If you have read any of his books, you know that his pen oozes incredibly hilarious humor. Oleg Medvedkov is the author of Take a Break & Have a Laugh Series. Passionate Mind-Control Worms, Cool Cats of Fortune, The Art of Getting a Sandwich and more. Just this morning he posted this review for Home:
A fine book for those who enjoy more elegant things in life,December 7, 2012
I admit, this is only an opinion of a man who abandoned poetry long time ago in order to write silly jokes and, what one could only hope, snappy punchlines. Those with more artistic souls would probably have a much better definition of what the poetry is for them, with finer words inserted in all the strategically correct places to maximize the emotional and intellectual impact. If I had that talent, I'd still be a poet. Instead, I am reduced to being a critic of the works of others. Let's see how it works out.
I liked this piece, it's called "This is the Place":
This is the place where he put pen to paper...
But clung to the wall, the shelves are now bare
All that remains of his words is but vapor
All you can spot is but a dent in his chair
Simple words, tight syllabic rhyme. The timing of the second line is standing out and creates the feeling of being unsettled and expectation of something looming just beyond the wall. Second stanza continues in the same way but the third and fourth stanzas switch to two and two type of rhyme without the emphasis:
He used to sit here, here he would stare
Years come, years go, an old clock keeping score,
He would scribble his notes, crumple them in despair
Waiting for his savior-- but locking that door
The poem above was written by Uvi Poznansky. Now a sample of the poem by her father, Zeev Kachel:
My first art teacher was the chill
The chill that painted forests and cities
Across my window pane, with icicles and frost
Please keep in mind, this is a translation. It's written in an expressive tradition of the Eastern European school and reminds me slightly of the later poetry of Alexander Blok. Another fine example:
I'm a different man today.
Not the one you know
You can come back
If you will.
I'm a different man today, without a hat I go
But in my heart-- there's still.
I'm a different man.
The splattered rhyme and short lines accentuate the impact of these simple words. I rather like it. I think that being a guy, I respond more to the power of the works of Zeev Kachel. Of course, Uvi Poznansky was the one who translated them so she gets just as much credit here.
There are also a few short stories written by Uvi. Her prose is written in high Literary writing style, present tense and all the inner explorations of the characters one could hope for. I would so wish this author would try to write something like a detective novel, or perhaps a romantic story. Letting her hair down and not worrying about arranging her sentence in a perfect order to create the word picture that is as esthetically pleasing to look at as it sounds... Perhaps then we could see what Uvi Poznansky can really do with her prose. Nothing against any of the pieces here, they are all fine bits of writing; just an idle curiosity of a book critic who is wondering what else this author is capable of.
This is a fine book for those of us who do enjoy more elegant things in life. The cover art alone is probably worth the price of admission.
A fine book for those who enjoy more elegant things in life,
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Home (Kindle Edition)
I admit, this is only an opinion of a man who abandoned poetry long time ago in order to write silly jokes and, what one could only hope, snappy punchlines. Those with more artistic souls would probably have a much better definition of what the poetry is for them, with finer words inserted in all the strategically correct places to maximize the emotional and intellectual impact. If I had that talent, I'd still be a poet. Instead, I am reduced to being a critic of the works of others. Let's see how it works out.I liked this piece, it's called "This is the Place":
This is the place where he put pen to paper...
But clung to the wall, the shelves are now bare
All that remains of his words is but vapor
All you can spot is but a dent in his chair
Simple words, tight syllabic rhyme. The timing of the second line is standing out and creates the feeling of being unsettled and expectation of something looming just beyond the wall. Second stanza continues in the same way but the third and fourth stanzas switch to two and two type of rhyme without the emphasis:
He used to sit here, here he would stare
Years come, years go, an old clock keeping score,
He would scribble his notes, crumple them in despair
Waiting for his savior-- but locking that door
The poem above was written by Uvi Poznansky. Now a sample of the poem by her father, Zeev Kachel:
My first art teacher was the chill
The chill that painted forests and cities
Across my window pane, with icicles and frost
Please keep in mind, this is a translation. It's written in an expressive tradition of the Eastern European school and reminds me slightly of the later poetry of Alexander Blok. Another fine example:
I'm a different man today.
Not the one you know
You can come back
If you will.
I'm a different man today, without a hat I go
But in my heart-- there's still.
I'm a different man.
The splattered rhyme and short lines accentuate the impact of these simple words. I rather like it. I think that being a guy, I respond more to the power of the works of Zeev Kachel. Of course, Uvi Poznansky was the one who translated them so she gets just as much credit here.
There are also a few short stories written by Uvi. Her prose is written in high Literary writing style, present tense and all the inner explorations of the characters one could hope for. I would so wish this author would try to write something like a detective novel, or perhaps a romantic story. Letting her hair down and not worrying about arranging her sentence in a perfect order to create the word picture that is as esthetically pleasing to look at as it sounds... Perhaps then we could see what Uvi Poznansky can really do with her prose. Nothing against any of the pieces here, they are all fine bits of writing; just an idle curiosity of a book critic who is wondering what else this author is capable of.
This is a fine book for those of us who do enjoy more elegant things in life. The cover art alone is probably worth the price of admission.
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