Imagism in America with William Carlos Williams (Imagist Mini-Series)

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Joe: [00:00:00] Welcome to Beyond the Verse, a poetry podcast brought to you by the team@poemanalysis.com and Poetry+.

I'm Joe, and I'm here with my co-host Maiya, and today we're finishing our three part miniseries on the Imagist poets. In episode one, We discussed Ezra Pound. Last week we talked about Hilda Doolittle, and today we are closing off. with William Carlos Williams. I can't wait to have this conversation. We'll be covering a range of topics, including Williams's, commitment to simplicity, transatlantic Imagist, and his focus on the everyday.

But before we get into the poetry itself, Maiya, can you tell us a little bit more about who William Carlos Williams was and his life?

Maiya: Absolutely. Well thanks Joe for that intro. So, William Carlos Williams is actually a little bit of a departure from the other Imagist poets we've talked about on the last two episodes . I think he occupies a really different space, primarily because. Unlike the other poets who spent most of their time in Europe, primarily England, France, Italy, et cetera. [00:01:00] Instead he was firmly rooted in America. Now, that's not to say that he didn't have, a vast array of experience in Europe, which of course probably helped to frame much of the conversations with the other Imagist poets.

But to give you a brief breakdown of his early life, he was born in 1883 in New Jersey, and he died in 1963. So again, a relatively long life, his mother was Puerto Rican. His father was English but was raised in the Dominican Republic.

So actually his first language was Spanish and he didn't really come to English as you know, his primary language until his teen years. He was highly educated. He was educated in Geneva, in Paris, and then came back to the US to study at the University of Pennsylvania to be a doctor, which is where he met Ezra Pound. Now alongside his medical studies, he was writing poetry as well. So his relationship with Ezra Pound was very much one that boosted the other. He published his first collection of poems in 1909 and his second collection, The Tempers, in 1913. Now, Ezra Pound didn't help with that kind of first publication, but he was [00:02:00] involved in The Tempers.

So this was a relationship that, was mutually beneficial. They absolutely had conversations about what Imagism looked like, how they were going to frame this So, you know, there was a, real relationship there. However, it is really important to focus on the fact that Instead of bringing in the more European sentiment, he was, as I mentioned earlier, very firmly rooted in America.

He wanted to create an Americanism. So what's really interesting actually for William Carlos Williams is that many of his awards came in later life. Even though I would say the poems we’re gonna talk about today, The Red Wheelbarrow’ and ‘This just Say, are those that kind of do the rounds even on Instagram now, I would say they're very, very famous. It wasn't until his later work in, 19 50, 19 52, he won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1963, and he died later that year. So a lot of his work was awarded at that very late stage in his life. I think what would be really interesting, Joe, and I'm sure we, we already have plans for this, is just to discuss really. their lives after Imagism, because we've said a couple of times throughout [00:03:00] the last two episodes that Imagist itself was relatively short-lived as far as movements go. It didn't span hundreds and hundreds of years. It didn't even span tens and twenties of years Really. It was a real moment in time. That's an overview of William Carlos Williams. I think if anything, the best way to really explore his work is to jump straight into it. So would you like to start with The Red Wheelbarrow? I think it's the most famous poem that we could talk about today.

Joe: I’d love to, and, listeners don't go anywhere because this won't last long. So this is The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams. So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow, glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens. And that is it. It's an incredibly condensed poem. 16 words, written really interestingly.

And I would always advise, listeners to go and actually read the poem because the way it's structured, the line breaks, the stanza lengths are really, really interesting. Maybe we'll talk about that in a moment, but a little bit about the publication of the poem before I throw back to Maiya for her usual, wonderful analysis. The poem was published in [00:04:00] 1923 in the kind of experimental collection that William Carlos Williams published called Spring and All, which is a hybrid collection of free verse with some prose.

