Bokelskere.no

Du kan så si! :))

Boken var en forfriskende god satire som vi lo godt av. Humor som våpen! I kvinnegruppa jeg var med i heklet vi ph’er i smekre farger og ga bort til noen utvalgte, men responsen uteble. :)

Som årene går - snart femti år siden jeg leste Egalias døtre. :)

It happened that green and crazy summer when Frankie was twelve years old. This was the summer when for a long time she had not been a member. She belonged to no club and was a member of nothing in the world. Frankie had become an unjoined person who hung around in doorways, and she was afraid.

The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers

My Life Has Been the Poem

My life has been the poem I would have
writ,
But I could not both live and utter it.

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

Great Short Poems - Edited by Paul Negri
Dover Publications

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921)
Great Short Poems - Edited by Paul Negri
Dover Publications

The Purple Cow

The Purple Cow

I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.

Cing Ans Après

Ah, yes! I wrote the «Purple Cow» -
I’m sorry, now, I wrote it!
But I can tell you anyhow,
I’ll kill you if you quote it!

Gelett Burgess (1866-1951)

Great Short Poems - Edited by Paul Negri
Dover Publications

Dette er sørgelig. Dødsfallet kom brått, men ikke uventet.
Paul Austers bøker har jeg lest med glede og interesse i flere år. Noen av de har satt spor, mens andre ligger i skyggen. Ganske nylig anbefalte jeg Timbuktu til en bokelsker, den anbefales gjerne til flere.

Wall Writing

Nothing less than nothing.

In the night that comes
from nothing,
for no one in the night
that does not come.

And what stands at the edge of
whiteness,
invisible
in the eye of the one who speaks.

Or a word.
Come from nowhere
in the night
of the one who does not come.

Or the whiteness of a word,
scratched
into the wall.

Paul Auster (1947-2024)

Diktet er hentet fra Spokes (1970)

Eg har ikkje greidd å finne på noko nytt forslag, så eg kjem med ein repetisjon av ei bok eg har foreslått før: Allis sønn av Magnhild Haalke!
Boka har fått gode kritikkar -og kanskje den eignar seg godt til diskusjon også….

Oh, My We’ve Grown

and can tell
a Kurdish tune from an Iraqi one.

Whoever invented
squeezing breast with a bra,
that maker of this great prison,
should be prosecuted.

Maya Abu Al-Hayyat

You Can Be The Last Leaf - Selected Poems
Translated by Fady Joudah

Milkweed Editions

Similarities

Even if what you mean is justice,
pain, or history,
is there a difference?
The hater resembles the hater
and murderer, the murderer.
An aerially bombed building
looks like the blown-up one.
A child riddled with holes
resembles another torn apart.
A bereaved mother
resembles a mother in waiting.
Is there a difference,
after you drop justice
from your reply? Justice
is the right of all who live
in the wrong places in this world,
the right of the aggrieved,
the weak, and the poor.
It isn’t a killer’s pretext,
a crutch for the malevolent,
or a sword for the unjust.
Give me a reason
to hand over my kids to you
and resemble the hordes.

Maya Abu Al-Hayyat

You Can Be The Last Leaf - Selected Poems
Translated by Fady Joudah

Milkweed Editions

Fin tråd, Mads!
En av mine favorittbøker er Timbuktu av Paul Auster. En brilliant bok om livet til en hund og dens eier - opplevd fra hundens «perspektiv». Jeg leste boken da den ble utgitt i 1999, men husker godt Mr. Bones og hans eier - og den spesielle gode følelsen man sitter igjen med etter å ha lest en ekstraordinær god bok.

Gratitude

Do not think I am not grateful for your
small
kindness to me.
I like small kindnesses.
In fact I actually prefer them to the more
substantial kindness, that is always eying
you,
like a large animal on a rug,
until your whole life reduces
to nothing but waking up morning after
morning
cramped, and the bright sun shining on its
tusks.

Louise Glück (1943-2023)

The First Four Books of Poems
Harper Collins Publishers

Louise Glück vant Nobelprisen i litteratur i 2020.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost (1874-1963)

The Columbia Anthology of American Poetry - Edited by Jay Parini
Columbia University Press

Jeg ser ingen grunn til å fortsette denne - etter hvert - meningsløse diskusjonen.
Som svar på ditt spørsmål svarte jeg at det smakløse ligger i «å bruke en avdød sin konto ved å legge inn nye bøker», som du skrev. At du velger å tillegge meg andre meninger om arv og etterlatenskaper får stå for din regning.

Det var bruken av en avdøds konto som «sorgterapi med mulighet til å legge inn flere bøker», som K.Lund skrev om jeg reagerer på. Lurte bare på om du mente det samme. Noe du tydeligvis ikke gjør.