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Swoop: Poems
Winner of the Emily Dickinson First Book Award from the Poetry Foundation
O ludicrous swoon, O blind hind-sight,
O torching of bridges and blood boiled white,
O sparrow, and arrow, and hell below,
O, she says, because she loves to say O.
—from “O, She Says”
Swoop is a sonically audacious first book, a ringing up and down the musical scales. Hailey Leithauser’s resplendent array of forms—from traditional verse to more fragmented, onrushing experiments—takes the reader to the heights of lyricism. In these poems, sharp objects speak for themselves, sex is taken up alfresco (among other things), an enigmatic question is posed from To Have and Have Not, and the song of a mockingbird drives us out of bed. A paean to excess, Swoop is a virtuosic and exhilarating debut.
O ludicrous swoon, O blind hind-sight,
O torching of bridges and blood boiled white,
O sparrow, and arrow, and hell below,
O, she says, because she loves to say O.
—from “O, She Says”
Swoop is a sonically audacious first book, a ringing up and down the musical scales. Hailey Leithauser’s resplendent array of forms—from traditional verse to more fragmented, onrushing experiments—takes the reader to the heights of lyricism. In these poems, sharp objects speak for themselves, sex is taken up alfresco (among other things), an enigmatic question is posed from To Have and Have Not, and the song of a mockingbird drives us out of bed. A paean to excess, Swoop is a virtuosic and exhilarating debut.
- GenresPoetryFemale Authors
80 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
February 25, 2016
I first read Hailey Leithauser at least 10 years ago in some magazine or other and I loved her. Above all she’s a poet of sound, volleying sonics, rhyme and wonderful word choices at you while keeping her subjects simple and focused. It’s not intellectual; it’s fun. At the time, I searched in vain for a book but she didn’t have one, and it wasn’t easy to find much online. Luckily, Swoop was published in 2012 by Graywolf, and Leithauser won the Emily Dickinson prize for first book.
All that said, I admit she’s a poet best drunk in sips. I found reading her in large doses a bit taxing and, if anything, it showed her weaknesses. It’s better to be served up a poem or two at a time, perhaps amid heavy poetry that leaves you in need of relief.
Here is the beginning of “Veritas Interruptus,” which one must admit is delightful:
She said:
“What
the unstoppered
id did I’d like
to unburden,
but not to regret, and not
undetermine,
for sin is most sweet
when wet
on the breath,
still fresh on the tongue,
still strong in
the lungs ...”
One of my favorite poems in the book was Schadenfreude, which you can read here: http://womensvoicesforchange.org/poet...
My least favorite poems in this book were part of series called “From the Grandiloquent Dictionary,” apparently an online dictionary of obscure words. Each poem is a grouping of three words, each one “defined” with a short verse. Some of the words you can guess at, like ‘Venusaphobia,’ but others I found difficult to dance to without a starting point. For example:
Judder
When judd gives a shudder, like a tractor
more quaint than intact, like lapsed reactors,
pipes worn and contorted, a Toyota
that’s done for, or outdated aorta.
After I finished this earlier this month (and didn’t review it right off because of life’s many other interruptions), I’ve gone back and dipped into it now and confess I am very glad to have it, and happy that Leithauser finally got her own, much deserved book.
All that said, I admit she’s a poet best drunk in sips. I found reading her in large doses a bit taxing and, if anything, it showed her weaknesses. It’s better to be served up a poem or two at a time, perhaps amid heavy poetry that leaves you in need of relief.
Here is the beginning of “Veritas Interruptus,” which one must admit is delightful:
She said:
“What
the unstoppered
id did I’d like
to unburden,
but not to regret, and not
undetermine,
for sin is most sweet
when wet
on the breath,
still fresh on the tongue,
still strong in
the lungs ...”
One of my favorite poems in the book was Schadenfreude, which you can read here: http://womensvoicesforchange.org/poet...
My least favorite poems in this book were part of series called “From the Grandiloquent Dictionary,” apparently an online dictionary of obscure words. Each poem is a grouping of three words, each one “defined” with a short verse. Some of the words you can guess at, like ‘Venusaphobia,’ but others I found difficult to dance to without a starting point. For example:
Judder
When judd gives a shudder, like a tractor
more quaint than intact, like lapsed reactors,
pipes worn and contorted, a Toyota
that’s done for, or outdated aorta.
After I finished this earlier this month (and didn’t review it right off because of life’s many other interruptions), I’ve gone back and dipped into it now and confess I am very glad to have it, and happy that Leithauser finally got her own, much deserved book.
