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Our World
Mary Oliver, winner of the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award, is one of the most celebrated poets in America. Her partner Molly Malone Cook, who died in 2005, was a photographer and pioneer gallery owner. Intertwining Oliver's prose with Cook's photographs, Our World is an intimate testament to their life together. The poet's moving text captures not only the unique qualities of her partner's work, but the very texture of their shared world.
96 pages, Paperback
First published October 3, 2007
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About the author
Mary Oliver
102books8,214followersMary Jane Oliver was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her work is inspired by nature, rather than the human world, stemming from her lifelong passion for solitary walks in the wild.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the ŷ database with this name. .
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the ŷ database with this name. .
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 175 reviews
December 10, 2017
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver won the National Book Award and the Pulitizer Prize. She is surely one of the best-selling poets in the world, though she is also seen by many scholars as a great poet, too. Her partner of more than forty years was Molly Malone Cook.
The Journey
Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voice behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
OIiver wrote many poems out of her grief after Cook died, but she also put together this collection of Cook’s photography, and wrote the text for the book, and includes some poetry. Oliver is one very famous poet who is also intensely private; their relationship was also very private. Oliver doesn’t often grant interviews. So we have this book and some poems to see what that relationship was like, and it is wonderful to experience. A privilege to have her share it with us. Great photographs, too. I recommend it for many reasons.
I copied these lines from the book that Oliver wrote about Cook, taken from an article by the incomparable Maria Popova, at Brainpickings:
“Though you have known someone for more than forty years, though you have worked with them and lived with them, you do not know everything. I do not know everything � but a few things, which I will tell. M. had will and wit and probably too much empathy for others; she was quick in speech and she did not suffer fools. When you knew her she was unconditionally kind. But also, as our friend the Bishop Tom Shaw said at her memorial service, you had to be brave to get to know her.
…]
She was style, and she was an old loneliness that nothing could quite wipe away; she was vastly knowledgeable about people, about books, about the mind’s emotions and the heart’s. She lived sometimes in a black box of memories and unanswerable questions, and then would come out and frolic � be feisty, and bold.
This is the article:
Mary Oliver won the National Book Award and the Pulitizer Prize. She is surely one of the best-selling poets in the world, though she is also seen by many scholars as a great poet, too. Her partner of more than forty years was Molly Malone Cook.
The Journey
Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voice behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
OIiver wrote many poems out of her grief after Cook died, but she also put together this collection of Cook’s photography, and wrote the text for the book, and includes some poetry. Oliver is one very famous poet who is also intensely private; their relationship was also very private. Oliver doesn’t often grant interviews. So we have this book and some poems to see what that relationship was like, and it is wonderful to experience. A privilege to have her share it with us. Great photographs, too. I recommend it for many reasons.
I copied these lines from the book that Oliver wrote about Cook, taken from an article by the incomparable Maria Popova, at Brainpickings:
“Though you have known someone for more than forty years, though you have worked with them and lived with them, you do not know everything. I do not know everything � but a few things, which I will tell. M. had will and wit and probably too much empathy for others; she was quick in speech and she did not suffer fools. When you knew her she was unconditionally kind. But also, as our friend the Bishop Tom Shaw said at her memorial service, you had to be brave to get to know her.
…]
She was style, and she was an old loneliness that nothing could quite wipe away; she was vastly knowledgeable about people, about books, about the mind’s emotions and the heart’s. She lived sometimes in a black box of memories and unanswerable questions, and then would come out and frolic � be feisty, and bold.
This is the article:
January 16, 2021
It was a forty-year conversation
This is a snapshot in word and image of the life Mary Oliver and Molly Malone Cook shared together. As always, Oliver's words are both evocative and soothing. The love between these pages is palpable. Cook's photos capture many of the esteemed people that she and Oliver met and knew in their storied time together - Walker Evans, Norman Mailer, Lorraine Hansbury (Cook took two of my favourite photos of her during the time they were in a relationship) - and I love the candidness she captures in those famous faces. But, I think I favour her "street scenes," the unknown faces going through the day-to-day. Oliver writes that Cook paid attention to what was around her with not just interest, but empathy as well, and I think this is seen in her photos.
The only critique of this brief snapshot is that I want more.
I know her well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? Who is this I've been living with
for thirty years?
