poetry is meant to be spoken, to savor in the delight of the “inner music of each line” – as the author of this article so succinctly phrases it. reading poetry on my own in my room is a peaceful nighttime activity, but so often I find myself skimming through the sparse words, 20 per page nothing compared to the densely-written textbooks I’m used to. as if poetry were meant to be understood in a glance!
was absolutely thrilled to find out, purely by chance (no Facebook event, just happened to see a poster on the wall – what a tech-defying horror!) that Alice Oswald is gonna be coming to Cambridge to give a lecture-reading of her book Falling Awake :) :)
being read a book to – and I don’t mean lectured to – brings to mind childhood. seated on the sofa, tucked in bed, the suspense, the inability to skip to the end, the impatience, hanging on to every ephemeral word (which lingered a fraction of a second in the air before those sound waves were extinguished forever). I wonder what being read to will be like, 15 years later.
shall update this post later.
“Oswald steps bravely to the task, and with an insistent care for the sounds we have become deaf to, writes to convince us that there is still a language for the shock of being alive.”