Poetry Books

Being the wife of a combat Marine I really learned alot from Doc's book. I read the book all the way through and this is a book that is alive. Our heroes sacrifice so much for us and if it wasn't for them we would not have our freedom. Doc, thank you for helping me understand more about PTSD and what y'all went through. I don't give this book a 5 star rating , I give it a 10 star rating.

I was to young to actually know the impact that this war had on our men and women. This book by Mr McFall gets right to his heart and his feelings. It is so powerful! I believe that this book should be used in many ways to help communicate the effects that war has on an individual. God bless our men and women who have served our great country!
Thank you Mr McFall and may God continue to bless you and your family!

A combat medic lives war at its worst, and remembers every terrified scream of it.

There are the memories of those who were treated and made it home; of those whose wounds were beyond treatment despite heroic efforts.

Those memories are as fresh today as the emotions were at the time of treatment; memories of soldiers and civilians gushing blood; memories of soldiers and civilians having body parts torn and cascading into all the wrong places.

For E. Everett McFall, there are the memories of jumbled body parts and attempts to put them together to form the remains of what were once men - individual men with loved ones, hopes, talents, and dreams that dripped into the red soil or into the floor of the jungle.

There are no fancy words here. His words are direct, his pain drips off the pages and into the heart of the reader.

McFall writes from the heart. He writes from a soul splintered and haunted by 365 days that have been lived over and over and over again for the last 40 years.

We measure war in terms of dollar costs; in counts of the dead; in counts of the wounded.
But we have yet to learn to measure war in terms of lives ruined by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We have yet to learn to measure the losses of those who love those who come home with PTSD.

We have yet to learn the true face of war. E. Ernest McFall provides the reader with a vivid and heart tearing word portrait of the hideous face of war; of the plague of PTSD; of the rending of soul by survivor's guilt and questions of why am I still here when so very many others are not.

Pfc Jay E. Keck contributes his poetry to I Can Still Hear Their Cries. May I ask you to direct your attention to the last lines of his Sand Soldiers and pay heed to his admonition, as there are all kinds, as he points out in another poem, all kinds of Bogeymen contributing to PTSD - even those who should have, and in truth did, know better.


I Can Still Hear Their Cries is a story of the long, long road home. It is a tale that will speak to other Veterans who suffer PTSD. It is a tale needed by those who love those with PTSD to help them understand.

McFall tells you, loud and clear, that drugs and alcohol only bury the pain deeper, rather than excavating it and getting help to go through it to healing.

McFall notes that he is still in the process of finding his way home. It is a long road.

But I Can Still Hear Their Cries may open your eyes to the possibility that there is, in fact, a road home for you too - should you choose to come up from the dark to the Light.

Take the first step - there are many, many around to help you - just reach out - someone is there waiting to walk point for you.

Mr. McFall uses a combination of stories and poems to pull the reader into the pain and turmoil of living with PTSD. This book is a MUST READ for veterans and their families and friends who struggle to understand the scars left from battle.

We have been told the Vietnam veterans' story many times before. We've seen it in the movies, in books, on TV, and on the corners of our streets. Yet, in an intimate way, in E. Everett McFall's book, `I Can Still Hear Their Cries, Even in My Sleep,' the inner struggle of the Vietnam Vet comes home yet again. This time the reflections come from within. Having read `Born on the Fourth of July,' and seen 'Platoon,' I feel that McFall properly takes us to a new dimension, focusing on the inner torment that won't shut off.

Consisting of reflections, resources, and nearly thirty poems, he focuses on the pride, bitterness, and fragility of his service as a US Marine Hospital Corpsman in The Vietnam War from 1966-67. Whether in prose or in poetry, he won't ever let us forget their sacrifices. Noting that some have forgotten the Vets of the War, the Vets of the War have taken it home with them and can't ever forget. In detail, sometimes graphic at others subdued, he shares images of the grim reality in battle that haunt him--and probably will haunt him until death.

