Skip to main content

Nations Of Nothing But Poetry

As Philip Hobsbaum writes in the Preface to Tradition and Experiment in English Poetry - tradition being the "native" English (sic) tradition starting with Piers Plowman - and experiment - well, as he puts it: "The mistake, as I see it, has been to imitate, from time to time the style, as well as the subject-matter, of foreign modes; and this is what, in the book, is termed 'experiment'. He goes on to mention how this foreign mistake, this experimental element, has unspooled, through the invidious works of Chaucer, the "Italianising tendencies of Spenser" - Milton, Tennyson, Housman - and then again Imagism - with damage done by Pound and Eliot too. Written in Scotland, in the 70s, this book is about as reactionary, anti-modernist, and invaluable a guide to the current "British and Irish" mainstream ascendancies poetics, as one could ask for.

Against foreign, American, and experimental styles and themes and language, is put the ideal Tradition: "earthy, alliterative, colloquial, with a strong regard for structure and the claims of plot." This narrative, spoken-voice lyricism, against baroque, or modernist or latinate syntax and diction, was at work when Douglas Dunn savaged Hart Crane in a review. It informs the poetics of Heaney and his line.

Poetry makes decisions; or demands that poets make decisions despite their best wishes - because poetry is action, and action always demands character and values react and therefore expose their lineaments, their core. The reason poets tussle, and worse, is because things are at stake - decisions, positions, beliefs. Whole ways of living (and breathing, since poetry is breathing and living most intensely). Eyewear looks forward to a new book which looks at great Scottish modernists, and others who created a synthetic vernacular style, breaking the us-or-them tug of modernist-anti-modernist that has bedevilled some in these complex isles for too long. Nations Of Nothing But Poetry, as a title, reminds us that the only country, the only tradition, is poetry itself. And that poetry speaks a singularly multiple tongue.

Comments

Jeffrey Side said…
Yes. I agree. I think Hobsbaum was, perhaps, the worst thing to happen to British literary criticism - aside from Leavis, of course.
Ian Brinton said…
Would that be the same F.R. Leavis who wrote of T.S. Eliot 'We have here, in short, poetry that expresses freely a modern sensibility, the ways of feeling, the modes of experience, of one fully alive in his own age'?

Popular posts from this blog

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....

"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...