What do you think?
Rate this book
Música de câmara
«Nestes termos, afigurou-se pertinente e oportuno apresentar em edição bilingue o volume intitulado Chamber Music / Música de Câmara que assinalou a estreia de Joyce em 1907 e constitui uma espécie de laboratório onde decorrem experimentações temáticas e prosódicas conducentes à renovação da tradição discursiva europeia, empreendida pelas gerações modernistas. (...) Música de Câmara regista as primeiras tentativas de Joyce para organizar o som no tempo e instituir a música como veículo de enunciação alternativo e suplementar da palavra. Por esta via, tomado de per si ou considerado na rede relacional que estabelece com os demais, cada poema representa uma tentativa para comunicar imagens estruturadas através do recurso directo à vibração musical.» [Do Prefácio de João Almeida Flor]
«Nestes termos, afigurou-se pertinente e oportuno apresentar em edição bilingue o volume intitulado Chamber Music / Música de Câmara que assinalou a estreia de Joyce em 1907 e constitui uma espécie de laboratório onde decorrem experimentações temáticas e prosódicas conducentes à renovação da tradição discursiva europeia, empreendida pelas gerações modernistas. (…)
Música de Câmara regista as primeiras tentativas de Joyce para organizar o som no tempo e instituir a música como veículo de enunciação alternativo e suplementar da palavra. Por esta via, tomado de per si ou considerado na rede relacional que estabelece com os demais, cada poema representa uma tentativa para comunicar imagens estruturadas através do recurso directo à vibração musical.»
«Nestes termos, afigurou-se pertinente e oportuno apresentar em edição bilingue o volume intitulado Chamber Music / Música de Câmara que assinalou a estreia de Joyce em 1907 e constitui uma espécie de laboratório onde decorrem experimentações temáticas e prosódicas conducentes à renovação da tradição discursiva europeia, empreendida pelas gerações modernistas. (…)
Música de Câmara regista as primeiras tentativas de Joyce para organizar o som no tempo e instituir a música como veículo de enunciação alternativo e suplementar da palavra. Por esta via, tomado de per si ou considerado na rede relacional que estabelece com os demais, cada poema representa uma tentativa para comunicar imagens estruturadas através do recurso directo à vibração musical.»
96 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1905
70 people are currently reading
1461 people want to read
About the author
James Joyce
1,697 books9,440 followersJames Joyce was an Irish novelist, poet, and a pivotal figure in 20th-century modernist literature, renowned for his highly experimental approach to language and narrative structure, particularly his pioneering mastery and popularization of the stream-of-consciousness technique. Born into a middle-class Catholic family in the Rathgar suburb of Dublin in 1882, Joyce spent the majority of his adult life in self-imposed exile across continental Europe—living in Trieste, Zurich, and Paris—yet his entire, meticulous body of work remained obsessively and comprehensively focused on the minutiae of his native city, making Dublin both the meticulously detailed setting and a central, inescapable character in his literary universe. His work is consistently characterized by its technical complexity, rich literary allusion, intricate symbolism, and an unflinching examination of the spectrum of human consciousness. Joyce began his published career with Dubliners (1914), a collection of fifteen short stories offering a naturalistic, often stark, depiction of middle-class Irish life and the moral and spiritual paralysis he observed in its inhabitants, concluding each story with a moment of crucial, sudden self-understanding he termed an "epiphany." This collection was followed by the highly autobiographical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), a Bildungsroman that meticulously chronicled the intellectual and artistic awakening of its protagonist, Stephen Dedalus, who would become Joyce's recurring alter ego and intellectual stand-in throughout his major works.