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?
This is a snapshot in word and image of the life Mary Oliver and Molly Malone Cook shared together. As always, Oliver's words are both evocative and soothing. The love between these pages is palpable. Cook's photos capture many of the esteemed people that she and Oliver met and knew in their storied time together - Walker Evans, Norman Mailer, Lorraine Hansbury (Cook took two of my favourite photos of her during the time they were in a relationship) - and I love the candidness she captures in those famous faces. But, I think I favour her "street scenes," the unknown faces going through the day-to-day. Oliver writes that Cook paid attention to what was around her with not just interest, but empathy as well, and I think this is seen in her photos.
The only critique of this brief snapshot is that I want more.
I know her well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? Who is this I've been living with
for thirty years?
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?
December 22, 2020
'it was a forty-year conversation.'
this book is the literary equivalent of the most wonderful scenarios of love in one's head. mary oliver & molly malone cook had so much love to give, to themselves, to each other and to the earth - and i shall be eternally grateful as i keep them, and the love they held, in my thoughts and spirits always, to try and achieve the happiness they radiated. their existences were such a gift to this planet.
'i know her so well, i think. i thought. elbow and ankle. mood and desire. anguish and frolic. anger too. and the devotions. and for all that, do we even begin to know each other? who is this i've been living for thirty years? this clear, dark, lovely whistler?'
this book is the literary equivalent of the most wonderful scenarios of love in one's head. mary oliver & molly malone cook had so much love to give, to themselves, to each other and to the earth - and i shall be eternally grateful as i keep them, and the love they held, in my thoughts and spirits always, to try and achieve the happiness they radiated. their existences were such a gift to this planet.
'i know her so well, i think. i thought. elbow and ankle. mood and desire. anguish and frolic. anger too. and the devotions. and for all that, do we even begin to know each other? who is this i've been living for thirty years? this clear, dark, lovely whistler?'
September 8, 2024
"La gente viaja para no llorar en un sitio fijo".
"La atención sin sentimiento, empecé a entender, no es más que información. Hacía falta franqueza -empatía- para que la atención tuviese importancia".
"La conozco muy bien, creo. Creía. Codo y tobillo. Temperamento y deseo. Angustia y alborozo. También ira. Y los apegos. Así y todo, ¿nos conocemos lo más mínimo? ¿Quién es esta criatura con la que llevo viviendo treinta años?"
"La atención sin sentimiento, empecé a entender, no es más que información. Hacía falta franqueza -empatía- para que la atención tuviese importancia".
"La conozco muy bien, creo. Creía. Codo y tobillo. Temperamento y deseo. Angustia y alborozo. También ira. Y los apegos. Así y todo, ¿nos conocemos lo más mínimo? ¿Quién es esta criatura con la que llevo viviendo treinta años?"
July 19, 2021
as a major fan of both photography and mary oliver, this was a mesmerizing little book. i loved getting to better know how mary loved and was loved in return. i suspect molly was just as wonderful as her partner--i had only known her through mary’s essay collections (and one of my favorite poems, “the whistler�) but while i was carefully flipping through her photographs, i just kept thinking, “wow, i am quite literally holding the mark she left on the world--and on her loved ones--in my hands.� the knowledge that moments and memories and parts of molly are re-born, over and over, every time people look at these photographs made my experience quite special. beyond their sentimental value, they are beautifully constructed and high achievements in the world of art photography. molly was an incredible artist, and i enjoyed seeing that her work was displayed among famous photographers i recognized from class. i also gasped aloud seeing the cover for devotions in here. i had no idea molly took that picture and it’s stunning.
i had fun with the juxtaposition of how mary and molly experienced the world, the former engaging with the natural world and writing about it and the latter engaging with people and photographing them. i am kind of the reverse; i write mostly about people and photograph mostly the outside world. it felt balanced and was also just so, so interesting.
also the way mary and molly met (which i had read about but never heard mary describe) is something out of cinema. someone write a screenplay please--i am so tempted to.
a new and beloved favorite <3
"I don't think I was wrong to be in the world I was in, it was my salvation from my own darkness. Nor have I ever abandoned it--those earthly signs that so surely lead toward epiphanies. And yet, and yet, [Molly] wanted me to enter more fully into the human world also, and to embrace it, as I believe I have. And what a gift to read about her wish for it, who never expressed impatience with my reports of the natural world, the blue and green happiness I found there. Our love was so tight."
