Vlad Zelenshi

Hey man, why no Ukrainian people in your books? What wrong with us?

You no like green round top tee shirts?

Give me money from your book ok and I buy new T Shirt and drones.

Vlad

Meehole Martin FF/FG

How’s the boy? I’m sending you back your book, The Inconvenient Toes.

Let me perfectly clear, going forward, as the future president of Ireland I can’t accept gifts.

Also, there are absolutely no Cork people in this book. What are you at, going forward?

Elon Muskcadet

Alright man, I know you don’t drive electric and you are a V12 petrolhead, but I’m in the space business—and you’re a real spacer with some of the wild stuff you’re writing. Want to hang out and do some mushrooms or Ket, if that's your bag?

Rabbi Benjy Nettleayou

Hey, we’re running low on missiles and drones here. The generals are leaning toward a psychological warfare approach with the infidels and the rest of the towel heads. Could you give me a good bulk price on 200,000 copies of More Bar Stool Notions of Poetry from Himself for an aerial mind-drop over occupied zones? I’ll pay in cash and say a prayer for you on the Sabbath—extra.

Harold “Chuck” Windsor (and wife No. 1)

Mr. Roth, I have been asked by my wife to explore the possibility of serialising The Inconvenient Toes on our partner platform, Netflix, via our charity initiative, All for One and One for One. We’d be obliged if the main villain character could be changed from Tony “The Jaw” Shaw to Willy “The Beard” Saxonberger. Let’s discuss with one.

Vlad Z

Me again…..I know from KGB chatter you’ve been approached by Benjy in the little black hat zone for a psychological aerial drop of 200,000 poetry books. I’ll match his offer with 200,000 litres of premium Ukrainian vodka in a one-to-one straight exchange. Collection and delivery at Knock Airport. 

P.S. I’ll also buy a suit to sweeten the deal.

Comments on Poems from a Wiser Mind by Jonathan Roth

 

Woody Allan

I thought I was depressed until I read Poems from a Wiser Mind by Jonathan Roth. I’m feeling much better now.

 

JD Carey, Dublin 1

Cancer is a walk in the park after reading this rubbish.

 

Joe@Samaritans.com

An excellent addition to our worldwide volunteer training manual.

 

Stephen Frie

A useful tool to advance your bipolar to tripolar in one sitting.

 

Ricki Gervasse

Excellent stuff. I’ve asked Jonathan Roth can I use the piece “1983 Letter from America” for my 4th autobiography.

 

Comrade Michael D. Higgins, Poet Laureate, WW Ambassador, PA

The feckin pension queue in the post office was so bloody slow I had no choice but to read this muck, Poems from a Wiser Mind by Jonathan Roth. It’s amazing the depths of depravity you’ll reach when you’ve nothing else to do. I could’ve written this book myself on the toilet seat, but I prefer to do my own writing there.

 

I object strongly to the content of the poem Gods Picking Off Our Shelf Now. Níl mé sásta.

Catharine Connolly, No1 Dublin 7 

I refuse to read this book as it is retailing, in other words exploiting Syrians, at €9.90. How on earth can someone earning €345,000 a year justify such extravagance is beyond me. And that is before you factor in the cost of the electric light to read it and the extra soft toilet paper needed to absorb the contents. Clíona anois.

 

Andrew Mount Batterburger, SW1 London

Dear Mr Roth, I note that when your Opus launched in Hewetson Bros Bar in the colony of Connemara, you did not trouble yourself with a recognisable personality or an A-lister to present it. One might suggest a relaunch, and one might even consider endorsing it, subject to legal advice, for a reasonable stipend to an offshore charity in Dubai.

 

JK Rolywing, Scotland

Listen, you misogynist pig. Your poem on page 36, From Kidney’s Fry to Gerty’s Eye, A Ulysses Day, is blatantly sexist. You reduce her to a device, you strip out her agency, and you use her as nothing more than a contrast between fantasy and reality and between public image and private truth. You are a disgrace to anyone who claims to write about women with honesty or respect........... Ah, Now I feel better.

 

Connor Mc Gregorian Chant

Fuk this book. There isn’t a single fuking sambuca shot in it, nor even one decent six-foot diving kick in the goolies. It’s feckin melougen.

