[Andrew Frisardi]

Interesting piece on Robinson's trasmutation of suffering into art.

[Gail White]

Thanks for this, Andrew. Robinson is a favorite of mine, and I feel he's unjustly neglected.

[Lance Levens]

Andrew, what a fine essay, extolling Robinson's sly humor. "Miniver Cheevy" is woefully overlooked IMHO among the great poems of 20th century. No one ever comments on the weird name: Miniver Cheevy, inherently comic.

[R. S. Gwynn]

A "khaki suit is" obviously a modern soldier's uniform, and this matches up quite well with "iron clothing." So many of Robinson's poems are "anti-romantic," in the manner of the realists and naturalists of the period.

[Susan McLean]

Excellent essay.

Susan

[R. Nemo Hill]

Yes, a great essay. And that first paragraph is such a marvelous lead-in.

Robinson is so charming in his letters, it is easy to see how he made such a warm & friendly impression on so many people, despite his detached embrace of defeat.
This bit has always been one of my favorites:

"To Mrs. Louis V Ledoux, Peterborough, September 28, 1932
...I have been grinding at the mill all summer and have a sack of something or other to show for it. The grist this time is a little different—not so heavy, and not at all bitter. Of course I am never really bitter, or anything but cheerful and full of metaphysical joy and hope, but people don't seem to understand that and so call me all sorts of names which also they don't understand. So far as I can make out, most people are so afraid of life that when they see it coming their first impulse is to get behind a tree and shut their eyes. And for some odd reason they call that impulse optimism—which has always seemed funny to me.—This new poem is a sort of narrative comedy in blank verse, and will probably make Louis tear out handfuls of his hair. If these modern long things of mine survive their first hundred years, which are said to be the hardest, they may go on longer. Anyhow, I had to do them..."

These "modern long things" have had more trouble surviving than Robinson's short poems. As I am in the habit of repeating whenever EAR's name comes up, they are my favorites of all of his work, critically ignored though they most often are. Read back to back they are almost like a single patient poem whose theme is quietly approached from a variety of angles. I believe some have called them redundant, but to me they seem like a single faceted gem— a gem polished so calmly that it reflects no more light than is needed to read by—a light that compassionate detachment renders distant rather than dazzling. Defeat is the main character in all of them.

Nemo

[Chris Childers]

That was fun. As Sam notes, the form evokes archaizing Romantic ballads, with their eyes fixed on the Middle Ages, as Miniver's eyes also are. An immediate formal precedent might be Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, which has certain resemblances to MC (i.e., are drink and a longing for days of yore like Keats's fairy siren?). The short final line, combined with the wry epigrammatic pointedness of each stanza, has an effect of popping the nostalgic balloon.

C

[Mary Meriam]

Thanks for this link, Andrew. Very enjoyable essay.

[dean peterson]

Excellent essay, interesting life.

[Martin Elster]

I enjoyed that essay. Thanks, Andrew.