‘Autumn Rain’ is not one of D. H. Lawrence’s most famous poems. He wrote a great deal of poetry, and whilst some of it falls short of the greatness we associate with his novels and short stories, ‘Autumn Rain’ shows his delicate control of poetic syntax and his inventiveness with imagery. Here is ‘Autumn Rain’ and a few words of analysis.
The plane leaves
fall black and wet
on the lawn;
the cloud sheaves
in heaven’s fields set
droop and are drawn
in falling seeds of rain;
the seed of heaven
on my face Read the rest of this entry
In this week’s Dispatches from The Secret Library, Dr Oliver Tearle visits Egypt courtesy of H. D.’s response to the epic poem
Helen of Troy was a mere phantom conjured by the goddess Hera. The real wife of Menelaus, the woman we know as ‘Helen of Troy’, spent the duration of the Trojan War in Egypt, having been taken there by Hermes and kept out of harm’s way, while some pretender was used back in Troy as a stand-in for the real Helen. The Greeks and the Trojans both went to war over what was, effectively, an illusion.
This is one of the oldest conspiracy theories in western literature, and the basis of one of Euripides’ less famous plays, Helen. But it is also the loose inspiration for a long modern epic by one of the twentieth century’s most distinctive voices: H. D., the poet who was born Hilda Doolittle and who made her name in the second decade of the twentieth century as ‘H. D. Imagiste’ (the initials were Ezra Pound’s idea). As the standout imagist poet, H. D. attracted the admiration of numerous poets and critics of the early twentieth century. But like other poets who were associated with the core of the imagist movement, H. D.’s ambitions grew in her later, post-imagist years. Her former husband Richard Aldington, in the 1920s, wrote a number of longer poems – essentially verse narratives or even verse novels – the most remarkable of which is A Fool i’ the Forest. Pound himself, famously, embarked on The Cantos, which would keep him busy for the rest of his life. H. D. went on to write Read the rest of this entry
A commentary on one of Joyce’s shortest Dubliners stories
‘Araby’ is one of the early stories in James Joyce’s Dubliners, the 1914 collection of short stories which is now regarded as one of the landmark texts of modernist literature. At the time, sales were poor, with just 379 copies being sold in the first year (famously, 120 of these were bought by Joyce himself). And yet ‘Araby’ shows just what might have initially baffled readers coming to James Joyce’s fiction for the first time, and what marked him out as a brilliant new writer. But before we get to an analysis of ‘Araby’ (which can be read here), a brief summary of the story’s plot – what little ‘plot’ there is.
In summary, then: ‘Araby’ is narrated by a young boy, who describes the Dublin street where he lives. As the story progresses, the narrator realises that he has feelings for his neighbour’s sister and watches her from his house, daydreaming about her, wondering if she will ever speak to him. When they eventually talk, she Read the rest of this entry