Now. I think the date here is really, really crucial. 1923. Based on, keen listeners from the last episodes is actually after the peak of Imagist. This is, you know, really when we're talking about the Imagist movement, we're probably talking about between about 1912 and sort of the end of the first World War 19 17, 19 18.

This is already five or six years after that. So. I think that tells us quite a lot about William Carlos Williams’s character, and also about the way that literary movements work. I mean, you don't get to close up the shop and stop people from writing Imagist poems, just because the movement itself is fragmented.

William Carlos Williams had his own version, his own vision of what Imagism looked like, and he was gonna plow on regardless of what Ezra Pound thought or what Hilda Doolittle thought, or Amy Lowell, or any of the other people Who had been battling for the soul of Imagist in Europe.

I think one of the things that hopefully will come out this episode is that Carlos Williams does things in his own way and in his own time. He's very, very Unswayed by the [00:05:00] work of Ezra Pound, although he admires him as a fellow poet and Hilda Doolittle as well. He's not somebody that is going to change course for them.

So that's the first thing I would say about the publication 1923. The second, and I think this is really, really important, and Williams himself was keenly aware of the importance of this date, is that it was just one year after the publication of T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land, this defining modernist poem, that ezra Pound had been very, very closely involved in the editing of, so as Maiya mentioned, sort of a decade previously, Ezra Pound had been helping with the publication of William Carlos Williams's collection. A decade later, Ezra Pound is working with. T. S. Eliot on the publication of The Wasteland, which is this defining modernist poem, and yet is so distinct from what Carlos Williams' philosophy on poetry is.

Carlos Williams is all about simplicity. As the reading of that poem will have shown, he's all about stripping back. He's all about removing complicated references that require university degrees. He's about colloquial language, ordinary lives, ordinary objects, and very kind of American images and ideas about poetry, and the reason that's [00:06:00] important, I think is because so many of the other Imagists are europhiles. They're people who are looking to go back into Europe's past. They're looking to retell Greek myths. They're looking to, imbue their work with classical references. William Carlos Williams is caught between the urge to make it new.

This modernist maxim we've talked about a few times in this series. And the idea that the fellow imagists wanted to go back to the past so much to go back to the, old country, and I'm using that in in inverted commas to go back to European history, America to Carlos Williams is where the future is.

It's where industry is. It's where, the world is changing the fastest. And he thinks that if we're going to base a new poetry, a poetry that is radical, a poetry that. separate itself from the past, we might as well do it with an American outlook and American stories with American landscapes.

And that's one of the key tensions that defines, his relationship with his fellow mag. But that's a little bit about Williams and also the significance of that 1923 date. But let's talk about the poem itself. And Maiya, there's not loads of places to jump in. It's a very short poem, but where would you like to take [00:07:00] us first?

Maiya: I Actually want to go back to one of the things you mentioned earlier, Joe, which is reading this poem on the page, because the form of this poem How this poem is laid out can really change the meaning. So of course, as you read it earlier, it flows very nicely.

You get the impression that the red wheelbarrow is the center of this address. But I really want to laser focus in on the first few lines because the opening line of this poem is so much depends. is then a line break upon. Another line break, a red wheelbarrow, and you can very easily take this as a complete clause.

You can take this as so much depends upon a red wheelbarrow. However, you can also explore this as more of a meditation by the individual who is just simply thinking about things that are greater than what he's witnessing in front of him. So much depends. Is the opening line, so you can really take that as a line in itself. The red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens. [00:08:00] These are all observational , so much depends is a thought process. It isn't a physical concrete observation, and I love the idea that this is, again, coming off the back of a time of great upheaval and you have these static images.

Even the chickens, they're not. Really imbued with movement. You have the rain that has settled on the red wheelbarrow. You have the fact that it is next to these chickens, but there is a sense of stillness in this poet. And I think that sense of stillness really allows the speaker and, Carlos Williams as a poet To expand the horizons of the address point of this poem. So much depends, I think is such a strong opener to a poem because what does it depend on? What is the so much, what is the thought process here? Is he reflecting on the state of the world? Is he reflecting on a personal problem? Is he reflecting on specifically the wheelbarrow and the tasks that he has to do?