The title is a bare-bones description of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (or PTSD). In his introduction McFall concisely states that "It's an instant video play-back in my mind, with cranial surround sound." That playback is given a stark treatment in poems such as "Death Angel" and "Flashback". Whether drawing from elements of traditional poetry or relying on rap-like structure, the subject matter changes with the rhythm. In "Patrol on Ambush" and "The Ooorah Warrior" the repetition reflects the routine of a marine waiting for the next development in "combat hell." At other times the rhythm is more irregular to reflect the chaos and death that surround him. To round out his repertoire, "Heavenly Star" and "Brotherhood" add much needed hope to the experience.

But the main focus is on the indelible memories of trauma and death. "Tic Tic Tic" and "Undying Memories" are each aptly titled for their flashback resonance in waking moments that rush into consciousness. Flanking McFall's work are sample poems by fellow veteran Pfc. Jay E. Keck and anonymous poems (which is entirely appropriate given the unknown soldier element of every war). The guide ends with a short, poignant reflection and a resource guide for the veteran suffering from PTSD, including a handy guideline for filling out forms for VA claims.

Whether approached as a cathartic guide for fellow veterans or a route to vicarious appreciation from uninitiated civilians, 'I Can Still Hear Their Cries,...' is an essential portal to understanding the trauma of selfless veterans of a tragic War. Clearly by McFall's writings, the repercussions are still being fought today. If you were at the front lines of the War or at the front of the picket lines--or even too young to remember--Ernest McFall's little book will have a big impact on how you feel about those who served their country at such a fragile time in our history.

A lovely book. Translations from another culture and time that we can still relate to. A pleasure to read and reread.

Wonderful poems showing the power and of two woman poets of the Heian Jidai. Exposes the "nature" poetry prejudice that derives from the unfortunately all male cutesy pie abbreviations of Westernized haiku. Waka yes, Haiku no.

The Heian period of Japan was artistically fertile time that produced numerous classic works of literature. It was even more remarkable in that most of the major literary figures of the time were women. Among those great women, Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu were two of the best. Their waka poetry (now called 'tanka') is some of the best literature ever written in Japan and the poetesses themselves have become the stuff of legend.

Doing justice in translating ancient Japanese into modern English is no easy task, but Hirshfield and Aratani have created translations that are as beautiful as the originals. Anyone who enjoys poetry, who loves love, or who is interested in other cultures and finding the universal passions of the human heart will enjoy this book.

--M. Kei, editor of Fire Pearls : Short Masterpieces of the Human Heart

Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani have done a marvelous job with the translation of these lovely tanka-- manages to capture both their fragility and robust complexity. I had an acquaintance who was a scholar with a focus on Japanese literature. She explained to me a little bit about the complexity of translating waka. I have nothing but admiration for those who can do it well. Hirshfield actually has an essay at the back of this book called "On Japanese Poetry and the Process of Translation". I recommend it highly, even if you do not normally read this kind of essay.

I am a little bit afraid that the focus on the love poems and the emphasis on Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu as female writers may give the wrong idea about the strength and importance of the poetry. Shikibu is widely considered the greatest poet of her period and Ono no Komachi was one of the Rokkasen-- the six best waka poets of the early Heian period. The reason that I am not giving this volume five stars is because of this packaging and not because of the poetry itself.

These poems are a joy to read aside from any issues of scholarship. They are strong and sad and very affecting. There is actually no stronger recommendation to read this than the poems themselves, so I will close this review with one of the poems by Shikibu:

What is the use
of cherishing life in spring?
Its flowers
only shackle us
to this world.

Unlike other reviewers, I am not an aficionado of Japanese poetry or culture, nor have I ever studied this period in Japanese history. I found this book entirely by chance buried in an obscure corner in my college library. I read a couple of random pages and fell in love. I checked it out repeatedly throughout my academic career, then bought it.