His magnum opus, Ulysses (1922), is universally regarded as a landmark work of fiction that fundamentally revolutionized the novel form. It compressed the events of a single, ordinary day—June 16, 1904, a date now globally celebrated by literary enthusiasts as "Bloomsday"—into a sprawling, epic narrative that structurally and symbolically paralleled Homer's Odyssey, using a dazzling array of distinct styles and linguistic invention across its eighteen episodes to explore the lives of Leopold Bloom, his wife Molly Bloom, and Stephen Dedalus in hyper-minute detail. The novel's explicit content and innovative, challenging structure led to its initial banning for obscenity in the United States and the United Kingdom, turning Joyce into a cause célèbre for artistic freedom and the boundaries of literary expression. His final, most challenging work, Finnegans Wake (1939), pushed the boundaries of language and conventional narrative even further, employing a dense, dream-like prose filled with multilingual puns, invented portmanteau words, and layered allusions that continues to divide and challenge readers and scholars to this day. A dedicated polyglot who reportedly learned several languages, including Norwegian simply to read Ibsen in the original, Joyce approached the English language not as a fixed entity with rigid rules, but as a malleable medium capable of infinite reinvention and expression. His personal life was marked by an unwavering dedication to his literary craft, a complex, devoted relationship with his wife Nora Barnacle, and chronic, debilitating eye problems that necessitated numerous painful surgeries throughout his life, sometimes forcing him to write with crayons on large white paper. Despite these severe physical ailments and financial struggles, his singular literary vision remained sharp, focused, and profoundly revolutionary. Joyce passed away in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1941, shortly after undergoing one of his many eye operations. Today, he is widely regarded as perhaps the most significant and challenging writer of the 20th century. His immense, complex legacy is robustly maintained by global academic study and institutions such as the James Joyce Centre in Dublin, which ensures his complex, demanding, and utterly brilliant work endures, inviting new generations of readers to explore the very essence of what it means to be hum
His magnum opus, Ulysses (1922), is universally regarded as a landmark work of fiction that fundamentally revolutionized the novel form. It compressed the events of a single, ordinary day—June 16, 1904, a date now globally celebrated by literary enthusiasts as "Bloomsday"—into a sprawling, epic narrative that structurally and symbolically paralleled Homer's Odyssey, using a dazzling array of distinct styles and linguistic invention across its eighteen episodes to explore the lives of Leopold Bloom, his wife Molly Bloom, and Stephen Dedalus in hyper-minute detail. The novel's explicit content and innovative, challenging structure led to its initial banning for obscenity in the United States and the United Kingdom, turning Joyce into a cause célèbre for artistic freedom and the boundaries of literary expression. His final, most challenging work, Finnegans Wake (1939), pushed the boundaries of language and conventional narrative even further, employing a dense, dream-like prose filled with multilingual puns, invented portmanteau words, and layered allusions that continues to divide and challenge readers and scholars to this day. A dedicated polyglot who reportedly learned several languages, including Norwegian simply to read Ibsen in the original, Joyce approached the English language not as a fixed entity with rigid rules, but as a malleable medium capable of infinite reinvention and expression. His personal life was marked by an unwavering dedication to his literary craft, a complex, devoted relationship with his wife Nora Barnacle, and chronic, debilitating eye problems that necessitated numerous painful surgeries throughout his life, sometimes forcing him to write with crayons on large white paper. Despite these severe physical ailments and financial struggles, his singular literary vision remained sharp, focused, and profoundly revolutionary. Joyce passed away in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1941, shortly after undergoing one of his many eye operations. Today, he is widely regarded as perhaps the most significant and challenging writer of the 20th century. His immense, complex legacy is robustly maintained by global academic study and institutions such as the James Joyce Centre in Dublin, which ensures his complex, demanding, and utterly brilliant work endures, inviting new generations of readers to explore the very essence of what it means to be hum
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 148 reviews
April 18, 2021
I
“Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying“
Early Joyce's poetry has a dream-like atmosphere of hopeful and playful young naive love. This a completely different side of Joyce, lacking the density and intertextuality of his other works, as the simplicity and freshness of verses shine through. Poems embody the nostalgic fantasy of innocence, purity, childhood, magical nature and fairy-tale love story.
V
“Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I hear you singing
A merry air.
My book was closed,
I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.
I have left my book,
I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
Through the gloom.
Singing and singing
A merry air,
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair.“
Joyce seems to be in a quest for regaining innocence and creating a world too pure for shame to exist, a musical cosmos full of vivid, unbelievably charming imagery of nature.
VII
“Who goes amid the green wood
With springtide all adorning her?
Who goes amid the merry green wood
To make it merrier?
Who passes in the sunlight
By ways that know the light footfall?
Who passes in the sweet sunlight
With mien so virginal?
The ways of all the woodland
Gleam with a soft and golden fire -- -
For whom does all the sunny woodland
Carry so brave attire?
O, it is for my true love
The woods their rich apparel wear -- -
O, it is for my own true love,
That is so young and fair.“
It is interesting that Joyce allegedly had his first sexual (but not also romantic) experiences very early, so Chamber Music represents the longing for the purity of idealized first love. Not being able to find true love as a young man with a bad reputation, always rejected, he was condemned to searching it in the arms of women that also had a bad reputation. Chamber Music is the poetry of dreamer, misfit and loner that fantasized about one day being worthy of true love. Poetry of Chamber Music perfectly channels Joyce's inner world full of romantic thoughts and longings. Juvenile and beautiful.
XX
“In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,
In deep cool shadow
At noon of day.
