By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept

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Cuando empiezas a estudiar literatura en la universidad siempre hay un profe que te cuenta que las fronteras entre géneros literarios son muy difusas, que a veces no se puede distinguir tan claramente a qué género pertenece una obra. It says, I remain, I AM, I shall never cease to be: your memory will grow a deathly glaze: you will forget, you will fade out, but I cannot be undone. Soft push, because a) those men need to read more women authors and this is a short ‘canonical’ one, and b) those books seem to me to be in their ‘maleness’ in much the same way that this book is all into the feelings- its all feeling, all the way through.

This year sees the centenary of both Smart and Barker's births – she to a wealthy family in Ottawa, Canada; he into markedly less plush environs in Essex. as to decide to have a relationship with someone after reading their book and then went to track them down; one would hope they knew that the chances of this working, unless perhaps they are already an established artist in their own right who moves in the same circles, are 99.And some of the images were beautiful but some of the images were ludicrous- "my lover has Doves eyes" what in the name of God! And while the reality behind the novels plot adds a certain level of intrigue to the book, it does nothing to change the reading of the book in and of itself.

I understand that a later book, which actually occupies the second half of this printing, The Assumption of Rogues and Rascals, tells a much less emotional tale of raising four children alone.After the war, Elizabeth Smart supported herself and her family through journalism and advertising work.

She was educated at private schools in Canada and for a year at King's College, University of London. It's a prose poem that sings in places, but mostly whines; a consequence of the poet choosing a manchild as her muse. Published in 1945, it is one of the earlier examples of "poetic prose," and the mention on the back cover that it is like Anais Nin and Djuna Barnes makes me want to read both of them; in my reading experience it is closest to Jeannette Winterson, one of the authors I love and adore.Elizabeth Smart tuvo el valor, en el remilgado Canadá de los años cuarenta, de elegir libremente – “Sé lo que quiero, a quién quiero. Pero es una auténtica joya, una joya frágil que todo lector tiene que manipular con cuidado, porque es una joya con ángulos afilados y una se puede fácilmente cortar con ella. Pero lo que es su mayor virtud, el hecho de ser tan intensa, tan particular, tan personal, es también el único "pero" que puedo encontrar, porque es tan "tan" que una no deja de tener la sensación que se está perdiendo mucho.

Sus padres no comprendieron sus sentimientos y emplearon sus influencias para impedir que Barker pudiera entrar en el país, acusándole de “conducta inmoral”.In lushly evocative language, Smart recounts her love affair with the poet George Barker with an operatic grandeur that takes in the tragedy of her passion; the suffering of Barker's wife; the children the lovers conceived. If poetry moves you, if you are patient with the line-by-line completion in poetry because you read it with the understanding that you will grasp its meaning only per its line and not its full body, then you will appreciate this piece. Not one of all these martyrs nailed to every tree in the western hemisphere will find favour in the editor's measuring eye.