Published in 1956 to immediate acclaim, Leonard Cohen’s first published book contains poems written between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Now new generations of readers will rediscover not only the early, though no less accomplished and passionate, work of one of our most beloved writers, but poetry that resonates loudly with relevance today.
Leonard Norman Cohen was a Canadian singer-songwriter, poet and novelist. Cohen published his first book of poetry in Montreal in 1956 and his first novel in 1963.
Cohen's earliest songs (many of which appeared on the 1968 album Songs of Leonard Cohen) were rooted in European folk music melodies and instrumentation, sung in a high baritone. The 1970s were a musically restless period in which his influences broadened to encompass pop, cabaret, and world music. Since the 1980s he has typically sung in lower registers (bass baritone, sometimes bass), with accompaniment from electronic synthesizers and female backing singers.
His work often explores the themes of religion, isolation, sexuality, and complex interpersonal relationships.
Cohen's songs and poetry have influenced many other singer-songwriters, and more than a thousand renditions of his work have been recorded. He has been inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame and the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame and is also a Companion of the Order of Canada, the nation's highest civilian honour. Cohen was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on March 10, 2008 for his status among the "highest and most influential echelon of songwriters".
Let Us Compare Mythologies is definitely the work of a young man. Published when he was only 22 – that’s twelve years before the release of his first LP of moody and emotionally battering tunes, Songs of Leonard Cohen - Cohen tries to inhabit the voice of the weary prophet who has abandoned the world so that he may better brood over all his losses in love. Every one of these poems comes armed with biblical imagery (plucked from Judaism and Christianity), references to Homer, quaint notions of Eastern mysticism, and enough allusions of antiquity to fill a Grecian urn. The result is pleasant enough, but one too many of these poems relies on trips to the river with women of the “they will only leave you” variety, as well as mentions of grass and shards from the True Cross. Cohen is also writing fully in the “poems are meant to be abstract and ungrammatical” school of thought, which is a style that makes my poor narrative-oriented brain go, Ouch! But Cohen does prove himself to be competently literate about his posey, and even though the wizened-old-man shtick wears thin, a handful of these poems have that magic you’ll find in his songs, those sobering moments of lucidity that make you want to tell the bartender to go ahead and pour you another stiff one.
This first book of poetry by Leonard Cohen presents us, sadly, with the melancholy, the intellectual trappings and the world-weariness of the 22 year old poet without the earthier and more personal expression of vulnerability, sensuality and desire which will mark the work to come. The undigested religious imagery and self-conscious sense of tragedy fit him poorly, like a borrowed coat. Worth reading for background, the soil in the process of composting, out of which a richer art will emerge in the next years.
In the style of most men and poets, there are passages that make me want to put my hands on my hips and mutter, 'Touch grass, laddie'; at other times he writes something so well it's like he's unspooling a knot of my vague impression into ribbon.
que livro irresistível, hei de voltar cá muitas vezes. poesia quente e espiritual, daquela tão diferente da francesa mas que sabe igualmente bem ler. boa prenda, manhã bem passada 🫀
Some poems hit, others didn’t. More classically structured than most poetry I read, but it was cool to see the influence of songwriting in some of these poems.
I read this a month or two ago but forgot to log it. This collection is magnificent. Even in his teens and into university (when he wrote this collection), Leonard Cohen has an incredible depth of perspective into the world that is, in my mind, the only real criteria to be a poet.
I recently saw an original print edition of this book going for $10,000 at an antique book fair.
Reflections and lessons learned: “And I know your dreams of crumbling cities and galloping horses of the sun coming too close and the night never ending but these mean nothing to me beside your body”
Originally bought as a gift for a friend, a parent on a weekend away enjoying being an adult and individual again, but instead I greedily consumed on a train journey home. He’s still a saucy minx is mr cohen, and I can completely see the Cave lyrical echoes
Alati on kuidagi imelik, kui mul pole raamatut siin kusagile paigutada. Kas ma vajan üldise luule sahtlit? Ma ei oska selle kohta midagi öelda: see on Coheni esimene luulekogu ajast kui ta oli 22 või umbes nii ning hiljem on ta sõnaseadmises osavam, aga paha pole ka. Kui siin on midagi diipi (ma ütleksin, et on vähemalt nooruslikku diibi-püüdlust), siis see kindlasti libiseb mul sõrmede vahelt läbi nagunii.
