James Fenton (1)Recensioni

Art history

I discovered James Fenton through his poetry--way back in high school, in fact, when I first fell in love with his collection Out of Danger--but in the years since, I've made an effort to read his nonfiction, as well. In this collection, his thoughtful prose and compelling style once again made me glad that I put in the effort to search out his other work. In widely varying essays on both art and specific artists, this book takes us through and around a huge swath of territory, blending biography with history and with art criticism to bring artists and their worlds (and interests) to life. Journey through history in this book was, admittedly, far more enjoyable than the art history course I took, and I'd recommend it to anyone interested. It game me plenty of material to think about in my own work as a writer, as well.

Recommended.

I fell in love with Fenton's voice and attention to detail way back when I was in high school and stumbled across a volume of his poetry (which is, incidentally, still one of my favorite poetry collections of all time), so this has been on my reading list for quite some time--I'm glad I finally got around to it.

Each of the essays here details Fenton's wanderings and adventures through revolutions, giving detailed pictures into rarely seen moments along the Pacific Rim--back and forth across enemy lines in Korea, Saigon just after its official fall, etc. Some of the moments are heartbreaking, and more of them than you'd expect are humorous, but Fenton's wry care with people and with expectations makes each piece a striking commentary on not just unfolding events, but humanity, politics, and journalism.

I'd absolutely recommend this to anyone interested in world events or history, or in revolution or journalism. Although it's true that the pieces are located in specific times and moments, it's terrifying how relevant some of them are to just this moment in time, and sort of wonderful to read about them in a way that is not just carefully observant and honest, as if one were reading Fenton's journal rather than essays, but also told with both intelligence and a tempered optimism that, one way or another, things keep going on, and people survive.

Absolutely recommended.

Wind by James Fenton

This is the wind, the wind in a field of corn.
Great crowds are fleeing from a major disaster
Down the green valleys, the long swaying wadis,
Down through the beautiful catastrophe of wind.

Families, tribes, nations, and their livestock
Have heard something, seen something. An expectation
Or a gigantic misunderstanding has swept over the hilltop
Bending the ear of the hedgerow with stories of fire and sword.

I saw a thousand years pass in two seconds.
Land was lost, languages rose and divided.
This lord went east and found safety.
His brother sought Africa and a dish of aloes.

Centuries, minutes later, one might ask
How the hilt of a sword wandered so far from the smithy.
And somewhere they will sing: 'Like chaff we were borne
In the wind. ' This is the wind in a field of corn.

I still like to find my way through a poem and I used to have this one in a James Fenton collection called The Memory of War. Influences first. Auden I suppose, with its kind of big theme and you know he is talking about politics/war/current affairs now but in the context of nothing really changing across the years/regimes. Also Auden because of the civilised values which kind of underly it. Larkin for the marriage of the particular to the general. Larkin poems typically seem to lead the reader up the garden path to the gate which usually has an epitaph hanging over it. Then the declarative statement style of the sentences - hard to quarrel with the language. And the way you feel you can visualise the snapshots - are the “green valleys” in Vietnam and where are the “wadis”? Middle East. No change there. Also so many of the noun phrases could have been the poem’s title e.g. “Down the green valleys” or “Like chaff we were borne”. And yet you could not film it because he avoids the detail, the particular place or time by using collective nouns to label humanity “Families, tribes, nations” and the different collectives also insist on the multicultural, all-encompassing nature of his message. This is for everyone and for all time, he seems to be saying. The repetition of the “wind” foregrounds this as not only a real wind in a field of corn, but the winds of change, the winds of war (was that a Herman Wouk novel?). And the reach geographically of Vietnam, the Middle East and Africa (all places which were and are the scene of war) reminds me that Fenton was also a war reporter. But he puts himself in the poem as a witness “I saw”. The twentieth century saw the “witness” grow as a genre where writers overwhelmed by what they saw felt the best response was to testify, to leave a message for generations to come. But he is not your ordinary Kate Adie because what he sees is visionary, rising above the here and now: he sees millennia pass in seconds. If he is a documentary maker then in the edit he is running the film on fast forward or fast rewind. The final verse finds a hilt buried somewhere far from where it was made. Like the hulks of tanks in the deserts of Iraq? And I notice how the singing which concludes the poem does not happen in a particularised place but in a vague “somewhere” because this poem is meant to stand for all time, for all wars and the voice of the victims of war is reduced to a line from a song that perhaps deliberately echoed Dylan’s “blowin’ in the wind”. So the poem ends where it began. I have not even touched on the stressed syllables of the poem which are maybe meant to evoke Anglo-Saxon poetry” This is the wind, the wind..” “Stories of fire and sword”. Great poem.

Okay, but not as enjoyable as it ought to have been. I picked it up thinking it would be an account or journal of, well, a garden planted from 100 packet of seed. This seemed interesting. In fact, it's about a hundred seeds the author recommends, sorted by categories (e.g., "Useful and Decorative Herbs"). This is less interesting to me, and rendered less interesting still by the author's somewhat condescending tone. Several times I wished I could say to him, "Just tell me why you like a plant, not why someone else's gardening book or garden style is inferior."

The twelve essays contained in this volume were delivered at Oxford between 1995 and 1999 during James Fenton’s tenure there as Oxford Professor of Poetry. They are, each of them, masterly engagements with the lives and loves of poets, and most especially with their poetry. Fenton writes with assurance and sympathy. He tends towards the encroachment of biographical details into his criticism—in almost every case, details of the poet’s life under scrutiny, which would not have been generally or publicly available during the poet’s life, inform and adjust the interpretation of the poetry. That is a debatable strategy, but Fenton acknowledges its risks, most notably in the final essay. It does, however, make for highly readable accounts and a personable critical style.

In some ways, Fenton is better dealing with male poets. He writes with conviction and respect on Marianne Moore, Elizabeth Bishop, and Sylvia Plath. But he truly shines when discussing Wilfrid Owen, Seamus Heaney, D.H. Lawrence, and W.H. Auden, on whom there are three essays. Perhaps I should have placed Philip Larkin at the front of that list, but unusually here, Fenton’s scholarship and incisive observation diminishes rather than burnishes Larkin’s reputation. It was ever thus—poets move up or down in standing as critics disabuse us of our blinders with respect to them.

Fine criticism, I think, typically draws us back to the texts it explores with renewed enthusiasm. That is surely the case here. This is criticism that gently nudges us in certain directions and then, for the most part, seeks to absent the field. It returns us to the poems and lets their strengths act upon us. A fine collection of essays, highly recommended.

If you need a very brief introduction to English poetry, then this short book by James Fenton would be an excellent place to start. In 22 very short chapters, he covers everything from the history and scope of English poetry to form, iambic pentameter, the genius of the trochee, stanzas long and short, sonnets, rhyme, free verse, song, and poetic drama and opera. So, you can imagine that things move rather quickly. But perhaps it would be better to say that there is no dross bulking out this text. Just thoroughly serviceable, and often memorable, encounters with the various aspects of English poetry.

The style of this introduction is especially engaging. Fenton is immediate and honest in his opinions and prejudices (he doesn’t think much of free verse or poetry written for the eye rather than with an eye to oral presentation). But he backs up his views with reference to fabulous examples from the history of English poetry. For example, he thinks the villanelle—a form borrowed from the French—can’t be much more than trivial or comic. And then he proceeds to show how in the hands of a master, like Dylan Thomas, even this trivial form can be immensely effective and powerful. Think of Thomas’ “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”.

Fenton is also very good on linking the aspects of poetry (rhythm, rhyme, metre) to meaning. This is always a challenge, since it can sometimes seem that a poet is merely technically brilliant. But Fenton argues persuasively that a mark of good poetry is when technical brilliance serves the meaning that the poet wishes to express. I find him convincing.

The final few chapters on free verse and song and opera and such seemed to race a bit. Certainly I could have stood a bit more content on just why free verse has apparently been so dominant in the 20th century and whether any of it is any good. But you can’t do everything in such a brief introduction to English poetry. And after all, it is an introduction. As such, it should and will prompt the reader to want to pursue an interest in English poetry further. Recommended.½

James Fenton's name was mentioned numerous times in Hitchen's memoirs, and since I knew far less than I really should about poetry I thought that I might look something of his up on Amazon. I'm very glad I did. This slim volume is the perfect combination of erudition and accessibility, teaching the reader about poetry, illuminating the craft, and generally helping people like me to derive more pleasure from the art than I had thought possible. So, thank you Fenton, and thank you too Hitchens.

This textbook is a must for undergraduate students and poetry amateurs who wish to know more about some of the forms used for poetry. This is useful too for analyzing specific types of poems - explanations are clear, concise and easy to understand.

These essays are cogently argued and thought-provoking. One of Fenton's great strengths that he is a lot more than a poet. He therefore has much to drawn on as he formulates his thoughts on the place of poetry in the pantheon of communication and art. The essays were originally lectures given by Fenton when he held the more or less honorary post of professor of poetry at Oxford.

More lyrical reflections on contemporary and political themes.

An all-time favourite. Evocative poems about everything from Pol Pot to a dusty ethnographic museum in Oxford.

Invents a new school of journalism, the Crepuscular School, based on the observation that people tell you more after dark. When I was stalking the revolutions of Southeast Asia, I certainly found that to be true. Revealing without being self-important.

This anthology, years ago, is what began my fascinating with poetry and with writing. I realized in these pages, that poetry could be simple, beautiful, and thought provoking all at the same time. I bought it when my creative writing teacher (in high school) told us to find a poem we hadn't read before that "spoke to us" and memorize it for the class. My poem was out of this collection, titled "I'll Explain", and to this day it's one of my favorite poems. If you're a reader, I recommend this book. Fenton hasn't come out with many collections, and this one stands above the rest as far as I'm concerned both in quality and in accessability. This is one of those collections where nearly every poem is worth coming back to both days and years down the road, and at least for me, it proved a great deal of inspiration as well. If you're remotely interested in reading or writing poetry, this book comes highly recommended.

James Fenton (poet, critic, professor and gardener) suggests that gardening can be spontaneous and adventureous. An activity from the heart that does not require perfection or following prescribed designs. Just plant what you like, play and enjoy. His descriptions are delightful and I just wish it was spring and not mid-summer so I could get started!

One of my favorite poetry books here. Unfortunately Mr. Fenton doesn't seem to write a lot of it. Anyways I always think of internal combustion engines when I think of ways to describe it. Rhymes within rhymes--it seems that not only can a line rhyme with the one before it--it can also rhyme with itself--in fact his technique seems to continually propel the poem forward. But that is not all--because as an observer of the world in a social, and a political and a historical sense Mr. Fenton is in my eyes an almost fearless poet of great intellectual gifts. Now there is some of his other work apart from his poetry that I don't particularly care for but this book is really very fine.

"What have we got, and how good is it?" James Fenton's book is there to help answer these two fundamental questions about poetry in English, discussing first when English poetry begins and how far it extends. Good technical discussions of major and minor verse forms, with examples of their use.

3.5 stars.

Pacific/Travel