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(More customer reviews)To read John Simon's writing on poetry is to be held enthrall by a master. He doesn't waste his time or ours with theories. He doesn't believe that poetry has anything to hide behind. There was a lot I missed in school, and Simon is invaluable for catching me up with (fairly recent, as in the 20th-century) literary history. (So I'm willing to overlook the total absence of even one mention of my all-time favorite Elizabeth Bishop.) Although more famous for his scathing movie reviews, Simon is vastly more in his element as a literary critic. Which does not mean, in his case, spouting jargon. Even when he's chiding, more love shines through in this book than in anything else he's written. In fact, you may miss the "acerbic, mean" side of Simon if that's what you're accustomed to. (In fact, I don't think he's tough enough on Philip Larkin; Simon actually seems amused by Larkin's antics and disappointingly doesn't probe the essential Larkin contradiction --a political ultraconservative who loved jazz.) This collection isn't as rollickingly, savagely funny as his earlier lit volume Sheep from the Goats (a book that's devastating, hilarious and out-of-print). The introduction to Dreamers, in which Simon ruminates on and quotes at length from obscure, forgotten yet excellent poets is worth the price of the book alone. It may be the most moving, personal and incandescent passage ever to flow from Simon's pen. Pauline Kael once wrote of the British critic Paul Coates, "he leaves the dross out of criticism and goes right for the gold." The same might justly be said of John Simon.
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