Vol. 14 No. 8 · 23 April 1992
pages 20-23 | 2523 words

O Harashbery!
C.K. Stead
- The Selected Poems of Frank O’Hara edited by Donald Allen
Carcanet, 233 pp, £18.95, October 1991, ISBN 0 85635 939 4
- Flow Chart by John Ashbery
Carcanet, 213 pp, £16.95, September 1991, ISBN 0 85635 947 5
I remember the pleasure of my first reading of Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems when it came out in 1964 in a City Lights edition uniform (except that it was blue and red, not black and white) with Ginsberg’s Howl, Kaddish and Reality Sandwiches. Two years later O’Hara was dead, killed by a dune buggy at an all-night party on Fire Island. There was something Keatsian about his poetry, its vividness and particularity, and its spontaneity, though there might be difficulties for a critic who wanted to argue, as Matthew Arnold did when he tried to rescue Keats from the aesthetes, that ‘there was flint and iron in him.’
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Letters
Vol. 14 No. 12 · 25 June 1992
From Laura Quinney
While I share C.K. Stead’s admiration for Frank O’Hara, I found his comments on John Ashbery misleading and strange (LRB, 23 April). He dismisses Ashbery as pretentious (‘academic’, I suppose) and obscure. This opinion must result from a superficial reading, for Ashbery is not obscure nor devious nor unmeaning. His poems evoke very subtle ranges of experience, and it is a measure of their intellectual honesty, as well as originality, that they remain faithful to the delicacy of what they evoke by rendering it through impression rather than assertion. Stead rightly observes that isolating the ‘statements’ in Ashbery’s poetry makes them seem flat and banal – first, as he remarks, because they draw their resonance from their context, the tissue of image and elaboration and resistance to utterance in which they appear; but second, they seem banal because they are banal: as Stead fails to observe, Ashbery has a keen sense of bathos, and likes to expose the clumsiness of the declarative mode, and the want of glamour in the sources of his disappointments. This kind of complexity does present a challenge to conventional analysis. And that is a fault of the conventions. In its accuracy to unexplored experience, Ashbery’s poetry rises to lyrical beauty and dazzling linguistic inventiveness, as in the double sestina in Flow Chart or its opening echo of tattered Romanticism: ‘Sad grows the river god as he oars past us/downstream without our knowing him.’ It would be a great shame if Stead’s lapse diverted your readers from this important and moving poet.
Laura Quinney
Princeton University