This latest read is a book of poetry and short-essays. Actually, poetry is maybe not quite the right word. At least, if it is used, it is meant in only the broadest sense. Milosz is pushing the boundaries of the stereotypical poem format, as his pieces tend to be formless. For instance:
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Decency
When I was, as they say, in harmony with God and the world, I felt I was false, as if pretending to be somebody else. I recovered my identity when I found myself again in the skin of a sinner and nonbeliever. This repeated itself in my life several times. For, undoubtedly, I liked the image of myself as a decent man, but, immediately after I put that mask on, my conscience whispered that I was deceiving others and myself.
The notion of sacrum is necessary but impossible without experiencing sin. I am dirty, I am a sinner, I am unworthy, and not even because of my behavior but because of evil sitting in me. And only when I conceded that it was not for me to reach so high have I felt that I was genuine.
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And yet, without form, Milosz still is able to present some fairly profound thoughts and ideas. The idea that we are sinners and that through sin we express our genuine selves. Life appears to be a war between our true selves and ourselves as we want to be. We desire goodness, but at root, as human beings, we are flawed. It is the crisis of the soul. And Milosz gets at it effectively, even if somewhat inelegantly.
---The Language
The desire for truth is confronted with poems, with tales written by you long ago. And then you are ashamed, because it was all sheer myth. Neither did any of it happen, nor did you feel the feelings contained therein. The language itself unfurled its velvet yarn in order to cover what, without it, would equal nothing.
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Road-side Dog is rather too obviously a collection of an old man. Wistful, plaintive, creeky, at times the poems seem to be poetic leftovers - never quite polished or prepared for publication, but thrown in, because at this age, what does the poet care what people think? Yet, there are gems. In "The Language" Milosz seems a bit sad about his past work - regretful, perhaps, of the lies that a poet tells. The pursuit of truth, which can only be described through lies creates a conundrum. But the poem is also an ode of sorts to the power of language itself - that which conceals and reveals in the same turn and ultimately writes itself.
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from Love of KnowledgeIn order to become a famous man, was it necessary, as early as one's childhood, to turn one's back on people . . . ? To scorn them? To sacrifice everything to the acheivement of one goal? And what goal? Is it, they wondered impartially, a disinterested love of knowledge? And what does that mean?
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Among the longer pieces, the most successful happens (though perhaps it is not happenstance) to be also the longest. In "The Tale of a Convert" Milosz introduces a character who as a result of an unexplained life-crisis, becomes rabidly Roman Catholic. The short story tells of his conversion, his fundamentalism, his eventual acceptance of other approaches to his religion. The story includes friends' versions of what happened to the convert. Ultimately, what softens him, perhaps unsurprisingly given the soft-hearted older man who is the author, is the love and compassion of a woman.
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from Falling in Love
Yes, I was often in love with something or someone. Yet falling in love is not the same thing as being able to love. That is something different.
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