The best
allusions are unannounced and kept under wraps. That eliminates the showoffs
who want only to parade their learning. The second time I read Ulysses, I did so with the goal of thoroughly
annotating it – a ridiculous ambition for a twenty-year-old autodidact even to
contemplate. I did pretty well with Shakespeare but muffed the opera and Irish
history references, among other things. Still, with subsequent readings, I
filled the margins of my old black-covered Random House edition and taped in
additional sheets with further annotations. Now the book is swollen and held
together with rubber bands, and is less a novel than a curious artifact of my prideful
youth. I’m unlikely to read Joyce’s novel again.
In 1954, Yvor
Winters brought Thom Gunn to the United States and Stanford University. Gunn
had graduated from Cambridge the previous year and published his first
collection, Fighting Terms. He had
never visited the United States. On Aug. 28, 1954, Winters writes to the young
Englishman (The Selected Letters of Yvor
Winters, ed. R.L. Barth, 2000), welcomes him to the U.S. and invites him to
come to supper when he arrives. Winters quickly chucks his formidable
reputation:
“I am not a
Don; I am merely a professor. My most intimate friends are Airedales, but I
enjoy my poets, and during the school year I have not the time to see as much
of them off the campus as I would like.”
Winters
expresses sadness that Gunn’s first glimpse of the U.S. will be the Atlantic seaboard:
“It is a dismal province, and you will like the west the better, I suppose, for
having seen the worst the first.” Winters drily balances wit and West Coast chauvinism:
“In New
Mexico and Arizona . . . the earth is red. These are good states. In
California the earth is red on the western slope of the Sierras, and when you
get down into the great valley, the grass will be dead and the air will be
yellow. I find that I cannot endure to be far from the yellow air for very
long. It is like gold to airy thinness beat, but it smells better.”
A good allusion
flatters the recipient. It’s a gift. Winters knew Gunn had read his Donne, and
Gunn saw in Winters a “boxer’s vigilance and poet’s rigour.”
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