- the search for explanation, knowing there is none; and the finding of plots or images to match the burden of feeling . . . " from the incomparable Helen Vendler

"Surrealist, and therefore comic, but with a specific gravity in his imagining that manages to avoid the surrealist penalty of weightlessness . . . " from Seamus Heaney

Weightlessness avoided, I'll say!

[Russ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I didn't have a lot of exposure to Simic before. His poetry has a jocular, ironic tone, and he likes to make absurd-like comparisons. He is interested in big questions, but not in a systematic way. At least in this collection he is more comfortable in the aphoristic mode than in the didactic. All in all, I'd say he is an interesting, solid poet. I'll probably seek out some of his other works.

[Matt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Charming poems, Simic's use of language is very clever and expressive.

One example that struck me, from Mystic Life the last poem in the collection, was:

'Chewing on the bitter verb
"To be."'

[Leonard · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another excellent collection of poems. I read this book before in March, 2010 and re-read it this December. Simic's poetry has a timeless quality that leaves one feeling uplifted and thinking about what he just read, and like all good poetry, is infused with mystery.

[Olivier Lepetit · Rating 1 out of 5]

Utter gibberish - I try, I promise you, I try to 'get' into this kind of poetry - but this looks to me like automatic, improvised writing, the kind of stuff that ANYONE can come up with with a few drinks and a propensity to be able to write whatever comes to your head at that precise moment.

[Tina · Rating 3 out of 5]

The first two sections were kind of overly silly and difficult, but the third is kind of a magical blending of the serious and the absurd.

[Jeffrey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not my favorite, but still love it.

[Zach · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've had much less exposure to Simic than one would think, but I wasn't blown away by this one. Lesser Simic perhaps?

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read while at the shore with my family - my brother's book which he let me borrow. The last poem makes this entire book worthwhile.

[Edward Nudelman · Rating 5 out of 5]

so good