What do you think?
Rate this book
آسمانم غرق ظلمت میشو�
شما
ای مردم آینده
گذشته را مرور می‌کنی�
و نیم‌نگاه� به پس سر
شاید می‌خواهی� بشناسید مرا
مایاکوفسکی...
اندیشه‌گرانتا� این‌گون� می‌گوین�
رگ‌ها� گردن همه بیرون زده بود،
پرغضب، خشمگین، دگم و دمان.
ای مردم آینده
گذشته را مرور می‌کنی�
و نیم‌نگاه� به پس سر
شاید می‌خواهی� بشناسید مرا
مایاکوفسکی...
اندیشه‌گرانتا� این‌گون� می‌گوین�
رگ‌ها� گردن همه بیرون زده بود،
پرغضب، خشمگین، دگم و دمان.
132 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2008
8 people are currently reading
386 people want to read
About the author
Vladimir Mayakovsky
463books599followersVladimir Mayakovsky (Владимир Владимирович Маяковский) was born the last of three children in Baghdati, Russian Empire (now in Georgia) where his father worked as a forest ranger. His father was of Ukrainian Cossack descent and his mother was of Ukrainian descent. Although Mayakovsky spoke Georgian at school and with friends, his family spoke primarily Russian at home. At the age of 14 Mayakovsky took part in socialist demonstrations at the town of Kutaisi, where he attended the local grammar school. After the sudden and premature death of his father in 1906, the family � Mayakovsky, his mother, and his two sisters � moved to Moscow, where he attended School No. 5.
In Moscow, Mayakovsky developed a passion for Marxist literature and took part in numerous activities of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party; he was to later become an RSDLP (Bolshevik) member. In 1908, he was dismissed from the grammar school because his mother was no longer able to afford the tuition fees.
Around this time, Mayakovsky was imprisoned on three occasions for subversive political activities but, being underage, he avoided transportation. During a period of solitary confinement in Butyrka prison in 1909, he began to write poetry, but his poems were confiscated. On his release from prison, he continued working within the socialist movement, and in 1911 he joined the Moscow Art School where he became acquainted with members of the Russian Futurist movement. He became a leading spokesman for the group Gileas (Гилея), and a close friend of David Burlyuk, whom he saw as his mentor.
The 1912 Futurist publication A Slap in the Face of Public Taste (Пощёчина общественному вкусу) contained Mayakovsky's first published poems: Night (Ночь) and Morning (Утро). Because of their political activities, Burlyuk and Mayakovsky were expelled from the Moscow Art School in 1914.
His work continued in the Futurist vein until 1914. His artistic development then shifted increasingly in the direction of narrative and it was this work, published during the period immediately preceding the Russian Revolution, which was to establish his reputation as a poet in Russia and abroad.
Mayakovsky was rejected as a volunteer at the beginning of WWI, and during 1915-1917 worked at the Petrograd Military Automobile School as a draftsman. At the onset of the Russian Revolution, Mayakovsky was in Smolny, Petrograd. There he witnessed the October Revolution.
After moving back to Moscow, Mayakovsky worked for the Russian State Telegraph Agency (ROSTA) creating � both graphic and text � satirical Agitprop posters. In 1919, he published his first collection of poems Collected Works 1909-1919 (Все сочиненное Владимиром Маяковским). In the cultural climate of the early Soviet Union, his popularity grew rapidly. As one of the few Soviet writers who were allowed to travel freely, his voyages to Latvia, Britain, Germany, the United States, Mexico and Cuba influenced works like My Discovery of America (Мое открытие Америки, 1925). He also travelled extensively throughout the Soviet Union.
The relevance of Mayakovsky's influence cannot be limited to Soviet poetry. While for years he was considered the Soviet poet par excellence, he also changed the perceptions of poetry in wider 20th century culture. His political activism as a propagandistic agitator was rarely understood and often looked upon unfavourably by contemporaries, even close friends like Boris Pasternak. Near the end of the 1920s, Mayakovsky became increasingly disillusioned with the course the Soviet Union was taking under Joseph Stalin: his satirical plays The Bedbug (Клоп, 1929) and The Bathhouse (Баня, 1930), which deal with the Soviet philistinism and bureaucracy, illustrate this development.