How sweet to lie there,
Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
Enaisled is!
Thy kiss descending
Sweeter were
With a soft tumult
Of thy hair.
O unto the pine-wood
At noon of day
Come with me now,
Sweet love, away.“
To his love Nora, he wrote a letter about Chamber Music while she was reading poems:
“When I wrote them I was a strange lonely boy, walking about by myself at night and thinking that some day a girl would love me. But I never could speak to the girls I used to meet at houses. Their false manners checked me at once. Then you came to me. You were not in a sense the girl for whom I had dreamed and written the verses you find now so enchanting. She was perhaps (as 1 saw her in my imagination) a girl fashioned into a curious grave beauty by the culture of generations before her, the woman for whom I wrote poems like 'Gentle lady' or 'Thou leanest to the shell of night.' But then I saw that the beauty of your soul outshone that of my verses. There was something in you higher than anything I had put into them. And so for this reason the book of verses is for you. It holds the desire of my youth and you, darling, were the fulfillment of that desire.“
“Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying“
Early Joyce's poetry has a dream-like atmosphere of hopeful and playful young naive love. This a completely different side of Joyce, lacking the density and intertextuality of his other works, as the simplicity and freshness of verses shine through. Poems embody the nostalgic fantasy of innocence, purity, childhood, magical nature and fairy-tale love story.
V
“Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair,
I hear you singing
A merry air.
My book was closed,
I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.
I have left my book,
I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
Through the gloom.
Singing and singing
A merry air,
Lean out of the window,
Goldenhair.“
Joyce seems to be in a quest for regaining innocence and creating a world too pure for shame to exist, a musical cosmos full of vivid, unbelievably charming imagery of nature.
VII
“Who goes amid the green wood
With springtide all adorning her?
Who goes amid the merry green wood
To make it merrier?
Who passes in the sunlight
By ways that know the light footfall?
Who passes in the sweet sunlight
With mien so virginal?
The ways of all the woodland
Gleam with a soft and golden fire -- -
For whom does all the sunny woodland
Carry so brave attire?
O, it is for my true love
The woods their rich apparel wear -- -
O, it is for my own true love,
That is so young and fair.“
It is interesting that Joyce allegedly had his first sexual (but not also romantic) experiences very early, so Chamber Music represents the longing for the purity of idealized first love. Not being able to find true love as a young man with a bad reputation, always rejected, he was condemned to searching it in the arms of women that also had a bad reputation. Chamber Music is the poetry of dreamer, misfit and loner that fantasized about one day being worthy of true love. Poetry of Chamber Music perfectly channels Joyce's inner world full of romantic thoughts and longings. Juvenile and beautiful.
XX
“In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,
In deep cool shadow
At noon of day.
How sweet to lie there,
Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
Enaisled is!
Thy kiss descending
Sweeter were
With a soft tumult
Of thy hair.
O unto the pine-wood
At noon of day
Come with me now,
Sweet love, away.“
To his love Nora, he wrote a letter about Chamber Music while she was reading poems:
“When I wrote them I was a strange lonely boy, walking about by myself at night and thinking that some day a girl would love me. But I never could speak to the girls I used to meet at houses. Their false manners checked me at once. Then you came to me. You were not in a sense the girl for whom I had dreamed and written the verses you find now so enchanting. She was perhaps (as 1 saw her in my imagination) a girl fashioned into a curious grave beauty by the culture of generations before her, the woman for whom I wrote poems like 'Gentle lady' or 'Thou leanest to the shell of night.' But then I saw that the beauty of your soul outshone that of my verses. There was something in you higher than anything I had put into them. And so for this reason the book of verses is for you. It holds the desire of my youth and you, darling, were the fulfillment of that desire.“
May 21, 2015
Meet James Joyce, The Poet.
Sipping the morning coffee, you can soak in the simplicity of his prose and feel the warm coffee for a few seconds more. There is no need to either refer a dictionary to get meanings of complicated words or meander deep between the lines to catch a hidden message. The verses are without the excess of metaphors and the shine of verbose portmanteaus.
But they do usher in, the spring of life.
The playfulness of heart, in its pristine beauty, is captured in this beautiful poem:
And the mundane finds splendour too, in his tender musings. Something as mundane as combing as well.
And when he writes the following verse, one can almost visualize him, leaning by a wooden gate on a starry night, whistling the tune of a vagabond and drinking in the beauty of his beloved with twinkling eyes:
The poems form the soothing voice of a spirited soul, who draws joy from every little thing around him.
