BRITISH WRITERS, Supplement XIV

BRITISH WRITERS BRITISH WRITERS JAY PARINI Editor SUPPLEMENT XIV British Writers Supplement XIV Project Editors: M...

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BRITISH WRITERS

BRITISH WRITERS JAY PARINI Editor

SUPPLEMENT XIV

British Writers Supplement XIV Project Editors: Michelle Kazensky Copyeditors: Gretchen Gordon, Robert E. Jones, Linda Sanders Proofreaders: Susan Barnett, Carrie Snyder Indexer: Wendy Allex

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA British writers. Supplement XIV / Jay Parini, editor. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-684-31553-9 (alk. paper) 1. English literature--History and criticism. 2. English literature--Bio-bibliography. 3. Commonwealth literature (English)--History and criticism. 4. Commonwealth literature (English)--Bio-bibliography. 5. Authors, English--Biography. 6. Authors, Commonwealth-- Biography. I. Parini, Jay. PR85.B688 Suppl. 14 820.9--dc22

[B] 2008037230

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper). Charles Scribner’s Sons an imprint of Gale, Cengage Learning 27500 Drake Rd. Farmington Hills, MI 48331–3535

ISBN-13: 978-0-684-31553-9 ISBN-10: 0-684-31553-X

Printed in the United States of America 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 12 11 10 09 08

Acknowledgments Acknowledgment is gratefully made to those publishers and individuals who permitted the use of the following materials in copyright

PATRICA BEER. Beer, Patricia. From The Survivors. Longmans, Green & Co, Ltd, 1963. Copyright © Longmans, Green & Co, Ltd., 1963. Reproduced with permission of The Literary Estate of Patricia Beer. / Beer, Patricia. From Just Like the Resurrection. Macmillan, 1967. © Patricia Beer 1967. Reproduced with permission of The Literary Estate of Patricia Beer. / Beer, Patricia. From The Estuary. Macmillan, 1971. © Patricia Beer 1971. All rights reserved. Reproduced with permission of The Literary Estate of Patricia Beer. Reproduced by permission. / Beer, Patricia. From Driving West. Victor Gollancz Ltd., an imprint of The Orion Publishing Group 1975. © Patricia Beer, 1975. Reproduced by permission. / Beer, Patricia. From Selected Poems. Hutchinson & Co Ltd, 1979. © In this collection Patricia Beer 1979. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press. / Beer, Patricia. From The Lie of the Land. Hutchinson & Co Ltd, 1983. © Patricia Beer 1983. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press. / Beer, Patricia. From Collected Poems. Carcanet Press Ltd., 1988. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press Limited. / Beer, Patricia. From Friend of Heraclitus. Carcanet Press Ltd., 1993. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press Limited. / Beer, Patricia. From Autumn. Carcanet Press Ltd., 1997. Copyright © Patricia Beer 1997. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press Limited.

University Press, 1998. Copyright © Greg Delanty 1998. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press. / Delanty, Greg. From The Ship of Birth. Carcanet Press Ltd, 2003. Copyright © Greg Delanty 2003. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press Limited. / Delanty, Greg. From Collected Poems 1986-2006. Carcanet Press Ltd, 2006. Copyright © Greg Delanty 1986, 1992, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 2001, 2003, 2006. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission of Carcanet Press Limited. / Delanty, Greg. From Selected Poems of Sean O’Riordain In Translation. New Island, 2007. Reproduced by permission of the author. / Delanty, Greg. From The Ship of Birth. Carcanet Press, 2003. Copyright © Carcanet Press, 2003. Reproduced by permission of the author. / PN Review, v. 53, March-April, 2007. Reproduced by permission of Greg Delanty. / Poetry Ireland Review, v. 90, 2007. Reproduced by permission. SUSAN HILL. Hadley Freeman, “Cotswold Chameloen,” The Guardian, October 18, 2003. Reproduced by permission of Guardian News Service, LTD. / Robert Edric, “Adding Up to Zero,” The Guardian, May 29, 2004. Reproduced by permission of Guardian News Service, LTD. KATHLEEN JAMIE. Jamie, Kathleen. From Black Spiders. Salamander Press, 1982. © Kathleen Jamie, 1982. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission. / Jamie, Kathleen. From Mr. & Mrs. Scotland are Dead: Poems 1980-1994. Bloodaxe Books, 2002. Reproduced by permission. / Jamie, Kathleen. From Jizzen. Picador, 1999. Copyright © Kathleen Jamie 1999. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission. / Jamie, Kathleen. From The Tree House. Picador, 2004. Copyright © Kathleen Jamie 2004. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission.

JIM CRACE. The New York Observer, February 12, 2001. Copyright © 2001 The New York Observer. Reproduced by permission. / The New York Times, November 23, 2003. Copyright © 2003 by The New York Times Company. Reprinted with permission. / Andrew Lawless,“The Poet of Prose—Jim Crace in Interview,” Three Monkeys Online, February, 2005. Reproduced by permission. PETER HO DAVIES. New Statesman, May 21, 2007. Copyright © 2007 New Statesman, Ltd. Reproduced by permission.

HARI KUNZRU. Hari Kunzru, “Conversations—Hari Kunzru,” www.book-club.co.nz, Reproduced by permission of the author. / The Guardian, January 27, 2004. Copyright © 2004 Guardian Newspapers Limited. Reproduced by permission of Guardian News Service, LTD.

