[Redbook7:150-152][19900615:2224b]{*...and Music}[15th June 1990]
19900615.2224
[continued]
*But: ‘Freud did not care for music, since, in his view, it was too close to the id....’*
(Burgess** apparently disagrees, and so do I – but my view of the Id is rather Jungian.)
*[See last previous entry]
**Ibid [–Anthony Burgess, Ind[ependent] 900615[,]p19]
[continued]
[PostedBlogger31052021]
[Redbook7:150][19900615:2224]{Freudian Jokes...}[15th June 1990]
19900615.2224
‘[Freud] saw that a joke was the one cultural construct that collapsed on analysis.’
*Anthony Burgess, Ind[ependent] 900615[,]p19
[PostedBlogger29for30052021]
Redbook7:148-149][19900614:0015]{Dream: Of Arson [continued]}[14th June 1990]
13
19900614.0015
[continued]
I must say that I dislike the formula approach (to writing) of the Writing School* – the exact antithesis of Skelton’s view about the sources of Poetry.** But I knew about it before I paid my fee, and am determined to give it a try. Correspondences with C[ircles] A[nalysis &] S[ynthesis] make this easier.***
*[[Redbook7:120][19900404:2346d]{The Church and I [continued (7)]}[4th April 1990];[Redbook7:124][19900420:1107]{Commercial Writing}[20th April 1990];
[Redbook7:138][19900519:1830b]{Literary Prostitution}[19th May 1990]. & see *** below]
**[[Redbook7:142][19900613:0840]{Poetry (Extracts)}[13th June 1990] ff, & esp
[Redbook7:145][19900613:0840h]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (8)]}[13th June 1990]ff]
***ref [[Redbook7:134-135][19900514:1135]{Conflict Circles}[14th May 1990] & Redbook7:136][19900516:0916b]{Plot Circles}[16th May 1990],] 134-6
[PostedBlogger29052021]
[Redbook7:148-149][19900614:0015]{Dream: Of Arson}[14th June 1990]
13
19900614.0015
In a dream early this morning (ie of the 13th), clearly traceable to things I had been thinking about before sleeping, a large residential building was on fire – I tried to extinguish a burning rubbish sack of paper in the basement (I was in the street), only to find that another, separated, was also ablaze, which made me decide that the fire had been started deliberately.
Next, I was inside the building. Two silent men came in – refusing to speak until they found my father, whom they told that the building was on fire. My mother denied this, as there was no sign of it, but at that moment my father indicated smoke emerging from the (horizontal, upward facing) air vents.
The others left. I wanted to save my journal volumes (ie such as this one) but realised that they had already been packed in cases (as if for moving – I am not sure whether this meant that they were safely away, or condemned to burn in the basement). Trying to stuff (one? of) my old IXL-type [lever arch] binders (eg of very old short stories) into my old army-surplus shoulder-bag, I suddenly realised – as smoke and flames rose outside the window of what might have been my father’s old attic room at [Chelsea Square] – that in trying vainly to save this material, I had left my escape too late.
*{There has recently been a campaign of incendiary letter- (& other) bombs by Welsh Nationalists (after a long gap). But when did it begin? About 18/6/90?}
[continued]
[PostedBlogger24for28052021]
[Redbook7:148][19900613:0840m]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (13)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
The main reason for picking up this book* now is a feeling that I should be going back to Poetry – or at least investigating it. A lot of what is quoted above** exactly describes how I have been writing fiction – and developing C[ircles] A[nalysis &] S[ynthesis]. ***
*[See [Redbook7:142][19900613:0840]{Poetry (Extracts)}[13th June 1990],fn=**]
**[See [Redbook7:142][19900613:0840]{Poetry (Extracts)}[13th June 1990]ff]
***{eg tapping the subconscious in writing as a means of exploration}
{→ [[Redbook7:207][19900810:1217]{Poetry as Transformation}[10th August 1990],] 207}
[PostedBlogger24for27052021]
[Redbook7:147-148][19900613:0840l]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (12)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘This * appreciation of one aspect of the writing of poetry does lead us closer to to a sympathy with poetry itself. Once it has been established that a peom is not simply a rather clever way of stating a meaning, but a form of words which, like a dream, can move along in terms of mental associations rather than logic, we can recognise the way in which poetry makes use of this technique to disturb us; having some part of its origin in the subconscious mind of the poet, it makes an appeal to the subconscious as well as the conscious mind of the reader, for its language reminds him of the characteristics of his own subconscious world.
‘One of the characteristics of the subconscious, and one which we all notice in dreams, is its habit of fusing one thing with another, of making a whole out of conflicting parts.’**
*[See last four previous entries, [Redbook7:145][19900613:0840h]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (8)]}[13th June 1990]ff]
**Ibid, 17-18
[As do (or try to do) this Journal, & the writer’s longer fictions. See next entry]
[continues]
[PostedBlogger24for26052021]
[Redbook7:147][19900613:0840k]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (11)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘Of course, this* is all only one aspect of the business of making poems. It is important, however, in that it shows one way in which the making of poetry differs from other kinds of writing. This is not to suggest that the novelist or playwright does not experience Inspiration in the same way, but to suggest that, whereas ** novels and plays do get written without the writer experiencing any “poetic trance”, there are hardly any poems that are made without some clearly definable form of subconscious assistance.’***
*[See last three previous entries, [Redbook7:145][19900613:0840h]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (8)]}[13th June 1990]ff]
**(ie ‘some’ or ‘many’, presumably)
***Ibid, 15-17
{What, even now?}
[continues]
[PostedBlogger24for25052021]
[Redbook7:146-147][19900613:0840j]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (10)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘This may seem a curious analogy, but a part of almost every poem is made by relaxing the mind and allowing the subconscious to do the work. The subconscious had been trained to provide words in patterns,* and to make a good many judgements. A poet who had got himself in difficulties with his poem will often simply lean back in his chair and let his mind relax in the hope that the word or image he needs will occur to him. It very often does.**
*(I started to write ‘poems’ instead of ‘patterns’.)
**[Ibid, 15-[?]17]
[fn repeated from end of next journal entry in ms]
[continues]
[PostedBlogger24052021]
[Redbook7:145-146][19900613:0840i]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (9)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘A poem* is a pattern of words, and it can be made very largely in the subconscious mind, just as the often very complicated plots of dream are made.
Indeed, as poetry often moves in a dreamlike manner, not by logical steps, but by means of irrational associations, some of which would be rejected by the fully waking intelligence, it is quite natural that a man should make use of his own subconscious talents as well as his conscious ones.
It has been said, in fact, that writing a poem is not at all dissimilar to experiencing a half-waking dream. In such dreams one is aware that one is dreaming, but continues to let the dream go its own way, sometimes even managing to steer it a little.** Although one knows one is asleep, one appears to have only a very slight control over what happens. If the dreamer is woken he can sometimes relax back into the dream again, but if he does this with a fixed intention of having another look at some definite object he has seen, he will not see it. Actual conscious concentration drives the dream away.*** He can however tell himself: “I’ll just drop off again and let myself dream anything I can”, and if he does this he may well catch a glimpse of the object he wishes to see[,]**** out of the corner of his eye.#
*{r~}
**{cf N[ew] S[cientist] re ‘Lucid Dreaming’}
***{NB}
****[Presumed comma]
#Ibid, 15
[continues]
[PostedBlogger21for23052021]
[Redbook7:145][19900613:0840h]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (8)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘... It is fair to say that almost every good poem that has ever been made has felt a touch of inspiration in its making.* The word “inspiration” is perhaps unfortunate, for it arouses ideas of spiritual possession, and it is sensible to be sceptical** about such things. Nevertheless, that is rather how the poet feels when he is inspired: it seems as if the words are being dictated to him by some outside agency. He does not properly understand them, but he dimly realises their power, and therefore sets them down.’***
*{g~}
**{M~}
***Ibid, 11
[continues]
[PostedBlogger21for22052021]
[Redbook7:145][19900613:0840h]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (8)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘... It is in the presentation of the exact nature of an act of perception that poetry excels. It defines the perception at the same time as * the perceiver.** It establishes the relationship between the individual and the world outside him as being intimate, and often more intense than we consciously realise. It forces us to realise that everything known is known by a man,*** who is an individual unique person, and who sees the world in the context of his own emotions and his own needs.****
#‘It reminds us of many powerful forces which inhabit our unconscious minds, and it reveals them to us.#
It is, as Louis MacNeice has said, “a precision instrument for recording a man’s reactions to life.”#*
*[‘it defines’, presumably, not **’does’]
**[See above, fn=*]
***{C}
****[This may seem somewhat at odds with the previous extract (which follow it in the work from which they are quoted), but isn’t]
#[The sentence between these symbols # is emphasised in the ms by a single vertical line in the left margin.]
#*Ibid, 6.
[continues]
[PostedBlogger21052021]
[Redbook7:144][19900613:0840g]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (7)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘[The poet’s] concern is to explore the unknown in such a way as to create a pattern of words which shall convey his perception so forcefully to a reader that the reader himself shares both the exploration and the discovery as if they were his own. He is concerned only with the creation of that pattern: everything else is incidental.
In his Inspiration, and in his various technical manoeuvres, the poet discards his own identity.
As T.S. Eliot says, “The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.”’*
*{
}
Ibid, 33
{cf VI:[[Redbook6:41-51)][19881128:2046]{Literary Circles}[28th November 1988],] 40A**-44}
**[In ts at [Redbook6:36A(/40A)][19881122:0000]{T.S Eliot and Anti-Semitism}[22nd November 1988]]
[continues]
[PostedBlogger20052021]
[Redbook7:144][19900613:0840f]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (6)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘The creation of a poem is the creation of an object which is entirely separate from its creator.
The poet often feels as if he is not really responsible for his work, not only because so much of it happens without any conscious cleverness on his part, but also because poetry is almost the least personal of any kind of statement.’*
*[Ibid, 33]
[fn repeated from end of next journal entry in ms]
[continues]
[PostedBlogger18for19052021]
[Redbook7:143-144][19900613:0840e]{Poetry (Extracts) [continued (5)]}[13th June 1990]
19900613.0840
[continued]
‘This belief in poetry as autobiography also causes many would-be poets, who have real talent, to miss the bus. Because they are convinced that poetry must stem from their own personal experiences, they cripple their imaginations, and allow a wholly laudable but misplaced sense of integrity to prevent them from extending the range of their perceptions.
If there is one temperamental characteristic which is common to all poets, it is their tendency to take up expedient attitudes – expedient, that is, for the making of poetry. Robert Frost goes so far as to say, “Poets stick to nothing deliberately, but let what will stick to them, like burrs when they walk in the fields.”
The unit of Poetry is, in fact, not the Poet but the Poem. Each poem demands a completely new approach. The poet himself, has, as Keats says in a famous passage, “no identity – he is continually informing and filling some other Body ... It is a wretched thing to confess; but it is a very fact that not one word I ever utter can be taken for granted as an opinion growing out of my identical nature – how can I, when I have no nature?”
“What shocks the virtuous philosopher”, Keats says, “delights the chameleon poet.”’*
*{
}
Ibid, 31-32
[continues]
[PostedBlogger18052021]
