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Sentenced To Life
In his new collection of poems - several of which have already become famous before their book publication - Clive James looks back over an extraordinarily rich life with a clear-eyed and unflinching honesty. There are regrets, but no trace of self-pity in these verses, which - for all their open dealings with death and illness - are primarily a celebration of what is treasurable and memorable in our time here.
Again and again, James reminds us that he is not only a poet of effortless wit and lyric accomplishment: he is also an immensely wise one, who delights in using poetic form to bring a razor-sharp focus to his thought. Miraculously, these poems see James writing with his insight and energy not only undiminished but positively charged by his situation: Sentenced to Life represents a career high point from one of the greatest literary intelligences of the age.
Again and again, James reminds us that he is not only a poet of effortless wit and lyric accomplishment: he is also an immensely wise one, who delights in using poetic form to bring a razor-sharp focus to his thought. Miraculously, these poems see James writing with his insight and energy not only undiminished but positively charged by his situation: Sentenced to Life represents a career high point from one of the greatest literary intelligences of the age.
60 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2015
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About the author
Clive James
94 books289 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
An expatriate Australian broadcast personality and author of cultural criticism, memoir, fiction, travelogue and poetry. Translator of Dante.
An expatriate Australian broadcast personality and author of cultural criticism, memoir, fiction, travelogue and poetry. Translator of Dante.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
April 3, 2023
This is a beautiful book of poetry written by Clive James, an Australian critic, journalist, broadcaster, writer and lyricist, who emigrated to the UK in 1962. I watched his television show during the 1980s and loved his biting commentary, sarcastic wit and way with words.
When he wrote this book of poetry he was also a man who knew he was was mortally ill and currently living on borrowed time. In fact, he had already lived longer than expected.
In the acknowledgments James writes that he lacks the words to thank his daughters and family adequately, "except to say that the words might be somewhere in this little book; too much decked out with the trappings of premature sorrow, perhaps; but any strength of form is surely a reflection of how well I was guarded against despair by the joy and kindness with which I was surrounded."
My favorites among this collection are:
Spring Snow Dancer, which is a heart rending poem about making the most of his time with his granddaughter while there is still time. Favorites lines are: "My granddaughter, as quick as I could glance, / Did ballet steps across the kitchen floor, / And this time I was breathless at the chance / By which I'd lived to see our dear lamb dance - / Though soon I will not see her any more."
Japanese Maple, which is an ode to the tree James' elder daughter Claerwen planted in his garden and is poignant. Favorite lines: "My daughter's choice, the maple tree is new. / Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame. / What I must do / Is live to see that. That will end the game / For me, though life continues all the same."
My most favorite poem is the final one, Sunset Hails a Rising. It takes my breath away. The final stanza is: "The sea, the always self-renewing sea / The horses of the night that run so fast."
Clive James died in 2019, 3 years after this book was published. May he rest in peace.
When he wrote this book of poetry he was also a man who knew he was was mortally ill and currently living on borrowed time. In fact, he had already lived longer than expected.
In the acknowledgments James writes that he lacks the words to thank his daughters and family adequately, "except to say that the words might be somewhere in this little book; too much decked out with the trappings of premature sorrow, perhaps; but any strength of form is surely a reflection of how well I was guarded against despair by the joy and kindness with which I was surrounded."
My favorites among this collection are:
Spring Snow Dancer, which is a heart rending poem about making the most of his time with his granddaughter while there is still time. Favorites lines are: "My granddaughter, as quick as I could glance, / Did ballet steps across the kitchen floor, / And this time I was breathless at the chance / By which I'd lived to see our dear lamb dance - / Though soon I will not see her any more."
Japanese Maple, which is an ode to the tree James' elder daughter Claerwen planted in his garden and is poignant. Favorite lines: "My daughter's choice, the maple tree is new. / Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame. / What I must do / Is live to see that. That will end the game / For me, though life continues all the same."
My most favorite poem is the final one, Sunset Hails a Rising. It takes my breath away. The final stanza is: "The sea, the always self-renewing sea / The horses of the night that run so fast."
Clive James died in 2019, 3 years after this book was published. May he rest in peace.
May 19, 2022
Clive James began as a poet and in Sentenced to Life he makes a promise to end it as a poet.
My daughter's choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flames.
What I must do
Is live it to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same
A reminder to be patient, as the autumn leaves fall, the right words will come in the end.
My daughter's choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flames.
What I must do
Is live it to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same
A reminder to be patient, as the autumn leaves fall, the right words will come in the end.