But heck I know! I felt the same at the end as you do right now: Is this the same Joyce? :)
Sipping the morning coffee, you can soak in the simplicity of his prose and feel the warm coffee for a few seconds more. There is no need to either refer a dictionary to get meanings of complicated words or meander deep between the lines to catch a hidden message. The verses are without the excess of metaphors and the shine of verbose portmanteaus.
But they do usher in, the spring of life.
The playfulness of heart, in its pristine beauty, is captured in this beautiful poem:
My love is in a light attire
Among the apple-trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
There, where the gay winds stay to woo
The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass;
And where the sky's a pale blue cup
Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
Her dress with dainty hand
And the mundane finds splendour too, in his tender musings. Something as mundane as combing as well.
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dapplled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence
And when he writes the following verse, one can almost visualize him, leaning by a wooden gate on a starry night, whistling the tune of a vagabond and drinking in the beauty of his beloved with twinkling eyes:
When the shy star goes forth in heaven
All maidenly, disconsolate,
Hear you amid the drowsy even
One who is singing by your gate.
His song is softer than the dew
And he is come to visit you.
O bend no more in revery
When he at eventide is calling.
Nor muse: Who may this singer be
Whose song about my heart is falling?
Know you by this, the lover's chant,
'Tis I that am your visitant
The poems form the soothing voice of a spirited soul, who draws joy from every little thing around him.
But heck I know! I felt the same at the end as you do right now: Is this the same Joyce? :)
April 25, 2021
Dear heart, why will you use me so?
Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,
Still are you beautiful—but O,
How is your beauty raimented!
Through the clear mirror of your eyes,
Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss,
Desolate winds assail with cries
The shadowy garden where love is.
And soon shall love dissolved be
When over us the wild winds blow—
But you, dear love, too dear to me,
Alas! why will you use me so?
Read
April 14, 20209/10
December 17, 2016
XVII
Because your voice was at my side
I gave him pain,
Because within my hand I held
Your hand again.
There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend ----
He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend.
Because your voice was at my side
I gave him pain,
Because within my hand I held
Your hand again.
There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend ----
He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend.
July 23, 2018
James Joyce poeta...
"Aconteceu-nos o amor outrora,
Era ao sol-pôr e um de nós tocava
O outro, ali por perto, receoso —
Que principia amor sempre em temor.
Era solene nosso amor. Findou —
Em delícias passámos tantas horas;
Que propício nos seja, no final,
O caminho que falta percorrer."
"Aconteceu-nos o amor outrora,
Era ao sol-pôr e um de nós tocava
O outro, ali por perto, receoso —
Que principia amor sempre em temor.
Era solene nosso amor. Findou —
Em delícias passámos tantas horas;
Que propício nos seja, no final,
O caminho que falta percorrer."
November 6, 2018
نخستین کتاب جویس که در زمان خودش انتشار یافت موسیقی مجلسی بود.کتابی که به تاثیر ایماژیست ها و احتمالن تاثیر نسبی ازرا پاوند نوشته شده.جویس البته در سرودن شعر جدی نبوده و می خواسته جهان خود را با قصه به دیگران نمایش دهد.
منوچهر بدیعی در کتاب جیمز جویس به نقل از استیوارت می نویسد:
شعرهای این مجموعه به معنای محدود زیبایی شناختی جدی است و نبوغ جویس از همان ابتدا از این معنای محدود فراتر بود.جویس اشعار تغزل ی دوران الیزابت را با دقت خوانده بود و بهترین توصیف شعرهای او آن است که بگوییم تقلید ماهرانه شعرهای قدیم تر بود.آن هم به صورتی که از غبار پایان قرن هویدا می شد.
خواندن این کتاب به فارسی خوب این دو مترجم،به نظرم خواندن چهره ی مرد هنرمند در جوانی را سهل تر و بعد زیبایی شناختی آن را برجسته می کند.بیشتر این اشعار در غم از دست دادن یار و مرگ سروده شده اند و به خوبی می توان این آوا را در داستان های کوتاه دوبلینی ها و چهره ی مرد هنرمند در جوانی حس کرد.
جویس شاعر اگرچه به توانمندی جویس نویسنده نیست اما باید او را نویسنده ای انگاشت که شعر را از دل زندگی روزمره به درون نثر آورده.شعری از جویس:
.
باران نرم نرمک بر مزار راهون می بارد،بارشی نم نم،
آن جا که دلدار من خفته ست در غم.
با صدایی اندوهناک فرا می خواندم،ندایی جان کاه،
در طلوع پریده رنگ ماه.
