In Praise of Oscar Williams

Readers of the Dylan Thomas letters will know that no one did more for the heavy-drinking, over-spending poet, in North America, than Oscar Williams, yet sadly, in letters to friends back home, Thomas mocked his supporter, calling him things like "old Captain Oscar Cohen" - a borderline antisemitic jibe (Williams was, in fact, Oscar Kaplan). Thomas, who I think was a great poet and a shit as a human being, probably, wrote things to Oscar like "Little dear Honourable Treasurer of mine, how are you?" - and would then ask for money. Thomas kept Williams hooked with promises of featuring his work on the BBC radio, which I believe never materialised (and not just because of the death in New York). The Thomas-Williams affair exposes a constant of the poetry world - certain successful poets often misuse their closest allies to get ahead, flattering them mercilessly. Thomas wrote (perhaps his last printed words) the following cable, on October 25th, 1953:

DEAR ELLEN OSCAR WILLIAMS HAS TOLD ME THAT YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO PRESENT MY PLAY ENTITLED UNDER MILKWOOD IN CHICAGO I SHALL BE DELIGHTED TO DO SO WITH OR WITHOUT CAST BUT NOT WITHOUT CASH SOME TIME BETWEEN NOVEMBER 12TH AND NOVEMBER 15TH ON MY WAY TO HOLLYWOOD WOULD YOU KINDLY GET IN TOUCH WITH MY MANAGER JOHN BRINNIN 100 MEMORIAL DRIVE FOR FULL DETAILS THANK YOU VERY MUCH LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU WITH WARM REGARDS DYLAN THOMAS

But there is more to the Oscar Williams story. The entire Anglo-American poetry world has been unkind to Oscar, the old Captain. No man or woman, in the 40s, 50s, or 60s, did more to popularise modern English-language poetry, than Williams. His anthologies sold in the millions, and were early instruments of celebration of complex, difficult, intelligent, and beautiful, work. His selections were often imaginative, and judicious. He is one of the 20th century heroes of poetry activism, one of the greatest advocates for modern poetry ever. And yet, his own poetry has been unduly neglected, as if the price of his enthusiasm, interest, and commitment - let alone generosity - to countless struggling poets - was to be attacked, or worse, ignored. I suspect there is a complex psychological reason for this - for it often seems that the very people who do the most for poets are those most attacked by poets, too.

Perhaps poets despise those who help them to get to their lofty reputations, because so often, those on the way up know (to mix a metaphor) how many eggs were broken to make the reputation souffle, and how many eggshells licked. I don't think Williams is a major poet, deserving of canonical status. But his name is somehow synonymous with the second-rate, and the hapless, in a way that is entirely out of proportion to his dedicated, professional, real historical role. It isn't just Dylan Thomas that owes him. We all do.

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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