April 12, 2016
James, an Australian critic and all-round man of letters, was first diagnosed with leukemia in 2010. After a setback in 2013, he’s rallied, but these poems are certainly infused with a sense of imminent mortality. “Hard to believe, now, that I once was free / From pills in heaps, blood tests, X-rays and scans.” The incessant ABAB rhyming in the early poems set up a jaunty rhythm I didn’t find appropriate to the subject matter; I much prefer the later unrhymed poems. “Plot Points” is my favorite, artfully linking disparate historical moments:
Like Christopher Hitchens did some years back, James faces death stoically, bravely, but with no delusions of an afterlife; “now we know that paradise is here, // As is the underworld.”
On a hard day in the Alhambra
The Sultan sent an apple
To the virgin of his choice.
The logo on your Macbook
Is an echo of the manner
In which Alan Turing killed himself.
Like Christopher Hitchens did some years back, James faces death stoically, bravely, but with no delusions of an afterlife; “now we know that paradise is here, // As is the underworld.”
December 6, 2019
"Memories, where can you take them to?
Take one last look at them. They end with you."
-Clive James
I've frequently thought the highest aim that great poetry can achieve is to share a wisdom with its readers that helps us resign ourselves to the fact of our, and each other's, mortality. That is, provide a sort of spiritual guidebook, almost a practical recipe-book, a la the Egyptian Book of the Dead, to help us navigate our journey to what Clive James elegantly calls the "empty rooms, in which the nights / Succeed each other with no day between." These poems, whose deftly crafted meters position themselves squarely within the great tradition, carry off that task respectably well. Many are highly personal meditations on James's own failing body, but the full life he lived up to that point as a dazzlingly worldly and well-read man enriches these reflections, endowing them with an extraversion and breadth of mind that adds to their general interest. I like that James isn't afraid to be frankly political, as in "Asma Unpacks Her Pretty Clothes," a poem about Bashar and Asma al-Assad, or as in "Nina Kogan's Geometric Heaven," which is one of the best ekphrastic poems I have recently read, in large part because it does not divorce art from history, but neither does it deny that great art has the power to give its viewers an experience that transcends history, at least momentarily. This collection's strongest poems are all informed by this ability to hold two contradictory ideas simultaneously: yes, we are all hopelessly mortal and bound by history, but our shared human power of imagination -- our power to make the decision to conceive and believe in something unreal -- makes us something more than that, too.
"While you were reading this
Millions of stars moved closer
Toward their own extinction
So many years ago--
But let's believe our eyes:
They say it's all here now."
Take one last look at them. They end with you."
-Clive James
I've frequently thought the highest aim that great poetry can achieve is to share a wisdom with its readers that helps us resign ourselves to the fact of our, and each other's, mortality. That is, provide a sort of spiritual guidebook, almost a practical recipe-book, a la the Egyptian Book of the Dead, to help us navigate our journey to what Clive James elegantly calls the "empty rooms, in which the nights / Succeed each other with no day between." These poems, whose deftly crafted meters position themselves squarely within the great tradition, carry off that task respectably well. Many are highly personal meditations on James's own failing body, but the full life he lived up to that point as a dazzlingly worldly and well-read man enriches these reflections, endowing them with an extraversion and breadth of mind that adds to their general interest. I like that James isn't afraid to be frankly political, as in "Asma Unpacks Her Pretty Clothes," a poem about Bashar and Asma al-Assad, or as in "Nina Kogan's Geometric Heaven," which is one of the best ekphrastic poems I have recently read, in large part because it does not divorce art from history, but neither does it deny that great art has the power to give its viewers an experience that transcends history, at least momentarily. This collection's strongest poems are all informed by this ability to hold two contradictory ideas simultaneously: yes, we are all hopelessly mortal and bound by history, but our shared human power of imagination -- our power to make the decision to conceive and believe in something unreal -- makes us something more than that, too.
"While you were reading this
Millions of stars moved closer
Toward their own extinction
So many years ago--
But let's believe our eyes:
They say it's all here now."
December 26, 2015
I received a copy of this from the publisher through Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
Clive James has been living with leukemia for several years now, and the poems are very much a reflection on life, what perspective does to change how you live that life, and what it is like to live with illness (and in particular treatment for that illness.)
As Nicholson Baker's poet in The Anthologist helped me see, few people write rhyming poems of any substance any more. But James does. I've poked around a bit and I imagine I would find more to resonate with in his earlier works, but you have to appreciate the ability to write poetry about life as it is, terminal illness be damned.
