Dear Editor: A History of Poetry in Letters by PDF

ISBN-10: 0393050920

ISBN-13: 9780393050929

"The heritage of poetry and Poetry in the United States are nearly interchangeable, definitely inseparable," A. R. Ammons wrote. Dear Editor, in amassing over six hundred strangely candid letters to and from the editors of Poetry, strains the improvement of poetry in the United States: Ezra Pound's opinion of T. S. Eliot ("It is this kind of convenience to satisfy a guy and never need to inform him to clean his face, wipe his feet") and of Robert Frost ("dull as ditch water...[but] set to be 'literchure' someday"); Edna St. Vincent Millay's pleas for an develop ("I am develop into very, very skinny, and feature taken to smoking Virginia tobacco"); Wallace Stevens on himself ("I have an exquisite well-developed suggest streak"). listed here are the interior tales, the rivalries among aspiring authors, the inspirations in the back of classics, the practicalities (and politicking) of publishing. In attention-grabbing anecdotes and literary gossip, rankings of poets supply insights into the artistic strategy and their reactions to ancient occasions.

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His discomfort, as he folded his long legs awkwardly beneath him, was obvious to all. "Take care you don't break that, Sergeant," snapped Walsh. "I don't like clumsiness any more than the housekeeper does. Well now, Mrs. " "I thought Mrs. " He fished a piece of paper from his pocket. " 'Body in ice house, Streech Grange. ' Not much of an explanation, is it? " "That's it, really. Fred Phillips, my gardener, found the body about that time and came and told us. " "Who is it? " With an abrupt movement, Anne lit another cigarette.

You're not very popular in Streech, are you, Mrs. " "You worked as a receptionist in the doctor's surgery ten years ago. " A flicker of amusement lifted the corners of her mouth. "I was asked to leave. " He shot the question at her suddenly, unnerving her. " He nodded. " Walsh made a note. "We'll follow that up. The children may remember something. Will they be here this weekend, Mrs. " She felt cold. " There was a tremor in her voice. "Is it, Inspector? You have our word there was no body in there six years ago.

It is the key. We searched Streech gardens from end to end ten years ago and none of us looked in here. I'd never seen an ice house in my life, never even heard of such a thing. So of course I didn't know the bloody hill was hollow. How the hell could I? No one told me. I remember standing on it at one point to get my bearings. I even remember, telling one of my chaps to delve deep into those brambles. " He wiped the stem of his pipe on his sleeve again before putting it back in his mouth. Dried tar criss-crossed the tweed like black threads.

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Dear Editor: A History of Poetry in Letters

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