GREG DELANTY. Delanty, Greg. From Cast in the Fire. The Dolmen Press, 1986. © 1986, Greg Delanty. Reproduced by permission. / Delanty, Greg. From American Wake. The Blackstaff Press, 1996. © Greg Delanty, 1995. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission. / Delanty, Greg. From Hellbox. Oxford

ANDREW MILLER. Waterstone’s Books Quarterly, spring, 1999. Reproduced by permission. / The Guardian, August 25, 2001. Copyright © 2001 Guardian

v

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Newspapers Limited. Reproduced by permission of Guardian News Service, LTD. / Nadine O’Regan, “Grist for the Miller,” The Sunday Business Post, September 23, 2001. Reproduced by permission. / The Independent, March 25, 2005. Copyright © 2005 Independent Newspapers (UK) Ltd. Reproduced by permission.

Reproduced by permission of PFD (www.pfd.co.uk) on behalf of The Literary Estate of Frank O’Connor. / O’Connor, Frank. From Three Old Brothers and Other Poems. Copyright © 1936 by Frank O’Connor. Reproduced by permission of PFD (www.pfd.co.uk) on behalf of The Estate of Frank O’Connor. / O’Connor, Frank. From The Little Monasteries. Translated from the old Irish by Frank O’Connor. Copyright © 1963 Frank O’Connor. Reproduced by permission of PFD (www.pfd.co.uk) on behalf of The Literary Estate of Frank O’Connor.

DAVID MITCHELL. Random House (randomhouse.com). Reproduced by permission of Random House, Inc. / The New York Times, September 12, 2000. Copyright © 2000 by The New York Times Company. Reprinted with permission. / The Times Literary Supplement, February 27, 2004. Copyright © 2004 by The Times Supplements Limited. Reproduced from The Times Literary Supplement by permission. / The Bookseller, March 31, 2006. Copyright © 2006 VNU Business Media, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission. / The New Republic, July 24, 2006. Copyright © 2006 by The New Republic, Inc. Reproduced by permission of The New Republic.

ARTHUR SYMONS. Symons, Arthur. From Poems: Volume 1. Martin Secker, 1924. Reproduced by permission of the Literary Estate of Arthur Symons. / Symons, Arthur. From Spiritual Adventures. Martin Secker, 1924. Reproduced by permission of the Literary Estate of Arthur Symons. KATE THOMPSON. Kate Thompson, “Text of Biography Page of Kate Thompson Website,” Kate Thompson (www.katethompson.info), 2006. © 2006 Kate Thompson. Reproduced by permission.

FRANK O’CONNOR. O’Connor, Frank. From Wild Birds Nest. Translated from the old Irish by Frank O’Connor. Copyright © 1932 Frank O’Connor.

vi

Contents

Contents .......................................................................................................................................................................vii Introduction ...................................................................................................................................................................ix Chronology ....................................................................................................................................................................xi List of Contributors ....................................................................................................................................................liii Subjects in Supplement XIV PATRICIA BEER / Lawrence Sail ............................................................................................................................1 JIM CRACE / Susan Balée ......................................................................................................................................17 PETER HO DAVIES / Julie Wakeman-Linn ........................................................................................................35 MEAGHAN DELAHUNT / Nancy Bunge .............................................................................................................49 GREG DELANTY / Thomas O’Grady ..................................................................................................................65 IAN FLEMING / Charles Robert Baker ...............................................................................................................81 LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON / Les Wilkinson .......................................................................................................99 SUSAN HILL / Abby Mims ...................................................................................................................................115 KATHLEEN JAMIE / J. C. Bittenbender ...........................................................................................................129 MARIA JANE JEWSBURY / Emma Mason .......................................................................................................149 HARI KUNZRU / Sophie Ratcliffe .......................................................................................................................165 ANDREW MILLER / J.-A. George .......................................................................................................................179 DAVID MITCHELL / Patrick Denman Flanery .................................................................................................193 FRANK O’CONNOR / Adrian Paterson ..............................................................................................................211 IAIN SINCLAIR / J. M. Tyree ..............................................................................................................................231 JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS / Nikolai Endres ...........................................................................................249 ARTHUR SYMONS / Lydia Rainford .................................................................................................................267 KATE THOMPSON / Susan Butterworth ...........................................................................................................285 MASTER INDEX to Volumes I–VII, Supplements I–XIV, Retrospective Supplements I–II ........................299

vii

Introduction

and 1972, the Minnesota Pamphlets on American Writers. These pamphlets on American authors were extremely popular at the time. They were well written and informative, taking into account the work of ninety-seven American writers in a format and style that attracted a devoted following. The series proved invaluable to a generation of students and teachers, who could depend on these reliable and interesting critiques of major figures. The idea of reprinting these essays occurred to Charles Scribner, Jr., an innovative publisher during the middle decades of the twentieth century. The series appeared in four volumes entitled American Writers: A Collection of Literary Biographies (1974). British Writers followed, gathering a series of essays originally published by the British Council. These proved popular as well, and fourteen supplements have now followed. The goal of the supplements has been consistent with the original idea of the series: to provide clear, informative essays aimed at the general reader. These essays often rise to a high level of craft and critical vision, but they are meant to introduce a writer of some importance, taking into account previous scholarship and recent critical thinking. The authors of the essays in this supplement are teachers and scholars. Most have published books and articles in their field, and several are well-known writers themselves. As anyone glancing through this volume will see, all of our critics have been held to the highest standards of clear writing and sound scholarship. Jargon and theoretical musings have been discouraged, except when strictly relevant. Each of the essays concludes with a select bibliography of works by the author under discussion and secondary works that might be useful to those wishing to pursue the subject further. In this supplement, the fourteenth in the series, we treat four classic authors from previous centuries -- Lewis Grassic Gibbon, Maria Jane Jewsbury, John Addington Symonds, and Arthur Symons. For various reasons, these have yet to be treated in this series.