You do get a sense of. This being an American farmland as it were. I always read this poem as that sort of idyllic ranch, where you have these really beautiful Imagist of what [00:09:00] typical rural America looks like. But again, there is this, emotional weighting that's set against these really physical items. And I think, Joe, I, I'm gonna throw you a question here. There is definitely something about the color of the wheelbarrow being important, and I think now you've got the emotional weight of this consideration.

What are we considering here, red, as it relates to America, American poetry? What do you think the significance of that is?

Joe: What's a really good question? I think with so much of Carlos Williams's poetry, you have this sense that. If he were in the room, he'd roll his eyes. And I kind of like that, that's not me saying we shouldn't draw out, meaning, it's just a reminder that, William Carlos Williams was, fairly dismissive of too much reading into, his poems.

And, you know, he would say things like, there is no meaning but the image or if the image doesn't contain meaning, then we shouldn't try to project upon it. But I think you are so right that this poem exists in. An American pastoral canon, even if that canon is something Williams is trying to [00:10:00] challenge the idyllic nature of the American farm, the ranch, as you've alluded to, is there, when you read the poem, whether or not it's within the poem is another question.

I think the evocation of the red wheelbarrow juxtaposed against the white of the chickens and the poem’s conclusion . Were kind of two thirds of the way to the colors of the American flag. And with that color red, alongside the white of the chickens, we're kind of two thirds of the way to the colors of the American flag, the red, white, and blue, the reference to water. Actually we might even view the associations with that blue color of water, as being kind of the three colors of the American flag.

And again, I have that image in my mind of William Carlos Williams saying It's red because it's red, and it was a red wheelbarrow. And the image is all there is. But we don't have to listen to William Carlos Williams. The great thing about reading poetry and analyzing poetry is the poets aren't in the room with us usually, so we don't have to apologize to them for reading into work that they published.

I think the simplicity of the color is something I'm interested in. These are block colors. There's no depth to this. There's no eggshell white. There's no fiery [00:11:00] red. There is a kind of block simplicity to the adjectives he uses, which I think is typical of Imagism. This notion that you don't need to over explain and over describe, but also it creates a sense that this is something quite fundamental.

This is something kind of foundational. These colors are primary colors. They're not derivatives of anything else, and that focus on. Simplicity of something foundational, I think is pivotal to what William Carlos Williams is trying to do in his poetry More generally, he is pursuing something, n its basest and purest form. And that might sound like he's trying to elevate something, but I think he would regard something in its basis and purest form to be the way it appears, rather than any projection onto an object.

And This brings me back round to Maiya's, interest in that first line, which I also share. Because that so much depends. Not only do we not know what the stakes are, what is dependent on this, but we also have no idea who is depending on this wheelbarrow.

The wheelbarrow seems motionless, so we don't know. Is it the chickens that are depending on it for their food? Is it the absent [00:12:00] farmer who is depending on it for his livelihood, or is it the wheelbarrows existence itself? The fact that the wheelbarrow has no place in the world if not to be pushed and carry.

None of those questions are answered, and the reluctance to overexplain, the reluctance to offer easy interpretations is something that William Carlos Williams's poetry is constantly doing. It is a really. Reluctant partner when it comes to the relationship between reader and poem.

It doesn't play ball. It doesn't give you easy outs and easy wins, and I think that's something I really admire about it.

Maiya: I completely agree. I think it actually takes us on really swiftly to the second poem we're gonna talk about today, which is, this is just to say, again, this poem is so. Fundamentally focused on simplicity and the very basic nature of the thing. So I'll read it now for listeners' benefit, I have eaten the plums that were in the ice box, and which you were probably saving for breakfast. Forgive me, they were delicious. So sweet and so [00:13:00] cold. Now Joe, where do you want to start with this poem?

