Word: prufrocks
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...snapshot of Mr. and Mrs. T. S. Eliot, in which the wrinkled old (71) poet stands with his arms looped fondly but awkwardly around the neck of his wholesome young (32) wife, his face caught in a quizzical expression, half doubt and half delight-a portrait of J. Alfred Prufrock, who has dared to eat a peach...
...TIME, Sept. 8). Cruel April's bard and the elder statesman of Anglo-American letters is 70 this week, and to the surprise of practically everybody, including himself, Thomas Stearns Eliot seems in love with love and life. The poet who was old at 23, when he wrote Prufrock, is getting young in his old age. Last year the erstwhile "aged eagle" talked about taking dancing lessons, and now he can be seen dining out and piloting his 31-year-old wife Valerie across dance floors. "His brow so grim and his mouth so prim" radiate such dimpled benevolence...
...previous plays, or most of his poems, T. S. Eliot's The Elder Statesman extols love. Compared to The Cocktail Party and The Confidential Clerk-intellectual avocados spiky with Greek myths and Christian mysticism-Eliot's latest seems as simple as the peach that Prufrock was once afraid...
...hero who, like Emmet Booth, is obsessed by a woman. Matthew Ligne is about to turn the dread corner of 40 into middle age, accompanied by his faithful ulcer, which bites so vigorously at the wrong moments that it almost assumes the lifelikeness of a pet. Like careful Prufrock ("Do I dare to eat a peach?"), he has heard the mermaids singing each to each. The particular blonde mermaid who obsesses him is a girl only glimpsed behind a window. For Matthew Ligne spends most of his time observing the creatures-married couples, tree surgeons, enterprising alley cats...
...years as a bellwether of U.S. belles-lettres, while printing such "firsts" as T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and Carl Sandburg's Chicago, the monthly has struggled along with account books that would never scan. Last July Poetry seemed finally about to die. But last week, in poetry's biggest rescue operation since the Greeks went after Helen, Poetry piled up enough money to buy a carload of shoestrings...