Dylan Thomas' collection of love letters is an intensely personal look at this poets life. I remember first trying to read a book of Thomas' poems when I was about 10 years old. I'd found a copy of his poems in my Dad's bookshelf (he had several books by Thomas), and I tried to read through some of the poems. I remember not being able to understand most of them - the metaphorical language was too hard for to grasp, I even wondered at the time if it was meant to make sense, or if perhaps Mr Dylan Thomas was mad.
Anyway, his love letters are beautiful. The first few, written when he was younger are more forced and not as impressive language-wise. You definitely see a progression in him as a writer.
As a man he is fairly typical - trying to maintain as many relationships with as many beautiful women as he can at any one time. You end up feeling sad for him, as you read about how he's essentially drinking himself to death. It's also sad to see how much time and energy he expends worrying about reviews of his and other people's poetry. Much of it seems petty and needy. Indeed I think in his personal life he was quite a petty and needy man.
Not a bad read, but not as good as his poetry (and not supposed to be).
Monday, February 25, 2008
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