On the evening of April 14, 1930, Mayakovsky shot himself.
In Moscow, Mayakovsky developed a passion for Marxist literature and took part in numerous activities of the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party; he was to later become an RSDLP (Bolshevik) member. In 1908, he was dismissed from the grammar school because his mother was no longer able to afford the tuition fees.
Around this time, Mayakovsky was imprisoned on three occasions for subversive political activities but, being underage, he avoided transportation. During a period of solitary confinement in Butyrka prison in 1909, he began to write poetry, but his poems were confiscated. On his release from prison, he continued working within the socialist movement, and in 1911 he joined the Moscow Art School where he became acquainted with members of the Russian Futurist movement. He became a leading spokesman for the group Gileas (Гилея), and a close friend of David Burlyuk, whom he saw as his mentor.
The 1912 Futurist publication A Slap in the Face of Public Taste (Пощёчина общественному вкусу) contained Mayakovsky's first published poems: Night (Ночь) and Morning (Утро). Because of their political activities, Burlyuk and Mayakovsky were expelled from the Moscow Art School in 1914.
His work continued in the Futurist vein until 1914. His artistic development then shifted increasingly in the direction of narrative and it was this work, published during the period immediately preceding the Russian Revolution, which was to establish his reputation as a poet in Russia and abroad.
Mayakovsky was rejected as a volunteer at the beginning of WWI, and during 1915-1917 worked at the Petrograd Military Automobile School as a draftsman. At the onset of the Russian Revolution, Mayakovsky was in Smolny, Petrograd. There he witnessed the October Revolution.
After moving back to Moscow, Mayakovsky worked for the Russian State Telegraph Agency (ROSTA) creating � both graphic and text � satirical Agitprop posters. In 1919, he published his first collection of poems Collected Works 1909-1919 (Все сочиненное Владимиром Маяковским). In the cultural climate of the early Soviet Union, his popularity grew rapidly. As one of the few Soviet writers who were allowed to travel freely, his voyages to Latvia, Britain, Germany, the United States, Mexico and Cuba influenced works like My Discovery of America (Мое открытие Америки, 1925). He also travelled extensively throughout the Soviet Union.
The relevance of Mayakovsky's influence cannot be limited to Soviet poetry. While for years he was considered the Soviet poet par excellence, he also changed the perceptions of poetry in wider 20th century culture. His political activism as a propagandistic agitator was rarely understood and often looked upon unfavourably by contemporaries, even close friends like Boris Pasternak. Near the end of the 1920s, Mayakovsky became increasingly disillusioned with the course the Soviet Union was taking under Joseph Stalin: his satirical plays The Bedbug (Клоп, 1929) and The Bathhouse (Баня, 1930), which deal with the Soviet philistinism and bureaucracy, illustrate this development.
On the evening of April 14, 1930, Mayakovsky shot himself.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
April 9, 2025
اشعاری که دوستشون داشتم�
:
:
:
:
:
:
� فقیر است سیاره� ما
تشنه� محبت است
و گدای شادی.
باید
که جرعه‌ا� اشتیاق
یک مُشت آرزو
چنگ زنیم و بِرُباییم
از روزهای پیشِ رو
مُردن در این زمانه نیست دشوار
بسی دشوارتر آن است
کز نو بنا کنی حیات.
_______________________________________________________
� و مرگ �
همان مرهم زخمی‌س� بر هر پایان نافرجام�
_______________________________________________________
� آری، زندگی برای زیستن زیباست.
_______________________________________________________
� مرا هیچ نوایی آرامِ جان نیست
مگر طنین نازنین نامِ تو�
_______________________________________________________
از چه فرار می‌کنی�
هرجای دنیا که بگریزی
یقین دارم که این عشق بر شانه‌های�
می‌نشین� سنگین.
