The Carrier of Ladders

by W.S. Merwin

Merwin, W.S. The Carrier of Ladders. Poems. Fifth printing. New York, Atheneum, 1976. 13,5 cm x 22,5 cm. IX, 138 pages. Original Softcover. Very good condition with some minor signs of external wear. From the library of swiss - american - irish poet Chuck Kruger. With his name to front free endpaper. Contains among others the following Plane; Teachers; The Owl; The Different Stars; The Dead Hive; The Mountains; The Bridges; The Hands; Do Not Die; Words From a Totem Animal; Animula; Quine; The Judgement of Paris; Edouard; Not These Hills; The Piper; The Lake; The Church; A Calm in April; The Birds on the Morning of Going etc.

Genres: Poetry

138 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1971

About the author

William Stanley Merwin was an American poet, credited with over fifty books of poetry, translation and prose.

William Stanley Merwin (September 30, 1927 – March 15, 2019) was an American poet who wrote more than fifty books of poetry and prose, and produced many works in translation. During the 1960s anti-war movement, Merwin's unique craft was thematically characterized by indirect, unpunctuated narration. In the 1980s and 1990s, his writing influence derived from an interest in Buddhist philosophy and deep ecology. Residing in a rural part of Maui, Hawaii, he wrote prolifically and was dedicated to the restoration of the island's rainforests.

Merwin received many honors, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1971 and 2009; the National Book Award for Poetry in 2005, and the Tanning Prize—one of the highest honors bestowed by the Academy of American Poets—as well as the Golden Wreath of the Struga Poetry Evenings. In 2010, the Library of Congress named him the 17th United States Poet Laureate.

Reviews

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

Intense, mythic, evocative, elegiac...

In the hour that has no friends
above it
you become yourself
voice
black
star burning in cold heaven
speaking well of it
as it falls from you
upward
*
All through the dark the wind looks
for the grief it belongs to
but there was no place
for that any more

I have looked too
and seen only the nameless hunger
watching us out of the stars

ancestor
and the black fields
*
but I am in this world
without you
I am alone as the sadness surrounding
what has long ministered to our convenience
alone as the note of the horn
as the human voice
saddest of instruments
as a white grain of sand falling in a still sea
alone as the figure she unwove each night alone

alone
as I will be

[Everett · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading Merwin is like reading a puzzle and it´s usually worth the mental effort to get to the heart of his logic. It reminds me of reading the Edda kennings from the old Icelanders, who wrote of objects in a roundabout, playful manner (frozen wave = mountain, etc...). But here, Merwin applies something like this technique to a person´s deep emotional and spiritual life, with common themes being death, loss, and isolation.

Elegy, The Sadness, The Calling Under the Breath, The Signals, The Well deal with loneliness and death, deeply and quite succinctly, while Presidents and Envoy from D´Aubigné are scathing critiques of the elite. Still Afternoon Light, Man with One Leaf in October Night, while being on the same melancholic track as most of the others, have some happy bonce in them. And really, this is not some kind of doom and gloom collection despite the themes, there is a vague message of hope in all the pain and emptiness.

Merwin got really really really awesome on the Shadow of Sirius, which I didn´t just read, I worshipped. I can´t say the same about Ladders, which was written fairly early in his life, but it´s still really worthwhile-and I cried a few times, so umm..carry a hanky?

[Bethany · Rating 3 out of 5]

Closer to two and a half stars for me. I can see the skill that went into the volume, but it just left me cold.

If someone else wants to share their thoughts on Merwin (and this particular collection), I'd love that. Perhaps my own aesthetic and poor grasp on the history of contemporary poetry has kept me from appreciating this work. Perhaps the era (late sixties, early seventies) is too far removed from my experience.

I prefer poetry that carries its meaning either in its imagery or in its sound (e.g., T.S. Eliot, where I don't always consciously understand what he's saying, but there's meaning in the sound that's greater than the words on the page). Merwin doesn't really seem to rely on either of those things. There were visual images, of course, but they seemed separated from each other. In his longer poems, I felt that I could cut up the stanzas and mix-and-match them with stanzas from the other poems in this work and not lose a thing. Merwin employed repetition on occasion, but sometimes the rhythms struck me as forced (and perhaps not varied enough?).

I found myself preferring the poems where one metaphor or image carried the whole poem (mostly, in the very short poems, but I also enjoyed "The Judgement of Paris" and "The Hands," which was probably my favorite piece in the collection).

