Word: poet
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...surface it would seem that Thomas's work is an ideal choice for public performance since there is no more popular or fashionable modern poet; his premature death is loudly bemoaned by the ranking literati and their apostles--proper conditions one would guess for a rather sentimental memorial. On the other hand, Mr. Williams competes in a way with Thomas's own unforgettable readings of his works, which are quite well-known on record and from his personal appearances in this country, although none of the works that Mr. Williams has chosen have been recorded...
...makes one feel that not only was Thomas bitingly ironic about the world, but also critical of his criticism of it. Thomas's readings transmitted the presence of a naked and passionate soul which Mr. Williams cannot hope to convey. Williams as entertainer seems to over-ride Thomas as poet, and thus in comparison the reading seemed a trifle gutless--sometimes straining for a laugh that would be better left a snicker. Thomas's vignettes gained force as the performance wore on and Williams abandoned the conscious mimicking of Thomas's speech patterns...
Williams seemed to want to purvey the image of our century's archetypal poet, a very complicated and often irresponsible but enchanting man as good, old, sweet, kind and tolerant Dylan, poet and good fellow, a few steps away from Mr. Chips or Robert Frost or De Lawd in Green Pastures. In short, Mr. Williams's choice of material and his rendition of it have a tinge of the sacdharine as well as a bit of pleasant nostalgia which fail in part to hit the personality of the man or be very characteristic of his work...
...spending a paragraph or two on people who sit around shooting benzedrine tubes at each other with an air gun. Toward the end of the book he contents himself with describing one party by listing names: "'Dean?' I yelled across the party--which included Angel Luz Garcia, the poet; Walter Evans; Victor Villanueva, the Veneauelan poet; Jinny Jones, a former love of mine;...(etc.)... and innumerable others--'Come over here, man.'" The lack of concreteness keeps the book sexless, despite the incredible amount of sleeping around. Kerouac has a long way to go if he really wants to imitate Henry...
...Cave Dwellers, Saroyan is no longer a high-spirited toastmaster to waif-dom, but its long-winded poet laureate. There are the usual variety turns, but not much seems cockeyed or even imaginative. There are sad-eyed little gallantries instead; and even when Saroyan half-mocks at stage doings, he seems half-mawkish. His people are not just too good to be true, but mostly too good to be interesting. Their one message is love, love for one another; all is love, the secret of the theater is love, even hate is love. All this, however devoutly to be wished...