_______________________________________________________
� همین خیابان‌ه�
کتابخانه� همیشگی‌ا� بوده‌ان�.
_______________________________________________________
� بوسه می‌زن� بر زانوان ریل‌ها� آهنی
و می‌دان�
چرخ لکوموتیوی گردنم را به آغوش خواهد کشید!
_______________________________________________________
شعر ، تمام‌قد� یک سفر است
سفری به ناشناخته‌ه�.
_______________________________________________________
� هر قافیه بشکه‌ای‌س�
بشکه‌ا� تا خرره پر از دینامیت
و هر مصراع نیز یک نخ فتیله
آن دم که فتیله به تمامی بسوخت
بشکه‌ه� خواهد پکید
تمام شهر به هوا خواهد رفت
و این همان قصیده خواهد شد.
_______________________________________________________
� ای کارگران جهان!
رفیق شما رفیق من است
غیر از این دایره هم…وااسف�.
شما می‌توانی� به پا خیزید
برق آسا و با صلابت
آن دَم که با قحطی و گرسنگی دست به گریبان‌ای�
و خون در رگ‌هایتا� به جوش آمده است.
به راستی که وزین است و فاخر
آثار مارکس و انگلس
ولی ما ناگزیر از خواندنشان نیستیم
چرا که دریافته‌ای� کجای جهان ایستاده‌ای�
لطف کنید هگل و مکتبش را به من ندهید!
_______________________________________________________
� اصلا تندیس‌ها� برنزی
و یادواره‌ها� افتخار آمیزْ ما را چه کار!؟
که خود به اندازه کافی نامی و شهیریم
یادمانِ ما بنا شده
در خون‌ها� روان شده
برای آرمان‌ما� «سوسیالیسم»
_______________________________________________________
� اشعار من نوازشگر گوش‌ه� و خیال نیستند
اشعار من حتی بوسه‌ا� آرام
برنرمه� گوش دخترکان جوانِ زیبا هم نیست.
آ…نه�
این لعنتی شعرهای من
ناگه از آستانِ در بیرون می‌جهن�
مانند گلادیاتورهای دیوانه
آن‌ه� هماوردی چون مرگ‌ر� به معرکه می‌خوانن�
هوار می‌کشند…دس� در دست و سر‌به‌س� هماهنگ.
و اما واژه‌ه�
پرتاب می‌شون�
خیز برمیدارند و سپس در مغز‌های‌تا� منفجر می‌شون�.
:
:
:
:
:
:
� فقیر است سیاره� ما
تشنه� محبت است
و گدای شادی.
باید
که جرعه‌ا� اشتیاق
یک مُشت آرزو
چنگ زنیم و بِرُباییم
از روزهای پیشِ رو
مُردن در این زمانه نیست دشوار
بسی دشوارتر آن است
کز نو بنا کنی حیات.
_______________________________________________________
� و مرگ �
همان مرهم زخمی‌س� بر هر پایان نافرجام�
_______________________________________________________
� آری، زندگی برای زیستن زیباست.
_______________________________________________________
� مرا هیچ نوایی آرامِ جان نیست
مگر طنین نازنین نامِ تو�
_______________________________________________________
از چه فرار می‌کنی�
هرجای دنیا که بگریزی
یقین دارم که این عشق بر شانه‌های�
می‌نشین� سنگین.
_______________________________________________________
� همین خیابان‌ه�
کتابخانه� همیشگی‌ا� بوده‌ان�.
_______________________________________________________
� بوسه می‌زن� بر زانوان ریل‌ها� آهنی
و می‌دان�
چرخ لکوموتیوی گردنم را به آغوش خواهد کشید!
_______________________________________________________
شعر ، تمام‌قد� یک سفر است
سفری به ناشناخته‌ه�.
