SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
Need to create a login? Want to change your email address or password? Forgot your password?
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
In 1997, I sent Guy Davenport a cassette of some cool recordings. Most of them he’d already heard. Pound, Eliot, Yeats and others, reading their poetry. One he’d not heard, though. Walt Whitman, descanting.
Of those 39 seconds–perhaps recorded by the agents of Thomas Alva Edison–Davenport, who would write about Whitman for this magazine, wrote:
And then said:
Loans of tapes; students counted on to turn up: gifts like these tend to fall, or not, into our laps. Or, I should think, tended. Now, we don’t have to wait for nobody. We just go on YouTube, where it’s not all kittens these days.
My favorite find of this snowy weekend, not sought so much as stumbled upon, is a mini documentary about the National Book Awards from 1974. Pynchon and Isaac Bashevis Singer shared it, and Pynchon showed up to accept it… sort of. The five-minute documentary, which aired on Arte, the Franco-German PBS channel, features George Plimpton (and a very special guest) explaining what went down. I didn’t know this pocket history, but it’s pretty charming. Hang in there (or skip ahead) through the first 90 seconds of “artistic” overture:
If you’re in the mood for more charm, the weirdest wonderfulest thing I’ve come upon is this choreographed feast of oddity, featuring Vladimir Nabokov and Lionel Trilling (and interlocutor Pierre Berton), discussing Lolita. The whole thing plays like Feydeau, Nabokov reading his answers off the cards he shuffles not so discreetly in his lap, the trio rising apropos of nothing but a pre-arranged plan to do so and shifting from table to sofa, where Nabokov wolfs a cup of tea, and awkward banter continues (and leads to a sublime, and not at all awkward, closing minute, when VN goes rogue and stops reading). The whole of it conspires to a little dance of civility that might feel familiar, as you sit around the holiday hearth:
With that multimedia to round out your stocking, I leave you until next Monday.
More from Wyatt Mason:
Conversation — October 2, 2015, 8:26 am
“By committing to the great emotional extremes demanded by Greek tragedy,” says Bryan Doerries, author of The Theater of War, “the actors are in effect saying to the audience: ‘If you want to match our emotional intensity, that would be fine.’”
Number of people who attended the World Grits Festival, held in St. George, South Carolina, last spring:
The brown bears of Greece continued chewing through telephone poles.
In Peru, a 51-year-old activist became the first former sex worker to run for the national legislature. “I’m going to put order,” she said, “in that big brothel which is Congress.”
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
“Civilization masks us with a screen, from ourselves and from one another, with thin depth of unreality. We habitually live — do we not? — in a world self-created, half established, of false values arbitrarily upheld, largely inspired by misconception, misapprehension, wrong perspective, and defective proportion, misapplication.”