A Roadside Dog

by Czesław Miłosz, Robert Hass

In a compendium of poems, parables, essays, and epigrams, the winner of the 1980 Nobel Prize in Literature movingly recounts his return to his boyhood province in rural Poland and reflects on the life of the people and their animals there.

Genres: Poetry, Polish Literature, Fiction, Poland, Short Stories, Essays, Nobel Prize

208 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1997

About the author

Czesław Miłosz was a Nobel Prize winning poet and author of Polish-Lithuanian heritage. He memorialised his Lithuanian childhood in a 1955 novel, The Issa Valley , and in the 1959 memoir Native Realm . After graduating from Sigismund Augustus Gymnasium in Vilnius, he studied law at Stefan Batory University and in 1931 he travelled to Paris, where he was influenced by his distant cousin Oscar Milosz, a French poet of Lithuanian descent and a Swedenborgian. His first volume of poetry was published in 1934.

After receiving his law degree that year, he again spent a year in Paris on a fellowship. Upon returning, he worked as a commentator at Radio Wilno, but was dismissed, an action described as stemming from either his leftist views or for views overly sympathetic to Lithuania. Miłosz wrote all his poetry, fiction, and essays in Polish and translated the Old Testament Psalms into Polish.

Awarded the 1980 Nobel Prize in Literature for being an author "who with uncompromising clear-sightedness voices man's exposed condition in a world of severe conflicts."

Reviews

[Bill on GR Sabbatical · Rating 4 out of 5]

It looks as if the Creator, whose ethical motives people have learned to doubt, was prompted primarily by his desire to make everything as interesting as possible, and as comic.

My first experience reading Miłosz, this late collection of short pieces was apparently a good introduction to many of the central themes that consumed him during a long writing life, e.g. Catholicism, faith, philosophy, science, history, and the role and fate of the poet in society.

When I was, as they say, in harmony with God and the world, I felt I was false, as if pretending to be somebody else. I recovered my identity when I found myself again in the skin of a sinner and nonbeliever. This repeated itself in my life several times. For, undoubtedly, I liked the image of myself as a decent man, but, immediately after I put that mask on, my conscience whispered that I was deceiving others and myself.

Some pieces in the titular first section could be considered prose poems, more by virtue of brevity and an aphoristic tone than by otherwise recognizably poetic language. The rest are more like short philosophical essays, including all of the second, final section, titled "Subjects to Let", which ostensibly share topics the writer knows he will not live to expand on, so offers to others.

If only we could believe that everything ends with death.

I had to look hard for the gems that I found, but some will stick with me, I think.

[Peter · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have read this a number of times. He talks about the modern world, seemed to see through it more than just about anybody. I'm really sorry he's gone.

[Gina · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love Milosz and this book, filled with his short, stirring, and thought-provoking poetry and prose was tremendously interesting. Each page holds so many interesting, sometimes quirky thoughts. Especially for a writer, this book proves a valuable companion.

[Vincent · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some of these aphoristic pages are a slog, but there are some wonderful bits throughout.

[Daniel Polansky]

An arrangement of short essays, poems and aphorisms about language, death and Catholicism. I enjoyed it but can't say it stuck with me to any particular degree. Then again, I read a lot of books this month.

[Rhys · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some amusing musings.

"He was unable to forgive not only their intellectuals, always on the lookout for a perfect tyranny, provided it was far from their homes, but also all the citizens of those countries, united by their common refusal to know." (p.136).

[Old Man JP · Rating 5 out of 5]

Every time I read a book by Czeslaw Milosz I can't help but think that he has to be among the finest writers of all time. This is a short book of poetry and short essays and, really, there is very little difference between the two, they are both, simply, extraordinary. I put tabs on my favorites as I was reading but there are far too many to highlight in this review, so I'm going to quote just a few of the shorter ones.
The first is titled Old People and I think it appealed to me, mostly, because I'm one of them.

"The view of old and ugly men and women, especially of those crones shuffling along with their canes. They were betrayed by their bodies, once beautiful and ready to dance. Yet in every one a lamp of consciousness is burning, hence their wonder: "Is this me? But it can't be so!""

He wrote several poems about poetry and this is one of them titled Embarrassing.

"Poetry is an embarrassing affair, it is born too near to the functions we call intimate.

Poetry cannot be separated from awareness of our body. It soars above it, immaterial and at the same time captive, and is a reason for our uneasiness, for it pretends to belong to a separate zone, of spirit.

I was ashamed of being a poet, as if, undressed, I would display in public my physical defects. I envied people who do not write poems and whom for that reason I ranged among the normal. And in this I was wrong: few of them deserve to be called that."