August 15, 2017
Wordplay at its finest. I loved this collection of poems, chiefly for Leithauser's use of "mellifluous" and "coagulate" in one sentence. Not easily done, but L is up for it. I want to give an example of her prowess, but where to start?!!
O, here. (Another reason to admire her - the generous use of "O".)
In Praise of Flattery
Syrupy,
purplish,
prose,
O
enter me
here;
pour more
and more
sugar into
my titillated,
palliated,
prostitute ear.
Drench and
immerse
my unsweetened
ego,
slather with honey
my vinegary
psyche.
Validate my
external
eternally,
and douse
the internal
with similar
treacle
to urge me
dive deep and drown
in word nectar.
Hailey Leithauser
O, here. (Another reason to admire her - the generous use of "O".)
In Praise of Flattery
Syrupy,
purplish,
prose,
O
enter me
here;
pour more
and more
sugar into
my titillated,
palliated,
prostitute ear.
Drench and
immerse
my unsweetened
ego,
slather with honey
my vinegary
psyche.
Validate my
external
eternally,
and douse
the internal
with similar
treacle
to urge me
dive deep and drown
in word nectar.
Hailey Leithauser
October 31, 2013
Read as a first reads selection
This was a joy to read! This book is the most fun anyone has had with words since Dr. Seuss! Leithauser obviously has a true love for language and the sounds of words, and is a master of alliteration, rhyme, and beat. A fantastic debut! I cannot wait for her next collection.
This was a joy to read! This book is the most fun anyone has had with words since Dr. Seuss! Leithauser obviously has a true love for language and the sounds of words, and is a master of alliteration, rhyme, and beat. A fantastic debut! I cannot wait for her next collection.
October 25, 2013
Hailey Leithauser is a virtuoso of the iambic pentameter, albeit she cuts it up and presents it in various different guises rather than giving us traditional English sonnets. (But I'd hazard to bet she's written more than her fair share of sonnets before she arrived at a more streamlined, jazzed-up variant of the sonnet she writes more or less throughout this book.) And her way with words is truly a talent -- you can feel her excitement of linking sounds with other sounds in every line. Relying less on full-stop end rhymes, her poems are propelled by internal and near rhymes that start and end every poem in full gallop. When it comes to wringing a strong rhythm and music from her poems, she's good, really good.
I'm less impressed by her subject matter, I'm afraid; or, at least, the subject matter's compatibility with her style. Throughout reading the volume, I couldn't get the painting of "Ophelia," by Sir John Everett Millais out of my head. Why was this? I think it's because although the music of her poems display a full-throated virtuosic verve and lushness (like his painting), her subject matter and recurring tone is the state of being jilted, slightly embittered, let down. It's such an odd tension having the music of the poems be practically jubilant at every turn while the subject matter of the poems are about feeling bitterly jilted and cut off (poems about scythes,guillotines, loneliness); here's an example:
"O Sorrow, O Brother"
O Sorrow, O Brother, a lover
who loved her
has grown weary of her,
has sloughed her and snubbed her
and washed his hand
of her,
so she's sticking a pin, again and again
in a fiendish maneuver,
a re-voodoo do-over,
like a perfected,
known sin
into an intricate doll,
its red paper, rather small
heart
and all of its parts, its toes
and its kidneys,
its spleen and its pinkies,
the knees and the jigglies; she's sticking
and sticking
and all the while thinking
and smiling while thinking
of how much it must hurt him
to be pricked by her pin,
to be hung by his thumbs
in the spin of her brain; thinking
and thinking with unended
unblinking, unbended
immersion,
of the lover
who loved her,
and grew weary
of her.
It's a good poem, don't get me wrong (one of the best in the book, in my opinion). I guess the only reservation I have about it is how it wears its theme so lightly but so insistently--all the run-on eddies of this sentence-poem never take a moment to stop and sob; or take a deep breath and let the heartache simply -- ache. Leithauser is obviously an incredibly bright woman, but I think her brightness often outshines and obscures the emotional landscapes of the subjects she's writing about (the alternative Zen subject/motifs included). To be fair to her, for all I know she really does know something about being dejected and jilted, about being bitterly disappointed; it's just that her poetic style doesn't capture that so well for me (in a way, say, that an Edna St. Vincent Millay or an A.E. Houseman so effortlessly accomplish capturing bitter disappoint in their poems.) Sometimes a broken heart will crack the rhythm of a finely structured song and make it all the more powerful for that (think of practically any Billy Holliday performance). Heather McHugh's and Alice Fulton's poems (especially their early stuff) often leave me with the same impression: they just seem too smart for their own good. Brings to mind the conversation between Freud and James Joyce about Joyce's daughter suffering mental illness; Freud remarked that one symptom of her illness was her incessant punning. Joyce said, "but I pun too." "Yes," replied Freud, "but you're a deep-sea diver; she's drowning." (I think I'm recalling this episode correctly, but if not I trust the point is at least clear.)