James Boswell, in his classic biography of Dr. Samuel Johnson, quotes his subject as noting that “the greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.” All writers know, in fact, that writing begins with reading. One can hardly imagine the number of books a writer of any consequence must read, and fully digest, in order to produce a sequence of poems, a novel, a play, or any significant text. But exactly how a writer makes use of the literary tradition has often seemed mysterious. One of the purposes of British Writers has always been to examine the work of authors, taking into account their lives and works, and trying to make connections between these often disparate streams. We have tried, in the many volumes thus far published, to show how the writer’s reading may have figured, too, in the development of her or his own literary vision. These are, as much as anything, intellectual biographies, tracking the growth of a single author’s mind over a certain period. In general, this series brings together a range of essays on writers who have a considerable reputation in the literary world. As in previous volumes, the subjects have been chosen for their contribution to the traditions of British, Irish, or Anglophone literature (being texts written in English, indebted to the British tradition to some extent, often written by authors from former colonial states. Such a definition includes, for example, Canadian, Australian, New Zealand, and South African writers). We hope readers will find these essays lively and intelligent, and that they will prove useful for those unfamiliar with the work at hand, yet also interesting to those who happen to know it quite well. In each case, we provide close readings of individual texts and a sense of the cultural context of the writing. A considerable element of each essay is therefore biographical and historical as well as critical. British Writers started life as an off-shoot of a series of monographs that appeared between 1959

ix

INTRODUCTION have achieved popularity in genre-writing. Each is, however, a writer of substantial cultural importance, worthy of close attention from readers. As before, our purpose in presenting these critical and biographical essays is to bring readers back to the texts, to help them in their understanding of writers who have made a deep impression on the English-speaking world in a variety of genres. These essays should enable students and general readers to enter into the world of these writers freshly, helping them to understand how in each case the writer summoned a particular vision, moving from book to book, creating an imaginative universe in words. It’s also our hope that these essays will enhance the reading list of those wishing to exercise their minds, to expand or enhance their appreciation of important literary works.

For the most part, Supplement XIV centers on contemporary writers from various genres and traditions, most of whom have had little sustained attention from critics, although they are well known. Patricia Beer, Jim Crace, Peter Ho Davies, Meaghan Delahunt, Greg Delanty, Kathleen Jamie, Hari Kunzru, Andrew Miller, David Mitchell, Ian Sinclair and Kate Thompson have all been written about in the review pages of newspapers and magazines, often at considerable length, and their work has acquired a substantial following, but their careers have yet to attract significant scholarship. That will certainly follow, but the essays included in this volume constitute a beginning of sorts, an attempt to map out the particular universe of each writer. With Frank O’Connor, who died in 1966, we focus on an Irish writer who has already achieved classic status, but whose work has not had quite the amount of attention it deserves. In two cases, Ian Fleming and Susan Hill, we look at writers who

—JAY PARINI

x

Chronology

ca. 1342 1348 ca. 1350 1351

1356 1360

1362

1369

1369–1377 ca. 1370 1371 1372 1372–1382 1373–1393

ca. 1373 ca. 1375–1400 1376 1377–1399 ca. 1379 ca. 1380 1381 1386

1399–1413 ca. 1400 1400 1408 1412–1420 1413–1422 1415

Birth of John Trevisa and Julian of Norwich The Black Death (further outbreaks in 1361 and 1369) Boccaccio’s Decameron Langland’s Piers Plowman The Statute of Laborers pegs laborers’ wages at rates in effect preceding the plague The Battle of Poitiers The Treaty of Brétigny: end of the first phase of the Hundred Years’ War Pleadings in the law courts conducted in English Parliaments opened by speeches in English Chaucer’s The Book of the Duchess, an elegy to Blanche of Lancaster, wife of John of Gaunt Victorious French campaigns under du Guesclin John Lydgate born Sir John Mandeville’s Travels Chaucer travels to Italy Wycliffe active in Oxford William of Wykeham founds Winchester College and New College, Oxford Margery Kempe born Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Death of Edward the Black Prince Reign of Richard II Gower’s Vox clamantis Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde The Peasants’ Revolt Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales begun Chaucer sits in Parliament Gower’s Confessio amantis Reign of Henry IV Death of William Langland Death of Geoffrey Chaucer Death of John Gower Lydgate’s Troy Book Reign of Henry V The Battle of Agincourt

ca. 1416 1420–1422 1422–1461 1431 ca.1439 1440–1441 1444 1450 ca. 1451 1453 1455–1485 ca. 1460 1461–1470 1470–1471 1471 1471–1483 1476–1483