_______________________________________________________
� هر قافیه بشکه‌ای‌س�
بشکه‌ا� تا خرره پر از دینامیت
و هر مصراع نیز یک نخ فتیله
آن دم که فتیله به تمامی بسوخت
بشکه‌ه� خواهد پکید
تمام شهر به هوا خواهد رفت
و این همان قصیده خواهد شد.
_______________________________________________________
� ای کارگران جهان!
رفیق شما رفیق من است
غیر از این دایره هم…وااسف�.
شما می‌توانی� به پا خیزید
برق آسا و با صلابت
آن دَم که با قحطی و گرسنگی دست به گریبان‌ای�
و خون در رگ‌هایتا� به جوش آمده است.
به راستی که وزین است و فاخر
آثار مارکس و انگلس
ولی ما ناگزیر از خواندنشان نیستیم
چرا که دریافته‌ای� کجای جهان ایستاده‌ای�
لطف کنید هگل و مکتبش را به من ندهید!
_______________________________________________________
� اصلا تندیس‌ها� برنزی
و یادواره‌ها� افتخار آمیزْ ما را چه کار!؟
که خود به اندازه کافی نامی و شهیریم
یادمانِ ما بنا شده
در خون‌ها� روان شده
برای آرمان‌ما� «سوسیالیسم»
_______________________________________________________
� اشعار من نوازشگر گوش‌ه� و خیال نیستند
اشعار من حتی بوسه‌ا� آرام
برنرمه� گوش دخترکان جوانِ زیبا هم نیست.
آ…نه�
این لعنتی شعرهای من
ناگه از آستانِ در بیرون می‌جهن�
مانند گلادیاتورهای دیوانه
آن‌ه� هماوردی چون مرگ‌ر� به معرکه می‌خوانن�
هوار می‌کشند…دس� در دست و سر‌به‌س� هماهنگ.
و اما واژه‌ه�
پرتاب می‌شون�
خیز برمیدارند و سپس در مغز‌های‌تا� منفجر می‌شون�.
August 1, 2020
I love Mayakovsky but agree with other reviewers that the composition of this book is disjointed.
October 7, 2008
Is it even worthwhile reading poetry in translation? Isn't it rather like phone sex: kind of vicarious and mediated and unfulfilling? One PRESUMES, of course, never having read poetry in translation before...
Yeah, anyway. Mayakovsky. Hard to say what he might sound like in Russian. I'm guessing quite dazzling and muscular at times. At others, like bad Slavic Beat poetry. The Soviet Bukowski? Just maybe. He did admire Whitman, after all, and that's usually a dangerous inheritance, whatever you might think of old Walt himself. Plus, there's the propaganda. Reams and reams of the stuff. Politically, his oeuvre is just as compromised as that of Pound or Benn on the other side of the ideological spectrum, and probably even more cringe-inducing (as early as 1915, we find him urging lampposts to 'hoist higher/the bloodied carcasses of hawkers'. Which the lampposts obligingly did.)
Still, I can't deny it - he was a great poet. Even when he's just striking tough-guy poses, he can be zanily brilliant, as in 'For You', where he explains why he never bothered to get his ass shot off in the war:
'To give a life for you,
lovers only of food and fucking -
I'd rather serve pineappple liquor
to whores at the bar.'
Take that, bourgeois scum! Ha! And pour me some of that pineapple liquor. Sounds tasty.
Yeah, anyway. Mayakovsky. Hard to say what he might sound like in Russian. I'm guessing quite dazzling and muscular at times. At others, like bad Slavic Beat poetry. The Soviet Bukowski? Just maybe. He did admire Whitman, after all, and that's usually a dangerous inheritance, whatever you might think of old Walt himself. Plus, there's the propaganda. Reams and reams of the stuff. Politically, his oeuvre is just as compromised as that of Pound or Benn on the other side of the ideological spectrum, and probably even more cringe-inducing (as early as 1915, we find him urging lampposts to 'hoist higher/the bloodied carcasses of hawkers'. Which the lampposts obligingly did.)
