Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Conversations Through the Rabbit Glass

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked. “Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice. “You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.” Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ Alice laughed. “There’s no use…

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Books, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

When Milton met Galileo

I chanced upon this painting of the meeting between Galileo and John Milton and had a flashback to undergraduate days and the anthology we were required to buy and lug around (and possibly read.) It was  American, very heavy, very expensive, and full of all kinds of interesting but rather dense texts. I remember the pages were flimsy thin, and…

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Education, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Lying to the Young is Wrong

In his day, the Soviet poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko’ was something of an international rock star whose readings could fill sports stadiums. He was one of those A-List literati who make the front pages. His poem Lies was much anthologized in English teaching materials in the years following its publication in the Soviet Literary journal Novy Mir in 1959.  The kind…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

The East Coker Opera House Murders #1940Club

Based on his published letters,1940 was a busy year for T.S.Eliot. He was based in London and working at Faber and Faber as editor and director. I’ve picked out a few (mostly) bookish highlights here.  In January he enjoyed an evening with Stephen Spender,  and tut-tutted about his domestic tangles  commenting: The irregularities of that group of young people are…

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Books, Poetry, Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

1940 and the #1940Club

Hope I’m not jumping the gun here but the #1940Club starts next week and I’ve been gearing up and getting ready.  The idea is simple. It’s a fun event with no pressure because you can choose anything from the year and read as much or as little as suits you. You can share on your blogs, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, in…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Sospan Fach and that Cursèd Wood

March is Dewithon Month  #Dewithon. You can read about this celebration of literary Wales at the link We are all invited to join in and I thought it was about time I did especially as this project – now in its 5th year – is the work of The Book Jotter whose weekly post of literary links always gets my weekend…

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Art, Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

The Pineapple Party

Norman Pearson returned towards the end of January, after an absence in Spain and Portugal, bearing two bananas, two oranges and a pineapple. The bananas and oranges were simple, Hilda and I had one each. Apart from a few green apples and some berries in Cornwall, it was the first fruit that we had tasted for two years. It seemed…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Aspirational Dottiness of Old Age

Here’s a treat for those who relish fiction with off-the-wall cognitive mayhem – The Hearing Trumpet Suddenly it seemed as if everyone in my online book world had read it (see here and here for here examples).  It’s a short novel by Leonora Carrington, better known for her wildly idiosyncratic art. It was written in 1950, first published in 1974,…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

January, The Election, and A White Cat

Poems by Charles Simic (1938-2023) January Children’s fingerprints On a frozen window Of a small schoolhouse. An empire, I read somewhere, Maintains itself through The cruelty of its prisons. The Election They promised us free lunch And all we got Edna Is wind and rain And these broken umbrellas To wield angrily At cars and buses Eager to run us…

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Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

A Compendium of Delight

Poetry is critical to a complete understanding of the First World War because in the years leading up to and including the war, poetry played a central role in public and private life.   Constance Ruzich, in the introduction to the anthology. It was Paul Fussell who showed us that the young British officer class that went off to the Great…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

A Poetry Game, Players Welcome

Digging in the clutter I came across a literary game I played in the back of a college notebook. (I should have been taking notes.) It’s simple. Write down a well-known line from a poem and provide an unsuitable second line. Another way to play: Make up a random and outrageous second line and have someone guess the first. Here…

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My Poetry, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

An Odd Couple

Two poets in a muddle. Or rather two poems. John Ashbery’s A Mood of Quiet Beauty (from April Galleons 1987) meets T.S.Eliot’s first Prelude (Prufrock and Other Observations, 1917)  You can read the originals at those links. In the spirit of OuLiPo – and just for the playful hell of it – I switched out the nouns in each poem in…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Consent

I came across “The Consent” when I was exploring Howard Nemerov’s life and work for some other posts. It seems appropriate for about now.  The Consent Late in November, on a single night Not even near to freezing, the ginkgo trees That stand along the walk drop all their leaves In one consent, and neither to rain nor to wind…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Simple Pleasures and Stickybeaking

Stickybeak  NOUN: an intrusive, meddlesome, busybody, nosy parker who sticks their nose (beak) into other people’s business. The act of stickybeaking. VERB: to snoop or pry into other’s people’s business. This was a delightful new word for me this week although it’s clearly common currency in Australia and New Zealand. I came across it first in one of a series…

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Education, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Back-to-School: First Grade

First Grade by Ron Kortgee Until then, every forest had wolves in it, we thought it would be fun to wear snowshoes all the time, and we could talk to water. So who is this woman with the gray breath calling out names and pointing to the little desks we will occupy for the rest of our lives? I read…

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