T.L. Morrisey

Showing posts with label John Glassco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Glassco. Show all posts

Saturday, December 19, 2020

Thoughts on F.R. Scott


For the last six months I've been reading my way through the Montreal Group of poets who helped bring modernism in poetry to Canada back in the 1920s; the group includes four poets: F.R. Scott, A.J.M. Smith, John Glassco, Leo Kennedy, and A.M. Klein.

            It's a different experience to read someone's individual books than it is to read their collected poems. For instance, F.R. Scott's Events and Signals (1954) softens and humanizes him; perhaps this side of Scott isn't as evident as in his Collected Poems (1981). In fact, the Frank Scott in this earlier book is quite fascinating. "Departure" seems to refer to his separation from his lover P.K. Page in the late 1940s. For Peter Dale Scott his father's poems "A L'Ange Avant Gardien" and "Will to Win" refer to the artist and dancer Francoise Sullivan. We also know that Scott had a romantic relationship with the artist Pegi Nichol, one of his wife's best friends, which perhaps gives us a different perspective on his poem "For Pegi Nichol". Did the affairs have the silent approval of his wife? "Invert" and "Caring" give an insight into these affairs: it is that Scott was always looking for love but also afraid to leave his marriage with someone he also loved.  As we say, "It's complicated."

            I also reread F.R. Scott's The Dance is One (1973). Scott is not a great poet, he's more of a "minor major poet" whose importance lies in what he did (he helped bring modernism in poetry to Canada), who he knew (Leon Edel, A.J.M. Smith, John Glassco), and what he believed (an inclusive federalist vision of Canada). I met Scott once or twice and he was a lovely person. Louis Dudek told me that Scott controlled every aspect of Sandra Djwa's biography, The Politics of the Imagination: A Life of F.R. Scott (1987); I don't think Dudek's comment was a compliment for Scott but part of Dudek's aversion to falsehood in literature. Consider that Scott did not allow certain details about his private life to appear in Djwa's biography. Indeed, Dudek seems to have had a double standard when it came to Scott; Dudek rejected John Glassco's spurious memoir but he never objected to Scott's censorship of Djwa's biography which included his repeated betrayal of his wife in a series of affairs, but perhaps these affairs should remain private.  Should they? Is anything private anymore? What about the children? Where is justice at the individual level?  

            I was also very impressed with Scott's book of translations, St-Denys Garneau & Anne Hebert: Translations/Traductions (1962), and there are more translations in The Dance is One. Both Hebert and Garneau deserve a lot more attention in English Canada. Scott's work as a translator of French Canadian poetry deserves greater acknowledgement and is a part of his literary career.

            The title of The Dance is One is from Scott's poem "Dancing" and is also the inscription on his and his wife's headstone in Mount Royal Cemetery. Another of Scott's poems that deserves greater attention is "Letters From the MacKenzie River, 1956", published in The Dance is One (1973. In this poem Frank Scott refers to, among other things about the North, the residential schools; he is prescient in exposing how bad these institutions actually were, he writes,

                                   

                                    Upstairs on the second story
                                    Seventy little cots
                                    Touching end to end
                                    In a room 30 by 40
                                    Housed the resident boys
                                    In this firetrap mental gaol.

            There are other poems of Frank Scott that deserve to be mentioned, for instance "The Laurentian Shield" which is anthologized and among the best of Scott's writing. Otherwise, I am not a fan of satirical writing so those poems of Scott's hold little interest for me.

 

Monday, February 3, 2020

Poetry, Place, and Psyche (with revisions and post scripts)


                                               


1.

I think of "place" in poetry as referring to two things: place as a specific geographical location, and place as location in a metaphysical sense. I am particularly interested in place as it is shown in the long, sometimes multi-book, poem; place can also be important in single poems that are neither long nor multi-book.

One of the best examples of place is William Carlos Williams' Paterson (1963). Williams' poem works on different levels of meaning, personal, historical, mythological, archetypal, and so on. One of the keys to Paterson is in Williams' preface in which he writes "that a man in himself is a city, beginning, seeking, achieving and concluding his life in ways which the various aspects of a city may embody..." The city Williams is writing about is an outer expression of the poet's inner being, it is Williams himself, no ordinary or average citizen.