I hope this short review doesn't give anyone who might read it the wrong impression -- I don't think Leithauser is drowning by any means. If anything, I closed the book thinking, "well, Ophelia maybe with her madly compelling songs that actually make a lot of sense -- but in the end, an Ophelia with a sensible job to go to rather than a nunnery." The poet that I ultimately kept associating Leithauser with: Ogden Nash! He has a smiliar galloping, fun-loving embrace of rhythm and rhyme and risks creating some outlandish English to make a whole lot of sense. I'm going to be watching out for Leithauser's future work, and I hope she gets herself more comfortably situated with themes that feel more complemented by her style rather than sometimes at odds with it. (If I could, I'd give this 4 and 1/2 stars for its audacious style, and 3 and 1/2 stars for its sometimes repetitious thematic content.)
I'm less impressed by her subject matter, I'm afraid; or, at least, the subject matter's compatibility with her style. Throughout reading the volume, I couldn't get the painting of "Ophelia," by Sir John Everett Millais out of my head. Why was this? I think it's because although the music of her poems display a full-throated virtuosic verve and lushness (like his painting), her subject matter and recurring tone is the state of being jilted, slightly embittered, let down. It's such an odd tension having the music of the poems be practically jubilant at every turn while the subject matter of the poems are about feeling bitterly jilted and cut off (poems about scythes,guillotines, loneliness); here's an example:
"O Sorrow, O Brother"
O Sorrow, O Brother, a lover
who loved her
has grown weary of her,
has sloughed her and snubbed her
and washed his hand
of her,
so she's sticking a pin, again and again
in a fiendish maneuver,
a re-voodoo do-over,
like a perfected,
known sin
into an intricate doll,
its red paper, rather small
heart
and all of its parts, its toes
and its kidneys,
its spleen and its pinkies,
the knees and the jigglies; she's sticking
and sticking
and all the while thinking
and smiling while thinking
of how much it must hurt him
to be pricked by her pin,
to be hung by his thumbs
in the spin of her brain; thinking
and thinking with unended
unblinking, unbended
immersion,
of the lover
who loved her,
and grew weary
of her.
It's a good poem, don't get me wrong (one of the best in the book, in my opinion). I guess the only reservation I have about it is how it wears its theme so lightly but so insistently--all the run-on eddies of this sentence-poem never take a moment to stop and sob; or take a deep breath and let the heartache simply -- ache. Leithauser is obviously an incredibly bright woman, but I think her brightness often outshines and obscures the emotional landscapes of the subjects she's writing about (the alternative Zen subject/motifs included). To be fair to her, for all I know she really does know something about being dejected and jilted, about being bitterly disappointed; it's just that her poetic style doesn't capture that so well for me (in a way, say, that an Edna St. Vincent Millay or an A.E. Houseman so effortlessly accomplish capturing bitter disappoint in their poems.) Sometimes a broken heart will crack the rhythm of a finely structured song and make it all the more powerful for that (think of practically any Billy Holliday performance). Heather McHugh's and Alice Fulton's poems (especially their early stuff) often leave me with the same impression: they just seem too smart for their own good. Brings to mind the conversation between Freud and James Joyce about Joyce's daughter suffering mental illness; Freud remarked that one symptom of her illness was her incessant punning. Joyce said, "but I pun too." "Yes," replied Freud, "but you're a deep-sea diver; she's drowning." (I think I'm recalling this episode correctly, but if not I trust the point is at least clear.)
I hope this short review doesn't give anyone who might read it the wrong impression -- I don't think Leithauser is drowning by any means. If anything, I closed the book thinking, "well, Ophelia maybe with her madly compelling songs that actually make a lot of sense -- but in the end, an Ophelia with a sensible job to go to rather than a nunnery." The poet that I ultimately kept associating Leithauser with: Ogden Nash! He has a smiliar galloping, fun-loving embrace of rhythm and rhyme and risks creating some outlandish English to make a whole lot of sense. I'm going to be watching out for Leithauser's future work, and I hope she gets herself more comfortably situated with themes that feel more complemented by her style rather than sometimes at odds with it. (If I could, I'd give this 4 and 1/2 stars for its audacious style, and 3 and 1/2 stars for its sometimes repetitious thematic content.)