The last poem I will quote is one I thought was quite clever, titled A Warning.

"Little animals from cartoons, talking rabbits, doggies, squirrels, as well as ladybugs, bees, grasshoppers. They have as much in common with real animals as our notions of the world have with the real world. Think of this, and tremble."

[Masked · Rating 5 out of 5]

well, this is a little, nearly square book by czeslaw milosz and it's full of poems, mostly. there are a few other things. musings. ponderings. milosz is one of those quietly funny folks and his funniness isn't always in stories or poems that feel good. i think that's very nice of him.

there is a story on fleas. a funny bit involving martin luther. i will never be able to get over the fact that he wrote these in one language (polish) and then sat down and changed them over to english. just changed them. i imagine him with robert haas (a poet in his own right but also a fine translator), drinking beer and laughing over the words and how to pin them down on the page, slapping each other on the back when they get a line or two just right, not hurrying at all. and in new form the words are still beautiful to read and say and hear. how is that? rilke does that, too. it's not fair. go read them and see for yourself.

[Descending Angel · Rating 3 out of 5]

A quick little book, nothing overly special. Only 12 poems, two being a line long. Still a couple gems. Highlights: ~ "Pelicans" "A Ball" "Christopher Robin" and "Rivers".

[Jacob Binder · Rating 4 out of 5]

Here is a writer who cautions against the limits of autofiction and personal narrative in favor of writing of other subjects, but Milosz's subjects betray him. Underneath his fables and anecdotes of other persons, he writes of himself, for himself. His subjects reflect his person: his clinging to the social order promised by religion, his grappling with the horrors of the century which made him, his devotion to language despite its limitations. There is nothing inherently wrong in that-all writers come to their writing from their own biased subject position-but there is a contradiction to his literary philosophy which he doesn't acknowledge. That said, this collection is filled with wisdom and beautiful prose. The poems and essays in it made me sit and think, even if I didn't agree with their conclusions. That's what good literature should do.

[Ben McFarland · Rating 4 out of 5]

Turns out I'm a poetry reader, I just didn't find the right poet. These poems by Milosz are more epigrams or anecdotes than poems at times, but there's always an edge forcing you to sit up and pay attention. Milosz manages to walk the fine line between cynicism and openness, and explores the paradoxes of belief without ever seeming didactic or trite. Although this is work from late in his career, it has a lightness (and a darkness) that seems to float -- it seems new. Read this slowly and chew on it, and it will last you all day.

[Agata Lipko · Rating 3 out of 5]

Zupełne wyjście spoza mojej czytelniczej strefy komfortu. Miłosz wydaje mi się by być..niedostępny, ze względu na swoją erudycję, spokój, nieustępliwość, patrzenie z góry..? Ale znalazłam i tu coś bardzo dla siebie (forma temu sprzyja), bardzo ciekawe doświadczenie.

[Rita Fortunato · Rating 5 out of 5]

Il cagnolino lungo la strada di Milosz si presenta come un romanzo ed è ordinato come un diario critico in cui è possibile rinvenire osservazioni, informazioni e considerazioni che spaziano dal romanzo alla poesia, dalla sessualità ai sentimenti e alle pulsioni ad essa associate, alla vita e al mondo nella sua interezza, nei suoi dettagli, nelle sue filosofie.

Lungi dall'essere infinito, Il cagnolino lungo la strada è un frammento letterario dove si intuisce che le possibilità di esplorazione del panorama e delle realtà che attraversiamo sono più di quanto crediamo. Questo fa sì che la seconda parte del libro dedicata ai temi da cedere apra una gamma di scelte che spetta al lettore scegliere e portare avanti, lungo il percorso di lettura.

Gradevole, leggero (sembra un paradosso se paragonato a un'opera polacca). Da portare con sé e consultare liberamente. :)

Recensione libro: https://paroleombra.com/2020/06/26/il...

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Road-Side Dog is a collection of poems, prose fragments, observations (like in journal entries). What makes it amazing is the vivid observations, random thoughts and points about the greater reality. Nothing in this book by the late Czeslaw Milosz is much longer than 4 pages long, and the more in-depth chapters are in the second half of the book. There are some amazing sentences and sentence clauses, such as: "He was everywhere, on a train carrying prisoners to the gulag...." Also" The longer one's life, the more torments of memory." Some of the language is that good. There are themes, but there is not a narrative, so the lovers of narrative will be disappointed. (Rating: 4.0-4.3/5.0 stars).