i had fun with the juxtaposition of how mary and molly experienced the world, the former engaging with the natural world and writing about it and the latter engaging with people and photographing them. i am kind of the reverse; i write mostly about people and photograph mostly the outside world. it felt balanced and was also just so, so interesting.
also the way mary and molly met (which i had read about but never heard mary describe) is something out of cinema. someone write a screenplay please--i am so tempted to.
a new and beloved favorite <3
"I don't think I was wrong to be in the world I was in, it was my salvation from my own darkness. Nor have I ever abandoned it--those earthly signs that so surely lead toward epiphanies. And yet, and yet, [Molly] wanted me to enter more fully into the human world also, and to embrace it, as I believe I have. And what a gift to read about her wish for it, who never expressed impatience with my reports of the natural world, the blue and green happiness I found there. Our love was so tight."
May 26, 2020
A moving elegy for her partner of 40 years, late lesbian poet Mary Oliver preserved a fragment of their companionship through this short but nicely curated book. Her partner, Molly Malone Cook, who was a photographer and also Mary’s literary agent was affectionately and mysteriously referred in her writings as 'M.' In Our World, Mary shared their intimacy, their simple yet rich lives tied with their passion for nature and art, in glimpses through carefully chosen yet curiously varied photographs taken by Molly (a of Cocteau included!) interspersed by Mary’s affectionate prose which habitually veered into poetry (one poem included was ). Whilst a number of bittersweet reminiscences included their first encounter (Mary said of Molly: "I took one look and fell, look and tumble"), their struggle to make ends meet, and even the ordinariness of their lives, the book only showed one photo of them together in the last page of the book. Mary Oliver was keen on retaining their privacy—a world created and known only between them which included some excerpts from Molly's journal without complete context. It's quite telling to discover they met at Edna St. Vincent Millay's home whilst Mary worked as secretary to Edna's sister. And although I can't say the photographs or poems were of greatest quality, I can't help but see the catharsis this personal project brought for Mary after Molly's passing. In reading Our World, there was an unsaid lasting devotion I found deeply affecting. I think it's always a blessing to love, be loved, and spend the rest of one's life with someone. Mary recognised this with gratitude, grief, and a grin.
March 1, 2025
Las quiero mucho ❤️�
June 15, 2008
What is lovely about this book is not Molly Malone Cook's photography (while some of her photos are compelling, others are almost mundane) or Mary Oliver's prose (it's not her best work) but the glimpse it gives into the inner life of this very private couple. Snippets from Molly's journals are delightfully funny and intimate; Mary's descriptions of their life together in Provincetown ring familiar for anyone who has delighted in living on ther outer Cape, and leave me wanting more.
April 5, 2024
pfff.. muy íntimo y bonito, me ha encantado la forma de crear los recuerdos a través de las fotos y los poemas, aunque he de decir que lo que más me gustó fue los fragmentos de los diarios de M. (btw qué guapa mary oliver 😳)
January 8, 2025
El misterio, la atención, el asombro. La compañía en la creación y en la preparación de la cena, la conversación que solo se pausa con el sueño, el aprendizaje de la amistad y del trabajo, el descubrimiento del tiempo, de la muerte. Formas de amor complejas que Mary Oliver deja claras y limpias en esta joyita de Comisuras, claras y limpias como la nieve recién caída sobre los hombros en el bosque o al llegar en el zaguán de casa.
June 7, 2017
all of a sudden she began to whistle. by all of a sudden
i mean that for more than thirty years she had not
whistled. it was thrilling. at first i wondered, who was
in the house, what stranger? i was upstairs reading, and
she was downstairs. as from the throat of a wild and
cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds war-
bled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared.
finally i said, is that you? is that you whistling? yes, she
said. i used to whistle, a long time ago. now i see i can
still whistle. and cadence after cadence she strolled
through the house, whistling.
i know her so well, i think. i thought. elbow and an-
kle. mood and desire. anguish and frolic. anger too.
and the devotions. and for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? who is this i've been living with
for thirty years?
this clear, dark, lovely whistler?
i mean that for more than thirty years she had not
whistled. it was thrilling. at first i wondered, who was
in the house, what stranger? i was upstairs reading, and
she was downstairs. as from the throat of a wild and
cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds war-
bled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared.
finally i said, is that you? is that you whistling? yes, she
said. i used to whistle, a long time ago. now i see i can
still whistle. and cadence after cadence she strolled
through the house, whistling.
i know her so well, i think. i thought. elbow and an-
kle. mood and desire. anguish and frolic. anger too.
and the devotions. and for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? who is this i've been living with
for thirty years?
this clear, dark, lovely whistler?