Clive James has been living with leukemia for several years now, and the poems are very much a reflection on life, what perspective does to change how you live that life, and what it is like to live with illness (and in particular treatment for that illness.)
As Nicholson Baker's poet in The Anthologist helped me see, few people write rhyming poems of any substance any more. But James does. I've poked around a bit and I imagine I would find more to resonate with in his earlier works, but you have to appreciate the ability to write poetry about life as it is, terminal illness be damned.
July 18, 2019
.......’The sky is overcast
Here in the English autumn, but my mind
Basks in the light I never left behind.’
‘Sentenced to Life’ confirms Clive James’s need to make peace with himself as he pens poems which speak overwhelmingly of the tragedy of ageing and the inexorable encroachment of death.
For myself, the timeless beauty and language of ‘Japanese Maple’ is still the collection’s masterpiece, but there’s so much to delight in and treasure here amid the pathos, the familiar wit, the humour and the pain.
Here in the English autumn, but my mind
Basks in the light I never left behind.’
‘Sentenced to Life’ confirms Clive James’s need to make peace with himself as he pens poems which speak overwhelmingly of the tragedy of ageing and the inexorable encroachment of death.
For myself, the timeless beauty and language of ‘Japanese Maple’ is still the collection’s masterpiece, but there’s so much to delight in and treasure here amid the pathos, the familiar wit, the humour and the pain.
May 11, 2015
Is this Clive James's final book? At this time, who knows? It may be, if he has stopped writing, but there is so much life in these poems, concerned as they are with his illness and impending demise, that it is difficult to imagine him stopping until he really has to. There is much beauty and of course humour in his poems, and I suppose I could use words like 'brave' and 'honest' in speaking of what he expects to be his final year, but these words get used a lot about people facing death, and I would rather like to think that along with the regrets and sad thoughts about life going on without him, he never forgets to have a sly poke at life. This is also a very calming book to read. It is not upsetting, at least I didn't find it so, just pragmatic and forthright, with just the right amount of sensitivity to something we all face up to, even if we would rather not.
May 26, 2022
A handful of really powerful poems in this collection that will be with me for a while
Hard to believe, now, that I was once free
From pills in heaps, blood tests, x ray and scans
No pipes or tubes. At perfect liberty,
I stained my diary with travel plans.
Hard to believe, now, that I was once free
From pills in heaps, blood tests, x ray and scans
No pipes or tubes. At perfect liberty,
I stained my diary with travel plans.
February 2, 2017
I've been reading this book and rereading most of the poems for the past couple of weeks. I recommend the book although the poems range from the nugatory to the relatively sublime. But of course poems written as one is dying will be uneven. I imagine that the quality of the poet's days are uneven because of his leukemia. You might sum up his day by this couplet:
Tired out from getting up and getting dressed
I lie down for a while to get some rest. ("Elementary Sonnet")
The poems are primarily about loss, regret, guilt, and rue. Each poem is written with an awareness that "my death is something I must live with now." There are also poems of great wit--even zaniness; puns, but in essence James admits:
I was born weak and always have been weak.
I came home and was taken into care.
A cot-case, but at long last I can speak;
I am here now, who was hardly even there. (Landfall)
"Change of Domicile" imagines the blankness that is death-- "dark and austere". James imagines he will miss the "bric-a-brac" of life at the same time as he knows that he will conclude "with nothingness".
The final five or six poems in this collection are the real stunners. Never sentimental, without self-pity, they sum up the essence of being "sentenced to life" that must live with the sure knowledge of impending death every day. James takes consolation in winter plum trees, in the "mysterious arrival of the dew". After the wonderful poem "Japanese Maple" comes a poem called "Balcony Scene". James ruefully acknowledges that
The maple tree, the autumn crocuses--
They think it's spring and that their lives are long --
High overhead, a pair of swallows fly,
Programmed for Africa, but just for now
They seem sent solely to enchant the eye.
Dying by inches, James perceives much of how temporary, ephemeral life is. It's a shame, he reflects, that our bad behavior and our destructive moves are permanent. Our chances will not return like the morning dew or the butterflies. And death saps us of power and time to make amends.
I recommend this book but also commend the works of L.S. Sissman (1928-1976) who wrote about death and dying. And why read such poems? It's like arming ourselves with a handbook which will remain in our memories and give us shocks of recognition when we are there. A good poet puts into words what we wish we can say. They can shape and frame meaning for us.
Japanese Maple, by Clive James
Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:
Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?
Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.
