It's Tuesday

I'm in Vienna in the early 1800s, watching a biracial violin prodigy meet the man who can change his life--Ludwig Beethoven--only to have his youth play against him in a life-destroying way.

Sonata Mulattica by Rita Dove. This is a book-length story told in poetry, and I'm nearly done and slowing down because I don't want it to end. Dove has written an amazing book, readable, sly, taking advantage of all different poetic forms to tell her story, to great success. I borrowed this from the library, but think maybe I'd like my own copy, to read and make notes in. A wonderful read.

The truly great cities are never self-conscious:
They have their own music; they go about business.
London surges, Rome bubbles, Paris promenades;
Dresden stands rigid, gazes skyward, afraid.

Vienna canters in a slowly tightening spiral.
Golden facades line the avenues, ring after ring
tracing a curve as tender and maddening
as a smile on the face of a beautiful rival.

You can’t escape it; everywhere’s a circle.
Feel your knees bend and straighten
as you focus each step. Hum along with it;
succumb to the sway, enter the trance.

Ah, sweet scandal: No one admits it,
but we all know this dance.

  

Comments

[Gel]

Hi Amy,
I came here from Gautami's reading blog where I noticed your comment about poetry. That's how I originally "met" Gautami because we both write poetry on our blogs.

I'm a huge fan of Rita Dove's work and enjoyed your review. I have surprise news coming on my blog later this month about Rita. In the meantime, I hope you visit. I'm bookmarking you.