Palju religioosseid teemasid, täpselt nagu Cohenist ootakski, mis tekitab mus ikka tunde, et ma ei mäleta piisavalt piiblilugusid. Miski tekitas mus hiljuti veel sellist tunnet. Igatahes, see on üsna püsiv tunne, sest ma tõesti ei mäleta neid eriti, aga nad poevad igale poole sisse. Ma mäletan, et tahtsin keskkoolis Vana Testamenti korralikult otsast lõpuni läbi lugeda (no inimeste nimekirjad jms vahele jättes, ega ma "Iliases" ka laevade nimekirja loe), aga pidin alla andma, sest meie kodus leidus ainult Uus Testament ja sinnapaika see jäigi. Nii on alati veider lugeda tekste, mis on kahekõnes piiblilugudega, sest ma olen alati ebamääraselt kindel, et see peab olema viide millelegi (ma veidi mäletan Taaveteid ja Joosepeid ja Jaakobeid ja lõvisid ja värvilisi kuubesid ja asju - lugesin lapsena ümberjutustatud piiblilugusid hästi palju kordi nagu meeldivaid muinasjutte ikka), aga ma ei ole kunagi päris kindel, millele ja et mis see mulle ütlema peaks. Eriti et inglise keeles on veel kõigil isikutel teised nimed ja need kuidagi ei paigutu mu peas samadesse mustritesse: on ikka vaks vahet, kas mõelda Taavetist või Davidist...
Igatahes, ma siis tunnistan oma lugematust ja teadmatust säärase tüviteksti nüanssidest, ehk ma ühel päeval parandan seda viga. Enamasti pole mul halli aimugi, mida Cohen öelda püüab, või kas ta midagi öelda püüab. And it's fine.
The seeds of Cohen’s greatness as a songwriter are clear in these poems, but there was a dissonance in them. The imagery & rhythm was beautiful, but poetic voice was too intellectually cynical, rather than being an emotional expression of a lived experience. The experiences from which Cohen wrote these poems were the collective religious and other mythologies of different peoples; there were some incandescent lines and images describing these. Unfortunately, overall, the poems - as lyrical as they were - lacked cohesion.
Poems that stood out for me:
Lovers The Warrior Boats Letter Twilight On Certain Incredible Nights
questi versi eroici "se avessi una testa scintillante e la gente si voltasse a guardarmi nei tram; se potessi distendere il mio corpo nell'acqua limpida e nuotare a fianco dei pesci e dei serpenti marini; se potessi rovinarmi le piume volando davanti al sole; credi che me ne rimarrei in questa stanza, a recitarti poesie, e a fare sogni sconci al più insignificante movimento della tua bocca?"
Young, lustful, shining with wisdom but lacking the sorrowful regret old age brings, the poems are a beautiful collection of a young creative artist engaging in life. Some of them punched me in the gut hard - for which, I was thankful.
Interesting Early Work Prefigures his Future Writing.
While this is the work of an poet finding his themes, his language and his wings, it is worth reading for his imagery and his questions. Not great poetry but I’m glad I heard his words.
To say nothing of the man later in life, this is the most purposefully obtuse college boy poetry I've ever had the misfortune of seeing published in a solo volume. Written by someone who doesn't yet realize that women are people and can be alluded to using imagery other than legs. The only good thing about this book is that his following works are allegedly better.
As the cover suggests, this book is about Cohen's relationship woth his Jewish ancestry and History. He uses metaphor and imagery in a way that makes the reader wonder about the deeper meanings of each poem.
But in his lapel, discreetly, he wore a sprig of asphodel
One of the surest signs of a promising future for any young artist is their willingness, unfettered by doubt, to reach for that which lies beyond certainty. All the avatars of mediocrity on the other hand betray themselves in their circumspect habits and the various timid tendencies that inevitably obstruct creative momentum. Progress is always a question of propulsion and the barrier to greatness is a kind of planetary gravity. Once past, the external is no longer the challenge; rather it’s coping with the enormity of one’s own liberty. When it comes to young artists then, and poets specifically, the crucial thing is for them to have the passion and devotion necessary to overcome the usual state of primordial inertia.
And Leonard Cohen is certainly someone who became an important poet but, to be clear, this is not a good poetry collection by any intrinsic measure. Aside from the occasional line or stanza, there’s nothing even worth a second thought here. Be that as it may, the book holds some interest as an example of precociousness since these poems were written between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Although still strictly juvenilia, the discerning reader will be able to find within its pages the seed of Cohen’s future talent. The expressions and ideas contained within in fact bear a strong similarity to the early work of other major poets. Yeats is the one that stuck out to me the most but other insightful comparisons could be made with Dylan Thomas and Rimbaud. Starting with Yeats however, the transition to his mature style can be pinpointed to around the time he wrote “The Lake Isle at Innisfree,” but even here the limitations of youth are still observable (Although at the time of its publication, Yeats would have been around twenty seven so he was actually something of a belated talent) Chief among these is affectation. A young poet full of passion for their art naturally wants to achieve excellence as soon as possible and this ambition will predictably result in inept attempts at elevated speech and various sorts of intellectual posturing. I’d say Innisfree itself works but looking at Yeats other poems at the time, while they have their moments here and there, they do tend to be overly cologned with literary pretensions.
