In the race for poetic immortality, a few get to enter the Pantheon. Others seem destined for the library store of history…

Against Oblivion is a fascinating and eye-opening book. Written by Ian Hamilton, a British poet, biographer and critic, it was his final (posthumously published) work, dating from 2002. It consists of a series of potted biographies-cum-short critical appraisals of 45 poets who were active and published in the twentieth century. According to Hamilton’s introduction, the book’s genesis came when he was approached to write a modern version of Samuel Johnson’s Lives of the Poets. Thinking this a decent idea, if a little gimmicky, Hamilton says that he duly went back to Johnson’s book to get some ideas and inspiration. However, of the sixteenth and seventeenth century poets ‘immortalised’ by Johnson,  Hamilton says there were a number he’d never heard of at all, and of those names he recognised there were not many he had read in great depth.

This set Hamilton’s mind off in a different direction, and it seems that he was soon pondering which of the twentieth century poets he had planned to include would still be read in decades and centuries to come.  If Johnson’s book was any indication, it seemed that very few would survive. Hence the approach of  Against Oblivion as it appeared in its final form, which outlines the strengths and weaknesses of the poets put forward. For good measure,  a representative poem or two or three is printed at the end of each section. The resulting book is interesting, provocative and enlightening.  What Hamilton doesn’t do (though it is implied in a few instances) is make himself a complete hostage to fortune by coming out and explicitly saying who he thinks will be for posterity’s chop and who will survive to be read in ages to come. While he gives some hints about who he’d back to survive, the odds for most of them are not probably good since this seems to be just the way these things go.  As he states in the introduction, “it does seem a fair bet than in, say, one hundred years from now, about half of the poets I have chosen […] will have become lost to the general view”.

If you are interested in poetry in whatever capacity, I would highly recommend you take a look through this book if you come across a copy. It’s not perfect, but it is supremely good at getting you thinking, and some of Hamilton’s judgements are very sound indeed. He was a very good writer, capable of a memorable turn of phrase. In the months to come I think I may take a closer look at some of the poets mentioned in the book, and see if I agree with Hamilton in his judgements.

It remains to be seen what role the internet may have in terms of keeping alive the names and works of poets otherwise destined for obscurity and ultimate oblivion. In a sense the internet acts as a place where anything is available at any time. To go back to Samuel Johnson’s lives of the poets for instance, had you read that twenty years ago and come away with a sudden urge to take a look at some of the works of, for example, Thomas Tickell, Mark Akenside or Thomas Sprat, it might not have been easy. Chances are most public libraries would not have the works of these men in store. University libraries would perhaps have been a better bet, but even then there’d have been no guarantee you could have tracked their works down easily. With the internet, however, suddenly almost everything is to hand. It doesn’t mean forgotten poets will be widely read again, but it means that things otherwise forgotten now have far more potential to be recalled at some future point.

Anyway, here’s the list of poets Hamilton includes in Against Oblivion.  For the record, there are 8 poets on it I’ve never heard of. There are 7 I’ve heard of but never read.  There are 12 whose work I’d say I know pretty well (and extremely well in a few cases). The rest I know and have read a few poems by over the years.

(Note: the list does not include Yeats, Hardy, Eliot or Auden. Hamilton does not write about them in his book since he states with some certainty that enough has already been done to establish their names in the canon for posterity. Do you agree?)

Rudyard Kipling

Charlotte Mew

Robert Frost

Edward Thomas

Wallace Stevens

William Carlos Williams

DH Lawrence

Ezra Pound

Hilda Doolittle (HD)

Marianne Moore

Robinson Jeffers

Rupert Brooke

Conrad Aiken

Edna St Vincent Millay

Hugh MacDiarmid

Wilfred Owen

EE Cummings

Robert Graves

Hart Crane

Allen Tate

Stevie Smith

Norman Cameron

William Empson

John Betjeman

Louis MacNiece

Theodore Roethke

Stephen Spender

Elizabeth Bishop

Roy Fuller

RS Thomas

Randall Jarrell

Weldon Kees

Henry Reed

John Berryman

Dylan Thomas

Alun Lewis

Robert Lowell

Keith Douglas

Philip Larkin

Allen Ginsberg

James Merrill

James Wright

Gregory Corso

Ted Hughes

Sylvia Plath

 

