Here we are - having survived the end of the world. And, fittingly, we made it, on the shortest day of the year. Rejoice: the light starts coming back as of tomorrow, and Christmas is coming too! Eyewear will be back in 2013, with more posts about poetry, film, music, and politics, and the new books we'll be publishing - we have some eye-catching reviews lined up. For now, it's time to start hanging up the stockings by the chimney with care. Also, spare a moment for those who are ill in body or mind, in prison, homeless, away at war, lonely, or depressed. Try and give someone you may know who is having a hard time a better time of it. May I wish you a very happy time with your families and friends, and all the best for the new year.
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?
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May we wish you and your wife Sara a very Happy New Year!
Best wishes from Simon & Rusty