Another aspect of place is in Williams' belief in writing the way Americans speak, in the American idiom. Allen Ginsberg, in his essay "Williams in a World of Objects" (1983), writes that Williams was a friend of Charles Reznikoff; he writes, "They composed their poems out of the elements of natural speech, their own speech, as heard on the porch or in talk over the kitchen table."  The way people speak—idiomatic English—also emphasizes place in poetry. Then Ginsberg continues, he writes,

He [Williams] deliberately stayed in Rutherford, New Jersey, and wrote poetry about the local landscape, using local language. He wanted to be a provincial from the point of view of really being there where he was; really knowing his ground. He wanted to know his roots, know who the iceman and fishman were; know the housewife; he wanted to know his town—his whole body in a sense. (340)


The loss of place in American life is also discussed in Wendell Berrry's The Poetry of William Carlos Williams of Rutherford  (2011); Berry writes:
Without such rootedness in locality, considerably adapted to local conditions, we get what we now have got: a country half destroyed, toxic, eroded, and in every way abused; a deluded people tricked out in gauds without traditions of any kind to give them character; a politics of expediency dictated by the wealthy; a disintegrating economy founded upon fantasy, fraud, and ecological ruin. Williams saw all of this, grieved over    it, and accused rightly... (176)

  


2.

Many critics don't rank John Glassco's chapbook length poem Montreal (1973) very highly; I think they are mistaken. Glassco's poem is a short history of Montreal, from pre-historic days to around 1967, it also represents Glassco as a man who rejects what his city has become. Urban development is destroying the city in which he grew up, not much is left of the Victorian architecture and ambiance of daily life which Glassco once experienced. This is seen in the demolition of historic family homes in the Golden Square Mile area of the city and it continues to this day with the gentrification of once poor neighbourhoods. Glassco writes, "Last night I heard again all your chanting voices / Fetched from my own dead childhood..." This is no conventional history or critique of modernity, this is history seen through the eyes, memory, and aesthetic sensibility of one of our prominent writers. This is a history grounded in Glassco's emotional response to modern-day Montreal, it is not a positive one. This is the city where Glassco lived and grew up, it is a subjective history that is based on objective historical fact filtered through his aesthetic sensibility.

Glassco refers to living in a rented room in the Crescent Street area of downtown Montreal. I remember meeting Marian Dale Scott in the fall of 1970 at a reception at McGill's Thomson House on McTavish Avenue, she recounted how her husband, the poet Frank Scott, and Scott's friend John Glassco, both elderly, would talk about the past as they walked along Crescent Street; I would like to think that at least part of the genesis of Glassco's poem was on these mid- to late-1960s walks with Frank Scott. If the poem was completed in 1968 then, reasonably speaking, this is possible. I remember thinking at the time that Marian Scott was a lovely grey-haired lady (I was about twenty years old); later that evening I spoke with Frank Scott about poets he used to know and life in Montreal as it used to be. I had recently been at Patrick Anderson's reading; Anderson was an old friend of Scott's from the 1940s, and Scott mentioned that Anderson wished to make the acquaintance of young Montreal poets, he wanted to hear about contemporary Montreal poetry.

Glassco's treatment of the Indigenous population in his poem is also interesting; to him they represent an age of innocence, of sexual freedom before the arrival of Europeans. But he also recalls the French colony that became Montreal as a time of innocence; he associates it with the past, with when he was a boy collecting stamps. This, then, is Glassco's place: it is nostalgia for the past, disgust with what the city has become under Mayor Jean Drapeau's regime, and an enduring sense of loss that he has become estranged from his home city. He is contemptuous of Expo 67, the highly successful Montreal World's Fair of 1967, promoted and brought to completion by Mayor Drapeau. In effect, Montreal is the place of Glassco's lost innocence and his nostalgia for the past. In his other writing Glassco is cosmopolitan but as a poet he is a nativist. 



3.

Poetry, I believe, is the voice of the human soul, it is the voice of psyche; psyche is manifested in things, places, objects. This is how soul is recognized in someone's life, it is recognized by how it appears in things, not only by how they change and grow in their consciousness or awareness.

I agree with Williams that "poetry feeds the imagination and prose the emotions" but it is important to emphasize that place evokes both emotion and imagination; we have an emotional attachment to place and the emotions that are evoked there are important to us; place also moves us more deeply into imagination. Emotions connect to place, no matter how significant that place may be to other people. We have an emotional attachment to place.


Poetry returns us to place; poetry explores place, it extols the humanity of place over the anonymity of the contemporary and soulless built environment. Without place there is a levelling off and diminishment of what makes us human; there is the emergence, as we see in the world today, of a dehumanized society. 



4. 

I also believe that "the soul revels in specificity"; that is, the soul is not an abstract entity, the soul loves the material world and is manifested in specific things. The soul loves "things", not just "ideas". Soul is not disembodied; it is embodied, or manifested, in our time and place, by a specific person living in a specific place at a specific time.  

