We may remember T. S. Eliot saying that a poet’s criticism exists to elucidate the poet’s own taste and ambitions. Certainly this is true of both Clive James (who died last November) and John Burnside (still very much with us).[1] Neither of them wields career-making power; both are masters of appreciation, a quality not so highly valued in the academy. Burnside is a good storyteller, a reader for whom context is everything, James a delectable raconteur whose prose (and verse) delights in antithesis. Both have spent their writing lives immersed in multiple genres, eschewing specialization. They are, first and foremost, writers.
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Appreciation …
… Two Poet-Critics | The Hudson Review. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
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