Who do you think will be forgotten in another hundred years? Who do you think will survive? And is there any twentieth century poet not in Hamilton’s list who you think stands an equal chance against oblivion? Feel free to leave a comment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Good” by RS Thomas

The old man comes out on the hill

and looks down to recall earlier days

in the valley. He see the stream shine,

the church stand, hears the litter of children’s voices. A chill in the flesh

tells him that death is not far off

now: it is the shadow under the great boughs

of life. His garden has herbs growing.

The kestrel goes by with fresh prey

in its claws. The wind scatters the scent of wild beans.

The tractor operates on the earth’s body. His grandson is there

ploughing: his young wife fetches him

cakes and tea and a dark smile. It is well.

(Note: I’ve always liked this poem, just as I’ve always admired RS Thomas for his clarity and his strength. I first encountered this poem years ago, when one of my teachers invited me to take part in a reading of poems on the theme of Autumn. Now Autumn is almost over for the year, this poem came to mind the other day. Looking at it closely again, though, I think that in literal terms it makes more sense for me to read it as taking place in late summer, or at least that period of slow wind-down as summer blends into autumn. Either way, I think we’re invited into the world of a man who in symbolic terms has personally reached the season of winter, which strengthens the poem’s juxtaposition of life and growth in the outer world with the man’s inner feeling that his life is soon to be over. The wisdom of this poem for me, however, is that it isn’t seen as a cause for panic or overwhelming sadness. Instead it’s presented as part of the general pattern of things.  “To every thing there is a season” as the Good Book says, something Thomas perhaps referred to in his sermons over the years.)

Alexandria: City of Letters.

Over the last year or so I’ve been reading on and off about Alexandria in Egypt. This all stemmed from my reading a history of the Byzantine empire and taking things from there.

Classical Alexandria was a vitally important city and retains its fascination for scholars and people interested in history. It also seems like a fascinating place today, and I would love to pay a visit there one day.

The Rise and Fall of Alexandria: Birthplace of the Modern World

by Justin Pollard and Howard Reid.

The title makes a grand claim, but the authors provide page after page of evidence to justify it, in a concise, informative and highly readable account of one of the great cities in human history. It takes us from its foundation by Alexander the Great, careful early nurturing by its true father Ptolemy I, right up until its decline as an intellectual and commercial hub in the early 400s A.D. (thanks to tub-thumping Christians) and the final curtain in the early 600s (thanks to Arab conquerors who founded Cairo and relegated Alexandria to distant-second-city status).

As well as being a straight narrative account which is based on all of the key reliable sources, the authors also go into detail to set the intellectual scene. Hence rather than just saying “in such and such a year X did this or Y discovered that”, the authors actually go into great detail about the nature of the wonderful discoveries and innovations to come out of this City, and carefully explain why they were so significant both in their time and for us now. While not neglecting the things Alexandria is most famous for (the Library and the Lighthouse for instance) they mention everything of note that came out of the City, and all in all that is a hell of a list of achievements.

Somewhere in the acknowledgments for this book, the authors pay their dues to Bill Bryson. He’s a good model to follow, since as in the best of Bryson what you get here is a reliable survey of a subject, well-written and which tells you all you need to know. Effectively it’s two interested layman writing for other laymen. The result is an intelligent and engaging book, full of enthusiasm and the highest regard for this stellar City.

Thanks to the authors’ care in describing Alexandria within the context of history and wider Mediterranean culture, you will come away from this book knowing that when we speak of the great cities of antiquity, we shouldn’t just think in terms of Athens, Rome, Antioch, Carthage and the like.  Alexandria should never be too far from our thoughts either.