Joe: I think I'd like to start with the tone. Because It begins with kind of statements of fact, I have done this, and then it shifts from fact to supposition. I imagine that you are probably going to eat this, but it's still fairly clinical in its tone.

There's no real sense of engagement here. There’s then ostensibly an apology. And I use that word ostensibly because I think this is an incredibly unapologetic tone throughout the poem, despite the phrase, forgive me. And it ends with the sensory. And I think that's crucial. 'cause if we look at this poem short as it is, as an evolution from the rational through to the sensory, I think we get a really interesting insight into what William Carlos Williams is doing here, because ultimately the poem ends on experience. It ends with an embodied voice. The voice of someone that tastes the voice of someone that savors and that shift subtle as it may be from the beginning of the poem to the end of the poem, I think is a statement of intent for the artist. The artist must be embodied. The artist must feel, the [00:14:00] artist must taste the artist must savor.

And the truest expression of art is to capture the feeling of that. Embodied state, and I love how subtle that transformation is. I mean, I love the simplicity of the poem there's a wonderful Alexander Pope poem that I love, which is epigram engraved on the collar of a dog, which actually could be engraved. It's short enough to be engraved on the collar of a dog. This poem could actually be an apology note. It is short enough. It is simple enough.

It is direct enough. It is honest enough. there's an honesty to the poem, which I think is exactly what William Carlos Williams is going for. It's not to suggest that. Ezra Pound is a dishonest poet, but when someone like Ezra Pound or Hilda Doolittle is playing with layers of meaning when they are subverting expectations, when they are alluding to classical mythology, the poem gets further and further away from ever being considered truly sort of physical object.

William Carlos Williams is all about coming back to first principles. The poem is ostensibly a note of apology, so it should resemble a [00:15:00] note of apology in almost every way, and I love that directness and that commitment to the everyday. There is nothing elevated about the events of this poem whatsoever.

It is incredibly benign. There's every chance that this imagined recipient or indeed real recipient would have no idea that the plums were even missing, and even if they did, they would've forgotten it in what? A week, two weeks. There's nothing elevated about the subject matter, but William Carlos' Williams' ideology with poetry is that we should turn the poetic lens to things traditionally not.

Elevated, we should celebrate the everyday and again, without wishing to kind of delve too much into his life. Maiya mentioned he was a doctor and he worked as a doctor. It wasn't just something he studied. He was surrounded by ordinary people. I mean, hospitals are a great level or a great equalizer across the world because everybody gets sick and everybody dies, and everybody falls over and breaks their arms.

William Carlos Williams'. Commitment to everyday people, everyday voices, everyday activities. It's not caviar that he's eaten. It's simply a box full of plums and everyday food stuff. And for me, the tone of [00:16:00] the poem, the way in which it playfully offers an apology while justifying the thing it's apologizing for because how delicious the plums were.

The way in which it's distinct from the Imagist poems we've discussed in the previous two episodes. I love it. I mean, cards on the table. I think it's a wonderful poem and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, ma.

Maiya: Do you know what? Just. Speaking then I actually had a slightly different take on it. It's interesting that, your perception was that, the individual whose plums they were could have forgotten them. They don't seem important to me. I've always read, a domesticity in this poem. You know, I think of that existence of being in a relationship. I think of, all of the small things that you let slide, because in the grand scheme of things, they aren't important. And I find a lot of faith in this poem, in the, simple fact that I think forgiveness is inbuilt into this poem. As you mentioned, the apology note isn't really sorry. It ends on this idea that the plums were so sweet, so delicious, that it almost forgives the temptation. I get the impression that the result of this note [00:17:00] would be, the other person, the implied partner turning around and going, well, of course it's okay. there's there's no sense of animosity or anger here, and the factual way in which it's laid out. And as you mentioned, the, fact that this could be a physical apology note. I find so refreshing, and I think it really speaks to Carlos Williams' commitment to that everyday because not only is he reducing the stakes instead of in the red wheelbarrow where the stakes are uncertain, the stakes in this poem are really slim to none. There is simply enjoyment, there is simply temptation, and that temptation is gratified and explained. And there's a, through line with this poem where. I don't think at any point as a reader, as a listener, you feel disgust toward this person. Of course, naturally what he's doing is stealing someone else's items that they have taken care of. They've gone to the effort of putting them into the icebox to preserve them, and that indicates that middle stanza where he says, you know, I imagine that you are probably saving these. But even though [00:18:00] this is a moment of betrayal, even though this is technically him stealing, there's a real softness to it. And I think that focus on domesticity is something that's always stood out to me with this poem because it is so gentle in the way it handles conflict and that really sets apart Carlos Williams' work from Hilda Doolittle from Ezra Pound.