These women so effectively communicate, in few words, universal feelings of love. While the poems are deceptively simple, they manage to be so beautiful that I am amazed every time I pick it up.

Even more impressive than the writing is how easy it is to relate to the emotions behind it. As I have grown older and experienced so much more of life, I am surprised to find my own feelings mirroring one poem after another. What once seemed pretty words are eerily my own thoughts. It's amazing, considering they were written one thousand years ago!

If you're thinking about buying this, I suggest using the preview to read the few sample pages. If you like what you see, just get it. You won't be disappointed.

What a great book ! I have two daughters ,6 and 10, we took turns reading the limericks. They won't put the book down! My oldest daughter is memorizing the limericks and walking around repeating them to her friends . My youngest reads them (with a little help) and not only does she laugh and enjoy them, it has helped her develop her reading skills !!! Thanks Mr.Poffo for your kind heart and vision to create such a versatile book, that children and adults both can enjoy, in addition,the message behind it all is so very important, smoking causes health risks and death ! What is the value (price) of one soul that is saved?

Mr. Poffo takes a near cliche, often ribald form and employs it in a positive manner to his great advantage. He elevates a meter considered vulgar to the highest levels of art and education. This book is a gift, not only to the life expectancy of our youth, but to the postmodern poet disillusioned from the harbor of conventional structure and set adrift on a sea of muddled antischemes. Bravo, Mr. Poffo. They called you "The Genuis" with good reason.

Thanks Lanny, purchased this book for the grand children and they love it. They share it with all their friends and the parents all thank me for purchasing this great book.

Reading to your children is one of the greatest things that you can do for their education...Reading Lannys book aloud to your kids teaches them good healthy habits and makes it fun! Bravo Lanny! You entertained us 30 somethings as kids in the wrestling ring, and now you're helping to keep our children healthy...Parents, for your childs health and education, BUY THIS BOOK!!!

This book is highly entertaining. It is virtually impossible to pick up the book, read a limerick or two and not feel good. Lanny is such a positive guy and it comes through very clearly. Lanny weaves in historical references, cultural icons and some silliness in driving home his anti-smoking stance. He accomplishes all of this without ever coming across as preachy.

Lushly, sensuously, decadently overwritten, a fatal literary intersection where Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Poe, and Sade collide and out of the spectacular wreckage something lopes off into the surrounding woods declaiming like Nietzsche's Zarathustra with head trauma--Lautreamont's *Maldoror* is one of those ten or twelve books that aren't like any other. Part hallucination, part philosophy, part prose-poem, part prophecy, it's a bizarre stitched-together Frankenstein's monster of a text, a virtuoso improvisation animated by an electrifying genius who appears--and disappears--on the literary stage like a bolt out of the blue.

Here is a work where the first-person protagonist is an arrogant, cruel, disdainful superhuman egoist--sometimes seeming to be Satan; other times, something considerably less, but at all times evil incarnate. Dramatic and arbitrary shifts of narrative perspective and authorial points-of-view, a fractured, nonlinear plot-line, similes and metaphors of Homeric proportion that bring together the most disparate items in absurd conjunctions virtually without meaning. Was it all a joke? A parody of Romantic literature and the self-indulgent, self-pitying, overheated imagination of those who struck the Romantic stance of poetic revolt and existential defiance? What must the French public have thought of this black mass "celebrating" vice, blasphemy, pederasty, and murder--a work that held nothing--including itself--above disgust?

Predictably enough, *Maldoror* caused barely a ripple in the bourgeoisie calm when it was first published--by Ducasse himself incidentally--and remained unread by the general public who continues to not read it today. It remains a text ahead of its time--or perhaps more accurately--outside of time altogether. And yet it's had a huge influence on the writers, artists, and intellectuals of our time, from the Surrealists to the Situationists to literature in theory and practice to this day. *Maldoror* is a quintessentially postmodern text--a pastiche of genres with its penchant for self-parody and its direct address of the reader, breaking the illusion of "fictive reality" and authorial authority.

The translator argues forcefully that this is the edition of *Maldoror* to read--that other editions, most egregiously the Penguin--are rife with errors that stumble along the borderline of sheer incompetence. I've got no good reason to doubt this is the truth--and why not read this edition? It's attractively formatted, fully annotated, and contains all the known works of Lautreamont ((Ducasse)) including a few apocryphal tidbits, a chronology, biographical notes, and even a reminiscence by an old dude who once went to school with the Dark Prince of Letters. If there's a better edition, I'm unaware of it.

As for the heavily annotated *Poesies* that round out the main bulk of this volume--I had far less enthusiasm for them than for *Maldoror.* A series of gnomic axioms and aphorisms ala Pascal, indeed, many apparently in direct reply to Pascal, I didn't find them very interesting, often barely intelligible, even with the help of the comprehensive annotations--much of it in French which was unfortunately of no use to someone monolingual like me. What I did understand of the *Poesies,* the opinion of enthusiasts to the contrary, I found, for the most part, bombastic or banal, and very often both. A young man's ((Ducasse died in his early twenties)) bold, world-shattering, and consequently somewhat naïve proclamations on life and literature, any and all of which were likely to change if he'd lived to see even five more years of either. At twenty-three, you can be a genius and produce a literary masterpiece, but you still don't know much--certainly not even most--about life.

Indeed, even in the *Poesies,* Ducasse radically reverses field, mercilessly ridiculing Romanticism and its heroes, mocking the Satanic defiance that inspired such works as...*Maldoror!*

So was *Maldoror* all a goof then--a black spoof, a devastating satire? Had Ducasse turned a new leaf as he claimed in the *Poesies* and now dedicated himself to composing uplifting works of classical order and clarity? Was he pulling our leg then...or again? Was it all a joke--on us, on him? Was he simply insane, or just young, or both? Are we reading too much into all this--and is *that* the point?

These are some of the very potent post-contemporary questions that Ducasse has left us to contemplate in the wake of his great literary disappearing act--questions that remain in addition to, and beyond, those raised by the actual content of his enigmatic, and abbreviated, corpus of work.

An author--and a book--as important for being important as for the substance and merit of what he wrote, Ducasse and *Maldoror* is essential reading for the serious student of post-19th century literature. Ducasse/Lautreamont/Maldoror is a major signpost on the way to a new kind of writing, some of which we see today, more of which we'll see tomorrow.

this is the best book i've ever read and by far the best translation of it. i can't really say anything more.

This review is of *Maldoror*, alone.

Lautreamont's *Maldoror* is legendary for its bold and complex phrasing and imagery, for its reputation of embodying Surrealism *avant la lettre*, and for its remarkably extreme, savage imagery. Less frequently remarked is its obvious debt to the earlier literature of the *Frenetiques*, such as Petrus Borel. Given the very few English translations of the latter, one may pardon those who do not read French for overestimating the originality of *Maldoror*. Francophones such as the Surrealists and Lykiard, however, have no such excuse.

The descriptions of *Maldoror* in the various reviews here describe the content and style of the work perfectly well, so I shall neither repeat them nor try to outdo them. Instead, I shall offer a slightly less breathlessly adoring view of the work, in general, and of Lykiard's translation of it, in particular.

My view of *Maldoror* is that it is primarily a parody of the extreme tendencies of the "dark side" of Romanticism, in general, and of Byron, in particular. Although Lykiard dismisses Mario Praz's view of Lautreamont and *Maldoror* rather abruptly, Praz's observations seem quite germane, to me:

"[Lautreamont/Ducasse is] a macabre humorist in whom it is impossible to distinguish where sincerity ends and mystification begins".

