I concur with the other reviewers who assert that Swift is an interesting writer yet rather dull to peruse.

His works, predominantly topical and political, mainly showcase Swift operating within a highly agile yet circumscribed framework. Here, he satirically attacks various opponents in contemporary scandals, presenting them with immaculate sensibility but without the inclination to transcend journalism.

The poems, for the most part, are in the same vein as Pope's contemporaneous satirical works. Like Pope, Swift was extremely erudite, well-versed in scholastic and Cartesian metaphysics, alchemy, gnosticism, and other religious heresies, Hobbes, and having a comprehensive understanding of the Greeks and Romans.

His attitudes are incredibly non-dogmatic and intelligent, discerning the flaws in everything and pitting them against one another. Just as, in "Rape of the Lock" and the "Dunciad," Pope's most captivating elements are the seemingly ironic yet incredibly intricate esoteric allusions, so too in Swift's works, his little hints at (anti-)gnostic/alchemical adventures are far more engaging than his numerous pages dedicated to each minor tax scandal and policy debate.

Trapped within him is a transcendental artist like Sterne, Beckett, Yeats, or Joyce, almost supernaturally bound to serve the incredibly banal realm of 18th-century British politics. Even in his writings on Ireland, Swift's latent understanding of the evils of Anglo-Saxonry is artificially constricted into a generic Anglo-Irish sentiment that Eire is better off under the United Kingdom.

Apart from the very rich "Tale of a Tub," some of the longer poems, and perhaps a journal article or two for flavor, nothing in here is truly worth reading on its own. Nevertheless, it all serves as a comprehensive exposition of the absolutely stifled genius of another outstanding Irishman. NB: "Gulliver's Travels" is not included here, nor does my review pertain to it, as I have yet to read it myself.

I'm not going to deceive you and claim that this wasn't the arduous task it truly was. Whether it was I who hauled this squat, unattractive volume through the past seven months, or it was me - is now, finally, of no consequence. Because it's over, free at last, free at last!

If you ever took those period-survey English lit courses in university, did you also dread those volumes published by Norton and Riverside? They crammed the entire era into one hefty book with minuscule margins and even tinier type. Well, the Oxford Authors/Major Works series is a similar beast, perhaps sporting a touch of lipstick, but with plenty of bacon/scholarly apparatus. It's good, nourishing fare, when you're hungry. But it's hardly enticing.

If Leo Damrosch's excellent, witty "Jonathan Swift: His Life and His World" provided the appetizing amuse-gueule for this literary feast, it was John Stubbs' exquisite Michelin-grade skills (cf. "Jonathan Swift: The Reluctant Rebel") that kept me engaged, constantly returning to the never-ending buffet for more servings, and made it all digestible for yours truly, an obvious Mr. Creosote here.

I'd probably eat and run, but you know me... and what's more, the waiter just brought over that "wafer-thin-mint", "The Complete Poems". See you in 6 months (if I don't burst)!

*Not only are pigs perhaps smarter than my border collies, but none were harmed in the making of this "review". I won't prevent you from eating them, though. And: bacon-eating vegans, I notice you!

When I initially embarked on reading this, my plan was to devour it from cover to cover in the upcoming days. However, it has turned out to be a rather arduous task. The style of the prose demands a certain degree of translation. Although it is written in English and only a century separates it from the works of Dickens, which I can peruse with relative ease, that century has brought about a substantial change in the way the English language is utilized.

I must admit, I was aware that the language would pose a challenge, but I had no idea that my brain would revolt when confronted with the prospect of reading 600 pages of such prose in the next several days or, more likely, weeks. This book is better suited to be placed on a readily accessible shelf. It can be picked up whenever curiosity piques, and the reader can dip into a dozen pages here and there over the course of years. And that is exactly what I intend to do.

A rapier wit for the ages is a remarkable quality that has the power to captivate and charm. It is the ability to think quickly and respond with sharp, clever remarks that leave others in awe. Those who possess a rapier wit are often the life of the party, able to engage in lively banter and hold their own in any conversation.

This type of wit can take many forms, from humorous one-liners to incisive observations. It requires a combination of intelligence, creativity, and a good sense of humor. A rapier wit can be used to diffuse tense situations, to make people laugh, or to simply add a touch of sparkle to an otherwise ordinary day.

Throughout history, there have been many famous figures who were known for their rapier wits. From Oscar Wilde to Dorothy Parker, these individuals used their sharp tongues and quick minds to great effect. Their words have become immortalized in literature and are still quoted and admired today.

In conclusion, a rapier wit is a precious gift that can bring joy and entertainment to those around us. Whether we are using it to make a point, to lighten the mood, or simply to have some fun, a sharp and clever mind is always a valuable asset.

A Modest Proposal is truly one of my absolute favorites!!! It's such a remarkable piece of literature that never fails to amaze me.

I also have a great affection for the assortment of poems dedicated to Stella. They are so beautifully written and full of emotion.

Besides The Tale of a Tub, I have a genuine enjoyment for Swift's works. Although I didn't have the opportunity to read everything of his for this class, I have a strong desire to explore and check out the rest of his literary masterpieces someday. I'm sure there are many more hidden gems waiting for me to discover within his body of work.

Overall, it is indeed quite good. He eventually does reach Juvenal's standard, despite the fact that he risked facing trial for sedition, and even treason, if discovered to be the author of the Drapier Letters and such. Juvenal refrained from satirizing anything or anyone related to Domitian because doing so would have meant certain death.

I truly liked A Modest Proposal, and I also had an affinity for the poems. Certain lines were familiar, perhaps because they were included in Palgrave's Golden Treasury, a school book. They stood out either for that reason or because they were so excellent that they deserved inclusion, such as "Poor Pope will grieve a month; and Gay/A week, and Arbuthnot a day. /St John himself will scarce forbear/To bite his pen, and drop a tear from On the Death of Dr Swift."

I pondered whether I had unconsciously adopted the phrase, 'supply my defects' and used a similar one in my own An Instance etc., substituting 'deficiencies' for 'defects'. However, it is a common enough expression, and I didn't bother to pursue it further. My appreciation of Swift is not merely literary, as it is with Pope, but also of a writer who engages deeply with his era, in its politics, putting his writing skills to good use and making a significant impact. There is nothing wishy-washy about Swift or overly delicate about his attitude or writing.

Swift was an extremely topical writer. Only a few of his essays, letters, and poems such as "A Modest Proposal," "The Battle of the Books," and "A Tale of a Tub" succeed as more or less stand-alone pieces, separated from the specific circumstances that gave birth to them. Suffice it to say, I spent a significant amount of time flipping back and forth between the text and the endnotes.

Nevertheless, this much is clear: Swift is a brilliant prose stylist and a more than adequate poet (although I still have a partiality for Pope). And as a satirist, he combines one of English literature's sharpest wits with a strong sense of justice, favoring principles over cheap insults and narrow-minded factionalism. As the good Dean once eulogized of himself,

Perhaps I may allow, the Dean
Had too much satire in his vein,
And seemed determin'd not to starve it,
Because no age could more deserve it.
Yet, malice never was him aim;
He lash'd the vice, but spared the name.
No individual could resent
Where thousands equally were meant.
His satire points at no defect,
But what all mortals may correct;
For he abhorr'd that senseless tribe
Who call it humour when they jibe:
He spar'd a hump, or crooked nose,
Whose owners set not up for beaux,
True genuine dullness moved his pity,
Unless it offered to be witty.

Maybe Saturday Night Live could take note.