Skip to main content

THE RULE OF SIX WEEKS



The next six weeks, give or take a few days, will bring us the most nail-bitingly epochal events of most of our lives, at least in the UK and USA; but much of the world will be watching with much concern, also. From the Anglo-American perspective, we're experiencing the multiple deaths of Rasputin.

Firstly, the UK is about to see whether its lukewarm semi-lockdown efforts will calm the exponential rise of infections in the pandemic, or lead to a pre-Christmas lockdown that will obliterate the economy for a generation; we just don't know yet. Meanwhile, Trump is dangerously close in enough electoral college states against Biden to maybe just sneak in - or close enough to dig his heels in and cause untold damage before he is thrust out somehow; we'll know more soon. Also, what of his Supreme Court nominee? We're looking at political, economic and medical crises in the West that will shape history for the rest of the century - if only because 4 more years of Trump would have a major impact on attempts to limit more global warming, and might erode America's claims to be a democracy, even further.

There is a glimmer of hope. In six weeks, we may have a new President on the way, and a happy British Christmas, as the R-rate plummets; we may even have a miracle cure. It would be nice to think so.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

CLIVE WILMER'S THOM GUNN SELECTED POEMS IS A MUST-READ

THAT HANDSOME MAN  A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought.  Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that

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...".