Place, a geographical location, is one of the ways we discover psyche.  Place is the source of tangible things, as well as images, metaphors, and archetypes. So, personally speaking, I believe that psyche is essential to poetry, and by extension place is essential because it is where we find our psychic center, that place we identify with and resonate to.

A few examples of poets and place:


Charles Olson’s Glouester; William Carlos William’s Paterson; Whitman's Manhattan; Yeats' Sligo; the Lake District for Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey. In Canadian poetry we might think of Ameliasburg, Ontario, for Al Purdy; Montreal for John Glassco, F.R. Scott, Louis Dudek, A.M. Klein, and Irving Layton; the Tantramar Marshes and Sackville, New Brunswick, for Douglas Lochhead; PEI for Milton Acorn. All are places that are identified with these poets, they are places that have been transformed by poetry into an archetypal geography that contains the human condition; they are psychic centers, places of numinosity and soul. 



5.

The world is a place for creating one's identity, a place of intentionality and meaning. John Keats, in a famous letter to his brother and sister, George and Georgiana Keats, dated 28 April 1819, identified the purpose of the world, not as a "vale of tears" but a "vale of soul making"; soul-making refers to inner transformation, discovering one's purpose and meaning in life. Soul-making includes meeting one's Shadow, the rejected and dark aspect of our inner being, it is the journey to selfhood when entering the darkness that resides within each person. Keats emphasizes the importance of soul-making, that it is done in the "world", and that the world has this essential role in one's life.  The "world" refers to place, refers to living in the world and being engaged in the transformative quality of place.

To continue this line of thinking, Frank Bidart has referred to Robert Lowell's "confessional" poetry as "soul-making"; Bidart writes that the commonly used "confessional" label, first used in a review of Lowell's work by M.L. Rosenthal, is inaccurate and derogatory. It has become derogatory partly because of the academic prejudice against the personal and emotional. Place in poetry is one of the access points, one of the portals, to the inner or spiritual dimension of life and the poet's effort at soul-making. 







6. 

My own "place" in poetry, in life, is Montreal where my family have lived since the early 1840s; but more specifically, place for me is my grandmother's home at 2226 Girouard Avenue in Montreal where she lived from the mid-1920s to the mid-1960s. This was my first home (my brother remembers our mother going to the hospital for my birth at the Western Hospital that was located on Atwater Street near Ste. Catherine Street).

I first realized the psychic importance of Girouard Avenue in my dreams, it was a place of significance for me long before I began writing about it; this place was the home of my grandmother, and it was the place and home of other family members who lived with my grandmother or had once lived with her on Girouard.

For many years I thought it was individual family members, especially my grandmother, that were the reason I returned so often to this place, in dreams, poems, memory, even driving by her flat everyday on my way to work long after she died and always looking up at the living room windows that faced the street, always hoping I would see her looking out into the street. All of this is important to me, and perhaps fanciful, but one day I realized that it was the place itself that I was returning to, not only the people, for the place was the container for the people and our life there. This place, my grandmother's flat at 2226 Girouard Avenue, is my psychic center.


My history at my grandmother`s Girouard Avenue flat is what I wrote about in my book Girouard Avenue (2009) but also in other essays and poems that are about or refer to living on Girouard Avenue, for instance in my memoir Remembering Girouard Avenue (2015). About ten years ago I returned and visited the inside of the flat on Girouard when the building was for sale; incredibly, not much had changed during the intervening 45 years since my grandmother had lived there, except that the building was more run down than ever. The rooms were empty or contained boxes of the current renter's possessions; after the place was sold it was totally renovated and it now holds no interest for me, it now exists only in the imagination. 

7.

What is left that is distinct in today's big cities? One thinks of historical sites, art galleries and museums, literary gatherings, restaurants and theatre, gay villages, China Town, botanical gardens, university districts, natural beauty, large parks, all are places that make cities worth visiting. But mostly, in every city, we find the usual sixty story office buildings, condos everywhere, malls with the same stores in them as in every other city, people dressed in the current fashions, some people are homeless, some people are having the same conversations about sports or entertainment as people in other cities, people are watching the same television shows and movies, they are listening to the same inconsequential popular music, they have the same opinions as people everywhere. No wonder we call these cities soulless places.

More and more people live a transient existence, they are not homeless but they move from one city to another, one state or province to another, one country to another. It doesn't really matter to these people where they live, it can be in any of the soulless places they find themselves. These people no longer identify with a specific city or place, they are people with no substantial connection to anywhere in the world. They are, lamentably, citizens of the global world, identifying with nowhere, engaged with nothing, and loyal to no one.