April 11, 2024
dues companyes de viatge, una història pròpia
January 10, 2025
So much love. A wonderful book that I will keep.
“Well I never thought I’d see her again� knew I would never hear her voice again in this world. Oh I did always think I would see her again and hear her voice again, but not in this world.� (Molly Malone Cook)
Maybe Lorraine Hansberry?
“I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and ankle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too. And the devotions. And for all that do we really begin to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with for thirty years?� ( Mary Oliver)
And great photos. An idea of their life together.
“Well I never thought I’d see her again� knew I would never hear her voice again in this world. Oh I did always think I would see her again and hear her voice again, but not in this world.� (Molly Malone Cook)
Maybe Lorraine Hansberry?
“I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and ankle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too. And the devotions. And for all that do we really begin to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with for thirty years?� ( Mary Oliver)
And great photos. An idea of their life together.
March 20, 2024
«La atención sin sentimiento, empecé a entender, no es más que información. Hacía falta franqueza –empatía� para que la atención tuviese importancia».
¡Qué ganas tenía de volver a Mary Oliver (y eso que acabo de leer 'Horas de invierno', uno de sus libros de ensayos)! Esta escritora es paz, calma y pausa. Es detenerse a observar con atención y respeto lo que te rodea. En este caso, nos invita a conocer la faceta más personal de quien fue su compañera de vida: la fotógrafa Molly Malone Cook.
Y no solo nos revela cómo era como persona sino también como pareja, invitándonos a asomarnos por una rendija a su especial relación: la intimidad y la complicidad que compartían se percibe, se siente y se contagia a través de sus palabras. Es envidiable lo unidas que estaban a nivel mental, físico y espiritual, y cómo se inspiraban y se apoyaban respectivamente en sus trabajos. Porque tenían una forma de vida modesta, pero apasionada e intensa en lo creativo.
No solo incluye más detalles sobre la inspiración y métodos de Mary Oliver en su DZí, sino que incluye varias de las fotografías de Molly, la mayoría costumbristas, sobre distintos momentos del día a día de personas anónimas y famosas en varias zonas de Estados Unidos.
Y así, ambas comparten ese afán por la atención ligada a los sentimientos y la empatía, algo que (por lo que nos muestran) las uniría de por vida, dejando una huella imborrable. De esta forma, así lo escribió Mary Oliver tras la muerte de su enamorada:
«Cuán a menudo me limito ahora a quedarme sentada, con los codos hincados en el escritorio y las manos sosteniéndome la cara, audaz y erguida, contemplando el pasado».
¡Qué ganas tenía de volver a Mary Oliver (y eso que acabo de leer 'Horas de invierno', uno de sus libros de ensayos)! Esta escritora es paz, calma y pausa. Es detenerse a observar con atención y respeto lo que te rodea. En este caso, nos invita a conocer la faceta más personal de quien fue su compañera de vida: la fotógrafa Molly Malone Cook.
Y no solo nos revela cómo era como persona sino también como pareja, invitándonos a asomarnos por una rendija a su especial relación: la intimidad y la complicidad que compartían se percibe, se siente y se contagia a través de sus palabras. Es envidiable lo unidas que estaban a nivel mental, físico y espiritual, y cómo se inspiraban y se apoyaban respectivamente en sus trabajos. Porque tenían una forma de vida modesta, pero apasionada e intensa en lo creativo.
No solo incluye más detalles sobre la inspiración y métodos de Mary Oliver en su DZí, sino que incluye varias de las fotografías de Molly, la mayoría costumbristas, sobre distintos momentos del día a día de personas anónimas y famosas en varias zonas de Estados Unidos.
