This volume includes Marianne Moore's regular reviews, critical essays on Stevens, Williams, Pound, and others, and comments on painting, fashion, and the Holland Tunnel
Marianne Craig Moore (November 15, 1887 – February 5, 1972) was an American Modernist poet, critic, translator, and editor. Her poetry is noted for formal innovation, precise diction, irony, and wit.
I could never, nor ever would I want to, read this book from beginning to end. I open it on occasion to relish the pleasures of manner as destiny, of precision as ecstasy. Moore is stalwart in the true expression of her idiosyncratic thought:
"To write unemotionally of this book is to do it injustice. In depth of presentation it is the longed-for contrast to historical unveracity on the screen."
What about this doozy?
"Poetry is an unintelligible unmistakable vernacular like the language of the animals--a system of communication whereby a fox with a turkey too heavy for it to carry, reappears shortly with another fox to share the booty, and Wallace Stevens is a practiced hand at this kind of open cypher."
That may be the best worst sentence--which is to say, the most wonderful sentence--I have ever read.
I'm not sure I've ever finished a single piece in this book. I fall enthralled with the serpentine syntax and multiple implications of each merciless sentence. And then I put down the book until I need another dose of razzle-dazzle.
Alas, this volume does not include Moore's famous letters to the Ford Motor Company, in which they asked her help in naming a car (eventually, The Edsel -- not Moore's name). For that gem you need The Marianne Moore Reader.