Alexandria Lost: From the Advent of Christianity to the Arab Conquest

by Bojana Mojsov

This is a decent monograph. The author puts everything in context by giving a brief history of the City’s foundation and its subsequent rise to pre-eminence as a seat of learning and trading powerhouse. The main focus of the book, however, is the decline and fall of the City alluded to in the title. This ‘loss’ of power, influence and knowledge came as a result chiefly of religious disputes and other geopolitical causes, chiefly the decline of the Roman Empire in the West, and external pressures on the Byzantine Empire.  As a consequence, the book is especially good at tracing the precise ebb and flow of the Arab conquest of Egypt and the final Byzantine withdrawal.

The book contains a useful timeline of the key events, and contains many illuminating photographs and illustrations. Especially good are the author’s own pictures which give a good feel for what the City looks like today and for what historical sites remain.

The Vanished Library

by Luciano Canfora.

Italian classical scholar Canfora takes us through all of the extant sources, to not only piece together what the Library of Alexandria might have been like, but also speculate as to what actually happened to it. One of the book’s chief virtues is that, given there is not that much in the historical record about the Library, rather than flounder about in ignorance and unfounded conjecture, Canfora looks at the records that describe other ancient libraries, in order to arrive at a general sense of what Alexandria’s institution might have been like. This is a very useful approach, since it helps clarify what such buildings were actually like in terms of size and layout. Those who imagine that Alexandria’s Library was an ancient version of great modern institutions like the British Library or the New York Public Library will find these chapters of special interest.

Upon its release some reviewers compared Canfora to Borges, and at times certain chapters do attain a synthesis of scholarly essay and imaginative reconstruction of events. This doesn’t undermine the book as history (though some expert scholars might disagree) but for me, as a general reader, it helps bring the past alive.

In short this book is a beautifully crafted summary of all the relevant sources that, taken together, help piece together a fragmentary narrative of those most mythical of libraries. It demands a lot from the reader, but with the help of useful additions like a comprehensive timeline you are never really lost. In fact the main thing you will take away from this book, along with your enhanced knowledge, is a sense of sadness that so much was lost. But then again, as Gibbon pointed out and Canfora reiterates, given all the ravages that the great ancient cities and book collections underwent over time, the wonder of it all is that we have so much ancient writing still available.

C.P. Cavafy: The Collected Poems (Oxford World’s Classics)

First some comments on the edition: I compared this in a bookshop with other versions available, and by far and away I found this to be the best. The fact that this is a parallel text is a bonus for readers of greek. However, the main selling point is the sensible and informative introduction, the useful chronology of Cavafy’s life and the notes that don’t try and explain the poems’ meanings, but give you just enough to get going on making sense of the harder verses for yourself (which is always just as it should be in my view). I also compared the translations of a couple of poems, and plumped for this edition, since there’s nothing unnatural or ‘un-english’ about the syntax or word choices. As the introduction states, Cavafy developed such a distinctive poetic voice that this can’t help but come through in translation, and these renderings seem to do him full justice.

The poetry itself is a revelation to me. I do have a liking for writers who take historical events and who try to explore them from the inside, from the points of view of those who were (or who may have been) there. Eliot’s “Journey of the Magi” is an example of this. Robert Graves and Rudyard Kipling are two writers who did it at length. Cavafy is, I think, the master of them all. Being a Greek Alexandrian his work shows a keen sense of history, in particular an awareness of how important his city was in classical times. Hence his tendency to use his poetry to make sense of what it could have been like to live in classical times. A good example of this is the poem “A Priest at the Serapeum”, which explores the complex and ambiguous thoughts of a son, a committed Christian, on the death of his father, a pagan priest at the City’s most important temple.

Cavafy is also a great lyric poet. Homoerotic desire fuelled a lot of this work, but not all of it, and in lyrics like the famous “Ithaca” he strikes a universal chord. Regardless of your nationality, age or orientation, there’s something in Cavafy that can speak to all of us.

Given that his total poetic output is relatively small, I wouldn’t really bother with a selected edition. Get this book and it will last you a lifetime.

And just in case you’re wandering, Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet is on my bookshelf, and I plan to start on it soon.