Y así, ambas comparten ese afán por la atención ligada a los sentimientos y la empatía, algo que (por lo que nos muestran) las uniría de por vida, dejando una huella imborrable. De esta forma, así lo escribió Mary Oliver tras la muerte de su enamorada:
«Cuán a menudo me limito ahora a quedarme sentada, con los codos hincados en el escritorio y las manos sosteniéndome la cara, audaz y erguida, contemplando el pasado».
May 9, 2024
Ver cómo habla mary sobre su difunta amada... Como la observa, como la admira, cómo la quiere, como la recuerda... me llenó el corazón y me lo rompió a partes iguales.
December 29, 2018
Divu cilvēku pasaule, � ieskatoties tajā caur durvju actiņu. Ar durvju actiņu es domāju šo grāmatu. Un ne jau tas, cik daudz es ieraugu, ir svarīgs, bet � ko es sajūtu caur šiem tekstiem, fragmentiem, fotogrāfijām. No vienas puses, šī grāmata ir atvadu vēstule aizgājušajam, no otras � atzīšanās, mēģinājums caur atskatīšanos pagātnē saprast, cik tuvu mēs varam (ie)pazīt cilvēku, ar kuru kopā dzīvojam, cik daudz paliek aiz sirds durvīm?
March 3, 2022
This makes me want to live
April 28, 2024
Ya me he cerciorado de algo. Podría leer a Mary Oliver hasta el infinito.
Me gusta mucho su narración, su delicadeza, su atención y su foco. Y si el libro está dedicado a M. la que fue su pareja durante muchos años, me quedo a vivir en el relato. A este libro le hubiese sumado hojas y hojas. Tengo ganas de saber más: sus días, sus charlas, anécdotas, más fotos de ellas� que placer de libro.
Mary ya menciona a M. en La escritura indómita así que este libro es como un regalo para quienes disfrutamos de esa lectura. Es como adentrarse en esos detalles más personales, más íntimos. Conocerlas más.
Creo que el relato deja claro que la unión de estas dos mujeres fue brillante porque se conjugaban de maravilla. Complicidad, cuidados, entendimiento� un equilibrio armonioso. Acompañarse y crecer juntas.
Este libro es un precioso ejemplo de honrar la memoria de alguien al que se ama. Evocando recuerdo, enseñando fotografías de M., regalándonos detalles de cómo era ella, de cómo se hacían sentir�
Un libro que se parece a un rayito de luz.
Ojalá más Marys y Emes para mostrarnos la cara más amable y tierna de este mundo.
Me gusta mucho su narración, su delicadeza, su atención y su foco. Y si el libro está dedicado a M. la que fue su pareja durante muchos años, me quedo a vivir en el relato. A este libro le hubiese sumado hojas y hojas. Tengo ganas de saber más: sus días, sus charlas, anécdotas, más fotos de ellas� que placer de libro.
Mary ya menciona a M. en La escritura indómita así que este libro es como un regalo para quienes disfrutamos de esa lectura. Es como adentrarse en esos detalles más personales, más íntimos. Conocerlas más.
Creo que el relato deja claro que la unión de estas dos mujeres fue brillante porque se conjugaban de maravilla. Complicidad, cuidados, entendimiento� un equilibrio armonioso. Acompañarse y crecer juntas.
Este libro es un precioso ejemplo de honrar la memoria de alguien al que se ama. Evocando recuerdo, enseñando fotografías de M., regalándonos detalles de cómo era ella, de cómo se hacían sentir�
Un libro que se parece a un rayito de luz.
Ojalá más Marys y Emes para mostrarnos la cara más amable y tierna de este mundo.
April 25, 2019
After Mary Oliver passed away early this year, I put several of her poetry collections on hold at the library, and I've slowly been reading and savouring them. In amongst the poetry collections, I also discovered this small book.
Mary Oliver's partner was the photographer (and gallery and bookstore owner) Molly Malone Cook. They lived together for over forty years, until Molly's death in 2005. Afterwards, Mary put together this collection as a memorial and celebration of Molly's life (and of their lives together).
In this book we get a glimpse into their world through Mary Oliver's poetry and recollections, and Molly Malone Cook's photographs and journal entries. It feels like a little window into their lives together and their love. The book is funny and moving and lovely, and feels like a real gift to us all.