ای عشق،گوش بسپار
صدای او که همچنان فرامی خواند،چه نرم است و اندوهبار
و همچنان بی پاسخ می ماند و باران غم زده می بارد،
گاه گاه.
دل های ما نیز،ای عشق،سرد و افسرده خواهند خفت
همچون دفینه ی دل اندوهگین او
زیر گزنه های خاکستری،خاک سیاه
و باران نجواگر
.
جویس
به فارسی فرید حسینیان تهرانی
منوچهر بدیعی در کتاب جیمز جویس به نقل از استیوارت می نویسد:
شعرهای این مجموعه به معنای محدود زیبایی شناختی جدی است و نبوغ جویس از همان ابتدا از این معنای محدود فراتر بود.جویس اشعار تغزل ی دوران الیزابت را با دقت خوانده بود و بهترین توصیف شعرهای او آن است که بگوییم تقلید ماهرانه شعرهای قدیم تر بود.آن هم به صورتی که از غبار پایان قرن هویدا می شد.
خواندن این کتاب به فارسی خوب این دو مترجم،به نظرم خواندن چهره ی مرد هنرمند در جوانی را سهل تر و بعد زیبایی شناختی آن را برجسته می کند.بیشتر این اشعار در غم از دست دادن یار و مرگ سروده شده اند و به خوبی می توان این آوا را در داستان های کوتاه دوبلینی ها و چهره ی مرد هنرمند در جوانی حس کرد.
جویس شاعر اگرچه به توانمندی جویس نویسنده نیست اما باید او را نویسنده ای انگاشت که شعر را از دل زندگی روزمره به درون نثر آورده.شعری از جویس:
.
باران نرم نرمک بر مزار راهون می بارد،بارشی نم نم،
آن جا که دلدار من خفته ست در غم.
با صدایی اندوهناک فرا می خواندم،ندایی جان کاه،
در طلوع پریده رنگ ماه.
ای عشق،گوش بسپار
صدای او که همچنان فرامی خواند،چه نرم است و اندوهبار
و همچنان بی پاسخ می ماند و باران غم زده می بارد،
گاه گاه.
دل های ما نیز،ای عشق،سرد و افسرده خواهند خفت
همچون دفینه ی دل اندوهگین او
زیر گزنه های خاکستری،خاک سیاه
و باران نجواگر
.
جویس
به فارسی فرید حسینیان تهرانی
February 9, 2022
Lovely collection, only knocking off one star because not all the poems were to my taste- still written beautifully just personal preference. My favourites are probably V (but that might just be because I’m ginger), XXIII, XXX and XXXI (Joyce knows know to end a poem wow) but my absolute favourite is definitely XX: never wanted to be in an enaisled pine-wood so badly. Reading that poem feels soft and reminds me of some sweet microcosm of love.
October 22, 2017
کتابم بسته شد / نخواندم بیش / خیره در رقصِ آتش / در اتاقِ خویش. / کتاب را ترک کرده ام / اتاق را ترک کرده ام / چرا که آوازِ تو را شنیدم / از لا به لای سیاهیِ تشویش ...
My book was closed / I read no more / watching the fire dance / On the floor. /I have left my book / I have left my room / For I heard you singing / Through the gloom ...
---------------
افسوس! افسوس! / از بادهای بهاری که نمی دانند / دلدادگی در دوریِ دلدار همیشه دلگیر است ...
Welladay! Welladay! / For the winds of May! / Love is unhappy when love is away!
---------------
به من ایمان بیاور که فرزانه ای هستم / در انکارِ بهشت / درخششِ بهشتی، آن شعله های زبانه کش در چشم های توست / که نورِ ستاره را لرزان می کنند. ای که آنِ منی، ای آنِ من!
Believe me rather am wise / In disregard of the divine / A glory kindles in those eyes / Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!
---------------
دیر زمانی، زمانی که عشق به سراغِ ما آمد / یکی از ما خجول به گرگ و میش مشغول / و دیگری وحشت زده در کنارِ او ایستاده بود / چرا که عشق در آغاز یکسره بیم بود. / ما دلدادگانِ بد روزگاری بودیم ...
Love came to us in time gone by / When one at twilight shyly played / And one in fear was standing nigh / For love at first is all afraid. / We were grave lovers ...
My book was closed / I read no more / watching the fire dance / On the floor. /I have left my book / I have left my room / For I heard you singing / Through the gloom ...
---------------
افسوس! افسوس! / از بادهای بهاری که نمی دانند / دلدادگی در دوریِ دلدار همیشه دلگیر است ...
Welladay! Welladay! / For the winds of May! / Love is unhappy when love is away!
