So Far So Good: Final Poems: 2014-2018 - Hardcover

Le Guin, Ursula K

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1556595387 ISBN 13: 9781556595387

Publisher: Copper Canyon Press,U.S., 2018

Synopsis

"Ursula K. Le Guin, loved by millions for her fantasy and science-fiction novels, ponders life, death and the vast beyond in So Far So Good, an astute, charming collection finished weeks before her death in January, 2018. Fans will recognize some of the motifs here--cats, wind, strong women -- as well as her exploration of the intersection between soul and body, the knowable and the unknown. The writing is clear, artful and reverent as Le Guin looks back at key memories and concerns and looks forward to what is next: 'Spirit, rehearse the journey of the body/ that are to come, the motions/ of the matter that held you.'"―Washington Post

"Le Guin's farewell poetry collection, contains all that created her reputation for fiction--sharp insight, restless imagination, humor that is both mordant and humane, and, above all else, that connection to all creation, that 'immense what is'."--New York Journal of Books

"It's hard to think of another living author who has written so well for so long in so many styles as Ursula K. Le Guin." --Salon

"She never loses touch with her reverence for the immense what is." --Margaret Atwood

"There is no writer with an imagination as forceful and delicate as Le Guin's." --Grace Paley

Legendary author Ursula K. Le Guin was lauded by millions for her ground- breaking science fiction novels, but she began as a poet, and wrote across genres for her entire career. In this clarifying and sublime collection--completed shortly before her death in 2018--Le Guin is unflinching in the face of mor- tality, and full of wonder for the mysteries beyond. Redolent of the lush natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest, with rich sounds playfully echoing myth and nursery rhyme, Le Guin bookends a long, daring, and prolific career.

From "How it Seems to Me"

In the vast abyss before time, self is not, and soul commingles
with mist, and rock, and light. In time, soul brings the misty self to be.
Then slow time hardens self to stone while ever lightening the soul,
till soul can loose its hold of self . . .

Ursula K. Le Guin is the author of over sixty novels, short fiction works, translations, and volumes of poetry, including the acclaimed novels The Left Hand of Darkness and The Dispossessed. Her books continue to sell millions of copies worldwide. Le Guin died in 2018 in her home in Portland, Oregon.

About this title

About the Author

Ursula K. Le Guin is the author of over 60 novels, short fiction works, translations, and volumes of poetry. She is known mostly for her works of science fiction and fantasy, including the acclaimed novels The Left Hand of Darkness, and The Dispossessed. Le Guin is the recipient of numerous awards and honors, and her books continue to sell millions of copies worldwide. An author of singular imagination and resolve, Le Guin died in 2018 in her home in Portland, Oregon.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Words for the Dead Mouse my cat killedgrey scrap in a dustpancarried to the trash To your soul I say: With none to hide fromrun now, dancewithin the wallsof the great house And to your body: Inside the bodyof the great earthin unbounded beingbe stillMcCoy Creek: Cattle Long after sunset the afterlightglows warm along the rimrock.A wind down off the mountainblows soft, a little chill.I’ve come to love the quiet soundcattle make cropping short grass.Day and night are much the sameto them in the pastures of summer,cows and calves, they crop and pullwith that steady, comfortable soundas the light in the rimrock and the skydims away slowly. Now no wind.I don’t know if cattle see the stars,but all night long they grazeand walk and stand in the calmlight that has no shadows.McCoy Creek: Wind The wind beats on the drumsof my ears and overturns the chairs,blowing out of all the yearswe’ve come here, been here. The bird that says tzeep says tzeep.Dry pods on the old honeylocust rattle.Barbed wire draws straggling lines betweenus and distant cattle.Rocking like little white sailboatstwo hens cross the footbridge. Behind me and before methe basalt ridges are silentas the air is silent whenthe wind for a moment ceases.SIX QUATRAINS Autumn gold of amberred of emberbrown of umberall September McCoy Creek Over the bright shallowsnow no flights of swallows.Leaves of the sheltering willowdangle thin and yellow. October At four in the morning the west windmoved in the leaves of the beech treewith a long rush and patter of water,first wave of the dark tide coming in. Solstice On the longest night of all the yearin the forests up the hill,the little owl spoke soft and clearto bid the night be longer still. The Winds of May are soft and restlessin their leafy garmentsthat rustle and swaymaking every moment movement Hail The dogwood cowered under the thunderand the lilacs burned like light itselfagainst the storm-black sky until the hailwhitened the grass with petals.Come to Dust Spirit, rehearse the journeys of the bodythat are to come, the motionsof the matter that held you. Rise up in the smoke of palo santo.Fall to the earth in the falling rain.Sink in, sink down to the farthest roots.Mount slowly in the rising sapto the branches, the crown, the leaf-tips.Come down to earth as leaves in autumnto lie in the patient rot of winter.Rise again in spring’s green fountains.Drift in sunlight with the sacred pollento fall in blessing. All earth’s dusthas been life, held soul, is holy. Lullaby where’s my little fleeting cata year a year an hour a daywhere’s my little girl atfleeting away sleeping awayfound the way clear awaynowhere far nowhere neara day a day an hour a yearTo the Rain Mother rain, manifold, measureless,falling on fallow, on field and forest,on house-roof, low hovel, high tower, downwelling waters all-washing, widerthan cities, softer than sisterhood, vasterthan countrysides, calming, recalling:return to us, teaching our troubledsouls in your ceaseless descentto fall, to be fellow, to feel to the root,to sink in, to heal, to sweeten the sea.The Fine Arts Judging beauty, which is keenest,Eye or heart or mind or penis?Lust is blindest, feeling kindest,Sight is strongest, thought goes wrongest.An Autumn Readingfor Andrea The poet read in the Scholar’s Roomin the Chinese garden, her wordshalf heard in rush and crash of rainon formal ponds and pavements,like verses cut in an old stoneblurred by moss and lichen.Under the downpour purplechrysanthemums nodded in silence.A Cento of Scientists (Alternating quotations from Charles Darwin, Galileo Galilei, and Giordano Bruno) There is grandeurThe sun with all the circling planets it sustainsGod is glorified and the greatness of his kingdom made manifestin this view of lifethe sun with all the circling planets yetglorified not in one but in countless sunsfrom so simple a beginning endless formsthe sun with all the planets it sustains yet can ripen a bunch of grapesnot in a single earth, a single world, but in a thousand thousandendless forms most beautiful and most wonderfulthe sun can ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to donot in a single world but in a thousand thousand, an infinity of worldsendless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been and are being evolvedas if it had nothing else in the universe to doAll things are in the universe, and the universe is in all things, we in it and it in usThere is grandeur in this view of lifeHow it Seems to Me In the vast abyss before time, selfis not, and soul commingleswith mist, and rock, and light. In time,soul brings the misty self to be.Then slow time hardens self to stonewhile ever lightening the soul,till soul can loose its hold of selfand both are free and can returnto vastness and dissolve in light,the long light after time.

Edition details

• Publisher: Copper Canyon Press,U.S.
• Publication date: 2018
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1556595387
• ISBN 13: 9781556595387
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 100