Tag Archives: the romantic movement

A review of Anne of Windy Poplars

Anne of Windy Poplars (Anne of Green Gables, #4)Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M. Montgomery
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is the last-written Anne book, from 1936. Montgomery has gone back and filled in some missing time between Anne of the Island and Anne’s House of Dreams. Cynically, one imagines this either to be a money grab or a result of ongoing demand for Anne books despite Montgomery’s preference for writing other things. Anyway, the book is entertaining.

A lot of things happen. Anne seems to somehow be the confidante of a multitude of young women, each of whom tends to only appear for one episode in which something interesting, amusing, what-have-you occurs. This is not Avonlea, where there was at least consistency amongst Anne’s circle. Beyond the women with whom she lives and little Elizabeth, very few characters stay for more than one episode. Of those who do, Katherine Brooke is potentially the most interesting. Indeed, one could wish simply for her to have her own book with added depth of character rather than being one of many side interests in an Anne book.

There is no main plot, either — there is one arc that comes to a satisfactory closing less than a third of the way in, and then there are the subplots of little Elizabeth and Katherine Brooke.

Despite its plotlessness, this book is entertaining, which is what most people come to Anne books for. I enjoyed it, and I am not its main audience (I am a 36-year-old man with no daughters). Anne is the same as she ever was. There are many references to the Romantics as well as, of course, Romantic imaginings stepping through the prosaic via symbol into the beauty of mystery — high and mighty, one wishes to invoke Coleridge, but there is nothing so stark as The Rime of the Ancient Mariner in Anne novels.

The most important theme tying together these many young women as well as the subplots of little Elizabeth and Katherine, not to mention the widows as well as the affection that binds Anne to Gilbert, is the power of friendship. Having a Friend can soften the hard exterior. Friendship can awaken the imagination to greater possibilities. These are themes worth anyone’s time, whether 12-year-old girls (whom I imagine to be the main Anne audience) or 36-year-old men.

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Ausonius vs the Romantics

Ausonius (Vol. 1)Ausonius by Ausonius

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Ausonius (d. AD 395) is not necessarily the best regarded of ancient poets — but his contemporaries really liked him. In his introduction to this edition/translation, H G Evelyn White at least gives Ausonius’ poetry that much. Not much more, mind you. But that much. Evelyn White writes:

‘As poetry, in any high or imaginative sense of the word, the great mass of his verse is negligible.’ (vii)

On the fact that Ausonius wrote a poem about the number three: ‘…so trivial a theme is no subject for poetry at all…’ (xvi) — and then Evelyn White praises Ausonius’ versification.

The Vergilian Cento is referred to as ‘literary outrage’ (xvii).

A final example from Evelyn White gives us an idea of why Ausonius and his style of poetry are so lowly regarded today, say that Ausonius was ‘insensible, broadly speaking, to sentiment and unappreciative of the human sympathy which should pervade true poetry’ (xxvii).

Now, I come not to praise Ausonius, nor to bury him. Nevertheless, Ausonius’ lack of respect in the modern age drives principally from the Romantic movement, and not that his subject matter can be quite dull or that a lot of his poems are simply neat tricks in verse that would probably amuse a native Latin-speaker more than they do any of us. This vision of poetry is not that it is a question of setting out in verse form one’s content but that it is the setting forth in verse one’s soul — that the subject of poetry is, in fact, the subject. This sort of criticism, for example, led one critic to refer to the scientific/philosophical passages in Dante as ‘pure prose’.

That is to say, Ausonius is not, by Romantic definitions, a ‘true poet’. He lacks true sentiment in what he does. For Ausonius, verse is a place to play, to delight in the titillation of the ear, to display his knowledge and erudition, to set forth pieces in various metres on various subjects. As to whether any real sentiment lies behind it — well, who cares?

The result is poetry that I think almost all modern readers would suffer through to a great degree. I admire Ausonius. I think some of his poetic experiments, such as the Technopaignion, where he ends each line of verse with a monosyllable, are amusing and would require enormous skill — even the Virgilian Cento, a patchwork of lines from Virgil, is the work of a person steeped in poetic metre. A lot of it, however, is unstimulating to the modern mind and ear. Perhaps if I were a Latin-speaker born, the rhythm and cadence of the verse would grab me more. Nonetheless, I do not say he is no true poet, and I do not think he is a bad poet. I think his is a style unsuited to our age and certainly unsuited to translation into English — you cannot translate hexameters and you cannot translate aural tricks.

I do recommend to today’s reader from the selections here in vol 1: ‘The Daily Round’ (it is what it says), various of the personal poems, the ‘Parentalia’ which recounts his deceased family members, the ‘Mosella’ which is regarded as his best (I say begin with this one, it is magnificent!), and ‘The Order of Famous Cities’. Various others are amusing, but I fear that reading an entire volume of Ausonius would be tedious for most. If you enjoy those I recommend, take a dip into some of the others…

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