8.

E.K. Brown, although largely forgotten, is one of the foremost scholars and critics of Canadian literature; indeed, he supported and helped define our national literature when many critics were ambivalent about the value of Canadian literature, some of these critics thought that Canadians were colonials and what was written here was a poor second cousin to literature written in the United Kingdom. Place is important to Brown, it creates who we are, our identity; we have an emotional and intellectual connection to place. Brown is a "nativist", not a "cosmopolitan", as these terms were defined by A.J.M. Smith in his Introduction to The Book of Canadian Poetry (1943). The nativists are concerned with what makes Canada a distinct place, we have moved out of a colonial age and into nationhood, and place is a natural concern for them. The cosmopolitan poets, usually formalists and therefore adhering to a poetic tradition found in the UK or Europe, are more conservative than the nativists, they have a traditional approach to poetry that does not necessarily adhere to the importance of place.

Here is Brown writing in 1947 about his own early life:

The central and northern parts of Toronto are where I am most at home. The narrowness of lower Yonge Street, the rows of its shabby and sometimes seedy shops between College and Bloor, the huddling curves of South Rosedale, the vista from Casa Loma, the shadeless streets of that suburb so oddly named Forest Hill, they are all beautiful in my eyes. ("Now, Take Ontario", 1947)

And then we turn to Laura Smyth Groening's excellent biography of Brown, E.K. Brown, A Study in Conflict (1993), and we read of Brown's "ever-growing fascination with Canadian Literature"; Groening writes,

The theory of national literatures that he was developing, as we saw from his work in On Canadian Poetry [1943] and the articles leading up to that book, was strongly rooted in ideas about the essential relationship between writers and their grounding in a specific place... in the 1930s he believed that universal quality was most securely present in the work attached to a definite time and place. (132-133)  

9.

Soul-making requires place, being uprooted from place is to dig up the roots of one's inner being from the psychic ground, from the material ground of place; if a tree is uprooted then the tree dies, people who have lost place in their lives are uprooted, they are deracinated. The soul flourishes in specific things, in small and large things, in a specific place and in all of the details that make a specific place unique and soulful; this includes historical places, buildings, neighbourhoods, architecture, and people one sees on the street.

We are increasingly living in a deracinated world, in a global community, but a global community is an abstraction, an invention of committees and legislation and driven by people's personal ambition; it is an intellectual construct, it is not born organically, a process that may take several millennia of human migration, political and military strategies, transformation of the arts, and spiritual insight. If we are not careful we will soon be living in Orwell's world of geographical regions, not places of vibrant specificity that are containers of soul. Place is specific and local, it is not abstract but concrete; globalism is an abstract concept that has little or no connection to community or place. Abstraction denies the specificity of place; place emphasizes the diverse world of things. Poetry requires community; it requires the diversity of a specific place.


                                                                                                January 2020

Essay revised: 06 February 2020, 22 March 2020


Post Script, 1 of 2: Here is a quotation from C.G. Jung that seems appropriate (my italics),

“The question of overriding importance in the end is not the origin of evolution but its goal. Nevertheless, when a living organism is cut off from its roots, it loses the connections with the foundations of its existence and must necessarily perish. When that happens, anamnesis of the origins is a matter of life and death.”
                        --C.G. Jung, Aion





PS, 2 of 2: Of interest regarding the relevance of A.J.M. Smith's statement about Canadian poetry, and the larger discussion of politics, being divided between "cosmopolitan" and "nativist" is this quotation from a recent communication from Conrad Black; Black writes (not about poetry but about the Davos economic summit): "He [not Black] credits capitalism with the triumph of globalization, and with it of freer and more prosperous societies, after what he bills as a close battle against communists, socialists and nativists." Since my subject is poetry and not politics I conclude from this that nativist poets rightly condemn globalization as lacking a human element and creating the soulless environment found in many major cities. Black should have omitted the word "nativist" from his essay, it might have been more convincing. 


Post Script 3, 24 November 2022: I can see that I've been a lot more concerned about the meaning and value, and the importance, of poetry than most contemporary poets. Perhaps I've been wrong about this, I always thought it was a part of the work of being a poet. Most poets write their poems but they don't write anything on poetics and some of them are critical of me for being as concerned about poetics as I am. But poets have always been concerned about poetics, about the meaning and value of poetry, why poets write, and the significance of poetry. Poetics has always been a concern since it deals with, personally speaking, my understanding of why I write poetry and my place as a poet in the world. 

