Product Description

The evolution of Margaret Atwood's poetry illuminates one of our major literary talents. Here, as in her novels, is intensity combined with sardonic detachment, and in these early poems her genius for a level stare at the ordinary is wonderfully apparent. Just as startling is her ability to contrast the everyday with the terrifying: 'Each time I hit a key/ on my electric typewriter/ speaking of peaceful trees/ another village explodes.' Her poetic voice is crystal clear, insistent, unmistakably her own. Through bus trips and postcards, wilderness and trivia, she reflects the passion and energy of a writer intensely engaged with her craft and the world. Two former collections, Poems 1965 - 1975 and Poems 1976 - 1986, are presented together with her latest collection, Morning in the Burned House, in this omnibus that represents the development of a major poet.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #111158 in Books
• Published on: 1998-10-01
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 368 pages

Amazon.co.uk Review
In "Against Still Life", a poem from her 1966 collection, The Circle Game, the speaker exclaims: "I'd crack your skull / like a walnut, split it like a pumpkin / to make you talk, or get / a look inside". This urgent desire to excavate experience, to break through surfaces and dish up the truth, governs much of Atwood's work. In times of conflict she refuses to turn away ("I am the cause, I am a stockpile of chemical / toys, my body / is a deadly gadget, / I reach out in love, my hands are guns / my good intentions are completely lethal"). On the subject of mistreatment she won't back off ("the iguana / in the pet shop window on St Catherine Street / crested, royal-eyed, ruling / its kingdom of water-dish and sawdust..."). And with in-your-face fury she approaches "love / like a biologist / pulling on my rubber / gloves & white labcoat," ever-insisting "I'm not the sea, I'm not pure blue, / I don't have to take / anything you throw into me."

But this drive to push, with arrestingly beautiful imagery, the limits of what we see and in turn believe, is only the half of it. What draws us in, what keeps us enthralled, is her intoxicatingly flawless sense of rhythm and cadence. Under Atwood's grip, though "it's all about sex and territory," though "the windchill factor hits / thirty below, and pollution pours / out of our chimneys to keep us warm," there is always just enough room for a bit of optimism, "to / admit the cancer cell is beautiful ... with its mauve center and pink petals," to remind us "the river's been here, violent, right where we're standing / [but] now it's a trickle, and we're up to our knees / in late-spring yellowing weeds." --Martha Silano

Review
'Atwood is the quiet Mata Hari, the mysterious, violent figure ... who pits herself against the ordered too-clean world like an arsonist' Michael Ondaatje 'An acute and poetic observer of the eternal, universal rum relations between women and men' THE TIMES 'Detached, ironic... poems that sing off the page and sting' Michele Roberts 'Lean, symbolic, thoroughly Atwoodesque prose honed into elegant columns...' SCOTLAND ON SUNDAY 'In "Against Still Life", a poem from her 1966 collection, The Circle Game, the speaker exclaims: "I'd crack your skull / like a walnut, split it like a pumpkin / to make you talk, or get / a look inside". This urgent desire to excavate experience, to break through surfaces and dish up the truth, governs much of Atwood's work. In times of conflict she refuses to turn away ("I am the cause, I am a stockpile of chemical / toys, my body / is a deadly gadget, / I reach out in love, my hands are guns / my good intentions are completely lethal"). On the subject of mistreatment she won't back off ("the iguana / in the pet shop window on St Catherine Street / crested, royal-eyed, ruling / its kingdom of water-dish and sawdust..."). And with in-your-face fury she approaches "love / like a biologist / pulling on my rubber / gloves & white labcoat," ever-insisting "I'm not the sea, I'm not pure blue, / I don't have to take / anything you throw into me." But this drive to push, with arrestingly beautiful imagery, the limits of what we see and in turn believe, is only the half of it. What draws us in, what keeps us enthralled, is her intoxicatingly flawless sense of rhythm and cadence. Under Atwood's grip, though "it's all about sex and territory," though "the windchill factor hits / thirty below, and pollution pours / out of our chimneys to keep us warm," there is always just enough room for a bit of optimism, "to / admit the cancer cell is beautiful ... with its mauve center and pink petals," to remind us "the river's been here, violent, right where we're standing / [but] now it's a trickle, and we're up to our knees / in late-spring yellowing weeds."' - Martha Silano, AMAZON.CO.UK REVIEW

THE TIMES
'An acute and poetic (Observer) of the eternal, universal rum relations between women and men'

Customer Reviews

Subtle and difficult poetry
I bought this collection having read and enjoyed several of Margaret Atwood's novels, and wanting to find out if her poetry is as enjoyable as her prose. Thirty years of poetic output are sampled in this collection, in which the poems are printed in chronological order of writing. This allows you to follow the development of Atwood's poetic voice, which becomes increasingly experimental as time passes. The poetry bears the unmistakable imprint of Atwood's mind - the style will be instantly recognisable to anyone who has read a couple of her novels. These poems concentrate on similar themes to the novels: gender relations, humanity's relationship with the environment, power structures within sexual relationships, Canadian life, the darker undertones of the natural world. The selected poetry complements Atwood's novels as you can watch her explore similar territory in a different way. These poems are short, intense and highly enjoyable to read, although I found some of the 1970s poetry difficult to get to grips with.