1483–1485 1485 1485–1509 1486

1492 1493

1497–1498 1497–1499 1499

1503 1505

xi

Death of Julian of Norwich Lydgate’s Siege of Thebes Reign of Henry VI François Villon born Joan of Arc burned at Rouen Death of Margery Kempe Henry VI founds Eton College and King’s College, Cambridge Truce of Tours Jack Cade’s rebellion Death of John Lydgate End of the Hundred Years’ War The fall of Constantinople The Wars of the Roses Births of William Dunbar and John Skelton Reign of Edward IV Reign of Henry VI Death of Sir Thomas Malory Reign of Edward IV Caxton’s press set up: The Canterbury Tales, Morte d’Arthur, and The Golden Legend printed Reign of Richard III The Battle of Bosworth Field; end of the Wars of the Roses Reign of Henry VII Marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York unites the rival houses of Lancaster and York Bartholomew Diaz rounds the Cape of Good Hope Columbus’ first voyage to the New World Pope Alexander VI divides undiscovered territories between Spain and Portugal John Cabot’s voyages to Newfoundland and Labrador Vasco da Gama’s voyage to India Amerigo Vespucci’s first voyage to America Erasmus’ first visit to England Thomas Wyatt born John Colet appointed dean of St.

CHRONOLOGY 1509–1547 1509 1511 1513 1515 1516 1517

1519 1519–1521 1525 1526

1529 1529–1536 1531 1532

1533

1534

1535

1536

1537

1538 1540

Paul’s: founds St. Paul’s School Reign of Henry VIII The king marries Catherine of Aragon Erasmus’ Praise of Folly published Invasion by the Scots defeated at Flodden Field Wolsey appointed lord chancellor Sir Thomas More’s Utopia Martin Luther’s theses against indulgences published at Wittenberg Henry Howard (earl of Surrey) born Charles V of Spain becomes Holy Roman Emperor Magellan’s voyage around the world Cardinal College, the forerunner of Christ Church, founded at Oxford Tyndale’s English translation of the New Testament imported from Holland Fall of Cardinal Wolsey Death of John Skelton The “Reformation” Parliament Sir Thomas Elyot’s The Governour published Thomas Cranmer appointed archbishop of Canterbury Machiavelli’s The Prince The king secretly marries Anne Boleyn Cranmer pronounces the king’s marriage with Catherine “against divine law” The Act of Supremacy constitutes the king as head of the Church of England Sir Thomas More executed Thomas Cromwell appointed vicar general of the Church of England The Pilgrimage of Grace: risings against the king’s religious, social, and economic reforms Anne Boleyn executed The king marries Jane Seymour The dissolution of the monasteries: confiscation of ecclesiastical properties and assets; increase in royal revenues Jane Seymour dies First complete English Bible published and placed in all churches The king marries Anne of Cleves Marriage dissolved

1542 1543

1546 1547 1547–1553 1548–1552 1552 ca. 1552 1553 1553–1558 ca. 1554

1554

ca. 1556 1557

ca. 1558 1558

1558–1603 1559 ca. 1559 1561

1562

1562–1568 1564 1565 1566

xii

The king marries Catherine Howard Fall and execution of Thomas Cromwell Catherine Howard executed Death of Sir Thomas Wyatt The king marries Catherine Parr Copernicus’ De revolutionibus orbium coelestium Trinity College, Cambridge, refounded The earl of Surrey executed Reign of Edward VI Hall’s Chronicle The second Book of Common Prayer Edmund Spenser born Lady Jane Grey proclaimed queen Reign of Mary I (Mary Tudor) Births of Walter Raleigh, Richard Hooker, John Lyly, and Fulke Greville Lady Jane Grey executed Mary I marries Philip II of Spain Bandello’s Novelle Philip Sidney born George Peele born Tottel’s Miscellany, including the poems of Wyatt and Surrey, published Thomas Kyd born Calais, the last English possession in France, is lost Birth of Robert Greene Mary I dies Reign of Elizabeth I John Knox arrives in Scotland Rebellion against the French regent George Chapman born Mary Queen of Scots (Mary Stuart) arrives in Edinburgh Thomas Hoby’s translation of Castiglione’s The Courtier Gorboduc, the first English play in blank verse Francis Bacon born Civil war in France English expedition sent to support the Huguenots Sir John Hawkins’ voyages to Africa Births of Christopher Marlowe and William Shakespeare Mary Queen of Scots marries Lord Darnley William Painter’s Palace of Pleasure, a miscellany of prose stories,

CHRONOLOGY 1567

1569 1570 1571 ca. 1572 1572 1574 1576

1576–1578 1577–1580 1577 1579

1581 1582 1583 1584–1585 1585

1586

1587

1588

the source of many dramatists’ plots Darnley murdered at Kirk o’Field Mary Queen of Scots marries the earl of Bothwell Rebellion of the English northern earls suppressed Roger Ascham’s The Schoolmaster Defeat of the Turkish fleet at Lepanto Ben Jonson born St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre John Donne born The earl of Leicester’s theater company formed The Theater, the first permanent theater building in London, opened The first Blackfriars Theater opened with performances by the Children of St. Paul’s John Marston born Martin Frobisher’s voyages to Labrador and the northwest Sir Francis Drake sails around the world Holinshed’s Chronicles of England, Scotlande, and Irelande John Lyly’s Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit Thomas North’s translation of Plutarch’s Lives The Levant Company founded Seneca’s Ten Tragedies translated Richard Hakluyt’s Divers Voyages Touching the Discoverie of America Philip Massinger born Sir John Davis’ first voyage to Greenland First English settlement in America, the “Lost Colony” comprising 108 men under Ralph Lane, founded at Roanoke Island, off the coast of North Carolina Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy Marlowe’s Tamburlaine William Camden’s Britannia The Babington conspiracy against Queen Elizabeth Death of Sir Philip Sidney Mary Queen of Scots executed Birth of Virginia Dare, first English child born in America, at Roanoke Island Defeat of the Spanish Armada Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus

1590

1592

1593 1594

1595 1596

ca. 1597 1597 1598 1598–1600

1599 1600 1601 1602

1603–1625 1603

1604 ca. 1605 1605 1606

1607 1608 1609 1610 1611

xiii

Spenser’s The Faerie Queen, Cantos 1–3 Richard Brome born Outbreak of plague in London; the theaters closed Henry King born Death of Christopher Marlowe The Lord Chamberlain’s Men, the company to which Shakespeare belonged, founded The Swan Theater opened Death of Thomas Kyd Ralegh’s expedition to Guiana Sidney’s Apology for Poetry The earl of Essex’s expedition captures Cadiz The second Blackfriars Theater opened Death of George Peele Bacon’s first collection of Essays Jonson’s Every Man in His Humor Richard Hakluyt’s Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffıcs, and Discoveries of the English Nation The Globe Theater opened Death of Edmund Spenser Death of Richard Hooker Rebellion and execution of the earl of Essex The East India Company founded The Bodleian Library reopened at Oxford Reign of James I John Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s Essays Cervantes’ Don Quixote (Part 1) The Gunpowder Plot Thomas Browne born Shakespeare’s Othello Shakespears’s King Lear Tourneur’s The Revenger’s Tragedy Bacon’s Advancement of Learning Shakespeare’s Macbeth Jonson’s Volpone Death of John Lyly Edmund Waller born The first permanent English colony established at Jamestown, Virginia John Milton born Kepler’s Astronomia nova John Suckling born Galileo’s Sidereus nuncius The Authorized Version of the Bible

CHRONOLOGY 1612

ca. 1613 1613 1614 1616

ca. 1618 1618

1619

1620 1621

1622 1623

1624 1625–1649 1625 1626

1627

Shakespeare’s The Tempest Death of Prince Henry, King James’s eldest son Webster’s The White Devil Bacon’s second collection of Essays Richard Crashaw born The Globe Theatre destroyed by fire Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi Ralegh’s History of the World George Chapman’s translation of Homer’s Odyssey Deaths of William Shakespeare, Francis Beaumont, and Miguel Cervantes Richard Lovelace born The Thirty Years’ War begins Sir Walter Ralegh executed Abraham Cowley born The General Assembly, the first legislative assembly on American soil, meets in Virginia Slavery introduced at Jamestown The Pilgrims land in Massachusetts John Evelyn born Francis Bacon impeached and fined Robert Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy Andrew Marvell born Middleton’s The Changeling Henry Vaughan born The First Folio of Shakespeare’s plays Visit of Prince Charles and the duke of Buckingham to Spain; failure of attempts to negotiate a Spanish marriage War against Spain Reign of Charles I Death of John Fletcher Bacon’s last collection of Essays Bacon’s New Atlantis, appended to Sylva sylvarum Dutch found New Amsterdam Death of Cyril Tourneur Death of Francis Bacon Ford’s ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore Cardinal Richelieu establishes the Company of New France with monopoly over trade and land in Canada Buckingham’s expedition to the Isle of Ré to relieve La Rochelle Death of Thomas Middleton

1627–1628 1628

1629

1629–1630 1631 1633

1634 1635 1636 ca. 1637 1637

ca. 1638 1638 ca. 1639 1639

1639–1640 1640

xiv

Revolt and siege of La Rochelle, the principal Huguenot city of France Buckingham assassinated Surrender of La Rochelle William Harvey’s treatise on the circulation of the blood (De motu cordis et sanguinis) John Bunyan born Death of Fulke Greville Ford’s The Broken Heart King Charles dismisses his third Parliament, imprisons nine members, and proceeds to rule for eleven years without Parliament The Massachusetts Bay Company formed Peace treaties with France and Spain John Dryden born Death of John Donne William Laud appointed archbishop of Canterbury Death of George Herbert Samuel Pepys born Deaths of George Chapman and John Marston The Académie Française founded George Etherege born Pierre Corneille’s Le Cid Harvard College founded Thomas Traherne born Milton’s “Lycidas” Descartes’s Discours de la méthode King Charles’s levy of ship money challenged in the courts by John Hampden The introduction of the new English Book of Common Prayer strongly opposed in Scotland Death of Ben Jonson Death of John Webster The Scots draw up a National Covenant to defend their religion Death of John Ford Parliament reassembled to raise taxes Death of Thomas Carew Charles Sedley born The two Bishops’ Wars with Scotland The Long Parliament assembled The king’s advisers, Archbishop Laud and the earl of Strafford, im-

CHRONOLOGY

1641

1642

1643

1644

1645

1646

1647

peached Aphra Behn born Death of Philip Massinger Strafford executed Acts passed abolishing extraparliamentary taxation, the king’s extraordinary courts, and his power to order a dissolution without parliamentary consent The Grand Remonstrance censuring royal policy passed by eleven votes William Wycherley born Parliament submits the nineteen Propositions, which King Charles rejects as annihilating the royal power The Civil War begins The theaters close Royalist victory at Edgehill; King Charles established at Oxford Death of Sir John Suckling Parliament concludes the Solemn League and Covenant with the Scots Louis XIV becomes king of France Charles Sackville, earl of Dorset, born Parliamentary victory at Marston Moor The New Model army raised Milton’s Areopagitica Parliamentary victory under Fairfax and Cromwell at Naseby Fairfax captures Bristol Archbishop Laud executed Fairfax besieges King Charles at Oxford King Charles takes refuge in Scotland; end of the First Civil War King Charles attempts negotiations with the Scots Parliament’s proposals sent to the king and rejected Conflict between Parliament and the army A general council of the army established that discusses representational government within the army The Agreement of the People drawn up by the Levelers; its proposals include manhood suffrage King Charles concludes an agree-