BTW, regarding Conrad Black, above, in another article Black quotes from a poem by Irving Layton; I was impressed by this because it showed to me that Layton is a living presence in our cultural life, this is as it should be for any nation but in Canada to quote from or acknowledge the existence of our poets is the absolute exception and rarely the rule. 











Tuesday, July 30, 2019

John Glassco, Ralph Gustafson, and F.R. Scott

Montreal by John Glassco, DC Books, 1973

Certain books, even certain groups of artists, seem to occur in clusters. Here are three long poems all published in 1972-1973 and all similar in expressing social criticism; they are poems of passion written in an open-ended form atypical of each of these poets' other work. First is one of my favourite poems, John Glassco's Montreal (DC Books, 1973); this is Glassco's history of Montreal and his criticism of the city for discarding the past in favour of urban development; many old mansions, all of importance to our heritage and all irreplaceable, were demolished in the 1960s. This has only gotten worse and the present city would be unrecognizable to Glassco as it is to me and many others. Despite what the crtitics say, this is one of Glassco's most interesting and certainly most idiosyncratic poems; it shows Glassco's love of language, it is Glassco having fun despite his lament for the lost city of his youth; Glassco's linguistic "fun" may not appeal to everyone... Louis Dudek, who published this chapbook, wrote "The Demolitions", a poem dedicated to Glassco, also lamenting the loss of Montreal that was charming, historical, and a place of artists, poets, and culture.




These and Variations for Sounding Brass
by Ralph Gustafson, self-published, 1972

Next is Ralph Gustafson's chapbook, Theme and Variations for Sounding Brass (self-published, 1972) in which Gustafson laments the loss of our collective innocence in several violent political events in the late 1960s and early seventies; these include the Prague Spring of 1968, Kent State in 1970, and the political terrorism of 1970 that lead to the War Measures Act in Quebec. I was never a big fan of Ralph Gustafson's poetry but this chapbook seems to me some of his best and most passionate work.



The Dance is One by F.R. Scott,
McCelland and Stewart, 1973

In my opinion F.R. Scott would have been a better poet had he written more long poems like his "Letters from the MacKenzie River", published in The Dance is One (M&S, 1973). This long poem has ten sections and is based on his 1956 trip to the North West Territories with his friend, our future prime minister, Pierre Eliot Trudeau. It is a truly magnificent poem that is also not typical of Scott's other work in poetry; it is my opinion that Scott would have been more significant as a poet had he written more poems like this and omitted some of the satire that he is known for; it is also better than Al Purdy's poems (published in 1966) about visiting the Baffin Islands, a place he didn't like.

According to some critics none of these chapbooks (or poems) are Glassco's, Gustafson's, or Scott's best work; however, these poems are among their most appealing and accessible work and can be read as a significant statement on the times in which they lived.

Revised: 17 January 2020

Monday, July 15, 2019

A Reappraisal of A.J.M. Smith


"And the classic shade/ Of cedar and pine..."

                                            
1.

Some people may think it presumptuous to call a book of only a hundred short,
mainly lyrical pieces of verse Collected Poems—but actually that is exactly what it is.
                                    —A.J.M Smith, Canadian Literature, (# 15, winter 1963)

                       
Fifty years ago A.J.M. Smith was one of our most prominent Canadian poets, since then Smith's prominence has declined into obscurity. Smith was a poet but he was also an anthologist, a critic, and someone who was important in the literary history of Canada, but he is primarily important as a poet. The reason for Smith's obscurity is his small body of poems, that he did not publish enough to be a significant poet. In E.K. Brown's review of Smith's first book of poems, News of the Phoenix (1944), Brown writes,

At last Mr. Smith has brought out a collection of his own. My first feeling, at the mere sight of the book, was one of disappointment. It is a little book; it holds but thirty-nine poems, spread over about as many pages; and among the thirty-nine are the twelve from New Provinces, and others well known to the readers of more recent anthologies of Canadian verse. One had hoped for evidence of greater fertility.

