Recently I've been thinking about the following poem by Larkin. It's one of those that didn't mean a great deal to me when I first read it, but now, years later, I find every word of it to be on target. I say this both as a writer and a reader, but the attitude of the audience to the writer is often hugely hypocritical: Entertain me, but I don't want to know how you do it; write something that's real, but you're a swine if you write about someone and they find out about it. As a reader I am also frustrated with other readers, because my tastes are generally not represented by publishers. Do I have better taste? I would say that my taste has more to do with art for art's sake. I would say that is also a moral position. Anyway, here's the poem:
Fiction and the Reading Public
Give me a thrill, says the reader,
Give me a kick;
I don't care how you succeed, or
What subject you pick.
Choose something you know all about
That'll sound like real life:
Your childhood, your Dad pegging out,
How you sleep with your wife.
But that's not sufficient, unless
You make me feel good –
Whatever you're 'trying to express'
Let it be understood
That 'somehow' God plaits up the threads,
Makes 'all for the best',
That we may lie quiet in our beds
And not be 'depressed'.
For I call the tune in this racket:
I pay your screw,
Write reviews and the bull on the jacket –
So stop looking blue
And start serving up your sensations
Before it's too late;
Just please me for two generations –
You'll be 'truly great'.
(Larkin)
I've also been thinking about a poem of his called 'Heads in the Women's Ward'. Interestingly, the couplet that I was thinking of is quoted in this article immediately after a discussion of 'Fiction and the Reading Public'; "Smiles are for youth. For old age come/Death's terror and delirium."
Here's the poem in full:
Heads in the Women's Ward
On pillow after pillow lies
The wild white hair and staring eyes;
Jaws stand open; necks are stretched
With every tendon sharply sketched;
A bearded mouth talks silently
To someone no one else can see.
Sixty years ago they smiled
At lover, husband, first-born child.
Smiles are for youth. For old age come
Death's terror and delirium. (1972)
(Larkin)
As a PS, I’m just now listening to Love’s Forever Changes, and I remembered that, sadly, Arthur Lee died recently. I thought I’d just post here some of the lyrics of the astonishing You Set the Scene, in memory:This is the time and life that I am livingAnd I’ll face each day with a smileFor the time that I’ve been given’s such a little whileAnd the things that I must do consist of more than styleThere are places that I am goingThis is the only thing that I am sure ofAnd that’s all that lives is gonna dieAnd there’ll always be some people here to wonder whyAnd for every happy hello, there will be good-byeThere’ll be time for you to put yourself onEverything I’ve seen needs rearrangingAnd for anyone who thinks it’s strangeThen you should be the first to want to make this changeAnd for everyone who thinks that life is just a gameDo you like the part you’re playingI see your pictureIt’s in the same old frameWe meet againYou look so lovelyYou with the same old smileStay for a whileI need you so, oh, oh, oh, ohAnd if you take it easyI’m still teethin’I wanna love you, butOh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ohThis is the time and life that I am livingAnd I’ll face each day with a smileFor the time that I’ve been given’s such a little whileAnd the things that I must do consist of more than styleThere’ll be time for you to start all overThis is the time and this is the time andIt is time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time, time…
I must read more Larkin. I’m not familiar with him except in a very glancing sort of way.That bit in the second verse, about plaiting up the ends and giving the reader a sense that “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world” explains a lot of bestsellers these days, and is exacty why I’m becoming very fond of shorter fiction.Nothing changes. Religions come and go, but people still want the universe explained, or at the very least, they want a nice pat on the head. And a few good explosions along the way, just to keep things interesting (as long as it’s not happening to them).
I found this interesting and thought provoking, Thanks
Hello Hugh. Thanks for the comment. Do you really play the trombone? The only trombonist I know can no longer play, because of lung problems.