![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 6th, 2010 01:45 pmDay III: A Book that completely surprised you (bad/good)
The ABC of Reading. I had started it quite a long time ago, and, having read only what was anthologized in the shorter Norton, I was predisposed to dislike it, as Pound was pretty much everything I hated in the twentieth century. And I got about halfway through and did, in fact, hate what I read. Although I did recognize some of his points, they were mainly lost in the swirling atmosphere of smugness. Like, you should read Provencal, Italian, French, and I believe Latin and Greek in order to consider yourself well-read in English. And really, that is a fair point: many of the forms of English poetry were imported from the Continent, especially in the Renaissance; many early sonnets are free translations (did you know that Whoso list to hunt is a free translation/imitation of Dante and also about Anne Boleyn?); and so on and so forth. But there is the assumption that, essentially, anyone can teach themselves Provencal. And hey, I probably could. I guess. If I had but inclination enough and time*. But the majority of people can't - if there's one thing we need it's for the idea of "being well-read" to be more exclusionary.
Anyway, despite having spent a decently long paragraph complaining about one of its main theses, I did enjoy it - mainly, however, for Pound's acerbic comments. (did you know Pound had a sense of humor? he parodied Housman pretty entertainingly.) Of course, even while being entertained, I was slightly put off. The following quote about Whitman is quite amusing: From an examination of Whitman made 12 years ago, the writer carried away the impression that there are 30 well-written pages; he is now unable to find them. And really, I agree, for the most part. I could never get behind Whitman. But the dismissiveness is unfortunate, and assumes that the reader accepts Pound as the ultimate authority. And I don't know that I trust anyone who likes Walter Savage Landor to be that authority. Pound claims that Landor doesn't waste words, or something of the sort, and likes him. I don't get it, as much as Pound must not get people who like Whitman. Landor wrote Past ruined Ilion, which is pretty much that operetta aria that is totally sappy and terrible and you love it anyway. But the "sappy and terrible" must be recognized. He did sappy a lot: Exhibit A and Exhibit B. He's basically the Salieri of poetry: pleasant enough, but you'd never mistake him for a master.
So when you have large lapses in your judgment like that, it's hard to take your word for things. And looking back, it's hard to say why I enjoyed it so much - but anyway, I did. Maybe it was the analysis of Renaissance English translations of Vergil - that was pretty interesting. And, I suppose, the put-downs, as much as they kept me from truly being behind his project. In any case, it surprised me, because it did not catch into flame from the sheer power of my burning hate.
__
*Actually, I totally would, and then speak only in Provencal, because it is a lovely language.
The ABC of Reading. I had started it quite a long time ago, and, having read only what was anthologized in the shorter Norton, I was predisposed to dislike it, as Pound was pretty much everything I hated in the twentieth century. And I got about halfway through and did, in fact, hate what I read. Although I did recognize some of his points, they were mainly lost in the swirling atmosphere of smugness. Like, you should read Provencal, Italian, French, and I believe Latin and Greek in order to consider yourself well-read in English. And really, that is a fair point: many of the forms of English poetry were imported from the Continent, especially in the Renaissance; many early sonnets are free translations (did you know that Whoso list to hunt is a free translation/imitation of Dante and also about Anne Boleyn?); and so on and so forth. But there is the assumption that, essentially, anyone can teach themselves Provencal. And hey, I probably could. I guess. If I had but inclination enough and time*. But the majority of people can't - if there's one thing we need it's for the idea of "being well-read" to be more exclusionary.
Anyway, despite having spent a decently long paragraph complaining about one of its main theses, I did enjoy it - mainly, however, for Pound's acerbic comments. (did you know Pound had a sense of humor? he parodied Housman pretty entertainingly.) Of course, even while being entertained, I was slightly put off. The following quote about Whitman is quite amusing: From an examination of Whitman made 12 years ago, the writer carried away the impression that there are 30 well-written pages; he is now unable to find them. And really, I agree, for the most part. I could never get behind Whitman. But the dismissiveness is unfortunate, and assumes that the reader accepts Pound as the ultimate authority. And I don't know that I trust anyone who likes Walter Savage Landor to be that authority. Pound claims that Landor doesn't waste words, or something of the sort, and likes him. I don't get it, as much as Pound must not get people who like Whitman. Landor wrote Past ruined Ilion, which is pretty much that operetta aria that is totally sappy and terrible and you love it anyway. But the "sappy and terrible" must be recognized. He did sappy a lot: Exhibit A and Exhibit B. He's basically the Salieri of poetry: pleasant enough, but you'd never mistake him for a master.
So when you have large lapses in your judgment like that, it's hard to take your word for things. And looking back, it's hard to say why I enjoyed it so much - but anyway, I did. Maybe it was the analysis of Renaissance English translations of Vergil - that was pretty interesting. And, I suppose, the put-downs, as much as they kept me from truly being behind his project. In any case, it surprised me, because it did not catch into flame from the sheer power of my burning hate.
__
*Actually, I totally would, and then speak only in Provencal, because it is a lovely language.
