Such a deft hand. Sometimes i marvel at how a poet uses the same words we use every day - simple, ordinary words - and turns them into something marvelous. This collection seems soft and nostalgic, almost a commonplace book thematically reflecting upon the things he loves, remembers with clarity or half-remembers with feeling, and it almost feels as if he writes these moments unaware that we are watching. I enjoyed being pulled along for the ride and thoroughly loved this tender revelry.

My thanks to both NetGalley and the publisher Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, Knopf Poetry for an advanced copy of this collection of poems by the best-selling author of the The English Patient, discussing life, art, love and looking back at things one cannot change.

To paraphrase Pink Floyd, this laddie has never reckons on himself being a poet. I always feel awkward discussing poetry in that no matter how many times I have tried to educate myself on the functions and the forms of the medium, I know I am missing a lot. As I have become older I have decided to be more forgiving, a gift that takes many of us a lot of years to allow ourselves. I have come upon a simple rule for poetry. Did I enjoy it? Even if I don't grok everything the poet is going for, did I enjoy it? If yes, than share it with others. And with this collection I didn't just enjoy it, I took a lot more from it than I expected. A Year of Last Things: Poems by Michael Ondaatje author of The English Patient and Anil's Ghost, a favorite of mine is a collection of works about life, film, music, plays, old friends, lost loves, falling out of love, and remembering the past.

The poems seem a mix of autobiography, the lives of others, art, a little science, and a bit of nostalgia. Some poems seem to be working out things, a relationship gone wrong, or a trip across a continent with someone that one wants more from. Or is accepting less from the poet. There are many great lines. The poem definition has "[T]he census taker of birds who continues the medieval art of whistling, a line that I wrote down as a keeper, and also "[D]riven mad by a swan. I don't know why I enjoyed that but I am keeping that in my book of quotes. The poems range in familiar style to almost poem/essays. On Into the Past discusses the film La Jetée. Another discusses the movie If about an uprising in a English boarding school, and the horrors the writer and his classmates suffered under one teacher.

This is the third collection of poems Michael Ondaatje I have read, and I think this is my favorite. Looking at his books I am also surprised at how many I have read, and how many I really enjoyed. Ondaatje has a real gift for getting to things, showing what is real and what is not. Also Ondaatje is not afraid to admit to mistakes, in life, relationships and friendships, as shown here. There is a bit of melancholy, nostalgia about the adventures done, and how impossible they would be to do today. And there is a lot of humor, about these same experiences. Into the Past was probably my favorite, as I wrote earlier. I have loved the movie the poem discusses, Ondaatje encapsulates the story perfectly, and is able to inject a different view that I did not expect. And I liked the style the poem as essay, that he uses a few times. A collection that I know I will return to.

Recommended for fans of the author, one will enjoy the voice that comes across so clear in this collection. Also poetry fans will enjoy the writing and imagery, along with the experiments in style.

I am a fan of Ondaatje's poetry and this collection didn't disappoint. It felt like a late collection, a writer looking back over a life of loss, love's lost and gained. I liked the use of form here. Sometimes no punctuation, sometimes prose/essay forms. The forms of memory here reminded me of living in Bruno Schulz's thirteenth month.

I want to reread it. I find it incredibly difficult to connect thoughts on a first read of a volume of poetry. But I hope acknowledging the urge to reread says more than my meager lines here.

Poetry is so hard to rate. Therefore it’s only a personal opinion. There were poems here that were incredible, thoughtful and provoking. Moments where I underlined, reread, annotated and reflected. Then there were those I had a harder time connecting with. “Winchester House” which starts as a poem and then moves to prose I struggled to finish, but then “Estuaries” which is similar in format engaged me and may be one of my favorites in the collection.
The poetry itself is very referential to other works of art and moments in history and at times I felt like I was missing part of the story when reading. Reading the acknowledgments first may help with some of this if you like knowing the works that are being quoted/referenced.
Overall a pleasant reading experience that I took slow to appreciate fully.

