Arranged in seven parts and culminating in the superb "The Showings: Lady Julian of Norwich," Breathing the Water draws the readers deep into spiritual domains--not in order to leave the world behind, but to reanimate our sometimes dormant love for it.
Seven stories depict harsh realities of life in urban Mexico and the tragedies of childhood innocence betrayed.
Lars Gustafsson's Funeral Music for Freemasons (1983), the Swedish writer's fifth book of fiction to be translated into English, follows the lives of three free spirits of the 1950s, from their aspiring student years in Stockholm to their present realities, so different from their youthful imaginings. Jan Bohman, a brilliant poet become smalltime African merchant--a latterday Rimbaud--is about to be deported from Senegal. Hans ("Hasse" to his friends), an idealistic research physicist, is now a professor at Harvard, leading the protected surburban life of an American academic. Ann-Marie Nöhme, the promising Mozartean soprano in the bonds of whose love both men agonized, has had a failed career in a provincial repertory. How could so much talent have come to so little? Was there something in the Sweden of their youth, and by extension the whole of the industrial West, that prefigured the death of creativity? Or might it have been spent, drained away in love's passion? Then again, perhaps these years never did in fact happen, memory following one time-line, existence another, so that their real lives seem to have gone unlived. With his customary psychological delicacy and philosophical aplomb, Lars Gustafsson has composed a novel in Funeral Music for Freemasons that, like the Mozart Trauermusik the title invokes, sings a moving dirge for an age.
In The Green Morning: Memories of Federico, Francisco García Lorca tells of the charmed childhood he, his sisters, and his older brother, the Spanish poet and playwright Federico García Lorca, spent in the "quiet, very fragrant" Andalusian village of Fuente Vaqueros. Digressions into family history enable us to see Federico, the son of a well-off landowning family with a tradition of literacy, poetry-writing, and musical accomplishment-as the culmination of a particular family type his brother describes as "happy, spontaneous, and instinctive." The Lorca family eventually moved to Granada, where both brothers attended university. However, real education took place at the vividly described deliberations of the "Back Corner" group of the Granadan avant-garde.As the "green morning" of childhood came to an end with Federico's first poetic successes, the brothers' lives diverged; Francisco's account ends with Federico's departure for Madrid. Francisco became a distinguished professor of Spanish at Columbia University, and the second half of this volume includes ten of his lectures on his brother's work-discussions which draw upon his personal knowledge of the gradual gestations of the plays and his recollections of rehearsals where Federico was a skilled director.
"Poetry," Michael McClure has said, "is not a system but is real events spoken of, or happening, in sounds." And for thirty years, whether in his early "Dionysian" lyrics or his evolving "bio-alchemical" wisdom, his work has shown a ferocious energy and driving physicality. A poet of and for our time, his own formal structures-the shape of his poems and his highly charged breath-line-nevertheless look back to the classics, to the Provençal troubadours, and to the Romantic verse of Blake, Keats, and Shelley. McClure's Selected Poems is the first major retrospective collection of a poet and Obie-winning playwright associated with the San Francisco Renaissance from its start as well as the early Beat movement. The poems in the book, chosen by McClure himself, hold the undiminished force of three decades' work distilled. Included in Selected Poems are poems and long passages from nine of the author's earlier collections.
Russell Haley has been dubbed 'probably / The best Yorkshire surrealist writing in New Zealand.' The joke teasingly anticipates the tales in Real Illusions. These fictions range across specific locations (especially Yorkshire, especially New Zealand) but they also explore all of the 'dislocations' which lie between. Real Illusions is a book about migration--haunted by journeys, bridges, ancestral ghosts; mirrors and houses, families, coastlines, landscapes which have the disturbing familiarity of dreams. Events take place in that territory where history and imagination manoeuvre and collide. Each of the stories sets out from the point defined by Salman Rushdie in his novel Shame: 'As for me: I, too, like all migrants, am a fantasist. I build imaginary countries and try to impose on them the ones that exist. I, too, face the problem of history: what to retain, what to dump.' Real Illusions is a collection of strikingly individual stories but is also something more. Russell Haley has constructed a discontinuous narrative which seeks at every point for continuities--and he writes in a prose which is alert and supple, stretching its skin from one place to the next.
