June 1, 2012
While Sebald is best known for his novels (e.g., Austerlitz; The Rings of Saturn), he also wrote poetry. This first major collection, published over a decade after his untimely death in a car accident, shows that his poems explore the same themes--memory, for instance--as his novels. The poems included here range from his student work to his final pieces. "Some readers," translator Galbraith points out in his introduction, "may agree with W.G. Sebald that prose was the medium to which his hand was best suited." Certainly, many of these poems read as mere observations and descriptions of places and feel almost like photographs. In some cases, as in the final section ("The Year Before Last"), readers are confronted with a litany of proper nouns that might be better suited to a longer narrative and render some poems difficult. VERDICT The joy of reading these poems can be found in what Galbraith calls the "battle between the intellect and the senses"--what we see, as in Sebald's novels, is complicated by history and memory. Read closely.--Stephen Morrow, Ohio Univ., Chillicothe
Copyright 2012 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
Starred review from March 15, 2012
Sebald (19442011) was tipped for the Nobel Prize but died in a car crash. These 90 poems mostly in short, unpunctuated lines are densely packed with learned literary and historical allusions. He writes about Bruegel, Rembrandt, and Edward Hicks; Beethoven, Schumann, and Chopin; Goethe, Kleist, and Kafka. A dispassionate observer, he sees limbs benumbed / in the quicksilver of their angst. He evokes vivid concrete images: Chestnuts fall from their husks / in the rain. / I saw them in the morning / glossy on the sand of the patio. His poems have mysterious conclusions and gnomic insights. Feelings are stars which guide us / only when the sky is clear, and Sebald describes the slightly menacing abandoned poultry farms / haunted by millions and millions / of breakfast eggs. Sebald's dominant themes are journeys, borders, and landscapes; the burdens of exile; time, dreams and the loss of cultural memory this ground / is steeped in history / they find corpses / every time they dig. His masterpiece, On 9 June 1904, portrays Chekhov's death in Germany. The corpse was returned to Russia, incongruously transferred / in a green, refrigerated / freight car marked / FOR OYSTERS. Iain Galbraith accompanies his clear and suggestive translations with useful explanatory notes.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2012, American Library Association.)