1648

1649–1660 1649

1650 1651

1652 1653

1654 1655

1656

1657

1658

xv

ment with the Scots George Fox begins to preach John Wilmot, earl of Rochester, born Cromwell dismisses the general council of the army The Second Civil War begins Fairfax defeats the Kentish royalists at Maidstone Cromwell defeats the Scots at Preston The Thirty Years’ War ended by the treaty of Westphalia Parliament purged by the army Commonwealth King Charles I tried and executed The monarchy and the House of Lords abolished The Commonwealth proclaimed Cromwell invades Ireland and defeats the royalist Catholic forces Death of Richard Crashaw Cromwell defeats the Scots at Dunbar Charles II crowned king of the Scots, at Scone Charles II invades England, is defeated at Worcester, escapes to France Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan War with Holland Death of Richard Brome The Rump Parliament dissolved by the army A new Parliament and council of state nominated; Cromwell becomes Lord Protector Walton’s The Compleat Angler Peace concluded with Holland War against Spain Parliament attempts to reduce the army and is dissolved Rule of the major-generals Sir William Davenant produces The Siege of Rhodes, one of the first English operas Second Parliament of the Protectorate Cromwell is offered and declines the throne Death of Richard Lovelace Death of Oliver Cromwell Richard Cromwell succeeds as Pro-

CHRONOLOGY 1659 1660

1660–1685 1661

1662

1664

1665

1666

1667

1668

1670

tector Conflict between Parliament and the army General Monck negotiates with Charles II Charles II offers the conciliatory Declaration of Breda and accepts Parliament’s invitation to return Will’s Coffee House established Sir William Davenant and Thomas Killigrew licensed to set up two companies of players, the Duke of York’s and the King’s Servants, including actors and actresses Pepys’s Diary begun Reign of Charles II Parliament passes the Act of Uniformity, enjoining the use of the Book of Common Prayer; many Puritan and dissenting clergy leave their livings Anne Finch born Peace Treaty with Spain King Charles II marries Catherine of Braganza The Royal Society incorporated (founded in 1660) War against Holland New Amsterdam captured and becomes New York John Vanbrugh born The Great Plague Newton discovers the binomial theorem and invents the integral and differential calculus, at Cambridge The Great Fire of London Bunyan’s Grace Abounding London Gazette founded The Dutch fleet sails up the Medway and burns English ships The war with Holland ended by the Treaty of Breda Milton’s Paradise Lost Thomas Sprat’s History of the Royal Society Death of Abraham Cowley Sir Christopher Wren begins to rebuild St. Paul’s Cathedral Triple Alliance formed with Holland and Sweden against France Dryden’s Essay of Dramatick Poesy Alliance formed with France through

1671 1672

1673

1674

1676 1677

1678

1679

1680 1681 1682

1683

1685–1688 1685

xvi

the secret Treaty of Dover Pascal’s Pensées The Hudson’s Bay Company founded William Congreve born Milton’s Samson Agonistes and Paradise Regained War against Holland Wycherley’s The Country Wife King Charles issues the Declaration of Indulgence, suspending penal laws against Nonconformists and Catholics Parliament passes the Test Act, making acceptance of the doctrines of the Church of England a condition for holding public office War with Holland ended by the Treaty of Westminster Deaths of John Milton, Robert Herrick, and Thomas Traherne Etherege’s The Man of Mode Baruch Spinoza’s Ethics Jean Racine’s Phèdre King Charles’s niece, Mary, marries her cousin William of Orange Fabrication of the so-called popish plot by Titus Oates Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress Dryden’s All for Love Death of Andrew Marvell George Farquhar born Parliament passes the Habeas Corpus Act Rochester’s A Satire Against Mankind Death of John Wilmot, earl of Rochester Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel (Part 1) Dryden’s Absalom and Achitophel (Part 2) Thomas Otway’s Venice Preserv’d Philadelphia founded Death of Sir Thomas Browne The Ashmolean Museum, the world’s first public museum, opens at Oxford Death of Izaak Walton Reign of James II Rebellion and execution of James Scott, duke of Monmouth

CHRONOLOGY 1686

1687

1688

1689–1702 1689

1690

1692 ca. 1693 1694

1695 1697

1698

John Gay born The first book of Newton’s Principia—De motu corporum, containing his theory of gravitation— presented to the Royal Society James II issues the Declaration of Indulgence Dryden’s The Hind and the Panther Death of Edmund Waller James II reissues the Declaration of Indulgence, renewing freedom of worship and suspending the provisions of the Test Act Acquittal of the seven bishops imprisoned for protesting against the Declaration William of Orange lands at Torbay, Devon James II takes refuge in France Death of John Bunyan Alexander Pope born Reign of William III Parliament formulates the Declaration of Rights William and Mary accept the Declaration and the crown The Grand Alliance concluded between the Holy Roman Empire, England, Holland, and Spain War declared against France King William’s War, 1689–1697 (the first of the French and Indian wars) Samuel Richardson born James II lands in Ireland with French support, but is defeated at the battle of the Boyne John Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding Salem witchcraft trials Death of Sir George Etherege Eliza Haywood born George Fox’s Journal Voltaire (François Marie Arouet) born Death of Mary II Congreve’s Love for Love Death of Henry Vaughan War with France ended by the Treaty of Ryswick Vanbrugh’s The Relapse Jeremy Collier’s A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the

