At Kaboom Books I found a first American edition of Kingsley Amis’ A Look Round the Estate: Poems, 1957–1967 (1968) and couldn’t resist. Fortuitously, I was rereading his short novel Ending Up (1974) and reminding myself that in his best work, Amis is a master. Few writers are so intelligently funny, and he often writes poems like a novelist. He gives us characters and turns them loose in stories. His interests are moral, his words plain, occasionally still Auden-esque. In “Science Fiction,” he finds in that genre a moral core and primal appeal: “the impulse to meet face to face / Our vice and folly shaped into a thing, / And so at last ourselves.” The poem reveals the origin of an older Amis title: New Maps of Hell (1960). My favorite poem in the collection may be “A.E.H.” – that is, A.E. Housman:
“Flame the
westward skies adorning
Leaves no
like on holt or hill;
Sounds of
battle joined at morning
Wane and
wander and are still.
“Past the
standards rent and muddied,
Past the
careless heaps of slain,
Stalks a
redcoat who, unbloodied,
Weeps with
fury, not from pain.
“Wounded
lads, when to renew them
Death and
surgeons cross the shade,
Still their
cries, hug darkness to them;
All at last
in sleep are laid.
“All save
one, who nightlong curses
Wounds
imagined more than seen,
Who in level
tones rehearses
What the
fact of wounds must mean.”
Elsewhere,
Amis describes Housman as his favorite poet. He writes in his review of A.E. Housman: Collected Poems and Selected
Prose (ed. Christopher Ricks, Penguin Press, 1988):
“No poet
could have turned his back more comprehensively on the modern world or (what
has come to be part of the same thing) written in a way less cut out for study
in modern universities, where the standing of poets seems nowadays to be
determined. From such places he looks a disagreeable figure, elitist,
embittered, pessimistic and utterly unsuitable for appearing on television.”
New Maps of Hell (edited with Robert Conquest) is still an essential dystopian science fiction anthology.
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