Mary Oliver's partner was the photographer (and gallery and bookstore owner) Molly Malone Cook. They lived together for over forty years, until Molly's death in 2005. Afterwards, Mary put together this collection as a memorial and celebration of Molly's life (and of their lives together).
In this book we get a glimpse into their world through Mary Oliver's poetry and recollections, and Molly Malone Cook's photographs and journal entries. It feels like a little window into their lives together and their love. The book is funny and moving and lovely, and feels like a real gift to us all.
January 17, 2021
The amount of love in this book is enough to make me cry.
Thank you, Molly Malone Cook and Mary Oliver.
Thank you, Alba. I love you so much.
“What in the hell was I doing? Loving everything? Was that it?�
Thank you, Molly Malone Cook and Mary Oliver.
Thank you, Alba. I love you so much.
“What in the hell was I doing? Loving everything? Was that it?�
March 27, 2024
Un libro objeto que con muy pocos elementos -algunas fotos, un par de poemas, unas entradas de diario, y unos breves y preciosos textos- explica una bella historia de amor de 40 años. Mary Oliver siempre vale la pena, hace muy sencillo lo que no lo es
Read
April 16, 2024dam . i should call her
April 18, 2020
Full of sentimentality, devotion and longing, Our World is as tender a love letter as one can ever be.
Taking us through moments of a shared lifetime, we see a relationship unravel, lives joining and moving onward as seen through the lenses of Mary Oliver's depth of observation and beautiful appreciation of all the things, the big and the small, that make life worth living and worth loving. Accompanied by the resurfacing realisation that you can't ever truly know a person, even if it is your person, you reach the conclusion that it is as it is and it's more than alright, because they are still yours, through choice and circumstance.
An intimate portrait, a behind-the-scenes take on difficulties that could not have been observed otherwise, a collection of photographs and fragments of poetry for her beloved that Mary manages to expand into an all-encompassing condition for us all, we move one step closer to them, whilst maintaining our polite distance. Our World is a book to read, not only if you're interested in someone else's life, but more so, if you're interested in discovering new pathways in yours.
As you might have guessed, I can't recommend this enough.
*
"Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she
said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can
still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled
through the house, whistling.
I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? Who is this I've been living with
for thirty years?
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?
Taking us through moments of a shared lifetime, we see a relationship unravel, lives joining and moving onward as seen through the lenses of Mary Oliver's depth of observation and beautiful appreciation of all the things, the big and the small, that make life worth living and worth loving. Accompanied by the resurfacing realisation that you can't ever truly know a person, even if it is your person, you reach the conclusion that it is as it is and it's more than alright, because they are still yours, through choice and circumstance.
An intimate portrait, a behind-the-scenes take on difficulties that could not have been observed otherwise, a collection of photographs and fragments of poetry for her beloved that Mary manages to expand into an all-encompassing condition for us all, we move one step closer to them, whilst maintaining our polite distance. Our World is a book to read, not only if you're interested in someone else's life, but more so, if you're interested in discovering new pathways in yours.
As you might have guessed, I can't recommend this enough.
*
"Finally I said, Is that you? Is that you whistling? Yes, she
said. I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can
still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled
through the house, whistling.
I know her so well, I think. I thought. Elbow and an-
kle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too.
And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin
to know each other? Who is this I've been living with
for thirty years?
This clear, dark, lovely whistler?
February 15, 2021
Wow. “It was a forty year conversation.�
December 31, 2021
THIS BOOK MADE ME FEEL MANY THINGS
March 27, 2024
I don’t know if it’s because I read this in one sitting in a warm bubble bath listening to Alexis Ffrench, or because I know that Molly and Mary are in some other ether now, and that they cherished their lives, or—most likely� a combination of all this, but I wept. Sometimes reading Oliver it’s as though I can feel her presence. Obviously I don’t know her personally, nor am I keen on idolising artists, but I can’t help but think that the best leave whispers of their essence through the art that stays behind. And the combination of these photographs of Cook’s with Oliver’s words can make one believe in a love that defies time and space, and that, perhaps, maybe that’s all there is.
April 15, 2024
Mary writing about her love, “M.� truly made my heart melt
August 15, 2023
Dette må være den fineste boka jeg har lest ever. Om helten min, Mary Oliver og partneren hennes i over førti år, Molly Malone Cook. Å høre i hennes stemme om de mer private sidene av livet deres som hun aldri tar opp i diktene sine. Føles som et privilegium.