1699 1700

1701

1702–1714 1702

1703

1704

1706

1707

1709

1710 1711

1712

xvii

English Stage Fénelon’s Les Aventures de Télémaque Congreve’s The Way of the World Defoe’s The True-Born Englishman Death of John Dryden James Thomson born War of the Spanish Succession, 1701–1714 (Queen Anne’s War in America, 1702–1713) Death of Sir Charles Sedley Reign of Queen Anne Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion (1702–1704) Defoe’s The Shortest Way with the Dissenters Defoe is arrested, fined, and pilloried for writing The Shortest Way Death of Samuel Pepys John Churchill, duke of Marlborough, and Prince Eugene of Savoy defeat the French at Blenheim Capture of Gibraltar Swift’s A Tale of a Tub and The Battle of the Books The Review founded (1704–1713) Farquhar’s The Recruiting Offıcer Deaths of John Evelyn and Charles Sackville, earl of Dorset Farquhar’s The Beaux’ Stratagem Act of Union joining England and Scotland Death of George Farquhar Henry Fielding born The Tatler founded (1709–1711) Nicholas Rowe’s edition of Shakespeare Samuel Johnson born Marlborough defeats the French at Malplaquet Charles XII of Sweden defeated at Poltava South Sea Company founded First copyright act Swift’s The Conduct of the Allies The Spectator founded (1711–1712; 1714) Marlborough dismissed David Hume born Pope’s The Rape of the Lock (Cantos 1–2) Jean Jacques Rousseau born

CHRONOLOGY 1713

1714–1727 1714 1715

1716 1717

1718

1719 1720

1721 1722 1724 1725 1726

1727–1760 1728

1729

1731

War with France ended by the Treaty of Utrecht The Guardian founded Swift becomes dean of St. Patrick’s, Dublin Addison’s Cato Laurence Sterne born Reign of George I Pope’s expended version of The Rape of the Lock (Cantos 1–5) The Jacobite rebellion in Scotland Pope’s translation of Homer’s Iliad (1715–1720) Death of Louis XIV Death of William Wycherley Thomas Gray born Pope’s Eloisa to Abelard David Garrick born Horace Walpole born Quadruple Alliance (Britain, France, the Netherlands, the German Empire) in war against Spain Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe Death of Joseph Addison Inoculation against smallpox introduced in Boston War against Spain The South Sea Bubble Gilbert White born Defoe’s Captain Singleton and Memoirs of a Cavalier Tobias Smollett born William Collins born Defoe’s Moll Flanders, Journal of the Plague Year, and Colonel Jack Defoe’s Roxana Swift’s The Drapier’s Letters Pope’s translation of Homer’s Odyssey (1725–1726) Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels Voltaire in England (1726–1729) Death of Sir John Vanbrugh Reign of George II Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera Pope’s The Dunciad (Books 1–2) Oliver Goldsmith born Swift’s A Modest Proposal Edmund Burke born Deaths of William Congreve and Sir Richard Steele Navigation improved by introduction of the quadrant

1732 1733

1734 1736 1737 1738 1740

1742

1744

1745

1746

1747

1748

1749

xviii

Pope’s Moral Essays (1731–1735) Death of Daniel Defoe William Cowper born Death of John Gay Pope’s Essay on Man (1733–1734) Lewis Theobald’s edition of Shakespeare Voltaire’s Lettres philosophiques James Macpherson born Edward Gibbon born Johnson’s London War of the Austrian Succession, 1740–1748 (King George’s War in America, 1744–1748) George Anson begins his circumnavigation of the world (1740–1744) Frederick the Great becomes king of Prussia (1740–1786) Richardson’s Pamela (1740–1741) James Boswell born Fielding’s Joseph Andrews Edward Young’s Night Thoughts (1742–1745) Pope’s The New Dunciad (Book 4) Johnson’s Life of Mr. Richard Savage Death of Alexander Pope Second Jacobite rebellion, led by Charles Edward, the Young Pretender Death of Jonathan Swift The Young Pretender defeated at Culloden Collins’ Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegorical Subjects Richardson’s Clarissa Harlowe (1747–1748) Franklin’s experiments with electricity announced Voltaire’s Essai sur les moeurs War of the Austrian Succession ended by the Peace of Aix-laChapelle Smollett’s Adventures of Roderick Random David Hume’s Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding Montesquieu’s L’Esprit des lois Fielding’s Tom Jones Johnson’s The Vanity of Human Wishes Bolingbroke’s Idea of a Patriot King