There is a. Really different focus, and I'm not sure I can always pinpoint it. And I do wonder whether that is partially down to the Americana of it, the focus on American life, American domestic life, American pastoral life, and the fact that those kind of European sentiments of war felt a little bit further away. There is a slight distance there that allows a quicker return To peace and sobriety and calm and I find that the way this poem is handled is just so kind, I think is the word I use.

Joe: I love that. You're so right about everything you've just said, but particularly that notion that the apology reads as so [00:19:00] honest and so genuine. And again, when we talk about honesty in art, we're not saying that this happened. It doesn't mean that it is possible for art to be emotionally honest, even if it is factually dishonest.

William Carlos Williams didn't need to steal anyone's fruit in order to write this poem. And the fact that he didn't steal fruit or he might not have stolen fruit doesn't mean that this poem isn't honest. What I mean about that apology being honest, is the way he undercuts that, forgive me, he doesn't actually use the word, but, but effectively, that last stanza, “forgive me”. We could have a but after that because he then goes on to say they were delicious, so sweet and so cold. There's something about those lines, which implies a depth of relationship between the speaker and the recipient of this note that makes the poem feel emotionally resonant.

You wouldn't say that to a stranger. You wouldn't say, forgive me, but or forgive me. And here I'm now about to suggest that I actually didn't do anything wrong because anybody would've done the same thing in my shoes because the fruit was so delicious. That only works for me if there is a fundamental sense of goodwill and affection and love between [00:20:00] the recipient and the writer of this note, because what the speaker is really doing here is reminding the other person what they already know about them. I couldn't resist the temptation of this delicious fruit, but of course, you know that about me. There is a kind of tenderness to those lines, which I adore, and I think it feels so real.

And I think that honesty, that emotional honesty is the thing that gives these poems, the weight, despite their brevity, despite their simple language, despite their lack of elevated themes. There is an emotional core to his work that I think is the reason it stands the test of time. And the last thing I'd like to focus on this poem and I'm sure Maiya will be happy to hear this. 'cause like me, she’s very interested in titles. Is the way the title functions in this poem, and it's completely different from Oread. The poem we talked about, in our last episode on Hilda Doolittle. We talked about how that title, which was added late after the poem was written, serves to elevate the subject matter because prior to that, we didn't know that this speaker was a, classical figure, a nymph, and.

When Hilda Doolittle added that title, we then read the poem as something more [00:21:00] elevated, more rooted in, existing stories and myth. Carlos Williams is doing the complete opposite here because the poem could be read without the title. And simply begin, I have eaten the plums, or it can be read with the title and the title functions almost as a new opening line to the poem.

This is just to say, I have eaten the plums, and that word just in the title does the exact opposite of what Oread did. Oread was about elevating was about taking the existing poem and encouraging us to look at it more seriously. This is asking us to look at the poem less seriously because it's something that is just to say.

The word just undercuts everything that follows deliberately because William Carlos Williams is not interested in arbitrary sincerity to the poem. He's doing the exact opposite, and that's what makes it feel more real. You don't have to read this poem as something serious because it's not. It's something innocent. It's something playful. It's something everyday.

And ultimately, that's why more people read William Carlos Williams work than Ezra Pound or even Hilda Doolittle's, because it does speak to everyday experience and everyday experiences are rarely massively [00:22:00] sincere or massively elevated.