Contrast this with Yeats’ poetry in the nineteen-twenties and the difference should be obvious. The sentiments no longer have the forced and contrived qualities of youth and instead express the confidence of a thoughtful maturity. Likewise, there’s also a diminishing reliance on abstraction and a greater utility with the concrete. Admittedly, that’s partly the influence of modernism via Ezra Pound and others but it’s also fair to say that the kind of growth being suggested here has a long established precedence. What makes Shakespeare’s writing so vivid for example is its stimulating specificity and even in a poet like Blake who was often governed by abstractions (Due to his symbolistic approach) it’s the clarity of his best work that secures him a place in the pantheon of the immortals. If we compare the poems in Cohen’s first collection with one of his best later works, “Suzanne” for instance, the same contrast is evident.
Even where a young poet’s work is entirely successful, these observations retain their merits. Dylan Thomas’ “And Death Shall Have No Dominion,” for example is fundamentally a work of fantasy, eschatological fantasy mind you, and while excellent as such, the dependence on artistic fantasization is the result of a young poet’s inexperience and immaturity (Or an older writer’s arrested development; hence the insipid plots and psychology that predominate in most of fantasy, sci-fi, and young adult novels) Obviously if you haven’t lived a meaningful adult life you can’t have much in the way of insights about the adult world. And while there are writers who are especially well-read at an early age and are able to compensate for their ignorance here to some degree, they can never compensate entirely. The themes and content of young writer’s works therefore tends to be more limited in scope. So again, even where a poem achieves the very heights of genius, the creative potential overall was still constrained by narrower parameters. And one sees the truth of this throughout Let Us Compare Mythologies. The young Leonard Cohen was obviously well read, certainly more well-read than I was at his age (Even today I haven’t gotten around to reading any Faulkner) but all the poems that make up this collection betray themselves upon even moderate scrutiny.
Admittedly, there are plenty of readers out there, and adult readers at that, who never cultivated any kind of depth within themselves and who will no doubt enjoy this book just as much as Cohen’s later works. But it’s because they lack the ability to distinguish between the shallow and the profound. Lines like “Catching winter in their carved nostrils/ the traitor birds have deserted us” can seem indistinguishable from excellence given a certain similarity of tone and rhythm but what gives away weaker poetry is its inability to weather objective scrutiny. Does ascribing treachery here convey something that’s rooted in a powerful insight? Even on the most subjective level, is the migration of birds really analogous to treachery? If the point can be made, I think I’ve made it. Of course the tendency to inflate things with false significance is not unique to the adolescent, it’s one of the hallmarks of bad writing in general, but the failure here is a normal part of the maturation process for any great talent. Art, even in its most avant-garde and contemporary forms, is always the pursuit of meaning (An artifact is inevitably a superposition of experiences and the creative process means shaping these towards some specifiable range at the very least) so the most promising artists will inevitably be those whose passion exceeds their abilities. The passion is what drives the growth in craft and personal powers of discernment. If all goes well.
But not every genius will eventually achieve maturity. A good counter example to that is provided by the career of Rimbaud. Given the quality of the work he wrote at sixteen, it’s fair to say that Rimbaud was a genius. As far as I know however, he never overcame the defects of his adolescence. What Rimbaud’s work suffers from the most maybe is a preformative orientation. Whether it’s because it strives too obviously for approval or because of a desperation to provoke some reaction in its audience, I find his poems lack the self-certainty that all the best works of literature share. There’s also a slapdash quality to them, a hedonistic indifference within the writing itself that’s prevalent among authors who are more concerned with the rewards of writing than the artistry of their own work. Which is hardly surprising in this case since we’re talking about a teenaged libertine living a life of unhampered debauchery. Fortunately the same fate didn’t befall Leonard Cohen.
Again, Dylan Thomas can be mentioned as a comparable genius whose full potential was derailed due to analogous personal problems (Although fortunately, not as completely) Aside from even the human tragedies here though, it’s worth considering the loss of a what would have no doubt been a much greater literary legacy for both of them. But Cohen did not go down the same road of debasement. And now generations of readers and music aficionados can enjoy the legacy of his discipline. In fact, one could make the argument that talent carries with it inherent moral obligations. That’s a sentiment that’s rather out of favor in our own epoch however. Today, artists are as selfish as they’ve ever been.