Born in 1903, Shimpei Kusano has long been among Japan's best-loved poets. Asking Myself/ Answering Myself introduces him to a wide American audience, with selections from over half a century of his work, in translation by Cid Corman. There is scarcely a child (or an adult) in Japan unfamiliar with Kusano's frogs. Their trills, transcribed and fancifully translated by the poet into frog soliloquies, dirges ("Lululu's Funeral" to be accompanied by Chopin's "Funeral March"), and celebrations are, says Corman, "figures of nature--in its largest sense--and of absolute innocence ... . They mock our pretentions but share them too--gently." Witty, lyrical, vigorous, Kusano is a poet of praise--for the savor of snake-liver sake or crunchy raw potatoes, the hissing night sea, a changing sky: "O half a sun now./ mightiest member of the universe./blind my two upstanding eyes with a whack of light." Kusano has traveled widely, and Cantonese as well as the English he studied during his years in China still find their way into his poems. In 1935, he and friends founded Rekitei ("Historical Process"), a monthly magazine out of which grew a poetry group with over a thousand members--now the largest in Japan. Head and heart of the Rekitei group, Shimpei Kusano is still writing, giving readings, and promoting other poets as well as haunting Gaku ("School"), his famous little bar in downtown Tokyo.
"NOW IT IS TIME FOR A NATION,/ a spiritual Nation/based/and formed on open freedom,/on flesh and biology..." The antipolitical activism, biologically based aesthetics, and exuberantly sensuous spirituality that have won Michael McClure acclaim since the birth of the San Francisco poetry renaissance in 1955 are affirmed with new range and eloquence in Fragments of Perseus. The title poem presents fragments of an imaginary journal by Perseus, son of Zeus and Danae, slayer of the snake-haired Medusa, and husband of Andromeda. With "The Death of Kim Chuen Louie," we move from myth to reportage, ancient Greece to modern San Francisco's Chinatown, where the poet has come upon a murder. Following are "Baja Bundle," six poems composed under the spell of travel through Baja California, Mexico, as well as invocations, proclamations, love poems, and dream narratives. Radiating symmetrically from a central axis, McClure's poems spiral across the page with the grace of organisms. As Aram Saroyan has noted, "he sees poetry itself as a 'muscular principle--an athletic song or whisper of fleshly thought,' and in his poems he is able to make his vision compelling."
In Lillelord, Norway's contemporary master Johan Borgen (1902-79) demonstrates his belief that our lives tend toward schizophrenia. Wilfred Sagen at fourteen is still a perfectly turned out, impeccably behaved "Little Lord Fauntleroy" to his family, but to his teachers he is a disruptive enigma and, to a pack of Oslo street urchins, an instigator of crime. In his often desperate search for emotional integration, Wilfred is hampered by an acute and introspective intelligence which only compounds his normal adolescent anxieties. Painfully aware of the split in his own personality, Wilfred longs for wholeness and harmony (personified by the young Jewish violinist, Miriam), but is torn by guilt and the realization that he cannot control either himself or the world.By the time of his death, Johan Borgen was acclaimed as one of the major figures in twentieth-century Scandinavian literature. He is best known for his Lillelord Trilogy, which deals with the moral and physical degeneration of Wilfred Sagen over three decades. For Borgen, Wilfred's loss of innocence and fractured existence had their counterparts in the cultural shock experienced by all of Norway through two world wars, the Nazi occupation, and explosive technological change. This English-language edition of Lillelord (1955), the first volume of the Lillelord Trilogy, has been translated by Elizabeth Brown Moen (in Oslo) and Ronald E. Peterson (at Occidental College in Los Angeles). Mr. Peterson has also edited the volume and provided an informative introduction.
Gregory Corso is still kicking "the ivory applecart of tyrannical values," heralding the wild and keenly experienced life. Since the 1950s, when with Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and others, Corso electrified the literary establishment with what he describes as "spontaneous subterranean poesy of the streets," he has fathered "three fleshed angels," traveled through Europe and Egypt, seen the demise of several fellow "Daddies of an Age," and now finds himself over half a century old.The lush, fervent oratory of Shelley is evident in these poems of one who may be his most ardent American heir, and the author of The Happy Birthday of Death and Elegiac Feelings American never entirely forgets that a "leaky lifeboat" is the mortal's only home. "You'd think there would be chaos/the futility of it all/Yet children are born/oft times spitting images of us/ ... and the gift keeps on coming."Corso knows death, despair, and silence only too well, and his first major collection in eleven years is permeated with a sense of crucial choices to be made. "Columbia U Poesy Reading--1975" begins with Beat history and ends with a solitary vision of God in the form of the muse: "Seated on a cold park bench/I heard her moan: 'O Gregorio Gregorio/you'll fail me, I know/Walking away/a little old lady behind me was singing: True! True!'/'Not so!'/ rang the spirit, 'Not so!'" In a cocky, exuberant blend of high style and down-home New Yorkese, the Herald of the Autochthonic Spirit brings more auspicious tidings.
In Chinese, Tao means simply way or path, and the mysticism of the early Taoists grew out of the longing and search for union with an eternal "Way." To attune oneself to the rhythms of nature rather than to conform to the artificialities of man-made institutions (embodied in the rigid hierarchies of orthodox Confucianism) became the goal of Taoist masters such as Chuang-tzü, who refused high office so that he could, like the turtle, "drag his tail in the mud." As the British authority on early Chinese religion, D. Howard Smith, expresses it in his lucid introduction to The Wisdom of the Taoists: "To seek and find that mysterious principle, to discover it within one's inmost being, to observe its workings in the great universe outside, and to become utterly engulfed in its serenity and quietude came to be the supreme goal of the Taoist mystics." In presenting the wide spectrum of Taoist thought and experience, Professor Smith has newly translated excerpts from a variety of mystical writings. He concentrates, however, on the two basic sources of Taoism, the humorous and satirical stories of Chuang-tzu (who lived in the fourth century B. C. in Honan) and the Tao-Te-Ching, a classic of mysticism attributed to Lao-tzü. Eventually, Taoism broadened into a magical folk religion, but the dedication to the inward path, the emptying of self, and the search for the nameless principle that could be apprehended only in quiet periods of ecstatic vision contributed to the Chinese form of Buddhism known as Ch'an--which we in the West know better by its Japanese name of Zen.
Michael McClure's Josephine: The Mouse Singer, a play in verse, is based on a story of Franz Kafka's, "Josephine the Singer, or the Mouse Folk." Kafka and McClure? And yet the combination is bound to work, for in essence both writers in their different ways ponder the trials of the artist in an arbitrary universe. McClure's exuberant, inspired adaptation, in fact, reminds us of the bizarre whimseys Kafka's tales were originally intended to be. The first New York production of Josephine: The Mouse Singer, in November 1978 at the WPA Theatre, received The Village Voice's prestigious Obie award for the Best Play of the Year. "As so often happens Off-Off-Broadway," the Voice's citation reads. "it is a play that was performed for only three weekends, but it is a play of extraordinary wit and grace and wisdom, at once utterly charming and almost unbearably painful, a play which tells us that the relationship between artists and their society is often intolerable, but which also tells us that for a society to endure without its artists is impossible."
A "melo-melo in seven scenes," Just Wild About Harry is Henry Miller's only excursion into playwriting. Harry is pure Miller, welling up from the same abundant love of life and freedom from convention that made its author the dean of writers dedicated to human liberation. Admittedly inspired by lonesco and the Theatre of the Absurd, Miller's tragicomic slapstick is nevertheless as American as the Marx Brothers and the blues--the simple story of a heartless Harry (the one the ladies are wild about) who learns a bittersweet lesson about life, death, and love. Begun in Europe in 1960, Just Wild About Harry was first published by New Directions in 1963.
Words and Silence: On the Poetry of Thomas Merton brings to the study of the late Trappist monk's verse the special perceptions born of a friendship of nearly three decades' duration. It started with a brief correspondence between two poets in 1939, two years before Merton entered the monastery of Gethsemani in Kentucky, and lasted until his tragic accidental death in 1968. Throughout these years, Sister Therese Lentfoehr held a number of university positions in her native Wisconsin and elsewhere, all the while amassing an extensive Merton archival collection, including various drafts of individual poems and prose pieces, translations, books and pamphlets, and even portions of hand-written private journals. The comparison of variant readings--sometimes three or four drafts of a single poem--proved invaluable in preparing this study. But of greater worth was the continued intellectual sharing that not only gave Sister Therese growing insight into Merton the monk and contemplative but afforded her a working understanding, as it were, of his poetic vision. Beginning with his pre-Trappist writing and his first published collection in 1911, Sister Therese systematically analyses the entire corpus of Merton's poetry--the earlier monastic preoccupations to the later Zen influences, the recurrent religious and social themes, the increasingly surreal imagery, and the developing "antipoetry" of his final books. Provided with a bibliography and index, Words and Silence is a recommended companion to The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton (1977), a key to the very mind and spirit of an extraordinary monk and poet.
Life in the Forest is Denise Levertov's first major collection since the publication in 1975 of The Freeing of the Dust, winner of the Leonore Marshall Poetry Prize, and is her eleventh book with New Directions, in a connection of nearly twenty years' standing. Ms. Levertov's work holds that tenuous yet inspiring ground between reflection and discourse. The dynamics of this sensitive balance is pointed up in Life in the Forest by a thematic grouping which invites internal association from poem to poem and section to section. "The poems I had been moving towards," she explains, "were impelled by two forces: first, a recurring need...to vary a habitual lyric mode; not to abandon it, by any means, but from time to time explore more expansive means; and second, the decision to try to avoid over use of the autobiographical, the dominant first-person singular of so much American poetry-good and bad-of recent years."
The Sunday of Life (Le Dimanche de la vie), the late Raymond Queneau's tenth novel, was first published in French by Gallimard in 1951 and is now appearing for the first time in this country, in a translation by Barbara Wright. Critics are universally agreed that it and the later Zazie dans le métro (1959) show Queneau at his zaniest and most cheerful, and it is not surprising that both these novels have been made into popular and successful films. But as always with Queneau, beneath the apparent absurdities of plot and the bumbling of his rather ordinary characters, there is a precision of structure and purpose that, ironically enough, places the work of this earliest of new-wave novelists squarely in the tradition of the eighteenth-century roman philosophique. In the ingenuous ex-Private Valentin Bru, the central figure in The Sunday of Life, Queneau has created that oddity in modern fiction, the Hegelian naif. Highly self-conscious yet reasonably satisfied with his lot, imbued with the good humor inherent in the naturally wise, Valentin meets the painful nonsense of life's adventures with a slightly bewildered detachment. As Barbara Wright so aptly writes: "Though The Sunday of Life is set in one of the most traumatic of recent periods--1936-40, the dark years leading up to the Second World War and including the fall of France... it nevertheless does indeed manage to be one of Queneau's happiest, sunniest, and most undated novels: it far transcends anything like a mere chronicle of times."
In the sixty poems that comprise The Freeing of the Dust, Denise Levertov continued to explore the personal and public themes that threaded through her work during the disastrous American involvement in Indochina. Relations with family and close friends are depicted with unique poignancy as she pits the at times terrifying concrete image against her vision of the ideal. Here we have poems that speak out of the direct tragedy of war, the result of Ms. Levertov's visit to North Vietnam in the fall of 1972, while others reflect the anguish and the exultation of what she has called the 'inner/outer experience in America during the '60's and the beginning of the '70's.