Maiya: I also think the poem takes such a departure from the expectations of readers. When we talk about temptation, you know, we're talking about being tempted by a fruit. This could not be more evidently. A kind of offshoot from the traditional Christian story of Eve being tempted by the apple, but instead of there being this inordinate focus on guilt and shame and, you know, the, the weight of the world as you know, are ending it is just a simple fact. And I really find, you know, I mentioned before the word kind. I think that kindness is so. Crystal clear in the way that you know, Joe, I know you've used the word undercut a few times and And I think it undercuts that symbolism too. We have these kind of preconceived notions of what we expect from a poem you have a history of reading classics and stories and myths, and instead of approaching. This kind of moment of [00:23:00] betrayal as something world ending. It's just a moment and the rest of the life that is constructed around this poem is kind of left to function independently. And I think that's just such a, lovely way to leave this poem.

Joe: . So let's move on now to the final poem we're discussing in this episode and indeed this miniseries. Before we sum up a little bit about how these poets all fit together. And then the last poem we're gonna be looking at today is William Carlos Williams', ‘The Young Housewife’.

Now Maiya, would you like to read the poem? 

Maiya: Absolutely. So this is ‘The Young Housewife’ 10:00 AM ‘The Young Housewife’ moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband's house. I pass solitary in my car. Then again, she comes to the curb. to call the iceman, and stands shy. Uncorseted tucking in straight ends of hair, and I compare her to a fallen leaf. The noiseless wheels of my car rush with a crackling sound over dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling. Now this poem, I think, is a huge [00:24:00] from what Imagist poets were really exploring this poem is more than anything focused on an individual. They're inner life, they're inner workings, but it also reflects on the speaker, the poet's interpretation of the woman. And I find that that interaction. Offers a really unique lens to explore who the housewife is, how she is oppressed, but also how she's oppressed by the thoughts of others. I find that Carlos Williams' narrative in this poem, whether the speaker is unnamed, but could be anyone, and the recognition of the comparison to a fallen leaf as a result of the car driving over what is implied to be autumn crunchy leaves is so fascinating to me because it addresses where you pull inspiration from. It addresses what context means when you're writing a poem because as we come to understand, this young housewife has. Pretty much an in-house life. She exists within the walls of her husband's house. The furthest she can go is to the curb, and yet she has [00:25:00] interactions. She calls to the iceman, the Fishman. She has this sense of conversation, but it is stilted by the fact that. Walls and, fences are implied. She's still caged in. And I love this impression of being watched by the speaker, by the poet because you get a really different understanding of what this woman means to this individual who may, in this instance, pass by this house every morning. He has created a world for her. He has created an inner understanding of what her day-to-day life looks like.

We don't know anything about this woman. And I find that even the description of her suggests that she is unknowable because instead of being a primped and Preened housewife who is, you know, very put together, all she does is stay at home. She fulfills this very traditional role. She's undone to a certain point. she tucks her loose hair behind her ear. She's in a negligee, which is, you know, a nightgown. There is an impression that. There is something not quite formalized here, and I'd love to know your thoughts on this, Joe, because I find that that sense of interaction [00:26:00] between certainty and uncertainty plays a massive role in this poem.

Joe: I'm glad you pointed out this notion of the repeated action of observing this person because. What I really enjoy about it is the kind of tension between this being a moment in time when we're told at 10:00 AM ‘The Young Housewife’, which implies on the one hand a singular occurrence at 10:00 AM But also as the poemit goes on, we, we come to learn, actually, this is about a repeated pattern, a habitual movement at 10:00 AM for me, the poem works because on the one hand it is one thing happening one time, and the voice of the poet projecting these other versions, these variations onto the woman. On the other hand, it is a person who passes by every day at 10:00 AM Observing these slight variations in, in the routine, you know, who is she calling to? One day it's the Fishman. One day it's somebody else. ' cause I think fundamentally the poem is about perception. The poem is about the power. The perception affords us. Remember that she is behind the wooden walls of her husband's house.