Those who doubt this observation should have a look at Ducasse's extant letters, many of which bear witness to his desire merely to be a successful writer, and to be judged by the literary critics of the day. In a word, Ducasse/Lautreamont appears to have been precisely the sort of careerist *litterateur* whom the Surrealists excoriated and excommunicated from their ranks with tedious regularity!

As for Lykiard's translation, it is adequate, but far from inspired. Although, as he trumpets *ad nauseam*, his version of *Maldoror* may be in the main less error-riddled than those of his competitors, it is frequently leaden and awkward. Compare, for instance, the following tin-eared rendition to the original, and then to Paul Knight's rendering of the same passage:

The original: "[...] car, à moins qu'il n'apporte dans sa lecture une logique rigoureuse et une tension d'esprit égale au moins à sa défiance, les émanations mortelles de ce livre imbiberont son âme comme l'eau le sucre".

Lykiard: "For unless he bring to his reading a rigorous logic and mental application at least tough enough to balance his distrust, the deadly issues of this book will lap up his soul as water does sugar".

Knight: "[...] for, unless he brings to his reading a rigorous logic and tautness of mind equal at least to his wariness, the deadly emanations of this book will dissolve his soul as water does sugar".

Granted, such evaluations involve much subjectivity, but there's no doubt in my mind which version reads both more accurately and more elegantly in English. Lykiard does, however, deserve credit for demonstrating Knight's faults, as well.

Lykiard's notes are not necessarily much better than his translations. To take but one instance, Lykiard tells us that "God is here (and *passim*) ironically addressed as *tu* rather than the more formal *vous*". If Lykiard were as clever as he'd like to appear, then he'd know that the French *always* address God as *tu*, and not as *vous*. Therefore, there is nothing ironic on its face about Lautreamont's usage, at all.

In sum, *Maldoror* is a sometimes powerful, but often puerile, *reductio ad absurdum* of *Frenetique*-era late Romanticism. Enjoy it for its over-the-top style and its infrequent passages of genuine and sincere poetic power. Do not, however, take it too seriously, because, although we shall never know for certain, my bet is that Ducasse/Lautreamont was little more than a prodigiously gifted adolescent who sought, as most adolescents do, simultaneously to shock and to impress the grown-ups.

What to say about Maldoror that hasn't been said yet? What to say about the mysterious son of a diplomat who appeared in France, wrote this book and died, vanishing from the world, yet leaving his mark for decades and centuries yet to come?
The first time I had the pleasure of reading this exceptional work, I was taken aback. Barely seventeen, I hungrily swallowed the disturbing images leaping at me from the pages, not to fully comprehend them until years later. This work, over a century old, is believed to be the first work, the foundation stone of the surrealist movement, a movement that penetrated into every aspect of art, life, being; whether we are willing to admit it or not, this work is as important today as it was when originally published in 1868 (well, at least a part of it was). The world was not ready to receive the complete self-awarness of evil Maldoror so fully comprehends, and the world is still not ready. This work is certainly not to be read by a "closed" mind. It is said that to be creative, one must borderline insanity, yet, Lautreamont was playing with genius; a genius of a caliber capable of scaring away even the most immodest of us. But get deeper into his work, walk past the disturbed images, surpass your fears and you shall see the light. This work cannot be ignored, cannot be left to collect dust. I have owned several copies over the past 14 years, and I am still finding new meanings, new passages and new understanding in this wonderful work. This trully is the one book that will never get old, that will always keep on giving, as long as one is ready to listen.

I like my writers drunk, blasphemous, decadent and French. If any of that list sounds even vaguely familiar then this is the book for you. Set the absinthe fountain to a slow drip, light some candles and prepare to tour an alchemical end-of-the-century underworld.

My 7 year old daughter received the book and has not put it down. She loves Nona and hangs on to every word. I listen as she reads aloud and can hear the excitement in her voice. What a wonderful book. It took us a while to receive the book since it is now out of print but it was well worth the wait. Now, we are on the hunt for dolls.

