> Hello James,
              Thanks for your comments. I think you´ve put your finger on the main difficulty with this one and the solution might be to try removing all reference to Linna and let the poem stand on its own so to speak.



Best wishes,    Mike


> 
> Hi Mike,
> My initial reaction here is that this is competent verse though as I have no 
> familiarity with Vaino Linna some things are lost to me. I think this tends 
> to be a problem with this kind of writing. I'd had this crit when I've 
> written about visual art that others have not seen. There must be a way to 
> overcome the problem. Maybe by no using realism, which I've tried wth 
> success, maybe taking this from another obtuse angle might say more to the 
> reader. Just a thought. Hope it helps.
> 
> 
> 
> bw
> James
> 
> 
> 
> 
> >From: Mike Horwood <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: new sub: On reading Väinö Linna
> >Date: Tue, 16 Nov 2004 19:10:21 +0200
> >
> >The Finnish novelist, Väinö Linna (1920-1992), wrote historical novels in 
> >the realist tradition. His best-known works are the trilogy, Under The 
> >North Star, which describes events in Finland from the 1880s to 1950s and 
> >how these affect the lives of a group of characters in a village in the 
> >south of the country, and The Unknown Soldier, which describes the 
> >experiences of a machine gun company during the Continuation War of 1944 
> >against Russia.
> >
> >
> >On Reading Väinö Linna
> >
> >Dusty roads disappear between trees.
> >Fields yellow under the sun
> >where the scythe´s blade once swung
> >from Nordic dawn till sundown.
> >
> >The illumination of each tree, the mower´s
> >unsteady foot on the threshold,
> >light cast on each door jamb, range
> >and outhouse, the retreat of snow
> >
> >across the courtyard in spring;
> >yes, we have stumbled among
> >these very things, clumsy
> >as a horse that hauls logs through bog.
> >
> >Boulders stand beside ditches
> >with the clarity of sunlight
> >catching birch leaves and the weight
> >of words cut into stone.
> >
> >There are days when wind crashes
> >through branches and the lake
> >is the colour of lead when we take
> >water for washing, but the land is at peace.
> >
> >The wooden walls of the crofter´s cottage
> >have greyed with age. These beams
> >have settled and seem permanent now.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >Mike
>