She's enclosed. We [00:27:00] are told that the speaker of this poem is in his car. This great symbol of American mobility. You can go anywhere on the highway. He's a male figure. She's a female one. He's empowered, he's free. He's liberated. He can go anywhere. She appears trapped between the walls of her husband's home and the curb.

And even when she gets to the curb, the people she calls out to are men.. So it's only men that enable her to move between these two very close together realms of her existence, the inside of her house and the outside. So we have a massive power imbalance with regard to the facts of their lives.

But the power imbalance I'm more interested in is the imagined nature of their lives. Because how on earth does this person who only drives by at 10:00 AM know anything about her life? How does he know that she's married? How does he know that She only comes out to call Fishman?

How does he know? Who owns the house. He doesn't know any of these things, but the power lies because he's the one telling the story on her behalf. She's voiceless. His perception of her becomes who she really is. And this for me works so brilliantly [00:28:00] with the poem, Helen, that we were talking about in our last episode, and Hilda Doolittle this notion of a woman's life being.

Defined by what men perceive her to be, rather than who they regard themselves to be, rather than their own definition of their existences. And I think that William Carlos Williams is playing very deliberately with this notion. And I think that the evidence for this comes in stanza three when he says explicitly, and I compare her.

To a fallen leaf, he could have made that comparison without stating that he was making a comparison. The fact I think, that he uses the word compare and I compare is an acknowledgement of the imbalance that's played out in this poem between the male speaker and the female, figure who was only ever described externally, who was only ever viewed and defined through the lens, of the male gaze from, the window of this car.

And I think William Carlos Williams is deconstructing the power of the viewer while showing us what that power yields. And I think that tension is, so clever in such a short poem.

Now this brings us to the end of our episode on William Carlos [00:29:00] Williams. But of course, it's also the end of our miniseries on the Imagist poets. And this is really different to the last miniseries we did on the First World War poets, where of course the end of the war signifies the end of that kind of moment in history that brought these poets thematically, and in some cases physically together.

Imagist is very different. The breakdown of this movement in the late 19 teens. Is the result of personality clashes the result of differing interests? the first World War of course, plays a part, physical displacement, et cetera. But all three of the poets we've discussed have very, very long careers after they leave, either formally or informally, the Imagist movement.

And I wonder, Maiya, whether we can spend a few minutes sort of reflecting on this movement, its legacy, its impact, and whether or not it lived up to its principles. But where would you like to begin?

Maiya: I mean, I do think it's fascinating, and I know that this is something we touched on before even recording today, is that so many of these poets then went on to deliver poems that were exceptionally [00:30:00] longer by comparison. and not to say that they broke away entirely from the tenets of Imagist. And I think what could be said is that Imagism was a moment in time. That taught these poets how to frame things differently. think it taught these poets how to rebel in a way that was effective. I think it taught them how to construct a new type of language, and it showed the impact of that language as well. So I, love the idea that, many of these poets who continued to write and were incredibly successful in their later years as William Carlos Williams absolutely was, but I think there's really something to be said about how Imagism has created the backbone, foundation of their later work. It's taught them how to laser focus in on the individual, and then also by extension, I don't doubt how to extrapolate that, because of course you were taught. In the romantic lens how to write a certain way. Certain metaphors had to be used, certain ideas had to be adhered to, but Imagism really broke away from the mould. I [00:31:00] the fact that all of these poets had significantly longer careers following the breakdown of Imagist, really does a service to the fact that Imagism was so successful, the fact that there was no longer a need for it.

And even so, you know. when I write, if you go on any kind of creative textbook, they will tell you to practice something in the style of the Imagist. It's a way of creating a completely different type of work that will get the creative juices flowing. It teaches you to be different, and I think difference is something that then dominates the centuries following difference is celebrated and valued, and I think modernism absolutely speaks to that as well. We see such a huge departure and I love the idea that even though this movement was in the grand scheme of its short-lived, it had such an impact. But that's my opinion. What about you, Joe?

