High Windows

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Аннотация

When Philip Larkin’s High Windows first appeared, Kingsley Amis spoke for a large and loyal readership when he wrote: ‘Larkin’s admirers need only be told that he is as good as ever here, if not slightly better.’Like Betjeman and Hardy, Larkin is a poet who can move a large audience — without betraying the highest artistic standards.The poems in High Windows illustrate Larkin’s unrivalled ability to bring lyrical expression to ordinary, urban lives. It is a gift that makes him one of the most truly popular of the twentieth century’s poets.

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Приветствуем тебя, неведомый ценитель литературы. Если ты читаешь этот текст, то книга «High Windows» Larkin Philip (EN) небезосновательно привлекла твое внимание. Один из немногих примеров того, как умело подобранное место украшает, дополняет и насыщает цветами и красками все произведение. В главной идее столько чувства и замысел настолько глубокий, что каждый, соприкасающийся с ним становится ребенком этого мира. Захватывающая тайна, хитросплетенность событий, неоднозначность фактов и парадоксальность ощущений были гениально вплетены в эту историю. Возникает желание посмотреть на себя, сопоставить себя с описываемыми событиями и ситуациями, охватить себя другим охватом — во всю даль и ширь души. Произведение пронизано тонким юмором, и этот юмор, будучи одной из форм, способствует лучшему пониманию и восприятию происходящего. Удачно выбранное время событий помогло автору углубиться в проблематику и поднять ряд жизненно важных вопросов над которыми стоит задуматься. По мере приближения к апофеозу невольно замирает дух и в последствии чувствуется желание к последующему многократному чтению. Произведение, благодаря мастерскому перу автора, наполнено тонкими и живыми психологическими портретами. Автор искусно наполняет текст деталями, используя в том числе описание быта, но благодаря отсутствию тяжеловесных описаний произведение читается на одном выдохе. Благодаря живому и динамичному языку повествования все зрительные образы у читателя наполняются всей гаммой красок и звуков. «High Windows» Larkin Philip (EN) читать бесплатно онлайн безусловно стоит, здесь есть и прекрасный воплощенный замысел и награда для истинных ценителей этого жанра.

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Новинки

Мне было всего шестнадцать лет, когда я впервые познакомилась с Захаром Исаевым.С юности подвергнуты.

Стоп — ничья

Мне было всего шестнадцать лет, когда я впервые познакомилась с Захаром Исаевым.С юности подвергнуты.

Алиса продолжает открывать для себя новую страну за зеркалами, в которой происходят не лучшие переме.

Зазеркалье. Часть 2. Блеск стекла

Алиса продолжает открывать для себя новую страну за зеркалами, в которой происходят не лучшие переме.

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Боги тоже умеют любить. Но их любовь не всегда приносит радость. В своём стремлении заполучить объек.

Элина

Боги тоже умеют любить. Но их любовь не всегда приносит радость. В своём стремлении заполучить объек.

Я с детства видела то, что не видели другие. Меня считали странной, но я не обращала на это внимания.

High Windows

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They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me:
‘Why do you let me This Be The Verse:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me:
‘Why do you let me lie here wastefully?
I am all you never had of goods and sex.
You could get them still by writing a few cheques.’

So I look at others, what they do with theirs:
They certainly don’t keep it upstairs.
By now they’ve a second house and car and wife:
Clearly money has something to do with life

—In fact, they’ve a lot in common, if you enquire:
You can’t put off being young until you retire,
And however you bank your screw, the money you save
Won’t in the end buy you more than a shave.

I listen to money singing. It’s like looking down
From long french windows at a provincial town,
The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad
In the evening sun. It is intensely sad.

Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) —
Between the end of the «Chatterley» ban
And the Beatles’ first LP.

Up to then there’d only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.

Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.

So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) —
Between the end of the «Chatterley» ban
And the Beatles’ first LP.

My Thoughts: Whoa, this guy’s mental. And weird. And pervy. I LIKE HIM! 😛 . more

Forget What Did
Stopping the diary
Was a stun to memory,
Was a blank starting,

One no longer cicatrized
By such words, such actions
As bleakened waking.

I wanted them over,
Hurried to burial
And looked back on

Like the wars and winters
Missing behind the windows
Of an opaque childhood.

And the empty pages ?
Should they ever be filled
Let it be with observed

Celestial recurrences,
The day the flowers come,
And when the birds go.

This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do

Forget What Did
Stopping the diary
Was a stun to memory,
Was a blank starting,

One no longer cicatrized
By such words, such actions
As bleakened waking.

