Showing posts with label Twenty Thousand Streets Under The Sky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Twenty Thousand Streets Under The Sky. Show all posts

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Sunday Morning Two Introductions (Edwin Denby and Patrick Hamilton)










Rudy Burckhardt, Portrait of Edwin Denby




        They say that You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover (marvelous link here) and I suspect the same should be said about its Introduction (if it hasone).  

         It’s the actual text that you wanted, presumably, that yousought out and purchased, and damn other people’s thoughts.  You’d like to meet and spend time with theauthor, not his or her cousin or dear friend.

         I wanted to mention, however, that I recently read twointroductions to books, which are both simply superb.

 
     T he first is Ron Padgett’s introduction to The CompletePoems by Edwin Denby.   The second isSean French’s essay that begins his biography, Patrick Hamilton, A Life.







Rudy Burckhardt, Pedestrians in Manhattan, 1938 



     Padgett’s and French’s pieces are both fairly long, bututterly engrossing, reflecting each writers’ deep involvement with and knowledgeof their material and the passion that resulted in their shepherdingthese works to press.   Notcoincidentally, I think, both Denby and Hamilton, "city authors" who were hardly unknown intheir respective literary spheres, are writers who these guides feel have been injudiciouslyoverlooked and whose closer and more knowledgeable examination (in part by learning key facts about their lives) will profoundly reward readers.

        Since I happen to own both books, I obviously agree, but I wanted you to know also.







Unknown photographer, Patrick Hamilton



        As for “cover judgement,” the Edwin Denby portrait by hisclose friend Rudy Burkhardt, which adorns the cover of The Complete Poems and appears at the top of this post, is aremarkable image showing a handsome and distinguished man atop a citywhich no longer exists except in the memories of a declining number of people.  Teeming, densely populated Manhattanactually looks dignified and hopeful, like a place where work can be accomplished,pockets will not be picked, nor backs stabbed. The formal author portrait onthe cover of Patrick Hamilton, A Life (shown immediately above -- photographer, date and location all unknown) is almost heartbreaking in conveying a sense ofearly accomplishment, future promise,clear vision and, I think, the acute hearing that Claud Cockburn so memorably described in his introduction to The Slaves Of Solitude.  Hamilton lived a fairly short, almostungovernable life.   It may seem circularreasoning, but one is left with thefeeling that his unique works couldn’t have emerged from any different set ofcircumstances. Still, one is left with a sad, slightly queasy feelingknowing that his autobiography (never completed) was to be called “Memoirs of aHeavy Drinking Man.”


1. Edwin Denby, The Complete Poems, Edited and with an introduction by Ron Padgett and with essays by Frank O'Hara and Lincoln Kirstein.  New York, Random House, 1986.


2. Sean French, Patrick Hamilton, A Life.  London, Faber and Faber, 1993.

3.  I was pleased to learn this morning that Faber & Faber will republish Patrick Hamilton's pioneering "graphic novel" Impromptu in Moribundia on November 17th, adding it to their previous release of Twopence Coloured in the Faber Finds series. 

4.  Sunday Morning -- Velvet Underground (link)









Piccadilly Circus, 1930 (c.f., Twenty Thousand Streets Under The Sky)





  



View from the top of the Parliament buildings, London 1958  





Rudy Burckhardt, Times Square, Manhattan, 1938

Monday, August 8, 2011

Death Comes To Perigord 2









           That he had disliked me at the time of my visit I was well aware; but now I could divine the maniacal fury which lay behind those vigorous heart-pulsations on which I had remarked to Le Marinel.  He then, of course, had regarded me at the one man likely to thwart his homicidal purpose by getting him put under restraint, and from my experience of delusional dementia I was aware of how easily his hatred could be temporarily transferred from the original object of his hate to myself.  








           The workings of a disordered mind are hard to follow, but it is an error to suppose an insane person cannot conceive, and adhere to a purpose.  There is method in madness; and with homicidal lunatics the doctor frequently becomes an object of intense hatred, the first enemy who must be removed before the original murderous intention can be achieved.









From John Ferguson, Death Comes To Perigord (Chapter XI: How We Caught de Quettville).  London and Glasgow, William Collins and Sons, Co., Ltd., 1931.