There are some lovely lines in this volume:

I have climbed a long way
there are my shoes
minute larvae
the dark parents
I know they will wait there looking up
until someone leads them away
("Ascent")


Those who cannot love the heavens or the earth
beaten from the heavens and the earth
eat each other
those who cannot love each other
eat themselves
those who cannot love themselves
beaten from themselves
eat a terrible bread
("The Chaff")

Now it is clear to me that no leaves are mine
no roots are mine
that wherever I go I will be a spine of smoke in the forest
and the forest will know it
we will both know it
("Now It is Clear")


But there were many, many more lines that left me wanting to rush through the volume and read something else. I hate to call lines that I simply didn't get "nonsense," but a lot of this felt like reading nonsense, or on the other extreme, bald statements of feeling. For example:

The Sadness

Thinking of you I lean over silent water
this head
appears
the earth turns
the sky has no motion
one by one my eyelashes free themselves
and fall
and meet themselves for the first time
the last time

Or

Fear
there is
fear in fear the name the blue and green walls
falling of and numbers fear the veins that
when they were opened fear flowed from and
these forms it took a ring a ring a ring
a bit of grass green swan's down gliding on
fear into fear and the hatred and something
in everything and it is my death's
disciple leg and fear no he would not
have back those lives again and their fear as
he feared he would say but he feared more he
did not fear more he did fear more
in everything it is there a long time
("Fear")


I can't say these are terrible poems (or that I haven't written poems in a similar vein), but they didn't say much to me, and they almost feel a little. . .well, silly. I had no desire to read a whole book of similar works.

Perhaps I am missing something? Thoughts?

[Rob Gifford]

“Send me another life
lord because this one is growing faint
I do not think it goes all the way”

[Cait · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are some good poems in this book, but really the important thing is that this book contains the Psalm: Our Fathers which contains the line with which I could sum up my entire life, existence and personality. (I love this poem, and by extension this book and poet kind of a lot.)

[Scott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lots of great poems in the simplest possible language. The overall mood is a bit somber. He seems to be writing mostly about death and loss, but many of these poems took my breath away.

[Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

He's The Master.

[Mark Underwood · Rating 4 out of 5]

See references to this book in Howard Norman's memoir, "I Hate to Leave this Beautiful Place" (2013)

[Jesse Hilson · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s just not for me. There are some good poems but I can’t quite feature the airy wispy tone with no punctuation. Maybe it’s me but I need poetry that has some kind of other texture that my mind can grip onto. There is something (I can’t put my finger on it) that is too smooth and featureless. I have another book of poems of Merwin’s, and I’ve looked through that and it’s essentially the same. Has my attention span been irrevocably destroyed by 21st century life and I just can’t read this poetry which feels merely one or two notches above stuff you read on Instagram ? I prefer Derek Walcott or Donne or Shakespeare to this. I need to find other poets to get into.

[Eric · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't know Merwin existed until he died last month. He seemed like a cool guy, so I picked up the only copy of this in the DPL system. The poems were solid, but it took me a long time to read because I'd read it at night before going to sleep and I would be out cold immediately. However, that's not the poem's fault. Merwin was certainly a master, if I'm only basing my opinion on this collection, and I'm happier for having pick this up.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Carrier of Ladders delivers a rich tapestry of imagery and emotion, showcasing Merwin's poetic prowess with vivid clarity. While its abstract themes may prove daunting for some, those who embrace its complexity will find themselves rewarded with a deeply profound and introspective journey. Merwin's masterful manipulation of language and symbolism makes The Carrier of Ladders a compelling and rewarding read for poetry enthusiasts.

[Lorraine · Rating 1 out of 5]

I usually like Merwin, but wow. This was not for me. The complete lack of punctuation makes these poems really hard to read IMHO. Most of them read pretty nonsensically to me. I have no idea what he's talking about most of the time. There's lots of rivers and birds and gloves and shoes. Some of them are clearly about the forced removal of indigenous peoples, and I think some of them are about the Holocaust; but I could be totally off-base. :(

[Travis · Rating 1 out of 5]

Done. A great weight has been lifted. Reading is fun again. Strong possibility my own inexperience as a poetry reader has much to do with these feelings. Regardless, he doesn't give readers much help.

[Stephen Ryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Merwin has finally settled into his second phase minimalist style here and this is his first masterpiece in the style. Keeps the minimalist style and the abstract images, but lays a foundation of human emotion underneath.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Name for a curtain at night
sister of some
unfuelled flame

imperious
triumphant and unloved
how did you find the houses
from which now you emanate
in which someone has just

but no sound reaches the gate
here
though all the lights are burning

[Gabby · Rating 3 out of 5]

Enjoyed. I like Merwin maybe in small doses. Some of these feel too disembodied for me at times. Some blur together in their similarities. Had trouble latching on to it but there were a few that resonated for me and it was still a nice journey nonetheless

[Larry · Rating 3 out of 5]

Merwin's enigmatic, elliptical style and lack of punctuation can make his poems hard to follow for me. There are some stunning images, but not many stunning poems.

[Rachel · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best modern poetry books I’ve read in awhile. The opening poems are absolutely gorgeous giving it such a good start overall.

[d · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quiet light. Thank you, W.S. Merwin.

[Al Maki]

Two things stand out for me about this book. The style is transitional - between his early and his late. And there is much sharper sorrow in it than I can recall elsewhere in his work. I think this was partly the era because it really brought back the feelings of the late days of the Vietnam War. The lines from this book that I found most striking were in the very first poem
“With my mind infinitely divided and hopeless
Like a stockyard seen from above”

I think the feelings of this time may have been part of the motivation for his later efforts toward Buddhism.