[Mauricio Montenegro · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este es un libro que valdría la pena traducir al español: son textos cortos de todo tipo escritos por Milosz alrededor de sus 86 años, cuando los reunió y publicó. Hay poemas (pocos), aforismos, reflexiones hondas y sencillas, ideas para relatos, viñetas de una belleza serena, especialmente imágenes que su memoria trae de la infancia. También hay parábolas y uno que otro sermón. Hay que decir que las preocupaciones religiosas tienen un lugar central y Milosz no puede evitar un desencantado esfuerzo evangelizador. Lo que sí logra evitar, y no debe resultar fácil a los 86 años, es que el tono moralista se torne amargo.

[Kurt Fox · Rating 2 out of 5]

There are two distinct sections to this book: "Road-side Dog," and "Subjects to Let."
"Road-side Dog" is the more poetic of the two, with one topic per page about thoughts in a paragraph or two, or just a sentence of 11 words. But, I wouldn't call it poetry. I give this section 3/5 stars
"Subjects to Let" are more like essays on given topics, sometimes spanning a few pages. Many of them are religious and / or topics of which I have no interest. I give this section 1.5/5 stars

This was published 20 years after he won the Pulitzer, and when he was 87 years old; well past his prime.

Overall 2/5 stars.

[Rosy · Rating 3 out of 5]

The most interesting part of this for me is that Hubby picked it up and is also reading it. But this is also an interesting delve into the mind and perhaps heart of a Name artist. I wanted to say valuable as well, and I’m sure this pleasing little book has value, but my problem is that I don’t pay attention well, and I don’t THINK I will remember any of these ideas for long. Maybe Hubby will.

I do appreciate seeing the thoughts of a real, nonstereotypical Berkley professor of the late twentieth century.

[Maurizio Manco · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Dare un senso, quale che sia, pur di sfuggire a questa realtà bovina, inerte, perfettamente apatica, senza fini, aspirazioni, affermazioni o negazioni, che è come il nulla incarnato. Religioni! Ideologie! Desideri! Odi! Venite a ricoprire con la vostra trama ornata questa cosa cieca, che neppure ha un nome." (Tropici, p. 80)

[Ermina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kad vrhunski pjesnik kakav je Miloš napiše nešto prozno, onda je to, za mene, veliko otkriće. Mislim da takva proza nadograđuje sve one skraćene misli koje su bile iskazane u stihovima. U ovoj zbirci nalaze se eseji, kratke priče i poezija, tako da je ova knjiga, što se mene tiče, mikrokosmos Milošovijade.

[Brian Beatty · Rating 3 out of 5]

Too often too abstract for my tastes, but incredibly smart use of the short form.

[Amina Hrnčić · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really fought with myself to finish this book. Not my cup of tea. In my opinion, most of its content is too bitter for poetry and it is not cathartic at all.

[Vanessa Fernandez · Rating 3 out of 5]

I will return to this another time and re-read it all. Not for me right now.

[Elizabeth Green · Rating 1 out of 5]

A slog and too abstract. Random library pick.

[Anetq · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fragments, reflections and sketches by the Nobel prize winner of 1980. Enjoyable pieces of prose they remind me a bit of Kafka's short prose pieces. Highly recommend this!

[Sophia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I feel called out by one of the poems

[Jane Tiidelepp · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vana ja väsinud mehe testament. Au talle. Kindlasti lugemist väärt. Kasvõi selleks, et autori toel enda seisukohti kujundada, nendega nõustuda või mitte.

Suurim tarkus on südameheadus.

[Little Seal]

I like some aspects of the book, but I don't think I'm the target audience. Maybe if I find one-off poetry from him in the future, I'd be into it.

[Sylvester (Taking a break in 2023) · Rating 3 out of 5]

I took this up after "The Issa Valley", thinking I would like to see what C.M.'s poetry was like, and so was confused to find short paragraphs - prose poems - I wondered? But there were a few in conventional poem form as well, so I gave up trying to categorize and just read on.

Not my usual thing or style, but with merit nonetheless. Some of the paragraphs were outstanding. This one I will include, even though it's long, just so I don't forget it myself.