October 2, 2013
Good poetry is usually edifying, but it isn't always fun. I get the sense that this poet had a blast writing these poems, which take full advantage of word play, aggressive rhymes, and playful rhythms. In fact, I've never read another book quite like it.
November 9, 2022
I didn’t love every poem in this collection but I enjoyed reading them all. I was consistently captivated by the ways that leithauser plays with and manipulates language. this collection is I think a refutation of modern poetry’s frequent insistence on spareness and elegance – it is loud and lush and giddy and silly, while still maintaining a razor sharp linguistic precision and deliberate structure.
an example: leithauser fits a palindrome into almost every piece in this book. some are unremarkable (pot-top), some clearly contrived (oozy rat in a sanitary zoo), but some are genuinely charming (yawn a more roman way, naomi did I moan). is this kitschy? undeniably yes, but I think it works. the poems are so syncopated and sonic that the echoing sounds of the inverted words fit in instead of awkwardly sticking out.
an example: leithauser fits a palindrome into almost every piece in this book. some are unremarkable (pot-top), some clearly contrived (oozy rat in a sanitary zoo), but some are genuinely charming (yawn a more roman way, naomi did I moan). is this kitschy? undeniably yes, but I think it works. the poems are so syncopated and sonic that the echoing sounds of the inverted words fit in instead of awkwardly sticking out.
August 5, 2022
Unleash the excess!
Bring me cleavage and rumpage,
one heftable breast, then another,
a buttock untrussed
and rhapsodic for humage.
Begin the maneuvers,
purge girdles and covers; undress
all strumpets of frumpages
that revolt a fat lover. Release the noblesse,
the cankles and haunch, trot out the lumpage—
Deliver the flesh!
May 23, 2014
I was thrilled to read a first book by a woman author over the age of forty. No linguistic novice, Leithauser returned to writing poetry after devoting herself to a career as a librarian. Her dexterity with language and the breadth of her imagination swept me away. She sprinkles different series of poems throughout the book, such as her sex sonnets (her own variation on the sonnet form, reminiscent of Hopkins's truncated sonnet), metaphoric definitions of odd and rare words, and "if-it-could-speak" poems for objects. I'm going to try one of her definition poems for the fun of it.
December 27, 2013
The boat's still out on this one although I've given it 4 stars. This is because of the way Leithauser uses language. I know there is more to the poems than this though. She broaches important topics - sex, femaleness, environment - in her poems.
Leithauser is clever and breathes new life into old forms, but I sometimes want a more obvious glimpse of the voice behind the poems.
Leithauser is clever and breathes new life into old forms, but I sometimes want a more obvious glimpse of the voice behind the poems.
July 11, 2025
This book definitely deserves its Emily Dickinson First Book Award from the Poetry Foundation. Her word choices and subtle rhyme (so subtle it is hardly noticeable which is how I like rhyme) make a delicious combination. She writes about scythes and crowbars speaking and dictionaries that define non-existent words making them sound plausible. I highly recommend this book.
February 4, 2018
Clever poems with some gleaming language and alliteration.
July 3, 2018
Hailey Leithauser is one of my favorite poets, living and dead. I love her ear for rhythm, and the imminently relatable details of her poetry.
March 14, 2021
dive deep
and drown
in word nectar.
and drown
in word nectar.
May 15, 2015
Dr Seuss for the literary crowd; Sound with no fury; limericks without the bawdiness; inanimate objects dimly personified; a suburban novice rapper outtakes. How this won a major literary award makes me want to buy gold,live in a fortified bunker, save up canned food ,study Nostradamus and wait for the end of civilization. Other than that I highly recommend it
May 31, 2014
I felt like I was swinging around in these poems--the sounds! the rhythm! the play!
It would offer you sleep // without dream / in its keep in the field, // in its shed where the moon / lifts her slim drowsy // sword. ("Scythe")
Never one-volt love, nor even / lightning bolt's severe and clearer candle ("Sex Alfresco")
July 29, 2014
"Scythe" is my favorite
August 6, 2016
What a wonderfully wild ride. It took me a while to get on board, but once I did, I was there, like a rodeo cowboy. "Loneliness" nails it.
February 3, 2015
Found the meter and in-line rhymes challenging.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews