tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post8876630497035130807..comments2024-03-23T20:37:37.891-07:00Comments on First Known When Lost: The StrangerStephen Pentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-65646673878539037032014-11-12T02:49:35.178-08:002014-11-12T02:49:35.178-08:00Girders: Thank you very much. I hadn't thoug...Girders: Thank you very much. I hadn't thought of "Strange Meeting" in this context, so I appreciate your bringing it to us. And, as you say, it is an appropriate time to visit the poem in any case.<br /><br />It is very good to hear from you again.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-26753996982213247412014-11-11T03:40:20.676-08:002014-11-11T03:40:20.676-08:00I expect that over the past weekend, many of us ha...I expect that over the past weekend, many of us have been drawn back to reflect on Owen's 'Strange Meeting' -- a melancholy journey of a very different kind. The identity of the 'enemy' is much disputed, but at least one view is that Owen sees himself in his face.Girdersnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-24671364446492819542014-11-09T20:22:21.887-08:002014-11-09T20:22:21.887-08:00Mr. Docker: Thank you very much for the kind word...Mr. Docker: Thank you very much for the kind words, and for visiting again. I'm pleased to have helped in part to introduce you to Edward Thomas. His relationship with Frost was a wonderful one, wasn't it? I've always thought some sort of Divine Providence (whoever one's God or gods might be) brought them together in that time and and in that place. It seems so improbable.<br /><br />I do hope you pick up The Icknield Way. Please note the story about "A. A. Bishopstone" that I mentioned above in my response to Bovey Belle's comment. Thomas's travel writings are very beguiling in that way: he goes from fairly straightforward reportage about his itinerary into sudden diversions of the type that appear in my post. I agree with you about the loveliness of the phrases you quote. And I too can identify with: "and half was before him like a ghost." Although I'm afraid that, realistically, it is less than half for me!<br /><br />Thank you for stopping by again, and for the kind words, which I greatly appreciate.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-78944886707428414812014-11-09T18:53:31.542-08:002014-11-09T18:53:31.542-08:00Bovey Belle: I always appreciate hearing your tho...Bovey Belle: I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on E.T., since you know and love him so well. Yes, I suspect "melancholia" is at the bottom of it all. But, then, who of us isn't acquainted with melancholia to one degree or another? But I realize that E. T.'s was an extreme case. Which may be why so many of us are attracted to him and his work.<br /><br />I'm glad you mentioned the passage about rain in The Icknield Way: somewhat obsessive, yes, but wonderful. I think that he ultimately got a poem or two out of it, didn't he?<br /><br />And, speaking of The Icknield Way, I think the part of the book that may be most self-revelatory is the extended story about "A. A. Bishopstone" and his impoverished family (pages 237-247). Harrowing! But I cannot help but see what attracted Thomas to the family's fate. "We are looking for straight oak sticks in a world where it is hazel that grows straight." (Page 244.) Thomas claims to have read this in "Bishopstone's" journal. Hmmm . . .<br /><br />As always, it is good to hear from you. Thank you very much for your thought-provoking comments.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-43729416058422183602014-11-09T18:37:34.381-08:002014-11-09T18:37:34.381-08:00Anonymous: Thank you for the poem by Martin Sword...Anonymous: Thank you for the poem by Martin Swords, who is new to me. I hadn't thought of that option! <br /><br />You've also prompted me to return to Thomas's lovely poem about the walks he took with Frost: "The sun used to shine while we two walked" -- "The fallen apples, all the talks/And silences."<br /><br />Thanks again.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-80640974367632910502014-11-09T08:04:41.280-08:002014-11-09T08:04:41.280-08:00Stephen,
I just wanted to say thank you for a won...Stephen,<br /><br />I just wanted to say thank you for a wonderful posting. Frost has long been one of my favourite writers, and, through previous articles (by you) and reading Frost I found Thomas who is now also one of my favourite writers. Maybe it's due to my being in the part of my life where "… and half was before him like a ghost"; maybe it's the melancholy nature of the writing; it doesn't really matter.<br /><br />The line "… and he went into his house and it was dark and still and inconceivably empty." is just magical, so I'm off to read The Icknield Way.<br /><br />Kind regards,<br /><br />Steven Docker<br />Steven Dockerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12536569625079062909noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-11188814686482155482014-11-08T09:37:12.963-08:002014-11-08T09:37:12.963-08:00Thank you for this wonderful posting, as you have ...Thank you for this wonderful posting, as you have had me deep in ET's poetry and biographies about him, which is never a hardship.<br /><br />Whilst I am probably prompted by Edna Longley's thoughts on this topic, and the Freudian overtones of "the other person" psychologically, I do tend to agree with them. I think the "darkness" - especially of woodland -in his poetry, which is a recurring theme, is connected with an inner darkness in himself, where light and hope are both snuffed out. <br /><br />I think I understand him well enough to sense a degree of self-flagellation of the soul. Nobody hates him as well as he hates himself, which I have doubtless mentioned before. I think he was probably bi-polar as he exhibited some of the symptoms - exhaustion, then manic walking and working, was very self-critical and is forever taking out his faults and analysing them - not that it will ever make any difference for he seems not able to change into the person he would really like to be. "The Other Man" at the beginning of "In Pursuit of Spring" begins by asking Thomas about the books he has written, and then starts to ramble and sounds exactly like Thomas, abusing his notebooks and the fact that he did not LIKE writing, right down to discussing his digestion! Thomas has bemoaned elsewhere being "just a hack writer" . . .<br /><br />Whilst you could argue that Thomas uses this "doppelganger" as a device in his poetry, and of course in his prose as well - both "In Pursuit of Spring" where it is the backbone of the book and in "The Icknield Way" of course, as you have shown us, - I am still inclined to think that his depression is at the bottom of it. Perhaps that had been influenced both by sheer overwork and by the opiates he had sometimes taken to help himself. There is a passage in "The Icknield Way" where he rambles on ad infinitum about rain until he sounds half-mad . . . <br /><br />Hmmm - I think I have talked myself into a corner again, but I hope some of what I feel . "Dreading his frown and worse his laughter" - was he ever truly happy I wonder?Bovey Bellehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13117332471600275100noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-10490622240944498662014-11-07T10:51:38.508-08:002014-11-07T10:51:38.508-08:00Martin Swords has a clever poem about his taking a...Martin Swords has a clever poem about his taking a walk with Robert Frost (see below). <br /><br />Frost of course is not a doppelganger of Swords, but the poem, whatever its defects, put me in mind of the walks Frost and Thomas used to take, Frost saying once that "The Road Not Taken" was prompted by Thomas, on the walks he took with Frost, never being to make up his mind which fork to take.<br /><br />Overcast but warm, <br />The day dry, unusually.<br />Walking the woods with the dogs<br />As many times before.<br />Lucy and Tig, away in the rough dark deep, <br />Yipping with the scent of deer, excited.<br />Ruby, river scrambling, biting<br />At the bogwater, wagging, from the shoulders back<br /><br />Along the old familiar track, into<br />The clearing where the roads diverge.<br />I stopped and stood. Which way to go? <br />Think of another Poet, and roads not taken.<br />Yes, I’ve been here before. This way I came.<br />That way I saw a squirrel once.<br />And down that way a badger<br />Straight on, the Mill Pond where ducks dabble.<br />Behind me then a stag, stares my way, and<br />Startled, slips into the wood.<br />I think again of Robert Frost and look a different way.<br />I stand a while. I turn, retrace my steps, recall, relive, <br />I’ll write this down, and this will be<br />The road I’ve taken<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com