My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:
Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colors will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.
‘Japanese Maple’ by Clive James, first published in the New Yorker, © Clive James, 2014
Tired out from getting up and getting dressed
I lie down for a while to get some rest. ("Elementary Sonnet")
The poems are primarily about loss, regret, guilt, and rue. Each poem is written with an awareness that "my death is something I must live with now." There are also poems of great wit--even zaniness; puns, but in essence James admits:
I was born weak and always have been weak.
I came home and was taken into care.
A cot-case, but at long last I can speak;
I am here now, who was hardly even there. (Landfall)
"Change of Domicile" imagines the blankness that is death-- "dark and austere". James imagines he will miss the "bric-a-brac" of life at the same time as he knows that he will conclude "with nothingness".
The final five or six poems in this collection are the real stunners. Never sentimental, without self-pity, they sum up the essence of being "sentenced to life" that must live with the sure knowledge of impending death every day. James takes consolation in winter plum trees, in the "mysterious arrival of the dew". After the wonderful poem "Japanese Maple" comes a poem called "Balcony Scene". James ruefully acknowledges that
The maple tree, the autumn crocuses--
They think it's spring and that their lives are long --
High overhead, a pair of swallows fly,
Programmed for Africa, but just for now
They seem sent solely to enchant the eye.
Dying by inches, James perceives much of how temporary, ephemeral life is. It's a shame, he reflects, that our bad behavior and our destructive moves are permanent. Our chances will not return like the morning dew or the butterflies. And death saps us of power and time to make amends.
I recommend this book but also commend the works of L.S. Sissman (1928-1976) who wrote about death and dying. And why read such poems? It's like arming ourselves with a handbook which will remain in our memories and give us shocks of recognition when we are there. A good poet puts into words what we wish we can say. They can shape and frame meaning for us.
Japanese Maple, by Clive James
Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
Breath growing short
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
Of energy, but thought and sight remain:
Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree
And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?
Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.
It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.
My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.
Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:
Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colors will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone
So brightly at the last, and then was gone.
‘Japanese Maple’ by Clive James, first published in the New Yorker, © Clive James, 2014
August 10, 2018
"Near to death, but thankful for life". This is how Clive James described himself in March 2015 in a BBC radio interview. An atheist suffering with terminal leukemia. Sentenced To Life is a collection of poems he wrote during the period 2011-2014, published in 2015 by Picador. Complex, lyrical poems - stark and unsentimental. Anticipating death he writes with a laconic style.
In Cabin Baggage he talks about his niece coming from Australia to stay with him:
"...But she'll be gone before the peaches come.
On days of burning sun, the air is tinged
With salt and eucalyptus. 'Why am I
Leaving all this behind? I feel a fool'.
But I can tell from how she writes things down
The distance will assist her memories
To take full form. She travels to stay still.
I wish I'd been that smart before I left.
Instead, I have to dig deep for a trace
Of how the beach was red hot underfoot,
The green gold of the Christmas beetle's wing."
James writes with insight and emotional power 'the work of a lifetime, at least so far'.
In Cabin Baggage he talks about his niece coming from Australia to stay with him:
"...But she'll be gone before the peaches come.
On days of burning sun, the air is tinged
With salt and eucalyptus. 'Why am I
Leaving all this behind? I feel a fool'.
But I can tell from how she writes things down
The distance will assist her memories
To take full form. She travels to stay still.
I wish I'd been that smart before I left.
Instead, I have to dig deep for a trace
Of how the beach was red hot underfoot,
The green gold of the Christmas beetle's wing."
James writes with insight and emotional power 'the work of a lifetime, at least so far'.
March 22, 2016
"Sentenced to Life: Poems" is a wonderful collection that celebrates the many ways and themes of life experience by Australian essayist, memoirist, broadcaster, Clive James (1939-). Known for his highly acclaimed "Unreliable Memoirs" (1980). James battled emphysema and kidney failure in 2010-2011 and was also diagnosed with B-cell lymphocytic leukemia, he credits the miracle of modern medicine for his longer extended life.
The majority of poems tell interesting stories, understandably James writes about his numerous concerns and battles to preserve his health. The beautiful introductory poem, is the same title as the book, his life is recalled, he observes the simple things in life, the English autumn, his daughter's goldfish pool the seriousness of life, love, and dying. Additional meaningful poems about his health are serious and mindful, yet devoid of self-pity or regrets: "My Latest Fever", "Early To Bed", "Landfall", "Balcony Scene" and many more. Its not easy to pick the best ones, they all are so very well written.