---------------
به من ایمان بیاور که فرزانه ای هستم / در انکارِ بهشت / درخششِ بهشتی، آن شعله های زبانه کش در چشم های توست / که نورِ ستاره را لرزان می کنند. ای که آنِ منی، ای آنِ من!
Believe me rather am wise / In disregard of the divine / A glory kindles in those eyes / Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!
---------------
دیر زمانی، زمانی که عشق به سراغِ ما آمد / یکی از ما خجول به گرگ و میش مشغول / و دیگری وحشت زده در کنارِ او ایستاده بود / چرا که عشق در آغاز یکسره بیم بود. / ما دلدادگانِ بد روزگاری بودیم ...
Love came to us in time gone by / When one at twilight shyly played / And one in fear was standing nigh / For love at first is all afraid. / We were grave lovers ...
February 4, 2021
I must hesitantly admit that the biggest gap in my appreciation of literature is poetry. For all I know, the poems collected under the title of CHAMBER MUSIC may be the greatest ever written. From my perspective, they were fine ... but only one stayed with me (the discovery of a Love’s betrayal with a friend).
In general, I enjoy story poems the most. Even with elaborate language, I want to be drawn into a narrative. Poems that attempt to re-create a strong emotion in the Reader from setting or observation alone don’t have nearly the impact on me.
Now, being Irish poetry, I’ll admit to wondering if they would have a stronger influence on me if set to music such as the Irish flute ... or CHAMBER MUSIC. Some verses could also be the subject of a meditation.
As I progressed through the poems, I did have the sense of often being led through the phases of a relationship. Those were the ones that I read two or three times, and the repetition did strengthen the image.
Yet, I must confess that if I hadn’t decided to explore the works of James Joyce this year, CHAMBER MUSIC would not have been read. I greatly preferred the masterful short stories in DUBLINERS.
In general, I enjoy story poems the most. Even with elaborate language, I want to be drawn into a narrative. Poems that attempt to re-create a strong emotion in the Reader from setting or observation alone don’t have nearly the impact on me.
Now, being Irish poetry, I’ll admit to wondering if they would have a stronger influence on me if set to music such as the Irish flute ... or CHAMBER MUSIC. Some verses could also be the subject of a meditation.
As I progressed through the poems, I did have the sense of often being led through the phases of a relationship. Those were the ones that I read two or three times, and the repetition did strengthen the image.
Yet, I must confess that if I hadn’t decided to explore the works of James Joyce this year, CHAMBER MUSIC would not have been read. I greatly preferred the masterful short stories in DUBLINERS.
July 8, 2020
James Joyce is a one-hit wonder. With Ulysses, he set an impossibly high bar for future authors, but everything else he wrote is way less impressive. The language in Finnegans Wake can be pretty irritating and it's too much work for the payout you get. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners are good books in no small part because of their relation to Ulysses. His one play, Exiles, tries too hard to be a tribute to Ibsen and I can't imagine anyone paying money to see it performed on stage. And his poetry reads as if it was written by a teenager who's still learning English and is careful not to make any mistakes.
I adore Joyce. He's an extraordinary writer. But he put most of his genius in only one book.
I adore Joyce. He's an extraordinary writer. But he put most of his genius in only one book.
July 15, 2024
Very lovely. There’s nothing intensely profound about this (very long) poem but it has so much tenderness in each one of its lines. When I say it isn’t intensely profound I don’t mean it’s not important or affecting, but rather soft, gentle, and understandable (the latter being rare for Joyce lmao). He is writing poetry about love in ways it’s been written before but his talent for finding just the right words and the pure emotion in it makes it touching. Reading it is like seeing two strangers say goodbye to each other at the airport: you’re not connected to them in anyway but you’re happy to see their love for each other and sad that they will miss each other. I don’t know really how to explain it but I think that captures it.
January 5, 2020
XVIII
O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover's tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.
O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover's tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.
November 29, 2022
letteralmente canzonette
November 25, 2020
This is part of my 2020 Pandemic Project: using poets' repetitions to make something i call repoesy for lack of a better name.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
if you want to make your own...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
welladay
come follow
adieu
arise
arise
arise
calling
deny
combing
comb out
lightly
knocking
the year
sleep now O
clanging
my love
the year calling lightly
-Come follow-
knocking
]Arise AriseArise[
clanging
>>Welladay<<
deny combing
)Adieu(
comb out
"Sleep now, O my love"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
if you want to make your own...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
welladay
come follow
adieu
arise
arise
arise
calling
deny
combing
comb out
lightly
knocking
the year
sleep now O
clanging
my love
May 13, 2018
Joyce's early poetry is more in mode of Stephen Dedalus than in his own style, and is charmingly musical although not to my taste. Winds of May is my favourite poem here, and if you've ever wanted to hear a Russian low-fi techno rendition of Joyce, I have just the song for you.
