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En tid i Xanadu : dikter

av Lars Gustafsson

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"Lars Gustafsson has an uncompromising vision of the utter complexity of modern life."--The New York Times Book Review "Gustafsson'sA Time in Xanadu, his third translated collection of poems, manages to be personal and quirky while also deeply philosophical." --ForeWord "Few poets today can so easily without overwriting bridge 'centuries and minutes,' to use the title of one of Gustafson's poems."--Harvard Review From the moment it begins, Lars Gustafsson'sA Time in Xanadu throws open questions of geography and narration. Where are we? How do we know? Throughout the book, the speaker's voice proves a powerful one as it muses on questions of travel, war, philosophy, and thought itself. The language of Gustafsson's poems is sparse, and his lines are compact and taut. But beneath the neat surfaces of these poems lie surreal and sometimes eerie landscapes: a castle in Cremona, Italy; "those white, strangely meaningless / days between Christmas and New Year;" a library which is "a kind of subway." There are strains of Ezra Pound in this work, and allusions to great continental thinkers--Goethe, Fichte, Nietzsche, Einstein--drift across it. Yet tracing those allusions to their source is neither desirable nor, ultimately, possible. For in the wake of Gustafsson's highly evocative poems, we can only wonder just how much time we have spent, or lost, in Xanadu, or where we went from there. The Khan leaves Xanadu and milk from white goats only is hurled high into the air on his departure to nourish the spirits of the air. So says Marco Polo, our Venetian witness. Lars Gustafsson is a renowned Swedish poet, novelist, and philosopher who has written dozens of books. He taught philosophy for many years at the University of Texas, Austin. He now lives in Sweden.… (mer)
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Readers might recall my disappointment with two volumes of poetry by Gustafsson earlier this year. This volume was recommended by Amazon, and I decided to take a chance. This is a nifty volume of poetry published by Copper Canyon Press. I subscribe to their catalogue, and, if I had noticed they were the publisher, I would have waited and bought it directly from them.

This collection of poems is really rather good. The poems still have that sparse, Scandinavian style, but there are plenty of touches of humor, as he juxtaposes profound insights with ordinary images, events, and ideas. Here is a good example:

“…it’s nice sleeping with cats
in bed, somewhere down
in the foot area just where the toes
cautiously peep out into a nocturnal world
like watchman on the wall
of a very old city
Sleep City on the Plain of Dark.
The cat then at a suitable distance
but in a kind of understanding
with the toes, these ten watchman
against the dark, chaos, the void,
and the sound of the distant train.”

Anyone who sleeps with a pet – cat or dog – can recognize the images here. Settle in after turning off the lights, wiggle and slide under the covers. A foot comes near the soft, still body of a pet, and then the warmth they exude touches the toes, the feet, and travels up the leg. Wonderful stuff.

This is one of those books that requires an immediate, slow, second, or maybe even a third read. One at a time, moments before the light goes out.

--Jim, 9/10/08 ( )
1 rösta rmckeown | Sep 10, 2008 |
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"Lars Gustafsson has an uncompromising vision of the utter complexity of modern life."--The New York Times Book Review "Gustafsson'sA Time in Xanadu, his third translated collection of poems, manages to be personal and quirky while also deeply philosophical." --ForeWord "Few poets today can so easily without overwriting bridge 'centuries and minutes,' to use the title of one of Gustafson's poems."--Harvard Review From the moment it begins, Lars Gustafsson'sA Time in Xanadu throws open questions of geography and narration. Where are we? How do we know? Throughout the book, the speaker's voice proves a powerful one as it muses on questions of travel, war, philosophy, and thought itself. The language of Gustafsson's poems is sparse, and his lines are compact and taut. But beneath the neat surfaces of these poems lie surreal and sometimes eerie landscapes: a castle in Cremona, Italy; "those white, strangely meaningless / days between Christmas and New Year;" a library which is "a kind of subway." There are strains of Ezra Pound in this work, and allusions to great continental thinkers--Goethe, Fichte, Nietzsche, Einstein--drift across it. Yet tracing those allusions to their source is neither desirable nor, ultimately, possible. For in the wake of Gustafsson's highly evocative poems, we can only wonder just how much time we have spent, or lost, in Xanadu, or where we went from there. The Khan leaves Xanadu and milk from white goats only is hurled high into the air on his departure to nourish the spirits of the air. So says Marco Polo, our Venetian witness. Lars Gustafsson is a renowned Swedish poet, novelist, and philosopher who has written dozens of books. He taught philosophy for many years at the University of Texas, Austin. He now lives in Sweden.

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