        One may be justifiably disappointed at the size of Smith's book but the book's real importance is its content, not the number of pages, and beginning with the title poem there are some truly exceptional poems in News of the Phoenix. Brown mentions twice that Smith is not a "fertile" poet, seemingly to reinforce his dislike for the book. But surely Brown knew that all poets are different; not all poets are prolific, some poets stop writing when young, some have ten or twenty years between books, and some write and publish more than they should. (Note: that both Brown and Smith published books on Canadian poetry in 1943 perhaps explains something of Brown's criticism of Smith's book; they were, in some sense, rivals with opposing views.) A few months after publishing this review, Brown made an effort to soften his first reaction to Smith's book by writing the following:

Finally, just a few months ago, appeared Mr. Smith's "News of the Phoenix," long awaited in Canada, and in perfection of technique undoubtedly the finest first volume since Archibald Lampman's "Among the Millet" came out in 1888. Mr, Smith has undergone the same influences that went to shape the difficult younger poets in this country. He is their analogue—and their peer. In his work is a distinctive note, the note of a temperament which is, as I have said elsewhere, "proud, hard, noble, and intense."            
 This idea that Smith's work can be dismissed based on his small body of published poems is repeated by Desmond Pacey in his Ten Canadian Poets (1958); Pacey writes that Smith "has produced a small body of poetry—only, in fact, two slim volumes, the second of which reprints a good deal of the contents of the first... " Pacey then writes,

 To call Smith a poet's poet seems to me to draw attention to his strengths and his   limitations.  He is a master craftsman, a poet from whom other poets can learn many of  the subtleties of technique; on the other hand he has neither the explosive force, the  musical charm, nor the clearly formulated set of ideas which either singly or in some  combination make a poet a great popular figure.

Many contemporary readers will agree with Pacey's assessment of Smith's poems; the poems emphasize craft over emotion and because of this they lack the capacity to hold our interest. To these readers Smith's poems must seem disembodied from time and place, as though self-contained and remote. This is the flaw in Smith's poetry: it is that technical skill without emotional depth is a formula for obsolete poems; however, conversely, emotion without technical skill is also a flaw in poetry. Having said this, there is more to Smith's work than craft; there is imagination, insight, intellectual depth, thematic cohesion, a restrained emotional content, and Smith's persistence to create a body of work that sustains its vision over many years. These are the qualities that we overlook when we complain that Smith's poems weigh too heavily on the side of craft. 

About twenty years after E.K. Brown's review was published, and five years after Pacey's book was published, Canadian Literature (# 15, winter 1963) dedicated an issue to A.J.M. Smith; in this issue, "Salute to A.J.M. Smith",  Earle Birney used the same word as Brown, "fertile", to criticize Smith; Birney writes, "As it turned out, Smith was to prove less fertile a poet than most, and, though he was to continue to set us all high standards when he did publish, his dominance was elsewhere." I could be totally wrong but until reading E.K. Brown's statement that Smith is not a "fertile" poet, and Birney's repetition of this, I had never heard of any poet, or any artist,  referred to as "fertile" except as having a fertile imagination. 







2.

Most of the members of the Montreal Group are distinguished poets (Leon Edel, a member of the group, was not a poet); all the poets but Leo Kennedy won the Governor General's award for poetry (F.R. Scott won the GG two times, once for non-fiction). Indeed, this is the preeminent group of poets—distinguished, creative, and innovative—in Canada. If Smith didn't publish a lot of poems Leo Kennedy published even fewer; John Glassco published only marginally more than Smith. Glassco and Smith published two books each followed by Kennedy with his one book. F.R. Scott published slightly more than A.M. Klein but only because Scott lived longer than Klein. In sum, none of these poets were prolific.

Critics who complain that Smith was not "fertile" as a poet don't understand the process of writing poetry which, simply put, is that the Muse visits the poet, it doesn't work in reverse. As well, much of Smith's published body of poems was written when he was young, the Muse often prefers young poets over older poets; as an example of this, Coleridge was most prolific as a poet for a two year period when he was twenty-five years old, from 1797 to 1799 (I am not conflating Coleridge with A.J.M. Smith). Smith's priority was the perfectly crafted poem, his ideal was a small collection of about one hundred poems; this results in a small book because perfectly crafted poems take more time to write than poems that need little editing. To explain this better, consider that Alex Colville, although not a poet but a man of great technical skill, imagination, and vision; Colville produced only three or four paintings a year, but no one ever said he wasn't "fertile". Smith encouraged an idea of the importance of technical ability in poetry but when applied to his own work this was interpreted as Smith not being "fertile" and then further interpreted and misconstrued as his work not being significant.  