 

Emanuelle Mc Recon, Paris

Monsieur Roth, je suis perplexe face au poème de la page 48, « Le Roi Reine ». Il s'agit manifestement d'une ruse visant à brouiller les frontières entre les genres, et en tant que président de Paris, je m'insurge contre votre tentative flagrante d'influencer les lecteurs, quel que soit leur genre ou non.

 

Minirum  O Callaghen, RTV 1 Donnybrook

It's a lovely book but unfortunately, it’s not mine. I was changing a rear tyre before I gave birth, so I didn’t get to read it all, even though the letters were extra big in the version in got. I genuinely intend to read it to my child in our home maternity ward when I get a minute to myself. 

 

Liam Nisson, Ballymena, Co Antrim

I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you want. But I do have certain skills, the kind that make life awkward for people like you. If you stop writing now, that will be the end of it. If you don’t, I will track you down, I will find you, and I will steal your biro.

 

Roberta De Nero

Look, I’ve read a lot of things in my time. Scripts, contracts, menus, tax bills. But this book? This book had me raising an eyebrow so high it nearly left my head.

 

Roth writes like a man who’s seen things. Maybe too many things. Maybe things he shouldn’t talk about in public. Half the poems made me laugh, the other half made me wonder if I needed to sleep with one eye open.

 

There’s wisdom in here, sure, the kind you get after a few decades and a few bad decisions. Some of the lines hit hard, like a punch from Joe Pesci. Others wander off like Al Pacino on a coffee break.

 

But I’ll tell you this: the guy’s got heart. And guts. And possibly a few unresolved issues. 

 

Would I recommend it? Yeah. But read it somewhere safe. And don’t blame me if you start thinking wiser thoughts. That’s on Roth.

 

Bob. 

 

Dr Michàel Flattery, Castlehybrid, New York & Monaco

Be Gora, this is some read altogether. This man writes like he has a pair of super speed dancing brogues on him that could chase a leprechaun down the road at a hundred miles an hour. I nearly need a kick to the jig myself. 

I got to page 62 and read “Gods Picking Off Our Shelf Now” because, as you know, I have stage fifteen cancer myself , and I am fighting it like a demon boxer from New York. He’s some man for one man, a bit like meself.

 

Jeffery Beesoz

This is a hefty read, almost as heavy as my wife’s breasts, but far cheaper at ten dollars. I begged Jonathan Roth to launch the book on Amazon, but the deal collapsed when he got greedy and demanded a 1.56 % cut of gross sales. There’s no pleasing some people.

 

Zee Jumping, Bunker 1, Downtown Beijing, China

I inspected this book carefully. Very carefully. Page by page. Line by line. I even considered setting up a committee to study it, but that seemed excessive, even for me.

 

Comrade Roth claims to offer wisdom. Interesting. I read the poems expecting discipline, structure, maybe a five year plan. Instead, I found emotion, humour, and the occasional moment where I thought, “This would never pass central review.”

 

One poem confused me so much I nearly declared it a cultural threat. Another one made me laugh, which was suspicious. Books aren’t supposed to do that without permission.

 

Would I recommend it? Yes, but only if read with the little red book in the other hand, and preferably while supervised.

 

Papa Leo the 58th, Rome

I approached this book as any good Christian would, slowly and with the mild suspicion that it might contain heresy or, worse, questionable grammar. A few poems even gave me a chuckle, which is rare these days unless a bishop slips on a marble floor in a brothel.

 

The Tuam Baby Clay Cot poem, thankfully, was the last poem in the book so slow people might not get to it to be angry about it.

 

Should it be read in a confessional booth? Only if the queue is long and you need entertainment.

 

A fair effort. I bless it, unofficially, from a distance.

 

Mack Hansome, Ireland 1st 15

I didn’t get a chance to read all of the book as we are in the gym 28 hours a day. When we are not in the gym we are eating protein and squirting stuff up our veins to make us bigger to take on the English pack. Anyway, I didn’t read all of it, but I read The Woke Ref on page 22. I am with Roth on this. I am sick to death listening to referees asking me about my feelings and all kinds of other shite.

 

If I want a psychologist, I can just Google and get one and of course the IRFU will pay for it.

 

So fair dues to Roth. As soon as I retire at 48 I will read the rest of the book.

​

Mary Louis Mc Donaldo TD 

I opened this book expecting a few cosy poems about cups of tea and maybe a sunset and possibly some guidance on how to reassemble an AK48 in the dark.