This was one of the first "sophisticated" books I read as a child, and it turned me into a rabid and lifelong fan of Rumer Godden. Any child who feels different from her peers, owing to culture, experience, or merely personality and interests, will be able to identify with young Nona Fell, who after years in India is sent to the home of her English aunt and uncle for her education. Shy and lonely, Nona begins to make unusual friends when she and her cousin Belinda are sent a pair of Japanese dolls -- the Miss Happiness and Miss Flower of the title -- and she embarks on a plan to build them a proper Japanese dolls' house. (Plans and instructions included!)

Godden was a master at understanding and portraying the minds of children, particularly "misfits," and her prose was the first to teach me that there can be such a thing as a literary style, even in books for young people. Equally important, this book and others by Godden are excellent ways to introduce children to other cultures: as an American child, I was fascinated by both the Englishness of the book and its explorations of Japanese customs, via the dolls and Nona's research. Nona's difficult relationship with Belinda also suggests some useful talking points for parents.

A wonderful book for little girls. I read it and its sequel, "Little Plum," at 6, but it should appeal to children as old as 10 or 11. Boys who shy away from books about dolls might prefer Godden's "The Kitchen Madonna," which offers similar qualities but has a young male protagonist.

My 8 year old is a reading fanatic. She really liked this book, but it was a very fast read (about an hour and a half)....my point being that I think it is better for a "newer reader". Even for an 8 year old, however, it is interest catching. Just know that a less experienced reader (6 or certainly 7yr old) could also read this!

This book is still one of my favorites. I read it when I was 10 years old and in 5th grade. I fell in love with the idea of creating a home for my dolls, so I begged my dad to build me the same dollhouse, which he did. I spent many weeks searching for items to put in it, but I had some trouble finding things that looked Japanese. This book inspired me to learn more about other cultures and languages. I still have the dollhouse, and am planning to refurbish it this summer. I bought a copy of the book about 18 years ago, but it was very hard to find. I'm glad that it is more easily avaiable today. This would be a fun book to read with a child, and the house would be a fun project to make together.

I don't know why this book is so little known - it's very clever and it's hilarious fun. I wish I knew about it sooner. But if you're thinking of buying it, beware: there's no key. You'll have to figure these puzzles out on your own.

If you can read French and if you grew up heaaring Mother Goose rhymes (in English) this book is a MUST HAVE. It presents an almost credible scholarly work about some fragments (in French) from an old civilization. If you will read those fragments aloud, you"ll be able to hear (in English) well known nursery rhymes. Truly fascinating, and soetimes challenging! (Especially if you had never known THIS rhyme in English!)
--And the "scholaraly" footnotes are great!

Zebu qui se regrette: there's no question about that, and I _am_ grateful that it's back in print. BUT, buyers beware: the print in this edition looks like it came out of a cheap photocopier. Van Rooten deserved better.

This is a wonderful book - I laughed myself silly the first time I encountered it (even though my French comprehension is NOT wonderful). Will give this one to a friend to whom I know it will give hours of pleasure.

Mots D'Heures: Gousses, Rames is one of the greatest literary entertainments ever written. It runs the gamut from touchingly nostalgic to raucous. Above all, it is howlingly funny. It makes me laugh so hard it hurts.
You need two things to enjoy Mots D'Heures: Gousses, Rames. You should know some French, and you should know some nursery rhymes. With that, the book will hit you from line to line with waves of jaw-dropping hilarity, endless wit, and moments of poignant reminiscence.

There is nothing more to say except: bah, six boucs! [The author apparently thinks you should pay six goats---or a sheep?]

PS -- Having unguardedly purchased a copy of the paperback edition listed above, I must agree with a recent reviewer that the production is dreadful. A reader interested in this masterwork would do well to seek out a copy of the original 1967 edition (long out of print), even at considerable cost. But not from me, though. I wouldn't part with mine for less than tartines fortunes.

Hirschfield writes about poetry with an intellectual as well as with an emotional clarity that illuminates and clarifies her subject. In doing so she draws from an vast well of deeply considered experience and insight. If you are interested in poetry in its many forms and manifestations I highly recommend this book.

I've owned this book for several years now, and I turn to it again from time to time, dipping into its rich prose and remembering the love I felt for it the first time I opened its covers and began to read. I was so captivated by Hirshfield's words that I read aloud from it to my friends, sharing her sense of beauty and mystery with them, and the joy I was taking not just in the way she formed her arguments, but in the wonderful feeling that came from hearing the words aloud.

I have a shelf full of books on poetry and poetics. I've got volumes of writers' exercises and essays on what poetry is and how to do it. This is the only one I've ever assaulted my friends with. Share it. Pass it along.

Jane Hirshfield's "Nine Gates" is probably the most interesting and insightful book I have read on the art and uses of poetry. While Hirshfield's approach to poetry is very much informed by (and often illustrated through) her knowledge of Asian arts and Buddhist philosophy, one need not be a Buddhist or a scholar to understand and appreciate her vision. Hirshfield is most interested in approaching poets and poetry through the essential work that they perform by helping us to understand the natures of, and the relationships between, the self and the world (that is, community in its largest sense). The book's argument is hardly as abstract or fanciful as this might sound, however. Instead, Hirshfield uses this approach to show how the most basic elements of poetry (rhythm, rhyme, image, and so on) function to help the poem build its meaning and fulfill its purpose. "Nine Gates" is an excellent book to strengthen your ability to read poetry, and to deepen your understanding and appreciation of this vital art.

...sometimes we need a personal classic to draw comfort from.

This past year when both grandmothers passed away, the soft voice of poetic comparison helped ease the heart.

In my small opinion, this is an inspired and gentle voice to turn to and read. And also reread.

I hope you also enjoy this reading experience.

At first I rebelled against the author's devoting pages to a discussion of poetry translation. However, once I dug hard into
her elegant but fairly dense prose, the more I found it fascinating, (including (of all things) certain esoteric aspects of Japanese language and poetry as well as translation.

I have begun reading NINE GATES for a second time, and I suspect not for the last. Although scholarly, the book is also moving, touching and definitely inspiring for any artist, poet or not.

While this is not quite Dr. Seuss' most inspirational book, it is certainly up there and is the type of book happily devoted to creativity. The illustrations are fun and silly, as is the text, but there is still that smidgen of proper Seussian wisdom.

Not too long, not too short, extremely entertaining as all Seuss books.
I gave 4 instead of 5 stars because I am very frugal about scary images with my kids and as I read it I remembered a couple of the pages scaring me when I was young.

This is my favorite of all the Dr. Seuss books I have seen. It is imaginative and the illustrations are really fun. My son and I read this book so many times that we had to buy a new one. When my son was an infant I would find him sitting on the floor looking at this book on his own and he would be mesmerized for several minutes while turning the pages.

Very fun to read. My toddler son enjoys hearing it. Can't go wrong with this Seuss title.

Oh, the Thinks You Can Think! Is a charming book by the immortal Dr. Seuss who wrote many fine children's books in his time. Oh, the Thinks You Can Think! is no exception. This book encourages children to imagine and eventually explore the world without fear.

The book has excellent illustrations that amuse children--and adults; and the rhyming text always impresses me.

The book starts by encouraging children to use their imaginations to think up what other animals and/or places in the world may be like. This alone can stimulate a lot of conversation between you and your child about other places in the real world and what life is like there. This will go a long way toward teaching younger children about the world out there that one day they will be exploring for real. In addition, the book also has Dr. Seuss using his own imagination to give examples to children as to how to use their imaginations; we get words about foreign things and sounds like "guff" and "schlopp." This does a marvelous job of teaching children to always be optimistic.

The book has even more value. Younger children will profit from learning words critical to their growing vocabularies including yellow, blue, red, pink, black, white, night, day, left and right--and more! Excellent.