 

All the members of the Montreal Group (again, leaving out Leon Edel) published poetry but also worked in other literary genres, for instance criticism, translation, and memoirs, or as anthologists (Smith and F.R. Scott; Smith and M.L. Rosenthal). Some group members were accomplished as poets but also in fields other than writing: F.R. Scott was a distinguished constitutional lawyer and law professor; A.M. Klein was a lawyer and publicist for the Bronfman family; Leo Kennedy made his living from advertising; A.J.M. Smith was a man of letters. Let's compare Smith's body of published books of poems with those of other members of the Montreal Group, excluding posthumously published books, and see where Smith stands among them; here is a list of the poetry books they published:


F.R. Scott's books of poetry:

Poetry books:
  • Overture. Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1945.
  • Events and Signals. Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1954.
  • The Eye of the Needle: Satire, Sorties, Sundries. Montreal: Contact Press, 1957.
  • Signature. Vancouver: Klanak Press, 1964.
  • Trouvailles: Poems from Prose. Montreal: Delta Canada, 1967.
  • The Dance is One. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1973.

Selected Poems:
  • Selected Poems. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1966.


A.M. Klein's books of poetry:

Poetry:
  • Hath Not a Jew.... New York, Behrman Jewish Book House, 1940.
  • Poems. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1944.
  • The Hitleriad. Norfolk, CT.: New Directions, 1944.
  • Seven Poems. Montreal: The Author, 1947.
  • The Rocking Chair and Other Poems. Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1948.


John Glassco's books of poetry:

 

Poetry Books:
  • The Deficit Made Flesh: Poems. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1958.
  • A Point of Sky. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1964.

Chapbook:
  • Montreal. Montreal: DC Books, 1973.

Selected Poems:
  • Selected Poems. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1971.


A.J.M. Smith's books of poetry:

 

Poetry Books:
  • News of the Phoenix and Other Poems. Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1943. New York: Coward-McCann, 1943.
  • A Sort of Ecstasy. Michigan State College Press, 1954. Toronto: Ryerson Press, 1954.

Selected Poems:
  • Collected Poems. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1962.
  • Poems New and Collected. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967
  • The Classic Shade: Selected Poems. Toronto: McClelland Stewart, 1978                                                                                                                                                                                      
 Leo Kennedy's poetry book:

Poetry Books:
  • The Shrouding.  1933



A.J.M. Smith's family home in the 1920s, 79 Chesterfield Avenue, Westmount, Quebec
                   


3. 

Here are some quotations from Canadian Literature's "Salute to A.J.M. Smith" issue (# 15, winter 1963). In 1963 Smith was still a prominent poet and referred to with admiration and esteem by his contemporaries; he was acknowledged as having made a substantial contribution to Canadian poetry.

  • "This issue of Canadian Literature is in part a celebration occasioned by the publication of the Collected Poems of A. J. M. Smith, one of Canada's important writers and, since the 1930's, a poet of international repute. It is an act of homage..."  —George Woodcock

  • "All help in the end to put this collection, despite its spareness, among the most distinguished, I believe, of the century."  —Roy Fuller

  • "As I read the Collected Poems which Oxford has just given us, I realize, as I never did before, just how all of a piece, as well as how varied, Smith's work really is. "Metaphysical poetry and pure poetry are what I stand for," he has insisted. One may be justly dubious about his "metaphysical" qualities, but he is as pure a poet as he is a critic."  —Milton Wilson



                           


4. A.J.M. Smith and M.L. Rosenthal

M.L. Rosenthal was both a poet and a critic; in his introduction to A.J.M. Smith's The Classic Shade, Selected Poems (1978) Rosenthal writes with authority and insight into Smith's poetry. Perhaps because Rosenthal is not Canadian he can appreciate Smith's work in a way that Canadians can't; Rosenthal isn't encumbered with the preconceptions native Canadians bring with them. It was Rosenthal who invented the important descriptive phrase "confessional poetry" in his review of Robert Lowell's Life Studies, a whole school of poetry is categorized as such, so Rosenthal is both perceptive and influential. Rosenthal is also a poet and poets are often, if not usually, the best critics of poetry and the most understanding of what motivates poets to write. It is a failed critic who places ideology above the work being discussed. Smith met Rosenthal at Michigan State College (now Michigan State Universityin the 1930s when they were both teaching there; Rosenthal moved on to teach at New York University but they remained friends and together edited the anthology Exploring Poetry (1955). Here are several quotations by Rosenthal from his 1977 essay on A.J.M. Smith, the essay is both the introduction to The Classic Shade and a separate essay that was published elsewhere:

  • "Smith, an important force in modern Canadian poetry though still but little known in the United States, is an active esthetic intelligence whose life's work (like that of most other genuine poets of matured intelligence) refutes the very notion of an "anxiety of influence" that reduces the power of poetry to renew its energies because of its great past."  P. 10

