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In his collection of critical essays, Unassigned Frequencies, Laurence Lieberman similarly describes Wright: “He has the largeness of heart of the great empathizers, and worse, a mind suicidally honest, a mind hellishly bent on stripping away all self-protective devices. His best poems enact the drama of a mind struggling, usually with punishing success, to resist the temptation to take solace from its own compassionating ardor. The pain he feels for another never becomes a disguised way of cheering himself up. It is a tougher thing.”
This blog’s meter displaying statistics of visitors to the site indicates one of the most popular posts published at “One Poet’s Notes”—originally appearing in February, 2008—has been an article written about James Wright and his wonderful work titled “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio,” which may be the best-known poem concerning football and Americans’ fascination with sport. In that piece I offered how Wright identifies and empathizes with the individuals depicted in his poem, presenting scholastic athletics as part of a metaphor that “addresses social issues of distinction or contrast based upon individuals’ wealth, class, ethnicity, race, and gender.”
Today, as Wright’s birth date coincides with the weekend’s announcement of another Heisman Trophy winner, a pinnacle achievement in scholastic athletics, perhaps this is an apt time to invite readers to revisit my commentary on “Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio,” as well as to urge everyone to take this opportunity to remember and celebrate the poetic achievement of James Wright.
6 comments:
I'm not much of a football fan, but "Autumn Begins In Martin's Ferry, Ohio" is one of my favorite poems. You're right when you say that Wright empathises with everyone in that poem. But the best thing about it is that its language moves seamlessly, not only between everyone mentioned in the poem, but through the change in the season (fall) as well as the seasons of the lives depicted in it, especially in the last stanza:
Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.
Twenty-five years after I first read that poem, I still say, "Wow!"
Thanks for this reminder to revisit Wright's wonderful work, and that poem. It's a doozy.
What a great find. I always knew great poets were from Saginaw and named Theodore R. (Theodore Roethke), I didn't know great poets were also born on December 13!
"Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love."
A fan,
Theodore Rapson of Saginaw, celebrating my 55th birthday today (December 13)
this poet is so much good in terms of epic and poem. That's why I saluted this icon.
Wow! 25 years? I can't believe it. Well, it's your opinion.
I wrote a little tribute to Wright on my own blog: http://transwomantimes.blogspot.com/2009_12_13_archive.html
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