Ancestors

To tell the truth we should not exist. We, not any collective plural, just you and me. Let us use our imaginations to visualize for a moment the circumstances and conditions of our parent's life, then our grandparents, then great-grandparents, thus further and further back. Even if among them all there happened to be wealthy individuals, or men of privilege, the stench and filth in which they lived, as that then was the rule, would have astonished us who use showers and toilets. What was even more certain was among them the presence of starvelings, for whom a piece of dry bread in pre-harvest time was happiness. Our ancestors died like flies from epidemics, from starvation, from wars, though children swarmed, for every twelve of them only one or two survived. And what strange tribes, what ugly snouts behinds you and me, what bloody rites in honor of gods carved in the linden tree! Back to those who are stalking through the undergrowth of a murky primeval forest with chipped stones for their only weapons, in order to split the skulls of their enemies. It would seem as if we had only parents and that's all, but those other pre-predecessors exist, and with them their afflictions, manias, mental illnesses, syphilis, tuberculosis, and what-not, and how do you know they do not continue in you? And what was the probability that among the children of your great-great- grandparents the one susrvived who would beget your ancestor? And what the probability that this would repeat itself in the next generation?

Altogether, a very slim chance that we would be born in these skins, as these, not other, individuals, in whom the genes met those of the devil knows what whores and oafs. The very fact that our species survived and even multiplied beyond measure is astonishing, for it had much against it, and the primeval forest full of animals stronger than humans may serve till now as a metaphor for man's precarious situation - let us add viruses, bacteria, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods, but also his own works atomic weapons and the pollution of nature. Our species should have disappeared a long time ago, and it is still alive, incredibly resistant. That you and I happen to be part of it should be enough to give us pause for meditation."


I liked that.


62) A Goal
51) That
47) A Warning
46) Leaning Into
82) But
94) Autumn
102) In Her Diary
109) Yokimura
141) Oeuvre
206) Ancestors

[Sophie · Rating 2 out of 5]

"And he expected the cruelty of his imagination was somehow connected with his creative impulse."

"Waking up at night, he felt he was working his way toward it through a thin curtain, but then, in that striving, he would fall asleep."

"In the act of writing, a transformation occurs: the direct data of consciousness, our feeling of ourselves from inside, is changed into an image of other individuals, similarly feeling themselves from inside, and thanks to that, we can write about them, not only about ourselves."

"Museums, libraries, photographs, reproductions, film archives. And amid that abundance individuals who do not realize that around them an omnipresent memory hovers and besieges, attacks their tiny consciousness."

"I was driven to despair during vacations by the boredom of obvious things."

"People, dependent as they are upon little things, are undefined and elude their own grasp or the grasp of others, yet with time they, together with little things, acquire traits that can be described, characters, like the surface of the earth, which only from a distance shows the folds of its mountain chains and the nervous system of its rivers."

"This occurred, however, when the individual was considered a kind of castle or fortress from which one would make sallies into the world."

"Had he been telling about himself he would prove he lacked maturity and peace of mind, traits necessary in a fairy-tale narrator. One more feature of the novel: magnanimity."

"The language itself unfurled its velvet yarn in order to cover what, without it, would equal nothing."

"With human beings whose names still move me."

"For many years my internal trouble could be reduced to the question: How to bear memory? I am inclined to see myself as an exception, in view of some traumatic experiences, and yet I realize all those who write are busy with remembering, whatever their age, gender, or the type of their traumas. As for myself, I believe such dwelling on oneself is harmful."

"The causes of the missions' downfall were multiple. The Sonoma mission disintegrated because of grizzly bears."

"They assure us that at a certain moment one observes with indifference one's immobile mortal envelope somewhere below. What I am talking about is not unlike that experience."

"To the valid objection that spirits do not carry umbrellas, one may answer that something, after all, must happen to the multitude of departed and useless objects, only some of which find their way to antique shops."

"There is only one big theme, a key which will open the treasury of your unrevealed and unconfessed, even to yourselves, experiences. These are the moments when you were, in one way or another, humiliated."

[Cheryl · Rating 2 out of 5]

I did not realize how similar this book was to Rilke's Book of Hours, but they both are writing about religion and spirituality since Milosz was a devout but doubting Catholic. Milosz addresses more topics than Rilke, but neither book did much for me. I felt like Milosz was jus jotting down whatever came to his head, and I could imagine being his daughter, and constantly tuning out his brief monologues.

“On one side there is luminosity, trust, faith, the beauty of the earth; on the other side, darkness, doubt, unbelief, the cruelty of the earth, the capacity of people to do evil. When I write, the first side is true, when I do not write, the second is….not much philosophy, but at least it has been verified by experience.”

I feel that you could substitute one word in this paragraph, instead of “when I write,” you could put the most important thing in the world to you and it would be true for you. Mine would be, ‘when I take photographs,’ or when I practice meditation, etc. Others might say when I bike, or hike, or summit a fourteener, or garden, or dance, volunteer, give charity, etc. I just love that description of being immersed in an activity and helping shape your mindset and reactions to adversity and the struggles life presents.