Showing posts with label Ezra Pound. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ezra Pound. Show all posts

Thursday, August 4, 2016

John Berendt’s “The City of Falling Angels”


John Berendt, author of the bestselling Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (216 weeks on the New York Times Bestsellers List), arrived in Venice in the winter of 1996, only a couple of weeks after a fire had destroyed the La Fenice opera house. The building had previously burned twice, in 1774 and 1836, and had been rebuilt both times.

What Berendt recognized was the fire was a story, an intriguing story, and it just might be the prism through which to tell the larger story of Venice. And so he stayed on, rented a room, and began to talk with people.

The City of Falling Angels was first published in 2005, the year after the rebuilt opera house was opened. And the story Berendt tells, a story of Venice, is a fascinating one.

The opera house fire becomes a framework to write the story of Venice – its history, its politics, its maze of bureaucratic rules, its first families (how many doges do you have in your family line?), the expats who live and have lived there (especially Americans), the rivalries of the charitable organizations set up to save and restore city buildings, artwork, and icons. But it’s not only a story of rich people; Venice is also the story of artists and bakers, gondola drivers and electricians, and the crazy time that is Carnival.

City authorities initially investigated the fire as one of negligence, and there was plenty of ongoing negligence to go around before the fire – cans of solvents left open, blow torches left burning, improper ventilation. And then, in the way that really good stories do, the investigations focuses on arson.

John Berendt
With the story of the La Fenice fire comes the stories of a family of glassblowers, what happened to the papers of poet Ezra Pound, a wealthy American family that has lived in self-enforced exile since the late 19th century, and the battle of Save Venice vs. Venetian Heritage (the rich can be just as petty as the rest us, and perhaps more so). It’s an entertaining mix of fact and myth, perception and reality.

Berendt, a native of New York State, received his B.A. degree in English from Harvard University. He’s worked in publishing, writing for television talk show hosts (David Frost and Dick Cavett), and worked at New York Magazine and Esquire. His story of murder in Savannah, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, was virtually an overnight sensation when it was published in 1994.

Top photograph: La Fenice Opera House in Venice, after its restoration from the fire. Image via Wikipedia.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

‘The Tempers’ by William Carlos Williams


It is a small volume, comprising 21 poems. It was published in London in 1913, a limited edition arranged by Ezra Pound (1885-1972). 

The Tempers was William Carlos Williams’ (1883-1963) second volume of poetry. His first, simply entitled Poems, had been published four years earlier. It was Pound’s interest and championing of Williams and his poetry that set the “doctor from Rutherford” on a lifelong devotion to poetry.  

Williams was raised in Rutherford, New Jersey, and attended the University of Pennsylvania. After receiving his medical degree, he returned to Rutherford, where he worked as a doctor the rest of his life.  

The Tempers is a curious volume, both a product of its time and one with hints of what Williams would write later. Several of the poems seem strange to modern eyes – all those exclamation points! “Immortal” is an example. 

Immortal 

Yes, there is one thing braver than all flowers;
Richer than clear gems; wider than the sky;
Immortal and unchangeable; whose powers
Transcend reason, love and sanity!
And thou, beloved, art that godly thing!
Marvelous and terrible; in glance
An injured Juno roused against
Heaven’s King!
And thy name, Lovely One, is Ignorance. 

The poem contains romantic strains; it may contain echoes of Keats and perhaps Whitman (two of his favorite poets as a young man). And the surprise at the end – the poem turns into a hymn of praise for immortal ignorance. 

And then there is this, “Ad Infinitum,” a signal of what is to come later. It is a lovely poem, a poem of love, perhaps unrequited and yet persistent in its doom. 

Ad Infinitum 

Still I bring flowers
Although you fling them at my feet
Until none stays
That is not struck across with wounds:
Flowers and flowers
That you may break them utterly
As you have always done. 

Sure happily
I still bring flowers, flowers,
Knowing how all
Are crumpled in your praise
And may not live
To speaker a lesser thing. 

The ebook version of The Tempers is free on Amazon Kindle. 

Related:  

My review of Wendell Berry’s The Poetry of William Carlos Williams of Rutherford.  

Photographs: Left, William Carlos Williams as a young man; right, Ezra Pound in 1913.