Yehuda Amichai is the kind of poet whose words and images you remember at the oddest times. He sticks to your mind - maybe because the quiet force with which he speaks of shadow and light, places and times, seasons and colors, longing and joy. Ever-present in his work are the themes of love, loss, and the harsh reality of war, but the effect is never one of violence - Amichai's poems have always made me feel peaceful and strangely contented. He is a poet for empathizing with. After reading him I feel as if I had taken a long walk on a sunny afternoon in the quiet neighborhood that I love. Excuse me for the ranting, but I can find no better way to express it. His Jerusalem emerges both as a real - and beautiful - city, and as an enchanted place where (like in the old fairytales) nothing is casual or common. He writes in the way I myself would like to write.

Yehuda Amichai's poetry is so close to the marrow of grief andlove and hope and longing that when you put down this book, you willhave loved and lost and wept with him. The rooms he has inhabited will be your rooms. And maybe, just maybe, is she isn't already, the city Yerushalayim will be your city as well. Buy this book...

Yehuda Amichai is quite probably one of the last warrior poets. He is a veteran of three wars and has tasted the bitter fruit of human suffering and the loss of love. His knack for expounding both lament and spiritual awareness through his knowledge of the Tanakh are by all means, impressive. This book is a good introduction to some of his very straight forward and powerful work. His poems on war are meditations in remembering, litany's for a time gone by and not to be forgotten. Amichai fondles the human heart flwalessly, he coaxes it open with his soft words, there is nothing brash about his verse, it is gentle, like the soldier who picks up a refuge child in the field, softly so as not to impart the violence in his hands to the child now entering his embrace. A must read for any lover of poetry

Yehuda Amichai, on the one hand an Isreali soldier, and, on the other hand a lyric poet, expressed his own voice in his psalm-like poems. He remained the identity as an Isreali and a patriot too, but he won't hide up his personal voice, expecially his hatred towards war. In some of his poems, we can even hear his innerkmost soliliquy. The translation version of Stephen Mitchell and Chana Bloch is unquestionably the best one, which remains vitality of the original version.

Reading Yehuda Amichai in Hebrew is wonderful. His sense of word is matched only by the way in which his whimsy and depth reflect Israel. But translations in English have been so bad that the translators, editors, and publishers of such editions should probably be exiled to a supermarket in the suburbs where they are forced to listen to Rod McKuen all day. This, on the other hand, is poetry. I attribute the success of this volume to the fact that both Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell, the translators, are such outstanding poets and translators in their own rights. A few of my favorite poems are missing, but so many wonderful ones are here; reading them in this English is like discovering them all over again, and discovered how good he is all over again.

Compared to his earlier work, this is a disappointment. Themes which worked extraordinarily well in the past seem flat here. Anyone who has really read Amichai will understand this. The few good pieces presented here pale in comparison to those which may one day win Amichai a Nobel Prize, those tight, wonderfully written pieces which are memorable without effort. Unfortunately, there is not a line in this work which stands out. In this work Amichai is very reflective. He is reviewing his life, and though there are moments which seem tender it is a tenderness without the caress. A thoughtful work which does not leave one thinking very long. If you want to experience Amichai, read any of his earlier works, love poems etc. Or his last best book from 1989 "Gam ha-Egruf..."(In English, "Even the fist was once an open hand with fingers"). This work relies more on the great author's name to sell it then the quality of the work within. His earlier work sells itself easily because it was great, in and of itself.

This, the final of Yehuda Amichai's works, lays to rest a life and career memorable to no end. Open Closed Open is about the Israel that is and has been -- tensions that have not faded -- complexities that have not eroded -- and loves that remain in spite of it all. It is, in every sense, a book of poetry, of poetics unequalled. Please read Open Closed Open.

Amichai's poetry, and especially this book, is the pristine instance of a Jewish literature. To Jews, or those interested in Jewish culture, Amichai's symbols and meditations will strike a profound chord, as he draws on Jewish culture--from Abraham to modernity--to create a comprehensive poetic representation of a people's collective conscience.

However, even those with little interest in Jewish culture should be able to appreciate this work, as Amichai's commentary on the ephemerality of life, the beauty of love and the capriciousness of the world bears a profound appeal to all readers. I would recommend this book as a prime example of how beautiful modern poetry can be. Amichai takes ancient symbols and historical allusions, fits them into a uniquely modern meditation, and the result is breathtaking.

first of all, let me emphasize that yehuda amichai's poetry is-in my modest opinion-almost peerless. only neruda, qabbani and hikmet are comparable. amichai often makes me cry with only two or three lines. as soon as i read about this book, i was very enthusiastic and wanted to buy it at once. as a refugee who spent 7 years in germany and a middle east studies major, i was convinced that the novel would touch me emotionally and teach me a lot about coping with memories and pain. however, i felt the book was quite devoid of originality and freshness. the first-person-narrator was rather convincing, but the love story was highly conventional and there was absolutely nothing in patricia's character that would provoke such lyrical outbursts. i felt guilty for not appreciating it, especially since it seems to be autobiographic, echoing several of his poems. i am afraid that the book even spoiled much of his poetry for me, destroying the simplicity and the timelessness i had deeply admired.