by carl wilson

Many Happy Returns: Belated Centenary Wishes
to W.H. Auden (Plus, a Plug)

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Slate's Book Club discussion on W.H. Auden, whose work (like much else) I generally overlooked in my haphazard, mostly autodidactic education in poetry. I only realized the omission when I gathered his effect on, particularly, the New York School poets. I'll have to pick up the recent Selected Poems. This fairly simple passage quoted in the Slate exchange (from "Many Happy Returns" I believe) strikes me as dovetailing with my current dipping into Richard Sennett and others in search of detours around some philosophical loggerheads (e.g., between sociological relativism and the Sublime) in aesthetics/criticism:

So I wish you first a
Sense of theatre; only
Those who love illusion
And know it will go far:
Otherwise we spend our
Lives in a confusion
Of what we say and do with
Who we really are.

Speaking of the sublime, this afternoon (Sunday) at 1 pm at the Tranzac in Toronto, I've caught wind of a rare reunion set by Eric Chenaux and Michelle McAdorey (who put out two transcendent duo albums a few years ago, but no longer collaborate regularly), along with the ridiculously enjoyable trio The Silt; it's a benefit for some sort of new yoga journal, with a suggested donation of $20, but I believe that's flexible (er, no pun intended), and it would be money well spent.

| Posted by zoilus on Sunday, March 04 at 3:05 AM | Linking Posts | Comments (0)

 

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Zoilus by Carl Wilson