Just listened to a debate on Democracy Now! between Robert Reich and Chris Hedges over whether to support Hillary in the general. A frustrating experience, as is so often the case with debates like these. I can imagine that when you’re trying to think on your feet, in front of a microphone, it’s easy to lose track of certain ideas, even when you have a lot of experience as both these men do. Nevertheless, I found it hard to take. Hedges, especially, continues to annoy me with his rhetoric, which increasingly strikes me as self-indulgent and toxic. He fulminates excellently, but that’s all he’s got. When Reich argued for building a feasible left challenge to Hillary, going forward, Hedges responded by discussing an ostensible historical parallel in Yugoslavia, the burden of which seemed to be simply the same point in a new form: mainstream liberals are bankrupt and have nothing to offer. Not that this is inaccurate, nor that we shouldn’t learn from history, but this just struck me as an particularly egregious example of what I don’t like about him. It’s much easier to wave your arms and talk about incipient fascism than to propose concrete strategies and tactics.
Dipping into an earlier chapter of Sound and Form in Modern Poetry (while reading Jeffers’s Cawdor, which Gross analyzes, which led me to think of Paterson, which got me trying to remember what Gross had said about Williams). Gross takes issue with Williams’s objectivism. (By the way: I say Gross, although my edition is Gross & McDowell, because I’m assuming the substance of the argument is to be found in the earlier edition, which he wrote alone.) He begins by quoting the following from Williams’s autobiography: Continue reading
I’m becoming increasingly frustrated by writers whose style is characterized to a large extent by what we might call argument by diktat, or the Christopher Hitchens style of argument. That is, they make pronouncements in a tone that presumes agreement; the reasons, never given, are supposed to be obvious; insidiously, the effect is to imply erudition and insight on the part of the pronouncer and those who agree, and ignorance, obtuseness, bad faith, or all three on the part of those who disagree.
Harold Bloom, How to Read and Why. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2000.
Reading Bloom’s chapter on poetry. Fun but also frustrating, as he makes pronouncements which he does not substantiate. Either you take him on faith, feeling inferior for not being as smart as he is, or you simply wonder how he arrived at his conclusions, or … In any case not a satisfying sense of understanding.
He reads “The Unquiet Grave” as concluding with the implication that the dead woman will grant her living lover the kiss he craves. Here’s the poem: