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24 of 25 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
More than Biography, November 25, 1999
This review is from: Lives of the Poets (Hardcover)
This book is nearly 1000 pages long. Nearly every one of these pages has something to commend it to anyone interested in poetry. (In fact, as I page through, I can't seem to find one that doesn't.) Schmidt is eclectic in his selection, as one might expect from the editor of the distinguished PN Review. He draws interesting material from throughout the English speaking world and hones in, with remarkable intelligence and good taste, on what makes these poets, and their poems, worthy of our attention. He is good and always interesting on biography, which takes second place to the poems. Schmidt gets it right by focussing, when he writes on the poems themselves, on rhythms, meters, syntax, diction, and what it feels like to read them well. He is generous in many ways, to the poets, to their poems, and to his readers. I hope they are many.
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28 of 30 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Fascinating but a little long, July 9, 2000
This review is from: Lives of the Poets (Hardcover)
"Lives of the Poets" covers seven hundred years of English language poets and poetry in a little under a thousand pages. Schmidt starts in the early fourteenth century--early enough that he takes several chapters to get to Chaucer--and continues right up to the present day, ending with Seamus Heaney and his contemporaries. Schmidt's style is to take several contemporary names and treat them together in a single chapter. Sometimes he gives a poet a chapter to himself (Edmund Spenser, William Blake); sometimes he deals with half a dozen at a time. The chronological approach (which he acknowledges is disdained by some in academe) works very well in providing a narrative, a sense of unfolding of poetic skill and poetic tradition. The period up to about 1900 is beautifully done. Most of the poets whose lives and work Schmidt describes are well-known, either for their poetry, or at least as names. He includes quite a few, however, who will be familiar only to academics or real poetry buffs--Juliana Berners, Robert Manning, Mary Wroth, William Cullen Bryant. Schmidt's prose is lively and engaging, and his love for his subjects and their poetry shines through. I found myself inspired to read the poets I didn't know. I also found his discussion of the poets I did know useful--he gives a lot of biographical detail, and makes thoughtful (and sometimes acid) comments on the poetry itself. For example, he's not a big fan of Swinburne, and while he acknowledges his popularity and influence has sharp things to say about his work. However, Schmidt's coverage of the twentieth century is less satisfying. He covers more poets (about 130) of the twentieth century than of the previous six hundred years (about 115). He's aware this is a problem, and makes excuses for it at one point, but it causes some difficulties for the reader. When you read about Richard Rolle or William Langland, even if you don't know their work, Schmidt's placing of them in their historical context around Chaucer's time allows you to fit them into the poetic scheme of things. But when he covers very recent poets, such as Edward Kamau Braithwaite, the historical positioning Schmidt does is less convincing, and without even a quoted line or two to judge him by the reader is unlikely to remember much about Braithwaite at all. The net effect is of a set of newspaper profiles of modern poets. This effect gets gradually worse towards the end of the twentieth century poets, though many twentieth century poets are well-known enough that the reader can supply some of the context for themselves (and probably is familiar with the poetry). Auden, Eliot, Yeats, and Kipling, and even Larkin, Plath, Hughes and Heaney, need very little introduction to those who've read even a little recent poetry. The book would be better for some culling of those poets whose work is not yet in this class. Overall, a fascinating read. But if you're not the sort of person reading modern poetry fairly regularly, the last three or four hundred pages will probably be largely skimmed.
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15 of 15 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
The Cost of Eloquence, February 10, 2003
Schmidt's history opens with an occasion on which he chaired a debate between Heaney, Walcott and Brodsky, contemporary giants - hence a portrait of himself in situ with the Gods - but its true opening scene is a typically more casual one mentioned in aside - where he tells us that his father disclaimed any further interest in his prospects when he announced his intention to publish poetry; he had put himself beyond the pale, made himself "a gambler" at best, and it is this chatty comfortableness along with self aggrandizement which holds the charm of this survey. Schmidt's paternal conference has the air of "Brideshead Revisited" as the painter Charles's father wonders aloud what became of a cousin who had run through his allowance early, gone off to Australia perhaps? Wherever possible in his account of the poets from Langland and Gower to his own stable of Khalvatis and Cissons Schmidt tries to give the impression that he was there, in spirit if not in person, and it is his identification of publishers' base motives not less than poets' fleeting visions which conspire to make this not so much a critical sourcebook as a story of how English poetry wound its roots into a tree. Of the eighteenth century Tory publisher and clubman Tonson, whose Kit Kat club saw writers gathering with him to eat superb pies, he remarks that it was clever of him to gather writers round him so that he could pick off their completed works like berries ripened off the bush. It is just possible, he allows, that writers and publisher actually enjoyed each other's company socially. Of the printer who bought out Milton's copyright from his widow for an additional eight pounds after a total payment of fifteen, he observes that this was a good buy. The fathers of poets are viewed by Schmidt companionably as "men of substance", if they have wealth, and the sorry ends of poets who do not have such means or a career besides come to seem regular as passing calendar leaves. Spenser's work went up in flames, he ended very poor. Charlotte Mayhew, a favourite of Hardy's, consigned to a friend the copy of her poem taken in that great man's hand, and drank bleach. These, as well as the publishers' copyists, scribes and outgoings for paper are the cost of eloquence: a life in foolscap. What emerges from the trawl of centuries is a generalism not common in this age of political axe grinders for critics: Schmidt sees that the ageing rebel turned conservative Wordsworth ("the silent muser had become the comfortable talker") echoes across centuries the radical turned arch-conservative Eliot, both critics in their age who turned their backs on ground broken. A half page on the dogs at poets' sides and what they tell us of their owners - Pope, Byron, Elizabeth Barret - is a gem. The readings of the poets are quirky but often fair: Browning left nine tenths of his work not worth re-reading, but that leaves a tenth that stands, a huge amount. Donne gets a quick seeing to - too clever and abstruse - Raleigh, with his deathbed nerves of steel, is "a man of flesh and blood". More often than not it is a chain of well chosen adjectives that makes Schmidt's prosecution or defense briefly and irrefutably - Johnson, despite his sloth, had "put so many projects into motion" that he achieved them, Dryden was happy to be top of his heap and did not "struggle with himself" to get higher. He quotes the great critics and sources so regularly - Aubrey, Wharton, Hazlitt, Eliot - that the intrusion of an occasional croney of his own - Cissons, Donald Davies - draws you up short. We had come to believe Schmidt was ensconced there in the Mermaid Tavern, what does this latter day vaingloriousness here? In these bowings to others' views he sometimes loses his tone - at his best he either lifts great critical cases outright or makes his own gruff motions to the jury, often digging up a soul long lost to view in the dungeons of posterity's Old Bailey. It is a vast book. I have still not reached the twentieth century, though those I've browsed of the contemporary listings do not retain his scabrous touch. Pity. He leaves to other publisher-writers the honour of regaling us with tales of chicanery in his own poets' contracts. Or he reveres too much his comfortable perch with them to risk scaring his own poets from his own pie shop. Still. It's not possible to skip while reading through his earlier centuries. His greatest achievement is to make English poetry live like a story you do not wish to miss parts of - you never know when Burns will echo Piers Ploughman, you do not know when Schmidt's map, like a three dimensional model, will let you see the Pearl poet peeping up at the bottom of the sea beneath a fishing trip by some contemporary craft.
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