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Most Read... Daniel Kaneon Ted Berrigan
(PN Review 169)
David Herdin Conversation with John Ashbery
(PN Review 99)
Henry Kingon Geoffrey Hill's Oraclau/Oracles
(PN Review 199)
Dannie Abse'In Highgate Woods' and Other Poems
(PN Review 209)
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Next Issue Jennie Feldman writes of sailboats, flags and Paris Trevor Barnett looks for Lorca John Wilkson finds ways about Busan Emily Grosholz explores memory, poetry and numbers Peter McDonald's unwritten book
Welcome to PN Review, one of the outstanding literary magazines of our time.
Keep up with the many worlds of poetry in this independent and always stimulating journal. For four decades PN Review has been a place to discover new poems in English and in translation as well as interviews, news, essays, reviews and reports from around the world. Subscribers can explore the complete, uniquely rich digital archive.

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Submissions to PN Review: Current subscribers may submit work by e-mail (word attachment). All other submissions should be made by post to: The Editors, PN Review, 4th Floor, Alliance House, 30 Cross Street, Manchester M2 7AQ, UK. Submissions should be accompanied by a self-addressed return envelope and should generally not exceed four poems/five pages.

Featured Article
‘All That Needs to Be and Nothing Else’: An Appreciation of Michael Hersch Marius Kociejowski THE OTHER NIGHT I went to a performance of Leoš Janáček’s Jenůfa. I wonder if ever there was an opera that so brutally wrenches one from hell to purgatory and onward to uncertain paradise. Dostoevsky could have written the libretto, Sophocles might have staged it, Janáček most definitely composed it. I defy anyone not to be emotionally drained by the ride. One of its great ironies is that the music is never more sublime than at the moment of greatest horror. There is, finally, a species of happiness to be had, though it will have to be shared with snoopy neighbours who are a kind of hell in themselves. As with Greek tragedy, the darkest and the most hopeless in all literature, the opera does not leave one feeling depressed: Janáček takes his music not only through but above human suffering. My heart in a sling, my brain ... read more
Poetry Does Not Apply Here
Vahni Capildeo DURING THE PREPARATIONS for a civil marriage in Oxfordshire in 1999, the couple was encouraged to select readings and music and to write their own ceremony, including the wording of the vows. The nicely suited registrar told them that religious material would, however, be banned. Forget Gerard Manley Hopkins; gag George Herbert. ‘What if we don’t believe in it?’ It might have been the secular Jewish half of the couple who asked. He argued for the intrinsic poetic value of texts and songs. The other half, who had a degree in English language and literature, was upset for other reasons. She argued that systems of wealth and patronage meant that a lot of poetry and music was produced for churches as performance spaces and the congregation as audience. There was nothing to say that the writers and composers were especially religious, rather than writing with ... read more
Translator’s Notebook (1) (edited by James McGonigal)
Edwin Morgan THROUGH CONSTANT EARLY WORK of translation from a dozen languages, Edwin Morgan explored and re-defined what his own poetry might become. He also clarified what translation itself ought to be. Sometimes he would use this experience in lectures, articles or reviews, and he carefully preserved those among his hundreds of files donated to Special Collections in the University of Glasgow Library.1 The Edwin Morgan Papers also contain unpublished translations in typescript or holograph versions. Although he had no single notebook of translations, preferring to move quickly from pencil drafts to typewritten sheets, his mainly unpublished papers on translation help us reconstitute his creative thinking in relation to the poetry of other cultures. For Morgan, the 1950s now appear as a crucial decade in which the expanding linguistic range of his translations opens a door into the more adventurous and life-affirming poetry he would write ... read more
Selected from the Archive...
A Lyric Voice at Bay Eavan Boland
Critics work in a text. Biographers work in the foreground and the background. And the critic's work is made much harder when the background has been overwritten by events, interpretations and frank and forgetful prejudice. At that point the critic has to do some double-jobbing in order to rescue the text from the biographical background and the reader's resistance.

Albert Gelpi has set himself a hard task.1 Cecil Day Lewis, at least at first glance, is a decidedly awkward subject. Before reading this book I would have said Day Lewis was a refugee from the 1930s: and Anglo-Irish Georgian, who admired Tom Moore and consorted with Auden. A gentlemanly Communist. A hopelessly lyric inhabitant of a hard-driving decade. A poet who didn't so much lose his identity as have it handed to him in fragments: national, poetic, ... read more
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