Still, I can't deny it - he was a great poet. Even when he's just striking tough-guy poses, he can be zanily brilliant, as in 'For You', where he explains why he never bothered to get his ass shot off in the war:
'To give a life for you,
lovers only of food and fucking -
I'd rather serve pineappple liquor
to whores at the bar.'
Take that, bourgeois scum! Ha! And pour me some of that pineapple liquor. Sounds tasty.
November 29, 2008
The achievement of this collection--and one of its stated aims--is to update Mayakovsky for a contemporary audience, and thereby to restore the direct and popular appeal of the writing.
However, the major downside of the book is its fragmentary organization. Very few of Mayakovsky's writings are presented in their entirety. The critical excerpts are chopped up, too, so they read more like blurbs.
This problem is compounded by the decision to soft-pedal the social and political context of Mayakovsky's work in favor of biographical detail. There is an unfortunate lack of historical background, and even a little misinformation. For example, the New Economic Policy is defined in a footnote on p. 29 as a policy that "required farmers to yield raw agricultural products to the government," when it was a much broader program of free-market reform.
Both the choppy arrangement and the minimal context prevent you from arriving at any conclusions about the work as a whole, which would presumably be the goal of such a collection. Patricia Blake's translations in _The Bedbug and Selected Poetry_ offer a more revealing read.
However, the major downside of the book is its fragmentary organization. Very few of Mayakovsky's writings are presented in their entirety. The critical excerpts are chopped up, too, so they read more like blurbs.
This problem is compounded by the decision to soft-pedal the social and political context of Mayakovsky's work in favor of biographical detail. There is an unfortunate lack of historical background, and even a little misinformation. For example, the New Economic Policy is defined in a footnote on p. 29 as a policy that "required farmers to yield raw agricultural products to the government," when it was a much broader program of free-market reform.
Both the choppy arrangement and the minimal context prevent you from arriving at any conclusions about the work as a whole, which would presumably be the goal of such a collection. Patricia Blake's translations in _The Bedbug and Selected Poetry_ offer a more revealing read.
October 25, 2008
I love Mayakovsky, but not necessarily this book. The arrangement felt very confused and fragmented and did not necessarily contextualize Mayakovaksy's work in any useful or serious way. The second half of the book felt particularly strained with its use of clipped essays that were never long enough to shed light (often only one paragraph). I'll have to keep searching and hoping for a comprehensive compilation of Mayakovsky's writings.
September 5, 2018
Tries to sell Mayakovsky like they sell Kerouac. What an insult. Does it with sub-par translations too. The selection is good. The biographical stuff is fair. The rest is bad. Dig out an old volume by Rottenberg or Marshall instead; appreciate the real political, historical, artistic Mayakovsky - not this caricature.
April 6, 2019
Fascinating glimpse into a very influential life. He did such interesting things with language, it made me want to read some in the original Russian.
Read
April 11, 2020I knew it would be a challenge, but I just couldn't do it.
June 4, 2022
Great! How did I not know about Mayakovsky? Lacking in translations in the USA I'd guess.
March 31, 2025
I hate everything Mayakovsky stands for
February 20, 2015
Three difficulties with this book, if you find them so.
First, it deals with a historical figure in a historical period. Certain things must be known about the early Soviet period in order to slot Mayakovsky into it and to see his importance for it. Almereyda, who edits the volume, assumes we know enough or need know the depth of that unstable time only from riding its surface.
Second, Mayakovsky's fame is based on his poetry, an acclaimed public form of it. Hanging in the air (always), is the question of how well the English has translated the original. We have to trust the able translators for this, and here there are a few of them.
As public poetry, its power has to gain from our imaginatively inserting his deep voice and charismatic ability to 'work a room', from our acceptance that any audience of his would want his dynamism there as part of the experience. A book held in hand offers only so much.
