Notes from Auden Land
 

An interesting piece by Austin Allen – "Notes from Auden Land: Why Auden is as essential to our times as Orwell": https://www.poetryfoundation.org/fea.../detail/141830.

Clive Watkins

Thanks for the link, Clive. I love to read anything on Auden, and Jarrell is perhaps my favorite critic.

(Deleted rest of post. I need to get back to poetry. Sorry.)

Thanks, Clive. I think it's a marvellous essay. And it strengthens my conviction that Auden is one of the greatest poets of the last century. I love the final section of the essay on 'September 1, 1939'.

A good link. I enjoyed reading that. Thank you.

It's prompted me to share this (which I think is publicly available, not hidden for the delectation of subscribers only) - http://www.nybooks.com/articles/2014.../secret-auden/

Apologies if it's appeared here before.

That's a great article, David.

And I agree, Gregory, that Auden was certainly one of the greatest C20 poets. There were so many great poets born in the last century that it's virtually impossible to say who was the greatest, but he might get my vote, along with Lowell, Hecht, and Wilbur. I'm far more familiar with American poets, but there are a slew of great English language poets born in C20 - like Walcott, just to name one.

I agree with Bill, that NYRB article is fine piece. Nice to hear about Auden the man as well as Auden the poet. I could study Auden more than I have.

Yes indeed. I knew Auden was a very kind man, but I had no idea really of how kind he was. Sleeping outside of that woman's apartment, because she had "night terrors" - now that's something special.

I notice that Auden mentioned Lowell. I consider Robert Lowell's choice to go to prison rather than serve in WWII to be an act of courage, rather than cowardice. I know many people would think the exact opposite.

I think I would never do such a thing. I'd serve if I had to, feeling it was something of a duty, since I owe my freedom and security to people who have had the courage to serve and risk their lives, and give up their lives, unfortunately. I was extremely lucky to have been born when I was, and where I was - at West Point, no less.

That being said, Lowell's choice not to serve was an act of conscience, and came from his own sense of duty, and took a different sort of courage. He was no coward.

As an extremely claustrophobic person, being in a prison cell is a far more frightening prospect for me than being shot at.

I also think publicly and conscientiously objecting to WW II would have been harder than doing so to Vietnam. Not a judgement of those wars per se, nor of the objectors, but of society's mood at the time.
Though American isolationism was going strong in 1940. I guess exact dates become important here, for both wartimes.

Update: to change the topic - reading some Hecht, whom I don't know well at all. Good stuff.

Anthony Hecht has some truly stunning poems. I have an edition of his first four books of poems put together in a single volume. Can't locate it at the moment. Look for The Venetian Vespers.

Good place to start here:

http://fortnightlyreview.co.uk/2013/...redible-hecht/

Added a wee snippet:

Where to begin? In a heaven of gold serifs
Or smooth and rounded loaves of risen gold
Formed into formal Caslon capitals
And graced with a pretzeled sinouous ampersand
Against a sanded ground of fire-truck red,...

Amazing.

William, I agree that Hecht is amazing, and I have always loved that description of the A&P in the family-shop in "The Venetian Vespers". But I'm a little puzzled why you linked to that particular essay, which is an extremely negative piece, essentially damning Hecht for his baroque diction and "adjectival overload".

I've read other critics who don't like Hecht, but this is probably the most closely argued condemnation I've come across; however, I think, that apart from one or two cases, most of the charges he makes can be rebutted. I don't have time to do so right now but I would like to write an answer to this essay one day. Thanks for pointing it out, William - but I wonder if you had read it all the way through.

You are correct: I only read a part of it, which was all positive. I had the window open, meaning to come back to it, but never did.

Thanks for telling me this. How anyone could condemn Hecht is beyond me - particularly that poem, and I'll have to go and read the article to find out.

Reminds me of Mary Karr and her condemnation of James Merrill. While I like Mary Karr, she can't hold a candle to Merrill as a poet. Few can. Sometimes there's little more at work that simple envy. Like music critics who despise certain rock musicians for showing innovative, creative talent, and virtuosity on an instrument.

***Edited in: Well, I slogged through the whole article, and I am reminded of why I don't read much literary criticism. I take it Bosch is a good poet, or at least I hope so. I always took Pound's statement to heart, in his anthology, Confucius to Cummings, where he says something to the effect that the only criticism one should pay any attention to is that which is written by someone who has produced good work.

I mentioned Mary Karr. I want to make sure to say that she has produced good work, and is a fine poet; but her scathing remarks about James Merrill are a bit hard to swallow, and in my opinion she tried almost too hard to be negative about a poet who wrote what most afficianados of poetry consider to be absolutely top shelf work. Harold Bloom wrote some great stuff about Merrill. If you have something "against decoration", I can only wonder why? Stripped down poetry can be great, but it's not the only kind that works.

Anyone remember Keats? The mighty Keats wrote heavily modified poetry, and was sublimely "decorative". His Hyperion fragments were far and away the greatest things composed by someone of his years, IMO. A close second was Wilfred Owen, who was almost Keats reincarnated. And there was also Keith Douglas, who was writing good poems at 14 - but Douglas would be a poet Bosch might approve of more, being that his short, 6-line stanza poems weren't overloaded with modifiers. I could go on and on...

I have almost zero ambition to be a critic. I post critiques here, but that is mainy because I have to, and because I enjoy the interaction with other poets and I enjoy offering encouragement. You'll never see a crit by me that basically says: "Um, this poem stinks. I mean, it's just awful..." even though there have been many instances where that was my exact feeling.

Perhaps this is a weakness with me, but it's just the way I am, and at 52, I don't imagine things will change any time soon.

I do agree that adjective pile-ons can be cloying, but only if they are done poorly, and if the word choices are bad. I didn't find any of the examples of Hecht's modifying to be poorly done. Quite the contrary - although, there were a few words that seemed too obscure. But "insufflation" does not deserve the scorn heaped upon it.

I also think it's rather odd to think that a poem and a short story in prose are comparable. Those are two different animals. Updike was an amazing author, and a great poet. I have his Collected Poems, and he was every bit as good as a poet as some people who were known primarily, or only, as poets. I highly recommend the book. Especially one poem, written in expert Spenserian stanzas, which contains erudite scientific terminology and themes. I'd post a link to it, but I'm not finding it anywhere.

Gregory, I agree that there are many things in that Hecht article that can be rebutted, and rebutted quite soundly. If you do decide to write an article in rebuttal, please let me know, I'd be interested in reading it.

Thanks, William. I will certainly let you know if I do get round to writing a rebuttal. And I agree totally with you about "insufflation", as I do about Hecht's use of "adjective pile-ons". After all, what would Bosch have to say about the guy who wrote these pile-ons?

What an astonishing poet. I sometimes think of him as an unusually powerful drug. I'd love to try a bit, in my own small versification, but I think a little goes a long way.