PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
M. Wynn ThomasThe Other Side of the Hedge
(PN Review 239)
Next Issue Beverley Bie Brahic, after Leopardi's 'Broom' Michael Freeman Benefytes and Consolacyons Miles Burrows At Madame Zaza’s and other poems Victoria Kenefick Hunger Strike Hilary Davies Haunted by Christ
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This article is taken from PN Review 115, Volume 23 Number 5, May - June 1997.

On Imagination and Lyric Voice Christopher Middleton

The position I will be trying to outline here is one that honours (unfashionably perhaps) imagination and lyric voice: lyric as an aural phenomenon, and imagery living in the mind. 'Not a single word is there, but the poem sounds already. The internal image sounds, touched by the poet's hearing.' Thus Osip Mandelstam in 1913. And Hugo Ball in 1917: 'The will to image. Morality detaches itself from convention and works toward one end: to hone the sense of measure and weight.' My theme, so it might be supposed, is anxiety about the activity of 'spirit' in a poem; but that theme is so volatile that it must be adumbrated rather than spelled out. These ruminations alternate between the secrecy to which Mandelstam alludes and the openness to which Ball attends, despite his (Nietzschean) disclaiming of morality in the diary entry quoted.

Through all its formally modulated vocal varieties across twenty-six centuries, lyric in the Western world has persisted as a shining access to spiritual insight, on lower as well as higher levels. Now, often enough, and not for the first time, the element is being obstructed by slaggy accretions, residual stuff. The power of lyric to voice, from generation to generation, a bold, inquiring, and sensitive lucidity against surrounding darkness, our fathomless habitat, seems to be at a low ebb. This has come about, I conjecture, because a principle is eluding us: poiesis does not mean a negative moulding of experience turned opaque, but positive creation. ...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image