So, reading, however 'actively', loses what this man presented. Of course, there are instances of private, personal poetry here, but Lili Brik, for instance, his lover of many years, would be . . . alert, shall we say? . . . to her man's private power. We ain't she.
Third, the organization, although running us chronologically, hops among poems and photographs and cartoon sketches and witnesses and critics and memoirists. This disturbs a reader who is looking for biography or poetry or criticism in any 'pure' form. Frankly this collage makes the book. In a way, it substitutes for the dynamism he offered when alive but can no longer provide.
It's the style of the book's organization that draws us into the read, that gives it distinction and spark. Would that more books found themselves presented in just this way! Mayakovsky grabs my interest, and Almereyda deserves notice for laudable editing.
First, it deals with a historical figure in a historical period. Certain things must be known about the early Soviet period in order to slot Mayakovsky into it and to see his importance for it. Almereyda, who edits the volume, assumes we know enough or need know the depth of that unstable time only from riding its surface.
Second, Mayakovsky's fame is based on his poetry, an acclaimed public form of it. Hanging in the air (always), is the question of how well the English has translated the original. We have to trust the able translators for this, and here there are a few of them.
As public poetry, its power has to gain from our imaginatively inserting his deep voice and charismatic ability to 'work a room', from our acceptance that any audience of his would want his dynamism there as part of the experience. A book held in hand offers only so much.
So, reading, however 'actively', loses what this man presented. Of course, there are instances of private, personal poetry here, but Lili Brik, for instance, his lover of many years, would be . . . alert, shall we say? . . . to her man's private power. We ain't she.
Third, the organization, although running us chronologically, hops among poems and photographs and cartoon sketches and witnesses and critics and memoirists. This disturbs a reader who is looking for biography or poetry or criticism in any 'pure' form. Frankly this collage makes the book. In a way, it substitutes for the dynamism he offered when alive but can no longer provide.
It's the style of the book's organization that draws us into the read, that gives it distinction and spark. Would that more books found themselves presented in just this way! Mayakovsky grabs my interest, and Almereyda deserves notice for laudable editing.
Read
January 7, 2009Read the of Night Wraps the Sky (along with Francis Picabia's I Am A Beautiful Monster):
Every generation for which poetry isn’t a matter of mere diligence and hard work eventually comes around to Vladimir Mayakovsky. Brash, violent, mercurial � the greatest exponent, avant la lettre, of slam poetry (if poetry could ever be said to “slam,� Mayakovsky’s could), Mayakovsky herded his audience before many a public performance with a hush (“Quiet, my kittens...�) and then, while reciting poems of violent passion, theocide and weird bodily transformations, stepped aside every so often to outholler any and all of his numerous hecklers. And they were numerous. In his lifetime Mayakovsky acted as representative for the literate violence of the movement called futurism. As he matured, he lent his voice to the contentious rule of Vladimir Lenin. Yet he was loved more than any English-speaking poet could dream. When he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the heart in 1934, upwards of 30,000 people attended his funeral.
Every generation for which poetry isn’t a matter of mere diligence and hard work eventually comes around to Vladimir Mayakovsky. Brash, violent, mercurial � the greatest exponent, avant la lettre, of slam poetry (if poetry could ever be said to “slam,� Mayakovsky’s could), Mayakovsky herded his audience before many a public performance with a hush (“Quiet, my kittens...�) and then, while reciting poems of violent passion, theocide and weird bodily transformations, stepped aside every so often to outholler any and all of his numerous hecklers. And they were numerous. In his lifetime Mayakovsky acted as representative for the literate violence of the movement called futurism. As he matured, he lent his voice to the contentious rule of Vladimir Lenin. Yet he was loved more than any English-speaking poet could dream. When he died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the heart in 1934, upwards of 30,000 people attended his funeral.