En på mange måder overraskende oplevelse. Cohens debut er meget mere "stilet" end jeg havde forventet, han har i næsten alle stykker et stramt formsprog (omend forskellige former). Og så er den meget mørkere og sommetider næsten "Edgar Allan poe-isk" men måske er det bare den Cohenske apokalyptiske åbenbaring der udtrykkes i et formstramt sprog. Cohen har sagt, at skal man beskrive menneskets uundgåelige nederlag skal det gøres med skønhed, og det synes jeg til fulde han lever op til i sin debut. Et eksempel på den mørke tone (hverken mere eller mindre mørkt end størstedelen af digtene)
letter
How you murdered your family means nothing to me as your mouth moves across my body
And i hold your dreams of crumbling cities and galloping horses of the sun coming to close and the night never ending
but these mean nothing to me beside your body
I know that outside a war is raging that you issue orders that babies are smothered and generals beheaded
but blood means nothing to me it does not disturb your flesh
tasting blood on your tongue does not shock me as my arms grow into your hair
Do not think I do not understand what happens after the troops have been massacred and the harlots put to the sword
And I write this only to rob you that when one morning my head hangs dripping with the other generals from your house gate
that all this was anticipated and so you will know that it meant nothing to me
Samlingen er fyldt med små akkurate perler, der sommetider også kan få mig til at tænke på W. Blake: Fx
folk song
The ancient craftsman smiled when I asked him to blow a bottle to keep your tears in. And he smiled and hummed in rhythm with his hands as he carved delicate glass and stained it with the purple of a drifting evening sky. But the bottle is lost in a corner of my house. How could I know you could not cry?
Temaerne er religion, sex, død og forfald - Cohen er godt på vej, og jeg glemmer helt at forfatteren til det her værk kun er 22. Det er ikke alle digte der kryber ind, men der er nok af dem der gør det til det bliver en stor oplevelse
This is Leonard Cohen s first published book of poetry. It came out in 1956. I was rereading for the first time in what must be nearly fifty years. What comes to me tonight is how young he is here. I think when I first read this I was only several years older than his age here. Reading them now, after his career of more poetry, two novels and fifty years of music it is easy to see the talent. When I was younger, reading his poems, I did not stop to evaluate his talent but let my adolescent self be swept along by his words and his passions.
Here's one I remembered from so long ago. It still rings loudly.
TO I.P.L.
No answers in your delightful zarathustrian tales, how the streets and alleys of heaven were not safe for holy girls, and a century of curfew had driven the seraphim indoors, while He raged, depraved, hanging around street corners, entertaining hags in public places, going wild with thunder and stray children; and how you finally came in, more furious than any Canadian poet, and found Him gasping against a cloud, His back already broken by some rebel band, and not hesitating you finished up the job while He mumbled tired curses and a chorus of invalid angels rattled their fists and chanted odes to you.a
Canadian publisher McClellan & Stewart, who I believe were the original publishers of all his work save this one, are releasing his poetry and novels in attractive uniform editions. This is the first.
This book of poetry that Leonard Cohen had published at the age of twenty-two certainly shows how he became one of the phenomenal poets of our country. He was and is still amazing! Even from the first poem in the book I was drawn in and could easily follow the narrative of Cohen's work. "Elegy": "Do not look for him In brittle mountain streams: They are too cold for any god;"
These are only the opening lines of the first poem in this collection and I was hooked from there. On page 45 we find the poem "Twilight": "Those days were just the twilight And soon the poems and the songs Were only associations Edged with bitterness"
Leonard Cohen is so gifted with our language and if you want to get into his poetry this is where you start. This fiftieth anniversary edition is certainly going to be added to my library! Bravo Leonard, Bravo!
2021~ Reread this in one afternoon and continue to find beautiful inspiration from the writing of one who is greatly missed in this world. My heart and soul take flight when I read Leonard’s words.
My review may be a bit biased, because I'm a huge Cohen fan. I was floored when he died.
These poems still hold up, much like his music. I do wish I knew the Old Testament properly, though, as some of the Judaeo-Christian references were unfamiliar to me. (I was raised secular, by a Buddhist mom who was raised Anglican and an atheist dad who was raised Catholic. We have a whole set of religious texts in the house, though; I've just been too lazy to attempt reading them.) But I still could appreciate this volume of poetry - especially "Rites" and "Lovers", which quite frankly broke my heart. "Elegy" and "Story" are two other favourites, which I was familiar with already from an anthology of Canadian poetry that my mom has around the house somewhere.
This book isn't due back to the library for another week. I may keep it out and re-read a few of the poems.
It's interesting to contrast this with Cohen's later work. It has a lot in common so far as sensibilities and moods go, but is also drastically different in execution. A large part of the appeal of Cohen for me is how communicative he is. Here, he feels very insular and inaccessible a lot of the time. The poems are well-written and intellectually engaging without making me feel in any way connected to them.
I picked this book up because of the author's reputation as a songwriter, but found that I couldn't get into any of the pieces. Also there was a lot of blank space in this (short) book.