The longest story poem is about filming an elephant safari: "One Elephant, Two Elephant".
The most unusual and unique: "Bugsy Siegel's Flying Eye" James writes about the mobster's execution in LA, smelling the flowers of death, knowing in advance his life would end. The Flamingo Hotel and mob history- writing about this poem, its easier to see why this poem was included in the collection.
"Spring Snow Dancer".. (from the book) "I breathed, grew up, and now I learn to be/Glad for my long life as it melts away,/Yet still regales me with so much to see/Of how we live in continuity/And die in it. Take what I saw today: .. he writes about watching his granddaughter practice ballet dancing. Very simple and sweet. ~ With thanks to the Seattle Public Library.
The majority of poems tell interesting stories, understandably James writes about his numerous concerns and battles to preserve his health. The beautiful introductory poem, is the same title as the book, his life is recalled, he observes the simple things in life, the English autumn, his daughter's goldfish pool the seriousness of life, love, and dying. Additional meaningful poems about his health are serious and mindful, yet devoid of self-pity or regrets: "My Latest Fever", "Early To Bed", "Landfall", "Balcony Scene" and many more. Its not easy to pick the best ones, they all are so very well written.
The longest story poem is about filming an elephant safari: "One Elephant, Two Elephant".
The most unusual and unique: "Bugsy Siegel's Flying Eye" James writes about the mobster's execution in LA, smelling the flowers of death, knowing in advance his life would end. The Flamingo Hotel and mob history- writing about this poem, its easier to see why this poem was included in the collection.
"Spring Snow Dancer".. (from the book) "I breathed, grew up, and now I learn to be/Glad for my long life as it melts away,/Yet still regales me with so much to see/Of how we live in continuity/And die in it. Take what I saw today: .. he writes about watching his granddaughter practice ballet dancing. Very simple and sweet. ~ With thanks to the Seattle Public Library.
January 2, 2018
I love the way that Clive James blends so much Australian life and casualness with the great formality of his poetry: sonnets and strictly rhyming 5-line stanzas.
On my first reading I was also deeply moved by the sentiments in this beautiful little volume of Clive's latest poems: his regrets for having hurt his wife with his infidelity, for having taken for granted the charmed life he had as a wildly successful writer and TV presenter, and for the way in which he is now staring down the barrel of death as a consequence of his incurable and chronic health conditions—even if he is not in pain and even if death appears to have unexpectedly postponed its visit for the time being.
However on my second reading, I found many of the rhymes I had previously enjoyed, a little trite and forced--though I must say there are nevertheless many others that are still truly impressive ...
Most importantly, I found myself less convinced of Clive's sincerity. Perhaps that is because when we see Clive in an interview, he seems to have a permanent smile on his face and accompanying twinkle in his eyes. He is chronically joyous and jovial, though at times acerbic. And that is all a big component of the Clive James charm.
Maybe that will be the tragedy of Clive James: that now when he finally feels genuinely, sincerely remorseful but also grateful—and expresses it in such almost-perfectly formed poems—we still don't take him seriously. In some ways the volume could have been sub-titled "Tears of a Clown" but that is far too trite and mawkish for the supreme wordsmith who is Clive James.
"Sentenced to Life" is a wonderful title ... taken from a wonderful poem. Despite my nitpicky reservations, I recommend the collection.
On my first reading I was also deeply moved by the sentiments in this beautiful little volume of Clive's latest poems: his regrets for having hurt his wife with his infidelity, for having taken for granted the charmed life he had as a wildly successful writer and TV presenter, and for the way in which he is now staring down the barrel of death as a consequence of his incurable and chronic health conditions—even if he is not in pain and even if death appears to have unexpectedly postponed its visit for the time being.
However on my second reading, I found many of the rhymes I had previously enjoyed, a little trite and forced--though I must say there are nevertheless many others that are still truly impressive ...
Most importantly, I found myself less convinced of Clive's sincerity. Perhaps that is because when we see Clive in an interview, he seems to have a permanent smile on his face and accompanying twinkle in his eyes. He is chronically joyous and jovial, though at times acerbic. And that is all a big component of the Clive James charm.
Maybe that will be the tragedy of Clive James: that now when he finally feels genuinely, sincerely remorseful but also grateful—and expresses it in such almost-perfectly formed poems—we still don't take him seriously. In some ways the volume could have been sub-titled "Tears of a Clown" but that is far too trite and mawkish for the supreme wordsmith who is Clive James.