June 28, 2012
An imperfect book about an imperfect poet. Mayakavosky was many things-- poet, film star, poster maker, propagandist, Soviet revolutionary supporter and, later, victim-- and this book does its best to touch on all these aspects. And it does this while including writings of Mayakovsky, some of them in fresh translations. The combination of Mayakovsky's work, along with photos and snippets of essays from others about the poet, has met with criticism. It's more a book about the poet than a book of his poetry. And? Is this a bad thing? Mayakovsky's reputation looms large in the English speaking world, but I fear more know of him than know his work. And what they know of him seems ill-informed. This book is an ideal place for the neophyte to begin and for the seasoned Mayakovsian to return. Goddamn right.
March 13, 2016
This was a ŷ recommendation and I'm so glad ŷ recommended it, because I don't think I would have found it otherwise, and it was ... just. Exactly what I needed. I struggle to find the appropriate words. But learning about his life, reading his poetry (I give props to the translators because I understand that Russian poetry is difficult to translate, just as any poetry is difficult to translate ~ but I felt like I could trust the translators, which is a big deal for me.) - - It made me think and feel and write some bad poetry and has awakened a lot of thoughts within me. I am grateful this book ended up in my life. I sat down just to read the introduction to see what it was about and couldn't stop. I may be behind in my preparation for class, but it was worth it for this experience.
Read
August 1, 2019This is apparently an attempt to make readers "Mayakovsky-conscious," somewhat the same way the recent collection of Daniil Kharms' work, TODAY I WROTE NOTHING, introduced Kharms to Anglophone readers (this one, anyway). However, Mayakovsky is much better known than Kharms and plenty of different English translations of his work are available. This book plays up Mayakovsky's flamboyant personality and seems like an attempt to get the kids into him. On the other hand, what's wrong with that? My main complaint is that the translation of what is probably his best-known poem, "Cloud in Trousers" (called here "Cloud in Pants") is less effective than some other versions. Great introduction to this poet's work, but hardly definitive.
January 8, 2009
I really wanted MORE POEMS. The poems that are here are really good, especially Matvei's translation of "A cloud in pants" and basically that's all I cared about but then had to schmuck my way through all this stuff by Francine du Plessix Gray about how her mother and Mayakovsky totally got it sexytime, and other not-poem writing "about" etc. Shrug. It triggered my "less talk more rock" instinct in kind of a big way. But on the whole, nice book, really well made and fun to read until people start shooting themselves in the heart.
April 16, 2008
The poems in this book are quite amazing. The best of them, on first reading, made my eyes roll across the pages like nothing I've ever experienced in poetry.
A divisive figure, to be sure, since he was quite committed to the Soviet cause. But, he embraced it more as a political extension of futurism than anything, in my opinion.
And even though his poetry can allude to the revolution, he always seems to be looking ever outward into the stars.
A divisive figure, to be sure, since he was quite committed to the Soviet cause. But, he embraced it more as a political extension of futurism than anything, in my opinion.
And even though his poetry can allude to the revolution, he always seems to be looking ever outward into the stars.
November 17, 2008
An amazing collection of snippets from essays and memoirs, poems, and photographs. A testimony about a man, a multi-media mind, a Deleuzoguattarian machine who lived to see what damage his ideal brought to life by others can do. (And he killed himself.) Amazing creativity that in its many manifestations, in many cases could not be hobbled by ideology. An account of life in the circle of brilliant people that probably included a menage or two. Not your Party functionary's Mayakovsky.
April 21, 2014
A delightful collage of a book, that combines selections of Mayakovsky's poetry (in mostly strong translations) to serve as an introduction to his work, with collected snippets of historical and autobiographical detail to serve as an overview of his life. This is not the definitive book on Mayakovsky, but it could well be the first book by or about him you'll ever read, and it certainly won't be the last, because if Night Wraps the Sky does nothing else, it leaves you hungry for more.
July 22, 2008
much Great stuff in here!
September 5, 2023
I am so glad that I found this in Gray Matter books. I feel that I now have a better idea of the lives and times of Vladimir Vladimirovich.
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.