Sunday, April 10, 2011

Four and twenty Larks, baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing...

I like the "transcendent anti-Romantic" as opposed to the straight up ainti-Romantic Larkin. I kept Heaney's phrasing because describing poems like "Church Going" as simply Romantic is problematic to me. We discussed in class how lines like the ones pasted below undercut the establishment of the church:

"...I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce 'Here endeth' much more loudly than I'd meant. The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for."

It seems obvious with lines like, "Reflect the place was not worth stopping for," that Larkin has no respect for the place he is in, a church. Someone who might have heard him awkwardly reading aloud probably would have thought he was rude, being loud, holding his dirty clips in an old church and all.
Obviously there are Romantic qualities to this poem, such as:

"For, though I've no idea What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth, It pleases me to stand in silence here; A serious house on serious earth it is, In whose blent air all our compulsions meet, Are recognized, and robed as destinies."

Doesn't it just sound Romantic? Especially in the line, "...in whose blent air our compulsions meet..." The idea of being transcendent, the passing or outgrowing of one's self to something larger, is embodied here. Compulsions, this motivation everyone feels in this particular place, disrobes Larkin's anti -Romantic beginning to the poem.
Having these two Larkins in one poem contrasts each other nicely. You only know how clean something is once it gets dirty, and I think Larkin's transcendent side is the similar in that it needs the anti-romantic side to strongly show its nature.

In "This be the Verse" the reader does not get any of the transcendence nature Larkin can write with.

"This Be the Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself."

There is a good bit of room in this poem for a dash of a less anti-Romantic Larkin, but he does not act on this opportunity. Without there being a strong contrast of something more transcendent, the meaning of this poem kind of falls flat. Larkin is so witty and funny with this poem it comes off as more of a joke than anything else. I think his wit could be appreciated more if he had also added in some of the striking emotions, like the ones in "Church Going," for contrast. I will say that this poem is quite obviously spectacular, even without a clean side.

Monday, April 4, 2011

All That is Shimmers is not Gold


Shimmer

The pear tree that last year
was heavy-laden this year
bears little fruit. Was
it that wet fruit spring we had?
All the pear tree leaves
go shimmer, all at once. The
August sun blasts down
into the coolness from the
ocean. The New York Times
is on strike. My daily
fare! I'll starve! Not
quite. On my sill, balls
of twine wrapped up in
cellophane glitter. The
brown, the white and one
I think you'd call ecru.
The sunlight falls partly
in a cup: it has a blue
transfer of two boys, a
dog and a duck and says,
"Come away Pompey." I
like that cup, half
full of sunlight. Today
you could take up the
tattered shadows off
the grass. Roll them
and stow them. And collect
the shimmerings in a
cup, like the coffee
here at my right hand.


I think this poem is really interesting in two ways. One is the intimate conversational tone it conveys. It comes off as dialog one would be saying over the breakfast table, especially here:"Was/it that wet fruit spring we had?" These are lines you say to someone you live with, and Schuyler is including the reader in this conversation. I'm sure the time spent with Fairfield Porter and his wife influenced this casual tone. Given what I know about his personal mental and social issues, I don't think he could have achieved this level of intimacy without those people around him who gave him the opportunity (which they probably gave him with intention since he was less social) to have intimate connections.
Another reason I think it interesting is the images it convey. They're very strong and seem to ring a similar bell to Jane Freilicher's paintings, where she super imposed flowers or vases over windows. Schuyler is looking out of the window here and does focus on the pear tree, but not too much else about the landscape. He does notice the light:
"All the pear tree leaves
go shimmer, all at once. The
August sun blasts down
into the coolness from the
ocean."
...
"The sunlight falls partly
in a cup: it has a blue
transfer of two boys, a
dog and a duck and says,
"Come away Pompey." I
like that cup, half
full of sunlight."

Freilicher, or any painter, has to take note of the light and how it affects the image they are rendering. However, poets do not have to do this.