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Joyce Carol Oates skewers Robert Frost as a sexist, racist old bore. (Hat tip, Rus Bowden.)
“Damn you, Fife,” Frost screams near the calamitous conclusion. But she won’t be put off. “Mr. Frost,” she presses on, “is it possible that your audiences have been deceived and that you aren’t a homespun New England bard but something very different? An emissary from dark places? An American poet who sees and defends the very worst in us, without apology – in fact, with a kind of pride?”
Well, that could just be the case. And Frost really was no sweetie pie.
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