Dana Crum - poet, writer, doer of things language-related

 

In Defense of My Love for T.S. Eliot’s Work

04/10/2012

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_This Easter I posted, on an alumni discussion group for writers, T.S. Eliot’s lines about the events that preceded and followed the Crucifixion.* An alum wrote me back and claimed that Eliot’s body of work has fallen out of fashion.

The alum was right, of course. Eliot’s impersonal style doesn't resonate with readers and poets now the way it once did. Though I'm a huge fan, that aspect of his work doesn't appeal to me much either. When I was learning the craft of poetry, Eliot was, at one point, a major influence (he still is). Even then, I cherry-picked his "bag of tricks," scrutinizing his line breaks, use of meter and musicality and leaving behind his impersonality.

I think Eliot would have approved of the way in which I stole from him. As he put it, "Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn; the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest. Chapman borrowed from Seneca; Shakespeare and Webster from Montaigne. The two great followers of Shakespeare, Webster and Tourneur, in their mature work do not borrow from him; he is too close to them to be of use to them in this way."

To return to Eliot's loss of vogue, he is not alone. What happened to him has happened to many a poet and writer. Those talented and lucky enough to be canonized still suffer the vicissitudes of literary taste. Usually, anyway. But I'm sure interest in Eliot will resurge one of these days. Even if his impersonal style never catches on again, readers and poets will again, in droves, find something in his work worth contemplating.

His talent and achievements are too large for it to be otherwise.


*Below are the lines in which Eliot describes the events that preceded and followed the Crucifixion. This passage is from The Waste Land:

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
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Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of Some T.S. Eliot Criticism

08/01/2010

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I recently fell down the rabbit hole of some T.S. Eliot criticism. I’ve read and reread a lot of Eliot’s poetry over the years, but as amazing as he is, he’s one of the most difficult poets ever to write in English. So perusing good criticism of him is essential. The Eliot criticism I slogged through in the past wasn’t as helpful as the book I recently read. But the recent book, though insightful, was almost as difficult as Eliot’s poems.

And what makes Eliot's poetry, and literary interpretation of his poetry, so difficult? His work’s mind-blowing preponderance of allusions, not just to literature but also to religion, mythology, anthropology, philosophy, history and science. Here I’m thinking of The Waste Land, arguably his masterpiece, as well as poems like The Hollow Men and Four Quartets. Eliot read everything and virtually all of it made its way into his poetry, usually in the form of allusions but sometimes in the form of quotations and partial rephrasings. (Incidentally, early in his career, the quotations, often without quotation marks, and partial rephrasings led to his being accused of plagiarism. Eliot — the über-modernist, writing in the early to mid 20th century — was sampling decades before hip-hop artists, the quintessential postmodernists, made sampling widespread within pop culture. But I digress...) To quote poet and Harvard professor Stephen Burt, before John Ashbery “the last figure whom half the English-language poets alive thought a great model, and the other half thought incomprehensible was probably T. S. Eliot.” Probably? No, definitely.
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The book of Eliot criticism that I recently read, and found insightful but difficult, is B.C. Southam's A Guide to the Selected Poems of T.S. Eliot. Don't let the lightweight-sounding title fool you. The book is anything but lightweight. It's a compendium of the galaxies of criticism from preceding Eliot critics and goes through "all" the layers of allusions that undergird Eliot's work. If you want to grasp every single allusion Southam unearths, no matter how esoteric or complicated, and fully understand how and why Eliot is manipulating the texts he references, then reading Southam’s book is hard work, especially since you’ll need to flip back and forth between Southam’s book and Eliot’s poems, rereading the relevant passage from Eliot’s oeuvre each time Southam explains an allusion.

As difficult as Southam’s book can be (and will be if used correctly), you should read it first and then move on to other books of Eliot criticism. Just my advice as someone who unfortunately reversed the order. The Eliot criticism I read before Southam’s book — Denis Donoghue's Words Alone will do as an example — wasn’t all that helpful, but that was only because I should have read Southam’s book first. Southam is a good (and incredibly thorough) starting place. Donoghue, after all, cites the book repeatedly.

Some of you may be wondering, “Why even bother reading a poet as difficult as Eliot, especially since fully understanding him requires that you read scholarly books?” My answer? Eliot is worth the trouble. He’s one of the greatest English-language poets of the twentieth century and has had a deeper influence on my poetry than I care to admit. For me, gaining a greater understanding of his work is a tremendous boon. As Ezra Pound put it, “The more we know of Eliot, the better.”
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