I wanted them over,
Hurried to burial
And looked back on

Like the wars and winters
Missing behind the windows
Of an opaque childhood.

And the empty pages ?
Should they ever be filled
Let it be with observed

Celestial recurrences,
The day the flowers come,
And when the birds go.

This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

A good collection, but I enjoyed The Less Deceived more.

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

This must be one of the great stanzas in poetry.

6/30 books read in 2015.

Never have I been more glad that I went back to a booksale to pick up a book I had seen the day before! This is absolutely one of my favourites now. Eventhough it was published in 1974, High Windows feels like it could have been published during my life time. This little book has made me excited to try other poetry collections.

The eye sees you
Simplified by distance
Into an origin,
Your petalled head of flames
Continuously exploding.
Heat is the echo of your Gold.

Coined there among
Lonely horizontals
You exist openly.
Our needs hourly
Climb and return like angels.
Unclosing like a hand,
You give for ever.

Still learning to open up to Larkin’s poetry. The eye sees you
Simplified by distance
Into an origin,
Your petalled head of flames
Continuously exploding.
Heat is the echo of your Gold.

Coined there among
Lonely horizontals
You exist openly.
Our needs hourly
Climb and return like angels.
Unclosing like a hand,
You give for ever.

Still learning to open up to Larkin’s poetry. . more

It is thanks to my Uncle Jürgen that I read this collection, as he had said he could never ‘get warm’ with Larkin, and I’m not surprised. I’d heard he had a propensity to steal all the covers, and on top of this has of course been dead for the last 26 years. So quite a chilly fellow indeed. Ok woefully poor jokes aside, Larkin writes of bleak things unflinchingly. In ‘The Old Fools’ he looks at the dribbling retarded imbeciles our parents become and wonders whether people like this are aware of It is thanks to my Uncle Jürgen that I read this collection, as he had said he could never ‘get warm’ with Larkin, and I’m not surprised. I’d heard he had a propensity to steal all the covers, and on top of this has of course been dead for the last 26 years. So quite a chilly fellow indeed. Ok woefully poor jokes aside, Larkin writes of bleak things unflinchingly. In ‘The Old Fools’ he looks at the dribbling retarded imbeciles our parents become and wonders whether people like this are aware of their state, and if so, why they aren’t screaming? He concludes, calmly, that we needn’t know the answer straight away as there will be time for us to find out for ourselves. In one of Larkin’s most quoted poems, starting ‘They fuck you up your mum and dad’, he simply advises that we don’t propagate, and therefore halt the misery of human existence.

I noticed from reading this collection that Larkin often deals with ‘large’ subjects, such as the tides of the sea, ageing and dying, procreation, and harvest festivals, which have been going on since time immemorial, but then very much anchors them in his precise moment in time, pricking the poems through with references to transistor radios, horse-boxes and chocolate papers. Larkin also links the bottomless past with the present contemporary time in poems such as ‘Going, going’, where he basically laments what is now known as urban sprawl, and also in ‘High Windows’. This latter I particularly liked as it made me think about contraception and how it has changed human relationships. Being born well after the advent of the Pill, and having probably been kept at bay for quite a few years by it, I have never personally known or had reason to feel a world that Larkin describes. He mourns the fact that, with birth control, now ‘Bonds and gestures [are] pushed to one side’.

It is worth mentioning other poems in the collection which are brief and (ostensibly) simple but incredibly, delicate beautiful; such as those looking at cut grass or the sun. These seem freer and lighter than Larkin’s other poems that deal with humans, society and change.

So, well I couldn’t ‘get warm’ with Larkin either, but I don’t feel he would have loooked to create this kind of intimacy with his writing in any case. I think the most one could do after having read these poems, is to then consider them, alone, while looking down out of your window, as Larkin did, at the world outside. Larkin can be cold, and cynical, but he does share with us the beauty and hope that he finds in Nature. . more

Philip Larkin’s poems always make me think «Hey this is exactly what I felt». and then, silence.

Have you ever feel sad about the concrete jungle around us? This is the book for you.

Larkin has a sensitive observation. What appears in his eyes are always dipped in his thought.

Great booklet to start read Philip Larkin! Philip Larkin’s poems always make me think «Hey this is exactly what I felt». and then, silence.

Have you ever feel sad about the concrete jungle around us? This is the book for you.

Larkin has a sensitive observation. What appears in his eyes are always dipped in his thought.

Great booklet to start read Philip Larkin! . more