"Sentenced to Life" is a wonderful title ... taken from a wonderful poem. Despite my nitpicky reservations, I recommend the collection.
July 22, 2018
Poems written in the (extended) tail-end of his prognosis, mostly to his estranged wife. Plain, Classical, of cycles and renewal, death as travel, and the similarity of ends to beginnings.
Some rage: against Assad and his torturers, against unreflective environmentalism, against obscurantism (Laura Riding or Gabriele d’Annunzio). Black humour relieving the strain of being wise and stoical.
Wanted to love this, but it is just good. It really picks up halfway through. His simple ones about e.g. Oxfam shops / action films are better than the cosmic ones. Best are ‘Plot Points’, ‘Echo Point’, ‘Transit Visa’, ‘Event Horizon’, ‘Nature Programme’, ‘The Emperor’s Last Words’.
Her sumptuous fragments still went flying on
In my last hours, when I, in a warm house,
Lay on my couch to watch them coming close,
Her proofs that any vision of eternity
Is with us in the world, and beautiful
Because a mind has found the way things fit
Purely by touch. That being said, however,
I should record that out of any five
Pictures by Kogan, at least six are fakes.
Some rage: against Assad and his torturers, against unreflective environmentalism, against obscurantism (Laura Riding or Gabriele d’Annunzio). Black humour relieving the strain of being wise and stoical.
On a hard day in the Alhambra
The Sultan sent an apple
To the virgin of his choice.
The logo on your Macbook
Is an echo of the manner
In which Alan Turing killed himself.
Wanted to love this, but it is just good. It really picks up halfway through. His simple ones about e.g. Oxfam shops / action films are better than the cosmic ones. Best are ‘Plot Points’, ‘Echo Point’, ‘Transit Visa’, ‘Event Horizon’, ‘Nature Programme’, ‘The Emperor’s Last Words’.
January 21, 2016
It's strange to give this book five stars because some of the poems in here are proper duds. However, when James is firing on all of his cylinders his poems are the cynosure of modern poetry. A few immediately come to mind: "Landfall," "My Home," "Living Doll," "Even Horizon" (especially that one), "My Latest Fever," "The Emperor's Last Words," and "Star System," all of which poems' stanzas move toward a final, lacrimal set of lines. It's a book of modern poetry that should unquestionably be read by anyone who cares for poetry. And it's formalist poetry to boot. Take that, all you wanks who wank and beat off to the Beat poets.
It's an odd thing, furthermore, to be sentenced to life. For centuries, man's death was more or less unexpected. To borrow a metaphor used by James, it was like walking to a cliff in the dark. There was no, "We give him twelve months to live," or "the cancer has spread and you have a few weeks." Only men sentenced to die by courts of law could ascribe a date to death. Now, most of us will know when we'll die. We'll sense it coming in hospital beds or it shall be read to us off clipboards. James captures that oddity of modernity very well.
It's an odd thing, furthermore, to be sentenced to life. For centuries, man's death was more or less unexpected. To borrow a metaphor used by James, it was like walking to a cliff in the dark. There was no, "We give him twelve months to live," or "the cancer has spread and you have a few weeks." Only men sentenced to die by courts of law could ascribe a date to death. Now, most of us will know when we'll die. We'll sense it coming in hospital beds or it shall be read to us off clipboards. James captures that oddity of modernity very well.
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September 3, 2025Looking in to the abyss......
I confess I am a big fan of Clive James. I have already read most of his memoirs and critical work.
This volume of poetry is so touching with beautifully crafted words which are so tender and describe a view of a man looking in to the abyss. Or as Clive puts it ' reaching his terminus'.
Beautiful work that will be a lasting and touching epitaph...but hopefully not for a lot longer...!
I confess I am a big fan of Clive James. I have already read most of his memoirs and critical work.
This volume of poetry is so touching with beautifully crafted words which are so tender and describe a view of a man looking in to the abyss. Or as Clive puts it ' reaching his terminus'.
Beautiful work that will be a lasting and touching epitaph...but hopefully not for a lot longer...!
April 18, 2015
As always, this is a spectacular collection of writing from one of our greatest contemporary poets. It's poignant, hilarious, heart-breaking and beautiful - with not a single word wasted or out of place.
February 14, 2016
superb and moving book of poetry. .... i enjoyed it and today i read a poem from it on a very regular basis. ....I would highly recommend this book
i started this book earlier today and from the introduction the words sang from the page. I am looking forward to reading each poem. Delightful!
i started this book earlier today and from the introduction the words sang from the page. I am looking forward to reading each poem. Delightful!
