News

Garber Announces Advisory Committee for Harvard Law School Dean Search

News

First Harvard Prize Book in Kosovo Established by Harvard Alumni

News

Ryan Murdock ’25 Remembered as Dedicated Advocate and Caring Friend

News

Harvard Faculty Appeal Temporary Suspensions From Widener Library

News

Man Who Managed Clients for High-End Cambridge Brothel Network Pleads Guilty

The British Invade (Again)

BOOKS

By Emily SUMMER Dill, CONTRIBUTING WRITER

The Breakage is a challenge, but if you have the time, patience and perseverance, you will be rewarded with a gift of rare and wondrous poetry. Reading Maxwell's work aloud, the pure sounds of his words feel liquid and honeyed; even without delving into the meaning of the poems, the rhythm and meter are gently soothing. There is a sense that buried deep within lines is a truer, more complex essence. Maxwell's phrases are illusive and wispy, swirling around the fleeting, teasing meaning of his verse. Readers must persist to glean understanding from these intricate and enigmatic lines.

Only 39, Glyn Maxwell is an accomplished poet, being likened to W.H. Auden and Robert Frost. He is the Somerset Maugham Prize and the E. M. Forester Prize, and The Breakage is on the T.S. Eliot Prize shortlist for 1998. Now a professor at Amherst College, Maxwell was born in Hertfordshire, England. His British heritage, apparent in his writing, dominates many of his poems concerned with historical events in English history or merely sprinkles his other poetry with British lingo and allusions.

Eleven verse letters to Edward Thomas, a British poet who was killed in World War I, anchor this collection of poetry. These intensely poignant letters bridge the distance of time, conveying sorrow at the loss of a talented young poet but also conveying the devastation and tragedy of war itself. Filled with hopelessness, the author of these letters is aware that Thomas will never read them, yet he cannot suppress the deep affinity he feels for this man. At times, Maxwell's reverence for Thomas is so overwhelming that he drops his detached voice of authorship and allows us a rare glimpse into his personal life. "I teach you to my students, and aloud/ I wonder what you would have come to. While/I wonder they look out at a white cloud/ And so we pass the time./Perhaps I'll guess/ Which one will ask me what they always ask:/ Whom do I write for? Anybody? Yes,/ You." With these lines, Maxwell actually beckons us into his own reality in which Thomas has strong influence. He also emphasizes a strong theme of work, the theme of World War I. One of his most heartfelt and passionate poems, "My Grandfather at the Pool," describes his grandfather's experience as a survivor of the war and the tragedy of living to witness the death of many of his friends.

While the World War I theme may dominate this collection, Maxwell exhibits extreme diversity in his poetry. Ranging from British historical poems to deeply personal confessions to general observances about life, Maxwell's poetry encompasses enough subjects and emotions that every reader will be touched by his work. That is not to say that his verse is easily accessible. On the contrary, at times, Maxwell's writing becomes esoteric and obscure as he skip and dances around the meaning of his poetry, allowing us quick glimpses and hint but forcing us to read actively and draw our own conclusions.

However, many of his poems, perhaps his strongest ones, manage to tap into some universality. He expresses fears and insecurities with which all people can relate yet which are rarely expressed. In his poem "Creak," he voices the insecurities of writing a love letter. "I wrote a note to her/That splattered into rhyme against my wishes./So I scrunched it up and said if it hits the bin/There's going to be a relationship." Later in his poem titled "The Room," he verbally paints the image of a room, once occupied by a son, which is now left empty. It tells of the mother's struggle to erase the loneliness and emptiness of the room by redecorating it. "The room was his and empty, so his mother/tamed the walls to various subtle pastels/very close in shade but cold and ruffled/ to have to have each other/to sit with."

Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.

Tags