John Allyn Berryman (originally John Allyn Smith) was an American poet, born in McAlester, Oklahoma. He was a major figure in American poetry in the second half of the 20th century and often considered one of the founders of the Confessional school of poetry. He was the author of The Dream Songs, which are playful, witty, and morbid. Berryman committed suicide in 1972.
A pamphlet entitled Poems was published in 1942 and his first proper book, The Dispossessed, appeared six years later. Of his youthful self he said, 'I didn't want to be like Yeats; I wanted to be Yeats.' His first major work, in which he began to develop his own unique style of writing, was Homage to Mistress Bradstreet, which appeared in Partisan Review in 1953 and was published as a book in 1956. Another pamphle.
His thought made pockets & the plane buckt, followed. It was the collection called Dream Songs that earned him the most admiration. The first volume, entitled 77 Dream Songs, was published in 1964 and won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. The second volume, entitled His Toy, His Dream, His Rest, appeared in 1968.
The two volumes were combined as The Dream Songs in 1969. By that time Berryman, though not a "popular" poet, was well established as an important force in the literary world, and he was widely read among his contemporaries. In 1970 he published the drastically different Love & Fame. It received many negative reviews, along with a little praise, most notably from Saul Bellow and John Bailey. Despite its negative reception, its colloquial style and sexual forthrightness have influenced many younger poets, especially from Britain and Ireland. Delusions Etc., his bleak final collection, which he prepared for printing but did not live to see appear, continues in a similar vein. Another book of poems, Henry's Fate, culled from Berryman's manuscripts, appeared posthumously, as did a book of essays, The Freedom of the Poet, and some drafts of a novel, Recovery.
The poems that form Dream Songs involve a character who is by turns the narrator and the person addressed by a narrator. Because readers assumed that these voices were the poet speaking directly of himself, Berryman's poetry was considered part of the Confessional poetry movement. Berryman, however, scorned the idea that he was a Confessional poet.
More historical than literary in its preoccupations, this collection of essays in various states of completion is useful if you have already deeply read Shakespeare and want to investigate hidden currents in the work. You should be familiar with most if not all his writings before starting this book. The painstaking exploration of sources was of moderate interest to me; the psychoanalytical and biographical speculations more so, and the literary insights quite valuable.
So much commentary on Berryman touches on what a great Shakespearian critic he was but despite various attempts he published no books or any structured writing on Shakespeare in his lifetime. His biographer John Haffenden has performed an extraordinary service in assembling a riveting, substantial volume, brilliantly organised. It's made up of lectures, letters and other writings, the most interesting of which are for a critical edition of King Lear which never saw the light of day. It's some of the most stimulating writing on Lear I have read for ages and it's remarkable to see that Berryman's writing on the Quarto and Folio texts is truly groundbreaking, raising issues which I had previously thought were only fully discussed for the first time by the editors of the 1980s Oxford Shakespeare some forty years after Berryman. There is more off the wall stuff however with some slightly eccentric views on co-authorship and the historical/biographical writing in general doesn't have the same rigour as the textual scholarship. It's all highly thought-provoking and deeply enjoyable though.
My chief response to this book was embarrassment, mostly at how limited my own knowledge was, despite my pretensions to some acquaintance with English lit, but also because I'd read it once before, a couple decades ago, and remembered much less of it than one might have expected.
And what was Berryman doing when he wasn't writing textual analyses of Shakespeare? Raking leaves? Digging dandelions? Drinking himself to death? Well, yes to the last; but mostly writing the Dream Songs, which on the whole are better than any verse I've written this entire month.
The curious thing about Berryman, certainly in this volume, is that the fact that he is always working, never settled on a solution, is more apparent than in most critics. This makes him very interesting, engaging, and annoying, by short turns and often at the same time. You have to be careful about what you say about what he says, because he is liable to contradict himself. Also, his way of expressing any given point or conclusion in his analysis might be overstated or otherwise put in such a way that you can ascribe to him a position he doesn’t take, or won’t defend, or is likely to reverse later. You find yourself circling back over ground like a dog, and realizing that he might not have actually said, or intended to say, what you thought he did.
A series of essays on Shakespeare by the poet John Berryman. The ones about the changes in Shakespeare's writing over the course of his life--i.e., the distinct periods and the biographical details that help explain what might have driven the changes--were the most interesting. Other essays dealt in minute detail with the textual problems in King Lear, which didn't grab me as much.
One of the most thoughtful treatments of Shakespeare I've read. Aside from the embrace of Freudiansm vis-a-vis Hamlet, I have had no problems with this treatment. And even thought was thoughtful. Anyone who accepts Freud would accept it as the best possible resolution to the problem of Hamlet.