 

By page 5 I was drafting a press release. By page 10 I was considering forming a coalition with whoever could explain what the hell he meant in The King Queen poem. By page 15 I was pricing counselling and checking if there was a Dail allowance for it.

 

Some of the poems are so intense they could start a protest march. Others wander off like a confused junior minister.

 

Basically, it reads like minutes from the Dáil on a Thursday afternoon. Avoid like the Plague. Chuckie

​

Fintan O Toolmaker, Irish Thymes 

Jonathan Roth’s collection arrives into the world like a fellow at the end of the bar who has lived too long, seen too much, and insists on telling you all of it before last orders.

 

The poems veer between sharp insight and mild delirium, often within the same stanza. At times, Roth touches on truths so familiar that you can almost hear the kettle behind the lines. At others, he wanders off into territory best described as “post-pub philosophy,” where meaning exists only because it refuses to leave.

 

Is the book flawed? Of course. But so are we. And that, one suspects, is Roth’s argument all along.

​

Roman  O’Garaman, La Rochelle, in France like

Right, let’s get this straight. When this book landed in my kit bag, I assumed it was a mistake. Or a threat. Poems? From this lad? 

 

I opened it anyway, because I’m a professional. First poem nearly knocked me out. Not emotionally, just pure confusion. If one of my french players handed me something like that, I’d bench him for literacy.

 

By page five I was convinced Roth wrote half of this rubbish on a bus with no suspension. Some of the poems wander so much they’d need a GPS and a minder. Others smack you in the face like a French ref with an agenda.

 

It's full of the kind of emotional shite I normally only see when a young buck realises he’s been dropped for the semi final.

 

Roth has guts. Just don’t read it before a match, unless you want your head scrambled.

​

Brendain O’Connery, RTV 1, Donnybrook, Dublin 4

Listen, right, OK, it’s a book, grand, but it wasn’t written in Cork, right? So why am I even reviewing it, right? Anyway, listen, right, I gave it a go, right. Fine, fine, I’ll be honest, right, I only read the bit, Letter From America 1983, right. And OK, it was funny, right…

 

But here’s the thing. I used to be a fat fecker myself before I started running  ragged around Sandymount, right? So, what’s Roth’s issue with fat people, like? There’s plenty of food to go around, right. Leave us alone, right. Let a man enjoy a sausage roll in peace.

 

Ronan Cheating, Malahide, Monaco, Coppers & Boyzoin

Well, let me tell you, I thought it was a script for a new romantic ballad. You know, something soft, tender, maybe a bit of heartbreak. Then I opened it and realised, sweet divine, this lad Roth is not writing about life rolling you, he’s writing about life punching you in the face and then asking for a tip.

 

Look, It’s emotional, unpredictable, and slightly unhinged… like most of Boyzoin on tour in 1999.

 

Life is a rollercoaster, sure — but this book is like the lad sitting beside you screaming the whole way down. Avoid or give as a present to your awkward aunt.

 

Deidre O'Cain, Drogheda, Downtown Louth 

OK, so I got the book for  free and said, “Deirdre, you’ll love it, it’s very deep.” Deep? Please. I’m from Drogheda. We don’t do deep. We do sarcasm, mild trauma, and giving out about the price of things.

 

Now, in fairness, some of the poems are gorgeous. A few lines actually made me stop and think, which is extremely dangerous for me because it leads to having feelings, and I did not sign up for feelings on a Tuesday.

 

But there are others… sweet Lord. One poem was so confusing I wanted to ring Roth directly and say, “Jonathan, love, blink twice if you need help. Was this written sober or during your abstract expressionist period?”

 

A solid effort but get it for a Kris Kindle, don't give any real money for it.

 

Grahan NorthWest, Bantry, Co Cork & London

When my PA gave it me, I assumed it was fan mail. You know, someone pouring their heart out, telling me I’ve changed their life, or asking for a signed photo of the dog. But no, t’was a poetry collection. A serious poetry collection. Which is always worrying.

 

I opened it cautiously, like a man checking a fridge after a power cut. And what did I find? Drama. Emotion. Confusion.

 

To be fair, a few pieces are genuinely beautiful. One poem was so intense I had to put it down and have a lie-down.

 

Would I loan it to you? Absolutely. It’s heartfelt, unfiltered, gloriously odd, and often hilarious , a bit like my show when the guests have been overserved in the Green Room