July 17, 2019
Well, now I know why Joyce isn’t known for his poetry, I guess? Like, it’s fine. It’s not terribly hard to understand, it reads rather nicely. It’s fine. But it’s also full of repetition and it doesn’t feel like it’s actually going anywhere. It felt a bit teenage boy, tbh, all love and nature nonsense.
July 11, 2020
«Música de câmara» é e não é a antecipação de outra poesia clássica da língua inglesa, também de referência musical, a de «Quatro quartetos», de Eliot. É pela evocação mais ou menos fragmentária da forma e dos temas medievais, renascentistas e por aí adiante. Não é porque, ao emular os modos que evoca, queda-se em certo sentido por eles, ao passo que Eliot avança por um caminho que anuncia já todo o século XX. Desculpamos Joyce por vários motivos: por ser Joyce; por Joyce ser muito jovem na altura em que escreveu estes poemas de assombrosa parecença aos modelos; por ser jovem mas saber ser maduro nas variações da dialéctica amador-e-cousa-amada; por se chamar o livro modestamente «Música de câmara» e não «Sinfonia» ou «Oratória»; por haver aqui um perfume do génio por detrás da grande prosa que conhecemos; e, não alongando mais, por ser amostra do seu domínio da linguagem e dessa luta tão comum entre poetas, que não raro opõe o inefável à necessidade da escrita.
February 8, 2013
A collection of small, beautiful poems written by James Joyce, a master of the English language. Lyrically charming love tales with an air of melancholy, as if it were from a young man with the common feeling that he will never find love - in fact, that's exactly what it is: "When I wrote [Chamber Music], I was a lonely boy, walking about by myself at night and thinking that one day a girl would love me."
The last poem in particular is just simply wonderful; indeed, Yeats called it a "technical and emotional masterpiece."
The last poem in particular is just simply wonderful; indeed, Yeats called it a "technical and emotional masterpiece."
March 3, 2020
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again -
Can they dishonour you?
They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again -
Can they dishonour you?
They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.
August 4, 2011
These are really good poems, mostly in a very simplistic (I know that sounds crazy -it's James Joyce) lyrical way. Many of these poems have had music added and have been turned into songs. (My brother is a classical singer and actually performs three from this collection.) I picture these being somewhat like the word turned out by a young Stephen Dedalus between A Portrait and Ulysses.
II think that to really enjoy this, one must enjoy Joyce and poetry, which puts you in a very small minority. It's, if nothing else, a nice look at the art of an artist before he became the artist who wrote about becoming an artist. I bought this book, but if I'm not mistaken, it's free online. There is no way to go wrong with a free, short, and beautiful book. And if there is, I don't know anything about it. Good show.
II think that to really enjoy this, one must enjoy Joyce and poetry, which puts you in a very small minority. It's, if nothing else, a nice look at the art of an artist before he became the artist who wrote about becoming an artist. I bought this book, but if I'm not mistaken, it's free online. There is no way to go wrong with a free, short, and beautiful book. And if there is, I don't know anything about it. Good show.
March 6, 2014
There's music along the river
For Love wanders there
O lonely watcher of the skies
Do you hear the night wind and sighs
One who is singing by your gate
His song is softer than the dew
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass
Love is unhappy when love is away
A music of sighs: Arise, arise
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise
The trees are full of sighs
He who has sorrow
Shall have rest
Rains has all the day
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories
All around our loneliness
The wind is whistling merrily
My love, my love, my love
Why have you left me alone?
For Love wanders there
O lonely watcher of the skies
Do you hear the night wind and sighs
One who is singing by your gate
His song is softer than the dew
My love goes slowly, bending to
Her shadow on the grass
Love is unhappy when love is away
A music of sighs: Arise, arise
From dewy dreams, my soul, arise
The trees are full of sighs
He who has sorrow
Shall have rest
Rains has all the day
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of memories
All around our loneliness
The wind is whistling merrily
My love, my love, my love
Why have you left me alone?
July 20, 2023
ჯოისთან პირველი შეხება იყო, ხანგრძლივი ფიქრის შემდეგ ეს კრებული ავირჩიე, რომელიც ჯერ კიდევ ახალგაზრდა და გამოუცდელ ბიჭს ეკუთვნის.
