 ...And deep in my bowels the shit of regret (from early version of "The Book of Longing") Reviews & Articles 38) Scottish Daily Express, November 3, 2006 |
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen Viking L16.99 by Duncan Fallowell Leonard Cohen is a man of mystery and the great mystery surrounding him is how someone even more off-putting than Tom Waits could become an enduring success. He was born in Canada in 1934 and his writing career began before the hippies but it was the love generation which embraced him as a singer-songwriter. He did have one of the most original sounds around - and yet I never heard of anyone who didn't giggle when the Cohen drone came on, except the Prince of Wales who is said to be a great and solemn fan. In these new poems, nothings changed. Zen. Sandals. Free love. Vanity posing as modesty. Sanctimoniousness posing as curiosity. But mainly an all-consuming narcissism. The first word of the first line of the first poem is "I" and that is where we stay for the hundreds of lines which follow. Many of the poems are about the women he's loved but they don't appear as individuals. It's all about what Cohen feels as he slobbers or fails to slobber over a thing called woman. If it's not woman, it's religion - or "G-d" as he spells it. And when it comes to soft-core religious piffle, the man has a few rivals. Then there are the drawings, dozens of them flickering among the poems. They are, of course, by Cohen and therefore most of them are self-portraits. Usually, he looks as miserable as hell. So it comes as no surprise to discover that among the various routes to enlightenment he's tried is the Prozac one. Of course it failed. Has nobody ever told him the truth? Len, stop mumbling in the mirror. But there's something fatal about going on stage. One sees it so often with pop stars who also try to be actors, writers, painters or anything else - the hunger for having the ego fed is like napalm in a garden. It destroys everything. As song lyrics, many of these poems might work well. But alone, naked on the page, all they demonstrate is an unremitting self-regard. He almost admits it: "I am one of the fakes." The book's title is just a fancy way of saying "I want". Which says it all. Contributed & retyped by Ronnie (mcbride_r) @ Leonard Cohen Forum ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back to Reviews & Articles. Welcome | Index | Works by Leonard Cohen | Reviews & Articles | Index of Titles / drawings, first lines & online poems | e-card | Credits & Thanks |
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