  • "If we viewed Smith's complete oeuvre as a unit, we would find in it analogous balancing of joy in the life-force and more depressive visions."  P. 12

  • "In the Romantic-Classical debate, Smith tends to vote Classical on principle while his poems actually throw the balance of feeling and imagination a little the other way." P. 13

  • "His (Smith's) ordinary humanity is evident in his obvious preoccupation with love and death and joy, and in his sense of language."  P. 15

  • "The nobility of his (Smith's) finest work has many aspects. I believe it can partly be accounted for by his high degree of empathic sensitization to the rhetoric of the most truly accomplished lyrical poetry generally. But his unabashedly human hatred of death is somehow another, and of necessity a more passionate, source. One rarely finds the position held with such thrilling clarity in poetry. The language is the pure, sustained, and subtle speech of a poet who sees his own nature as a relationship between his art and his fate."  P. 19
                                           

                                  
5.

He will go far, for he is genuine, and gifted.
—F.R. Scott, diary entry on A.J.M. Smith, 21 February 1927


Casual readers of poetry should not be overlooked, any audience for poetry is important. Casual readers don't care about the technical or historical background of poetry—they don't care if A.J.M. Smith was influenced by the Metaphysical Poets, they have probably never heard of the Metaphysical Poets—they like great poems when they read poetry. This was my experience when I was young, I was reading Palgrave's The Golden Treasury and read Shelley's "Ozymandias of Egypt" and immediately I knew I was in the presence of something great, something that existed by itself, as though it had always existed and always would exist. Great poems have a life of their own, they transcend the rest of a poet's body of work and, again, one doesn't need knowledge of the literary and historical era to enjoy reading them. These truly great poems are experienced as "pure poetry", existing beyond time and place; they are the kind of poem A.J.M. Smith wanted to write and, in fact, did write. One or two of Smith's poems—"pure poems"— more than make up for his small body of work; I refer to poems like "The Lonely Land" and "Like an Old Proud King in a Parable", but there are others.

Roy Daniells, in his review of Smith's The Classic Shade, Selected Poems (1978), published in Canadian Literature (# 79, winter 1978), positions Smith "as moving between two worlds, one dying, as the tradition of Carman, Lampman and Roberts subsides, one powerful to be born. ... How well has Smith provided a continuum, bridged the gap, or at least navigated between these diversities?"  Just over forty years later we have our answer, Smith has not fared well. The reason Daniells gives for Smith's failure to retain his prominence as a poet is demographic, he suggests that multiculturalism has displaced the concept of a homogenous culture of which Smith was a representative. Multiculturalism, as Daniells recognizes, is the society that was still "powerful to be born." For Daniells, Smith might be too old fashioned and even irrelevant to a contemporary multicultural audience; however, he also writes, "It is certain that a poet can become memorable on the strength of a handful of poems that show a fine excess of sensibility and achieve a genuine utterance."

Louis Dudek writes that it was Smith' s misfortune to publish his work in an era of low art, a time when poetry was popularized and made easy to understand and when high art was rejected by the public as uninteresting, inaccessible, and elitist. In a review, published in Delta (# 20, February 1963), of Smith's Collected Poems (1963), Dudek writes, "It may be that we find, in the end, that this was the most durable poetry published in Canada in the forty or so years since Smith began. He is our miglior fabbro, and in the last resort it is the fabbro that looks best to immortality." As most readers will remember, T.S. Eliot referred to Ezra Pound as "il miglior fabbro", the "better craftsman", in thanks to Pound who had edited Eliot's "The Waste Land". This is high praise from Dudek considering his adulation of Ezra Pound.

Most poets never know prominence, they only know obscurity; A.J.M. Smith is fortunate, he was once a prominent poet and deservedly so. Smith can be better appreciated and understood today than when he was alive, today we can consider his oeuvre in the context of the completion of both his life and his body of poems. The first thing in a reappraisal of Smith's literary career is to stop diminishing his accomplishment in poetry by saying he did not publish enough poems to be a significant poet; Smith's body of poems is sufficient in size and, more importantly, it is also significant as poetry. Some of Smith's poems transcend the time in which they were written, they are the "pure poems" that he wanted to write and they resonate in the reader's imagination. Smith's status is probably somewhere between being a "minor poet" (to which he resigned himself) and a "major poet"; in fact, he is neither minor nor major, but he is one of our better poets. Smith's poetry is a remarkable and incredible achievement but, as with any poet, he is not everyone's cup of tea and reading Smith takes some work, it is not light reading.



                                                            —Stephen Morrissey
                                                                April-July 2019

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