No matter whether Ovid was actually exiled or not (there is some controversy on the matter), the emotion that speaks from these poems can be recognised and felt by anyone.

The fall from the grace can be sometimes very painful and trigger the most interesting writings and poetry. Ovid was exiled to the small and compared to Rome, barbarian town called Tomis, modern Constantza, on the Romanian coast of the Black Sea. Lot of pain, lot of pleading all in vain. The poetry is like screams for something that never came. I like Ovid but his late poetry is not what floats my boat.

Deja de llorar pesao cómo te vas a tirar a su nieta hijo de puta

Why was Ovid banished to Tomis? Many theories are out there, but no one knows for sure. Augustus’ daughter Julia was banished at about this same time for her over-the-top promiscuous lifestyle, and we know that Ovid’s writings definitely promoted that sort of thing. Of course, she took it to the extreme. He was even asked by the emperor to “clean it up.” Of course, he refused. So did Augustus blame him for his daughter’s behavior? Was he directly involved as one of her paramours? Who knows.

What we do know is that Ovid hated Tomis. He looked down his nose on the rubes he was now living amongst. But they saw him as a celebrity. They practically worshipped him, and wanted nothing more than to cater to his every whim. Yet he barely tolerated them and ran them down every chance he could in his letters. The funny thing is that someone there happened to accidentally read one of his letters where he derides them. Up until then they thought he actually liked them. Word gets around about how he really feels about them, and they want nothing to do with him after that. He then finds out what it really means to be banished.

The stereotypical Roman was supposed to be stoical, practical, tough, etc.. These writings are anything but. They are about as un-Roman as you can get. Instead of accepting his fate, and trying to make the best of it, Ovid pleads and grovels to no end. He begs his wife, who remained in Rome to better champion his cause, to beseech Augustus for his return. Did she? I doubt it. She was probably glad to be rid of him. A pity so much poetic talent came from such a pathetic little man.

It's a shock reading these after the Metamorphosis and the Erotic poems.

whatever value they have in Latin, In English I think Ovid was right:

Now I'm out of words, I've asked the same thing so often
now I feel shame for my endless, hopeless prayers.
You must all be bored stiff by these monotonous poems.

Review to follow

Well could I wish, since they were destined to work me harm, that I had never set hand to the holy service of the Pierian ones. But now, what am I to do? The very power of that holy service gripes me; mad man that I am, though song has injured me, tis still song that I love. So the strange lotus tasted by Dulichian palates gave pleasure through the very savor which wrought harm. The lover is oft aware of his own ruin yet clings to it, pursuing that which sustains his own fault. I also find pleasure in my books though they have injured me, and I love the very weapon that made my wounds.

The Tristia and Ex Ponto are notorious, at least with people I know, for being tedious, depressing, and most of all repetitive. I’ve often heard people joke about how much Ovid begs and whines about being exiled to the literal edge of the Empire. What a lot of these people failed to mention was just how touching these poems were.
You really need to put yourself into Ovid’s mindset here. Imagine living in the center of the known world, an urban metropolis whose political and cultural authority was felt in every other major urbanized center. A large city of close to, if not over, a million people. Add on to that Ovid’s disinterest in military service and hardship. Now imagine that you are forced to leave the center of the world to move to the edge of the known world. A place where your familiar political and social world is almost nonexistent and beyond which antiquity thought laid a hellscape of snow and ice.
What Ovid’s poetry in exile really shows is a spectrum of human resiliency and despair. The poems are tumultuous and touching. Ovid gives thanks to his steadfast friends, motivation to others that fear being associated with him, and grows angry with those that distanced themselves after his exile and those that attack him and his wife. There is a constant note of hardship revealing one’s true attributes. For his friends, it’s the ones that provided comfort on his last night in Rome, the ones that petition Caesar for his recall, and the ones that write to him. Ovid’s wife is given the attributes of a mythological Woman. The type whose virtue, and fame, burn the brightest in challenging times and whose suffering elevates them to eternal remembrance.
For me, the most visceral sections of the collection were Ovid addressing his muse and his poetry. Ovid’s true pain reveals itself in these sections. He discusses burning his incomplete draft of The Metamorphosis and constantly curses his Art of Love as a cause of his exile. But in the same breath Ovid cannot deny the importance of poetry in his life. The cause of his exile is the same which provides him succor while in exile. He curses his popularity and his muse but takes solace in the fact that his poetry can still be in Rome and that through his works he will become immortal.
While I enjoyed both the Tristia and Ex Ponto, I felt that Tristia was the better collection. The first book of Tristia was by far my favorite. The fierce winter storms echo the mental anguish that Ovid is going through. With a sense of bitter irony, he begs the winds and the sea to be calm even though the peaceful journey he wishes for is one that will see him into exile.

These poems are not an easy read. They are bitter and depressing. But at the same time, they are worth the read. They speak of the highs and lows that man experiences in his despair and I cannot say I have read anything from antiquity that was so startling human and imperfect. Are these poems for everyone? Definitely not, but if you love Ovid’s works or interested in early yet amazing autobiographical poetry these poems are for you.

Sly sly Ovid, the master of playing with identity, portraying himself as a person that had as many 'misfortunes as the stars that lie between the hidden and visible pole'. Could I travel back in time, I would visit Rome and his exile Tomis, to find out what really happened and then return, keeping my mouth shut as to not destroy the myths surrounding this book.

After reading "The art of love," reading the poems of exile is a gloomy prospect. The easy wit and sparkle that seems to shine so comfortably is almost entirely missing, but Ovid's brilliance is still very much in place. As long as you get past all the flattery of patrons and the emperor's family, many of the poems are quite good, and have at their core a sadness and longing to regain a sense of place in the world. Ovid is still a strong poet, and this translation does a good job of proving this fact.

Ugh, this was dense and whining for hundreds of pages in prose! Despite my strong dislike I searched (hard) for some jewels, and found a few.
"...what heals can also hurt."
"Misfortunes have broken my talent..."
"So I relish the boys that have hurt me,/love the weapon throat inflicted my wounds./Perhaps this obsession may be seen as madness;/but the madness has some utility..."
"Unseen, unacknowledged in good times, in hardship courage/stands apparent, asserts itself."

Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto were written and sent to Rome at the rate of about a book a year from 9 c.e on. They consist of letters to the emperor and to Ovid’s wife and friends describing his miseries and appealing for clemency. For all his depression and self-pity, Ovid never retreats from the one position with which his self-respect was identified, his status as a poet. That is particularly evident in his ironical defense of the Ars in Book II of the Tristia.

In the absence of any sign of encouragement from home, Ovid lacked the heart to continue to write the sort of poetry that had made him famous, and the later Epistulae ex Ponto make melancholy reading.

Ce sont deux écrits de l'exil, formés de lettres en vers, adressées à des amis et connaissance d'Ovide, toujours dans l'espoir d'obtenir un allègement à sa peine.
J'avoue avoir préféré les Tristes, composées pendant les deux premières années loin de Rome, dont le ton, certes élégiaque, marque encore l'espoir du poète. Dans les Pontiques, en revanche, cet espoir n'est guère plus qu'une chimère, et Ovide ressasse beaucoup sa faute (dont nous ignorons encore aujourd'hui la nature exacte) et exalte autant que possible Auguste comme divinité.