Joe: I think first and foremost, the legacy of any artistic or literary movement is the arts that comes out of it. And as we've discussed over the course of these episodes, there are some phenomenal poems. I mean, the three that really stand out, I think probably one from each of the [00:32:00] poets we’ve talked about, I think in the Station of the Metro by Ezra Pound, Oread by Hilda Doolittle, and the Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams are three.

Major, major forces when it comes to the literature of the early 20th century. And you know, even if that was the only legacy of the movement, I think it's an impressive one. , I guess subsequent to that, you have to look at the impact it had upon the style and the output that followed it.

And of course one of the things that we perhaps could have discussed even more over the course of these episodes is that the vast, vast majority of the work of the Imagist was written in free verse, and free verse becomes the predominant mode of the modernist poets That follow and of course has been the dominant way in which poetry has been written.

in the time since the imagists in the last sort of 110, 115 years. So stylistically it has a, long afterlife, even if some of those free verse poems are much longer and are not necessarily following every, tenet of Imagist. The form that the Imagists chose becomes the form that we associate with modern poetry.

So that's clearly very significant. But I think even if we look beyond. [00:33:00] The work itself, the influence on the form. One of the reasons that I was so interested in doing this miniseries on Imagism, 'cause I think so many of the minutia and the contradictions that are innate with literary movements are contained within them.

Because when you have a literary movement, you have a group of artists who have some shared ideas, but. you have great tension and you have stylistic tension, and you have personal tensions. Ezra Pound was a difficult man. He had personal tensions with other members of the movement that there is kind of creative energy there, but there is also a lifespan.

And the more difficult personality you have, the shorter that lifespan probably is, but you also have. The tension between a movement that is on the one hand incredibly narrow and prescriptive. I mean, we read some of those tenets in the first episode, and you know, they are quite restrictive to what poets are allowed to do to be considered Imagist.

And yet you also have such variation in the poetry itself. And we talked about how there are no verbs in station of the metro, but. Oread is full of verbs. We talked about how Hilda Doolittle’s variance in classical retellings, but William Carlos Williams is all about the [00:34:00] immediate and the contemporary, and yet they can all exist under the same banner.

we talked about how in the past with literary movements, it's all about physical space and being in the same room and sharing ideas around the same table. And yet in this movement we have a poet, William Carlos Williams, who was separated from the others in many cases by the entire Atlantic Ocean, and yet is embodying many of the same principles.

So I hope listeners have got a sense of a, the richness of Imagist, but also how to consider other literary movements if you're thinking about. The confessional poets, the Romantic poets, the Futurists, the Dadaists. Remember that movements are fluid things. They evolve year by year. Different personalities come and go.

Different poets project what they want the movement to mean onto the movement, whereas other poets pull it in another direction. We have a tendency when we give something a name to assume that it means something consistent and coherent. And the Imagists are very rarely consistent or coherent, and I think that richness is where the fascination lies.

Maiya: [00:35:00] Absolutely. And Joe, I have had the best time talking with you about this Imagist miniseries, and I can't wait for our next miniseries. So if any listeners have a suggestion for us, we would absolutely love to hear it. If you are tuning in for the first time to this episode. I urge you to go back and listen to our other two episodes on Pound and Doolittle because they are so rich and worthy of your attention.

They are beautiful poems in their own right, and I think for anyone just diving into poetry for the first time or anyone who loves poetry, it's a great place to start.

Now, unfortunately, that is the end of our episode and our miniseries for today, but we have a very exciting one lined up for next time, which is what makes a poet laureate, and we will be basing this episode primarily around the work of Simon Armitage. I, for one, can't wait for that, but for now, it's goodbye for me.

Joe: And goodbye for me and the whole team@poemanalysis.com and Poetry+. See you next time. [00:36:00]