"The modern novel in its most cogent and permanent form"--this has been the achievement of E. M. Forster; his masterpiece, A Passage to India, belongs with perhaps three or four other works in English at the pinnacle of literary craftsmanship in this century. Yet for many years Forster's genius was virtually unrecognized in America. Not until 1943, when Lionel Trilling's authoritative and discerning study was first published, did Forster find his way to a broad American audience. In this 1964 revision of the first paperbook edition, Mr. Trilling added a preface and brought the bibliography up to date. His book performs two services: it is a critical-biographical introduction to the master novelist and his works; it is in itself a primary document in the development of, contemporary American criticism. Here is criticism functioning at its best, deftly, surely, wittily, within a framework of the ideas which are basic to literary thought today.
"Wild nature as the ultimate ground of human affairs"--the beautiful, precarious balance among forces and species forms a unifying theme for the new poems in this collection. The title, Regarding Wave, reflects "a half-buried series of word origins dating back through the Indo-European language: intersections of energy, woman, song and 'Gone Beyond Wisdom.'" Central to the work is a cycle of songs for Snyder's wife, Masa, and their first son, Kai. Probing even further than Snyder's previous collection of poems, The Back Country, this new volume freshly explores "the most archaic values on earth... the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe..."
The poems are drawn chiefly from the traditional Manyoshu, Kokinshu and Hyakunin Isshu collections, but there are also examplaes of haiku and other later forms. The sound of the Japanese texts i reproduced in Romaji script and the names of the poets in the calligraphy of Ukai Uchiyama. The translator's introduction gives us basic background on the history and nature of Japanese poetry, which is supplemented by notes on the individual poets and an extensive bibliography.
From the appearance in 1936 of Kenneth Patchen's first book, the voice of this great poet has been protesting war and social injustice, satirizing the demeaning and barbarous inanities of our culture-entrancing us with an inexhaustible flow of humor and fantasy. With directness and simplicity, he has restored the exaltation of romantic love to its ancient bardic place beside an awareness of God's living presence among all men.For this collection, assembled in his fifty-fourth year, Kenneth Patchen has drawn from the contents of twelve of his books. It provides the reader in many cases with the texts of poems no longer available even in rare editions.
In 1958, when Henry Miller was elected to membership in the American Institute of Arts and Letters, the citation described him as: "The veteran author of many books whose originality and richness of technique are matched by the variety and daring of his subject matter. His boldness of approach and intense curiosity concerning man and nature are unequalled in the prose literature of our times." It is most fitting that this anthology of "the best" of Henry Miller should have been assembled by one of the first among Miller's contemporaries to recognize his genius, the eminent British writer Lawrence Durrell. Drawing material from a dozen different books Durrell has traced the main line and principal themes of the "single, endless autobiography" which is Henry Miller's life work. "I suspect," writes Durrell in his Introduction, "that Miller's final place will be among those towering anomalies of authorship like Whitman or Blake who have left us, not simply works of art, but a corpus of ideas which motivate and influence a whole cultural pattern." Earlier, H. L. Mencken had said, "his is one of the most beautiful prose styles today," and the late Sir Herbert Read had written that "what makes Miller distinctive among modern writers is his ability to combine, without confusion, the aesthetic and prophetic functions." Included are stories, "portraits" of persons and places, philosophical essays, and aphorisms. For each selection Miller himself prepared a brief commentary which fits the piece into its place in his life story. This framework is supplemented by a chronology from Miller's birth in 1891 up to the spring of 1959, a bibliography, and, as an appendix, an open letter to the Supreme Court of Norway written in protest of the ban on Sexus, a part of which appears in this volume.
Since his work first appeared in Poetry, Robert Fitzgerald's controlled yet lyric voice, his intimacy with the classic tradition, have gained for him a distinguished reputation as poet and translator. Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard since 1965, Fitzgerald spends a part of each year with his family near Perugia, Italy, where he does most of his writing. He has received many honors in recent years, among them fellowship in the National Institute of Arts and Letters (1962) and the National Academy of Arts and Sciences (1963) and the first Bollingen Translation Award (1961) for his Odyssey.
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