კრებული სიყვარულის თემას ეძღვნება - როგორ იწყება, ვითარდება და ბოლოს კვდება სიყვარული. ლექსების მსგავს განლაგებას ჯეიმზის ძმას უნდა ვუმადლოდეთ(და ზოგადად ამ კრებულის გამოცემას). ვერ ვიტყვი, რომ ყველა ლექსი მომეწონა, მაგრამ რამდენიმე ლექსმა ჩემი გული მოიტაცა.
პ.ს. ჯეიმზ ჯოისის გაცნობის სურვილი მას შემდეგ გამიჩნდა რა. გავიგე, რომ ბორხესის შემოქმედებაზე გავლენა იქონია. რას არ გააკეთებ ბორხესის გამო 😂
კრებული სიყვარულის თემას ეძღვნება - როგორ იწყება, ვითარდება და ბოლოს კვდება სიყვარული. ლექსების მსგავს განლაგებას ჯეიმზის ძმას უნდა ვუმადლოდეთ(და ზოგადად ამ კრებულის გამოცემას). ვერ ვიტყვი, რომ ყველა ლექსი მომეწონა, მაგრამ რამდენიმე ლექსმა ჩემი გული მოიტაცა.
პ.ს. ჯეიმზ ჯოისის გაცნობის სურვილი მას შემდეგ გამიჩნდა რა. გავიგე, რომ ბორხესის შემოქმედებაზე გავლენა იქონია. რას არ გააკეთებ ბორხესის გამო 😂
August 8, 2009
Due to the exquisite beauty of the first poem and great talent shown in the last, I was almost ready to give 5 stars, but some really poor poetry in between - so it's only 4.
March 1, 2017
A perfectly average collection of poems that recalls Wordsworth and early Blake, though not as good as these two unfortunately. Probably it just serves as a curiosity for Joyce's enthusiasts.
August 25, 2023
I do not like to read poetry because I don't like using my brain. I did not read this poetry collection of my own volition: it was tacked onto the end of the edition of Dubliners I checked out from the library. Because I do not read poetry, I feel not qualified to be rating this, hence the lukewarm rating, but i really did not like this collection. I went online and learned that the title, "Chamber music", was supposedly inspired by the sound of someone pissing into a pot?? But the majority of these poems are love poems and I can't imagine anything less romantic. I'm confused.
Anyways, most of these poems are very short and have some sort of rhyme scheme going on, but it felt like Joyce was trying to force words in that would rhyme, and it didn't seem like he tried that hard. A lot of stuff sounds clunky and the opposite of poetic. To make things worse, many of his declarations of love came off as cheesy and horny, the type of stuff I'm rarely in the mood to read. I will probably never read James Joyce's poetry again.
Anyways, most of these poems are very short and have some sort of rhyme scheme going on, but it felt like Joyce was trying to force words in that would rhyme, and it didn't seem like he tried that hard. A lot of stuff sounds clunky and the opposite of poetic. To make things worse, many of his declarations of love came off as cheesy and horny, the type of stuff I'm rarely in the mood to read. I will probably never read James Joyce's poetry again.
July 5, 2023
3.4
"The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this way.
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list-
The whilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst."
"The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this way.
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list-
The whilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst."
January 23, 2025
The poetry in this volume is finely crafted and nuanced, and it's intriguing to see how James Joyce confidently modernizes traditional poetic forms and diction. But for over 10 years I've been picking up and putting down this collection and I don't feel any any warmer towards it now and that doesn't seem right.
July 29, 2020
Es una colección muy bonita de poemas para leerse en voz alta, que van desde lo más dulce del amor, hasta lo más amargo del mismo, y otras cosas en el medio. Leídos en voz alta son muy melódicos.
“For seas an lands shall not divide us
My love and me”.
“There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend-
He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend”.
“For seas an lands shall not divide us
My love and me”.
“There is no word nor any sign
Can make amend-
He is a stranger to me now
Who was my friend”.
May 3, 2022
4,5/5
Ciężko jest napisać coś o tym tomiku... Myślę jednak, że nie jest to typowy dla Joyce'a styl - autor, znany z literackich eksperymentów (takich jak "Ulisses" czy "Finneganów Tren") tutaj przemawia do czytelnika subtelnym językiem romantyka. Godne uwagi 😁
Ciężko jest napisać coś o tym tomiku... Myślę jednak, że nie jest to typowy dla Joyce'a styl - autor, znany z literackich eksperymentów (takich jak "Ulisses" czy "Finneganów Tren") tutaj przemawia do czytelnika subtelnym językiem romantyka. Godne uwagi 😁
Displaying 1 - 30 of 148 reviews