Every now and then I read a book of poetry, but I really don’t know anything about poetry; I just know what moves me. I read A Year of Last Things: Poems because I’ve read, and admired, several of Michael Ondaatje’s novels, but this feels like an apples and oranges situation. Several of the poems in this collection did move me (at any rate, many stanzas did), but overall, I couldn’t say what even qualifies some of these entries as poetry (several look and read like prose: without line breaks, rhythm, or rhyme), so I’m satisfied to attribute any failure to click to my own shortcomings. I do admire the effort and am happy to have now sampled more of Ondaatje’s writing.

A stunning collection. Vivid, masterful poems. I really enjoyed this collection. Each poem felt like its own world: richly developed, with precise imagery, and a wandering through ideas. Really enjoyed this collection. I plan to preorder a hardcopy and reread slowly. Highly recommended.

I an ARC of this book via NetGalley. This collection of poems didn't work for me at all. By the end I felt like it was a bunch of word vomit. Everything felt clunky, it didn't feel cohesive at all. Not just as a collection, but even within some of the longer form poems, it felt like I was trying to follow a disjointed train of thought. Some poems also came across as almost name droppy or pretentious with the sheer number of references. I haven't read anything from this author before, and if this is their style then I think it's just really not for me.

Untrue and thoughtful verse from the author of The English Patient. I have enjoyed Michael Ondaatje’s prose and poetry in prior titles, and continue to enjoy his exploration of the human condition.

I was a big fan of The English Patient when I read it years ago as a teen, and I had no ideal that Ondaatje wrote poetry. I was delighted to find this out and to realize that I really enjoyed reading it. It was my first of his poetry books I've read but it won't be his last!

I can appreciate that poetry lands differently for folks, which is why I gave this collection of poems 3 stars.

Although Ondaatje is a well-known author, this is my first time reading his work. About 90% of his poems fell flat to me, but it might be because this collection contained more long-form poetry than I thought it would. There were lots of references that I didn’t fully understand so I ended up googling more often than not aka it was a painfully long process to get through this collection for me.

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC!

3 stars

I adore Ondaatje's novels, but this poetry collection just didn't work as well for me as I had hoped. Overall, the entries felt like an unusual combination of inaccessible and just more basic (colloquially) than I was expecting from a writer who has knocked my socks off repeatedly.

At the same time, the poem "November" is one I'll keep with me and put to good use for a long time. That one speaks to an experience that I expect many readers will connect with; I know I did.

I remain an avid fan of Ondaatje's novels, and despite my less than enthusiastic reaction to this collection, I will definitely give his poetry another shot.

I did not connect with this collection. I was interested and engaged with the first couple poems of the collection and I really enjoyed what I was reading. However, as the collection progressed I felt out of my depth. There were a lot of references to different writers/artists that I did not connect with or recognize and it hindered my ability to enjoy the poems. I think this particular book definitely has an audience out there, I just don’t believe I’m the right fit for it.

Michael Ondaatje has written several of my favorite novels….he is a master craftsman — his writing is gorgeous - poetic in nature - and literally one of our world’s most brilliant authors.

These poems ….filled with history, travel, memory, intimacy, love, death, longings, gatherings, nature, celebrations, farewells, confessions, wanderings, girlfriends, the “unavoidable times; the sixties”, tragedies, betrayals, dancing, music, scholars, poets, writers, writing, films, art, youth, overall nostalgia…..etc. . . are many things all at once …..tender & sweet, sad & truthful, spontaneous & intentional.

Each time I re-read one of the poems - I take away a new experience…..

Just beautiful!!!

Sharing a couple of highlights that spoke mountains to me:

“When you travel you step back from your own days, from the fragmented imperfect linearity of your time, writes Lucia Berlin. As when reading a novel. And it is also true as you gather distinct fragments you come upon from a remembrance, some of which could belong to another, during the hunt of your own story. As with photographs, the world is deliriously, random, inarticulate. You smell sawdust or hay, and it reminds you of a summer when you were twelve, or five . . .”

