Larkin and Friends
A new piece for Engelsberg Ideas
I’ve written something for Engelsberg Ideas about Philip Larkin's Oxford Anthology of Twentieth Century English Verse, which was published fifty years ago last month (a hook's a hook). You can read it here. Larkin's anthology is best remembered for its idiosyncrasies. Yet those idiosyncrasies led him to some brilliant poems, and poets, which might otherwise have been overlooked. The assembly process also forced him to reconsider some of his ideas about modern poetry, and raised some interesting questions about what anthologies are for.
The Oxord anthology is also reminder that Larkin wasn't always the isolated figure he is often made out to be. In his 1993 biography, Andrew Motion expressed some surprise that Larkin, who Motion had befriended at Hull in the poet’s later years, had even agreed to the commission. But Motion also placed the anthology in the context of the various other ways in which Larkin was supporting other poets at the time: serving on committees, judging awards, reviewing books (Larkin chaired the Poetry Book Society during the 1980s). Though the opportunity to edit the anthology came about by chance (the publisher's first choice, Louis MacNeice, had died unexpectedly) it was the culmination of Larkin’s efforts to support poetry as a public art. But the book was also a turning point. Larkin ultimately found the experience of returning to Oxford deeply depressing. Once safely back in Hull, he settled ever more deeply into his self-imposed isolation.
That lingering, unavoidable sense of isolation extends to how we read Larkin’s poems. I often get the feeling that besides the so-called Movement Larkin is rarely read in the context of his contemporaries. He stands alone. This is as true for readers as it is for critics. On the one hand, Larkin isn’t a popular subject at universities. On the other, I often talk to people who say that they don't read much modern poetry, besides Larkin. There is a disconnect.
This is a shame, to put it midly. Philip Larkin wasn't always generous about his contemporaries, but he can still be a rewarding guide to other writers. One example besides the anthology would be his well-documented admiration for poets like Gavin Ewart and John Betjeman. Other connections demand a little more deduction: the Philip Larkin Society's conference last year, for instance, included a paper from Will May on Larkin's borrowings from Stevie Smith.1
I don't think Larkin's isolation, self-imposed and otherwise, does his own poetry any favours, either. If we had a wider, richer view of post-war poetry, and of Larkin’s place within in it, we might finally be able to stop treating him as a 'national monument', with all the depreciating luggage that has entailed. We might be able to appreciate his real legacy a little more clearly.
The Society, incidentally, aims to promote understanding and appreciation of Larkin's work, but also of the work of the poet’s contemporaries.