February 28, 2016
There are a handful of good poems. But many of them are not - which of course I say feeling bad about James's ill health. The strongest poems are not about his impending death. "Asma Unpacks Her Pretty Clothes" is worth the whole volume.
July 20, 2015
Some of these poems were absolutely sound, while some didn't grab me at all. Definitely worth a read, as the best poems in this book are superb.
September 5, 2020
An impactful, mournful collection of poems about falling into the dark ends of life. It is written with great intelligence and a sense of grace.
The majority of them are about death, as the writer at the time anticipated his, but they are ordered and poised to be great poems, and not indulgent reflection. They are poems of great meaning and delicacy.
Some of the more hopeful ones are about his family, and others are about interesting snippets in history, like an unfortunate gangster getting his eye shot off and other such things.
The grimmest one, 'Event horizon' is preoccupied with the horror of none existence and coming to terms with eventually going into it, is swiftly followed by a poem that starts with the line 'The female panda is in heat' so there is some variety.
A mostly pessimistic but elegant collection, that may not get you in the best mood but could leave you in awe of the beauty of most of the poems and appreciation of this mans brilliant mind.
The majority of them are about death, as the writer at the time anticipated his, but they are ordered and poised to be great poems, and not indulgent reflection. They are poems of great meaning and delicacy.
Some of the more hopeful ones are about his family, and others are about interesting snippets in history, like an unfortunate gangster getting his eye shot off and other such things.
The grimmest one, 'Event horizon' is preoccupied with the horror of none existence and coming to terms with eventually going into it, is swiftly followed by a poem that starts with the line 'The female panda is in heat' so there is some variety.
A mostly pessimistic but elegant collection, that may not get you in the best mood but could leave you in awe of the beauty of most of the poems and appreciation of this mans brilliant mind.
August 7, 2020
It’s been said that nothing focuses the mind as much as the prospect of imminent death. A variant is to be diagnosed with a fatal disease, something like leukemia, and then having a temporary reprieve because of an experimental treatment.
That’s what happened to Clive James, and this collection of short poems is the result of the focussed mind’s ruminations. There is the looking back, the stocktaking that is natural at such a time. Many poems are rueful over the breakdown of his marriage, something for which the poet takes the full blame.
James employs plain speech in his poems. In many of them, this is effective, but at times it lapses to cliche, as in “Balcony Scene,” for instance, in which the poet describes himself as “old as the hills,” his motion like paint drying.
Such lapses aside, the poems are affecting and worth reading.
That’s what happened to Clive James, and this collection of short poems is the result of the focussed mind’s ruminations. There is the looking back, the stocktaking that is natural at such a time. Many poems are rueful over the breakdown of his marriage, something for which the poet takes the full blame.
James employs plain speech in his poems. In many of them, this is effective, but at times it lapses to cliche, as in “Balcony Scene,” for instance, in which the poet describes himself as “old as the hills,” his motion like paint drying.
Such lapses aside, the poems are affecting and worth reading.
March 8, 2024
This was another library find and I now want to buy it for my collection. I’m new to poetry, but this collection made me want to sob.
It’s raw, it’s real, it’s about the loneliest and isolation of growing old and facing the inevitable and how your world, life and relationships change around you.
It made me think of my aging parents, of my grandparents and how I’d want everyone to read this book so they didn’t feel so alone. I know when I’m old, I’ll be reaching for this.
‘A final flood of colour will live on as my mind dies’
‘My name a synonym for tirelessness’
‘You were the ghost they wanted at the feast, though none of them recalls a word you said’
‘Is it better to be always there than out of it, and be just a fading name?’
‘I am an echo of the man you new’
MY HEART I need to go cry again
It’s raw, it’s real, it’s about the loneliest and isolation of growing old and facing the inevitable and how your world, life and relationships change around you.
It made me think of my aging parents, of my grandparents and how I’d want everyone to read this book so they didn’t feel so alone. I know when I’m old, I’ll be reaching for this.
‘A final flood of colour will live on as my mind dies’
‘My name a synonym for tirelessness’
‘You were the ghost they wanted at the feast, though none of them recalls a word you said’
‘Is it better to be always there than out of it, and be just a fading name?’
‘I am an echo of the man you new’
MY HEART I need to go cry again
May 29, 2025
Trees, seas and grandchildren: how I'd summarise this collection of poems by the Australian author, Clive James, best known by his waspishly witty commentaries on TV shows in newspapers and, ironically, on TV.
James describes nature and people really well.