April 4, 2008
This is a book that I never thought I'd see.
Mary Oliver is one of the best poets alive. She has been extremely private about her life. The few poetry readings she does, she refuses to have recorded. I still ponder the sound of her voice every time I read one of her poems because more so than many poems, these are meant to be read aloud.
Her partner, Mary Malone Cook, passed away a few years ago. They had been together for 40 years. M, as Mary Oliver always referred to her, was a photography. This book is a collection of her photography along with a few of her journal entries and some poems by Mary Oliver and text where Mary opens up a bit about her relationship with M.
This glimpse into their personal lives is so terribly bittersweet. The book was a way for Oliver to deal with the loss of M. The book conveys what a significant loss that was on a personal level for her, their friends and family, their community and the photography community. M's pictures are wonderful. This book only holds black and white photos. I think all are portraits.
There is a great point Mary Oliver makes when discussing the influence M had on her as a person and writer:
"Attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report. An openness-an empathy-was necessary if the attention was to matter."
Mary Oliver is one of the best poets alive. She has been extremely private about her life. The few poetry readings she does, she refuses to have recorded. I still ponder the sound of her voice every time I read one of her poems because more so than many poems, these are meant to be read aloud.
Her partner, Mary Malone Cook, passed away a few years ago. They had been together for 40 years. M, as Mary Oliver always referred to her, was a photography. This book is a collection of her photography along with a few of her journal entries and some poems by Mary Oliver and text where Mary opens up a bit about her relationship with M.
This glimpse into their personal lives is so terribly bittersweet. The book was a way for Oliver to deal with the loss of M. The book conveys what a significant loss that was on a personal level for her, their friends and family, their community and the photography community. M's pictures are wonderful. This book only holds black and white photos. I think all are portraits.
There is a great point Mary Oliver makes when discussing the influence M had on her as a person and writer:
"Attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report. An openness-an empathy-was necessary if the attention was to matter."
June 10, 2022
“how often now i just sit, with my elbows on the desk and my hands holding my face bold and upright, and stare into the past.�
“have taken another walk, have been outside after seeing a sweet spider crawling around from inside the basement window, went outside to look for her/him but didn’t find him/her and didn’t try too hard, i don’t like spiders, what in hell was i doing? loving everything? was that it?�
“we were talkers—about our work, our pasts, our friends, our ideas ordinary and far-fetched. we would often wake before there was light in the sky and make coffee and let our minds rattle our tongues. we would end in exhaustion and elation. not many nights or early mornings later, we would do the same. it was a forty-year conversation.�
“when i came back to steepletop one evening, with a friend, M., also with a friend, was sitting with norma at the kitchen table. i took one look and fell, hook and tumble. M. took one look at me, and put on her dark glasses, along with an obvious dose of reserve. she denied this to her dying day, but it was true.�
“she was style, she was an old loneliness that nothing could quite wipe away; she was vastly knowledgeable about people, about books, about the mind’s emotions and the heart’s. she lived sometimes in a black box of memories and unanswerable questions, and then would come out and frolic—be feisty, and bold.�
“have taken another walk, have been outside after seeing a sweet spider crawling around from inside the basement window, went outside to look for her/him but didn’t find him/her and didn’t try too hard, i don’t like spiders, what in hell was i doing? loving everything? was that it?�
“we were talkers—about our work, our pasts, our friends, our ideas ordinary and far-fetched. we would often wake before there was light in the sky and make coffee and let our minds rattle our tongues. we would end in exhaustion and elation. not many nights or early mornings later, we would do the same. it was a forty-year conversation.�
“when i came back to steepletop one evening, with a friend, M., also with a friend, was sitting with norma at the kitchen table. i took one look and fell, hook and tumble. M. took one look at me, and put on her dark glasses, along with an obvious dose of reserve. she denied this to her dying day, but it was true.�
“she was style, she was an old loneliness that nothing could quite wipe away; she was vastly knowledgeable about people, about books, about the mind’s emotions and the heart’s. she lived sometimes in a black box of memories and unanswerable questions, and then would come out and frolic—be feisty, and bold.�
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