The book cover withstands some throwing around just in case your child accidentally mistreats it; and, as always, the paper quality of these books by Dr. Seuss is very good.

I highly recommend this fine children's book. It teaches much to both very young children and older children as well. Get this and enjoy it with your growing child!

This should give you a general idea of how good this book is: After reading the last page, I turned to page 1 and started reading it all over again.

When was the last time you read a book twice?

Ziolkowski's style is like a perfect wave--clean, gorgeous, and unique. It's not just about a surfer searching for perfection, but a boy searching for himself in post-Vietnam era of sunny Florida, where everyone is tan and bleachy-haired, Led Zeppelin is on every radio, and pot is as prevalent as palm trees.

The story begins with the author at ten, still reeling from his parents' divorce and craving diversion like any normal kid. But it is surfing that becomes his ultimate grace, giving him confidence and the room to dream outside the troubles at home. When his family begins to unravel, his heartbreak at dreams realized and lost will strike a sympathetic chord in anyone who is connected to the sea, to family, and to one's true self. The author's search for his identity comes full circle--beginning, ending, and beginning again--on a wave.

I loved this story of a young boy's passion for the ocean easing his growing pains. Very well-written.

thanks for the prompt delivery! I will definitely look for you again when ordering

Thad hits the nail on the head! Having grown up in Melbourne Beach during the time period described I feel qualified to speak on the authenticity of the scene depicted: perfect, took me back in time! Anyone who grew up in the space coast area during the 70's will be able to identify some of the characters described. This is an execellent book for the non-surfer as well as the surfer. This book will remain on my annual reading list along with Caught Inside, Lighting out and West of Jesus. Thanks Thad for an execellent read!

Excellent.This book will stay with you long after you read it. As a 50ish surfer from the Texas gulf coast this book reminds me of why I consider myself lucky.

Dazzling and intense works. Good overview of his output. Although this is not the Collected Poetry of Heaney it does contain almost all his best poems up to 1996, as well as his Nobel Prize acceptance lecture (a gem) and an excerpt from his play Cure a Troy. Essential poetry volume.

I needed the book for a class... I went in to reading it like it was going to be garbage... But it actually was a little bit interesting...

strong poems, there is a sadness and a resignation of fog that permeates these poems. this is a melancholy man, one for whom the all-pervading glue of inaction and paralysis bounds him to a bleak world, soiled and grey and drab. this is a weary poet, too nauseated with reality's bruised soldiers, slovenly rudeness, the uncouth glutton, the debauched fiend. i enjoy him, immerse myself in his dust-gloom, his inability to soar into elation and falcon-freedom.

author of Lorelei Pursued and Wrestles with God

After currently studying the quality of Seamus Heaney's poems, i am quite sure that this book will not dissapoint you. The quality of Heaney's poems are somewhat outstanding, they are a shock, as you dont normally read poems of this sort, and once you read one, you have to read the others. One of my personal favourites is Mid-Term Break.

Written by Kirk Aged 14

If you have not read Seamus Heaney, then you are not in touch with what the English language is in its heart. Heaney's simple, unstrained word usage, coupled with a deep knowledge of the rich Anglo-Saxon which is our cornerstone, evokes a strength which comes not so much from what we see and know as from something which is rooted deeply in our psyches as Anglo-Europeans (or at least those living in and a part of such cultures). Heaney also brings to light the beauty of the ordinary, primarily by weighting it with the yoke of history and the various passions of his fellow man.

I bought this collection because I enjoyed others of his works (especially The Spirit Level and Seeing Things), which I uncovered at the library, too much to go long without his poetry. And this collection turns out to have all of my favorites from those volumes, as well as the best and most skilled of the poems of his earlier volumes. Do I recommend it? I wouldn't have prominently displayed the fact that I was reading it in numerous public places if I didn't, now would I?