His atheist, rather cold take on what happens when we die might put some people off. Personally I enjoyed it.
Not every poem has a funny aside at the end but enough of them do to make me feel that I was in the company of the great man.
Despite the topic of death, this slim volume felt like a nice, airy break from my usual, serious, fact-laden fare.
James describes nature and people really well.
His atheist, rather cold take on what happens when we die might put some people off. Personally I enjoyed it.
Not every poem has a funny aside at the end but enough of them do to make me feel that I was in the company of the great man.
Despite the topic of death, this slim volume felt like a nice, airy break from my usual, serious, fact-laden fare.
November 9, 2021
I didn't realise James was a good a poet as he was ... I've always avoided his work. My mistake. This was a well crafted book of verse with deep insights. His use of form is very tight but well disguised, whilst when he chooses to use rhyme it is restrained and gentle. I was very impressed by the craftsmanship and now plan to read more of his work. (Ah, I recall why I have avoided James ... his translation of the Divine Comedy didn't use terza rima ... once I heard that I gave him no time whatsoever).
December 13, 2021
He's dying, he's guilty, he doesn't want the world to remember him as a cheat who betrayed his long-suffering wife.
Clive James was brilliant, and over the years I've gained a lot of pleasure out of his books and his columns.
But he does tend to be a bit of a naval gazer.
Each poem in this book basically said the same thing, I'm dying, I'm guilty, I've come to appreciate nature, I miss Australia.
Thankfully they're so well-crafted I didn't mind that they were repetitious.
Of course Clive James didn't die for a few more years, and went on to publish again..
Clive James was brilliant, and over the years I've gained a lot of pleasure out of his books and his columns.
But he does tend to be a bit of a naval gazer.
Each poem in this book basically said the same thing, I'm dying, I'm guilty, I've come to appreciate nature, I miss Australia.
Thankfully they're so well-crafted I didn't mind that they were repetitious.
Of course Clive James didn't die for a few more years, and went on to publish again..
December 6, 2020
Beautiful book which showcased on the thoughts of death and the afterlife. Everyone of us will bite the dust but nobody knows what's after. It's not fear but the anxiety and excitement of what awaits us beyond this life is what I have learned from this book and how it affected Clive James.
It is a little bit scary but now I am non-stop thinking about what lies ahead after this life.
I would recommend this gem of a book to everyone who loves poems.
It is a little bit scary but now I am non-stop thinking about what lies ahead after this life.
I would recommend this gem of a book to everyone who loves poems.
December 27, 2020
3.5 STARS
From the very first poem, I loved the tone set by the author.
Some of the poems really resonated within me; while other, I found more difficult to truly comprehend.
I also have to say that a few of the poems felt a bit too mechanical to me; those are the ones that felt most emotionless to me.
Then there were others that hit me very hard, emotionally, and that I felt were perfectly written.
All in all, I liked most of the most, and was able to connect with a lot of them.
From the very first poem, I loved the tone set by the author.
Some of the poems really resonated within me; while other, I found more difficult to truly comprehend.
I also have to say that a few of the poems felt a bit too mechanical to me; those are the ones that felt most emotionless to me.
Then there were others that hit me very hard, emotionally, and that I felt were perfectly written.
All in all, I liked most of the most, and was able to connect with a lot of them.
May 9, 2022
The topic of this volume of poems is life's end. Clive James was ill and near the end of his life. Maybe that topic got a little tedious. Maybe the author seemed too self-satisfied to listen to for wisdom. I think the latter. I knew nothing about the author before picking this up on a whim.
I liked a couple of the poems. One Elephant, Two Elephant stands out. I appreciated poems that rhyme. A treat that. Poems can rhyme.
I liked a couple of the poems. One Elephant, Two Elephant stands out. I appreciated poems that rhyme. A treat that. Poems can rhyme.
January 29, 2024
Despite the weirdly fawning response to James' late poetry by some in the British and Australian press, it is just as bad as it ever was... and that's saying something. The enthusiastic blurb on the dustjacket by Douglas Murray should have tipped me off. A couple of okay efforts and a fondness for James the critic (who is unfailingly absent when James the poet is about) keep me from giving this a single star.
January 3, 2026
Another magnificent collection from Mr James. There’s a lot here about his past and his impending mortality but, given that he was writing while suffering from the illness that would eventually kill him, it’s allowable. His turn of phrase remains superb: lines like “The pain has gone where the passion went” and “Time is a cliff you come to in the dark” stand out brilliantly. A wonderful anthology.
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