“everything described felt damaged” …..

“Memoirs of our youth, are nothing without some real clue or glance towards the truth”.

Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf for the ARC!

I loved this collection. I was reminded of poems by Li-Young Lee and Louise Glück—the way small moments become sacred if they are treated as such.

Intimacy is often built on imagined shared futures—the closeness afforded by co-creating the world. Michael Ondaatje's "A Year of Last Things" instead reflects on the intimacy of shared histories, both real and imagined.

The resulting poems are quiet as everything other than love becomes non-essential. Time is merely an approximation, and the fact of what happened matters less than its emotional truth. As such, eros hums just beneath the surface of every line, often in unexpected ways. These are some of the most romantic poems I’ve read in a long time. Consider, for example, the following stanza from “The Then”:

"All that history until we met
in furious chaos when I loved first
your face, then loved how you
had become what you were"

In the way that it’s impossible to fully understand home without traveling, the collection hones in on its intimacies by constantly expanding its globetrotting scope. The landscape becomes so cluttered with significant sites that the poems become displaced—they could only be a sort of dream. Similarly, the constant appearance of other artists and historical figures calls attention to the narrator’s preoccupation with memory. Who are these people apart from how they are remembered? Who are we aside from our relationships with others?

I think the following line from the prose poem “Winchester House” conveys the clearest picture of the book’s impetus:

"It was that further intimacy that comes with trusting a fiction, a non-personal truth, going towards what you do not yet know. You will not even remember writing it."

Ultimately, this is a collection that feels like someone quietly recalling their life while sharing stories on a porch. These are moments that have been told and re-told, and nothing is lost by re-mediating life through memory. Instead, it all becomes a little truer with each iteration.

Although I've never read any of Michael Ondaatje's novels, I know they're very famous and highly praised. So it's a little funny how out of *all* the novels he's written, the first thing I've ever read from him is this poetry collection.

Overall, I adore this collection. The opening poems "Lock," "Definition," and "5 A.M" are stunning. We follow Ondaatje through his youth and through his travels, through the poems he half remembers and through the people he fell in love with. There is a nostaglic air to everything, making the whole collection seem like a wise old man telling stories about his well-lived life. However, some of the poems were clunky, perhaps due to Ondaatje's relative inexeperience to this form of writing. A wonderful, tender read nonetheless.

Thank you to NetGalley and Knopf for my eARC. All thoughts were my own.

Michael Ondaatje is one of my immediate read authors - anything he writes, I will read. This latest collection of poetry does not disappoint, and it was a gentle, nostalgic read. My immediate thoughts after finishing the book, was this felt like an archive of art and memory. (Although one can argue perhaps that is just what an archive is). The poems flow together like the streams, estuaries, and rivers he frequently evokes in this collection. Not only do these poems speak about a journey into the past and memory, but also journey across the globe from Japan, England, Sri Lanka, to the Holland Tunnel in New York and the bus to Fez. Although there is the theme of loss and death and moving beyond, I felt grounded and directed with each poem. Ondaatje guides through his poems by invoking and interspersing his own poems with references to films, music, and other writers. He writes within a larger tradition that traces back thousands of years, his language an echo of the language of others.
I thought this collection to be stunning and provocative in a tender way, imbued with a sense of time and memory and nostalgia. There is a sense of tenderness towards the pass, but also a fear and longing for it. As with his many other wonderful works, this did not disappoint.

From one of the most influential writers of his generation, a surprising poetry collection about memory, history, and the act of looking back.

There were pieces of this collection that I found gorgeous and quite emotionally charged. There were others (enough to outweigh the good) that felt clunky. The prose was so thick, it felt like chewing on a fatty piece of steak that could never be fully digested.

I felt that it was too flowery where it didn't need to be in places. There were also parts that were so uniquely written they immediately evoked feeling.