CHRONOLOGY 1750 1751

1752 1753

1754

1755

1756

1757

1758 1759

The Rambler founded (1750–1752) Gray’s Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard Fielding’s Amelia Smollett’s Adventures of Peregrine Pickle Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert begin to publish the Encyclopédie (1751–1765) Richard Brinsley Sheridan born Frances Burney and Thomas Chatterton born Richardson’s History of Sir Charles Grandison (1753–1754) Smollett’s The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom Hume’s History of England (1754– 1762) Death of Henry Fielding George Crabbe born Lisbon destroyed by earthquake Fielding’s Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon published posthumously Johnson’s Dictionary of the English Language The Seven Years’ War against France, 1756–1763 (the French and Indian War in America, 1755–1760) William Pitt the elder becomes prime minister Johnson’s proposal for an edition of Shakespeare Death of Eliza Haywood Robert Clive wins the battle of Plassey, in India Gray’s “The Progress of Poesy” and “The Bard” Burke’s Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful Hume’s Natural History of Religion William Blake born The Idler founded (1758–1760) Mary Darby Robinson born Capture of Quebec by General James Wolfe Johnson’s History of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia Voltaire’s Candide The British Museum opens Sterne’s The Life and Opinions of

1760–1820 1760

1761

1762

1763

1764 1765

1766

1768

1769

xix

Tristram Shandy (1759–1767) Death of William Collins Mary Wollstonecraft born Robert Burns born Reign of George III James Macpherson’s Fragments of Ancient Poetry Collected in the Highlands of Scotland William Beckford born Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Julie, ou la nouvelle Héloïse Death of Samuel Richardson Rousseau’s Du Contrat social and Émile Catherine the Great becomes czarina of Russia (1762–1796) The Seven Years’ War ended by the Peace of Paris Smart’s A Song to David James Hargreaves invents the spinning jenny Parliament passes the Stamp Act to tax the American colonies Johnson’s edition of Shakespeare Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England (1765–1769) The Stamp Act repealed Swift’s Journal to Stella first published in a collection of his letters Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield Smollett’s Travels Through France and Italy Lessing’s Laokoon Rousseau in England (1766–1767) Sterne’s A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy The Royal Academy founded by George III First edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica Maria Edgeworth born Death of Laurence Sterne David Garrick organizes the Shakespeare Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Discourses (1769–1790) Richard Arkwright invents the spinning water frame

CHRONOLOGY 1770

1771

1772 1773

1774

1775

1776

1777

Boston Massacre Burke’s Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents Oliver Goldsmith’s The Deserted Village Death of Thomas Chatterton William Wordsworth born James Hogg born Arkwright’s first spinning mill founded Deaths of Thomas Gray and Tobias Smollett Walter Scott born Samuel Taylor Coleridge born Boston Tea Party Goldsmith’s She Stoops to Conquer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Götz von Berlichingen The first Continental Congress meets in Philadelphia Goethe’s Sorrows of Young Werther Death of Oliver Goldsmith Robert Southey born Burke’s speech on American taxation American War of Independence begins with the battles of Lexington and Concord Samuel Johnson’s Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s The Rivals and The Duenna Beaumarchais’s Le Barbier de Séville James Watt and Matthew Boulton begin building steam engines in England Births of Jane Austen, Charles Lamb, Walter Savage Landor, and Matthew Lewis American Declaration of Independence Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–1788) Adam Smith’s Inquiry into the Nature & Causes of the Wealth of Nations Thomas Paine’s Common Sense Death of David Hume Maurice Morgann’s Essay on the Dramatic Character of Sir John Fal-

1778

1779

1780 1781

1782

1783

1784

1785

xx

staff Sheridan’s The School for Scandal first performed (published 1780) General Burgoyne surrenders at Saratoga The American colonies allied with France Britain and France at war Captain James Cook discovers Hawaii Death of William Pitt, first earl of Chatham Deaths of Jean Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire William Hazlitt born Johnson’s Prefaces to the Works of the English Poets (1779–1781); reissued in 1781 as The Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets Sheridan’s The Critic Samuel Crompton invents the spinning mule Death of David Garrick The Gordon Riots in London Charles Robert Maturin born Charles Cornwallis surrenders at Yorktown Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason Friedrich von Schiller’s Die Räuber William Cowper’s “The Journey of John Gilpin” published in the Public Advertiser Choderlos de Laclos’s Les Liaisons dangereuses Rousseau’s Confessions published posthumously American War of Independence ended by the Definitive Treaty of Peace, signed at Paris William Blake’s Poetical Sketches George Crabbe’s The Village William Pitt the younger becomes prime minister Henri Beyle (Stendhal) born Beaumarchais’s Le Mariage de Figaro first performed (published 1785) Death of Samuel Johnson Warren Hastings returns to England from India

CHRONOLOGY

1786

1787

1788

1789

James Boswell’s The Journey of a Tour of the Hebrides, with Samuel Johnson, LL.D. Cowper’s The Task Edmund Cartwright invents the power loom Thomas De Quincey born Thomas Love Peacock born William Beckford’s Vathek published in English (originally written in French in 1782) Robert Burns’s Poems Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro Death of Frederick the Great The Committee for the Abolition of the Slave Trade founded in England The Constitutional Convention meets at Philadelphia; the Constitution is signed The trial of Hastings begins on charges of corruption of the government in India The Estates-General of France summoned U.S. Constitution is ratified George Washington elected president of the United States Giovanni Casanova’s Histoire de ma fuite (first manuscript of his memoirs) The Daily Universal Register becomes the Times (London) George Gordon, Lord Byron born The Estates-General meets at Versailles The National Assembly (Assemblée Nationale) convened The fall of the Bastille marks the beginning of the French Revolution The National Assembly draws up the Declaration of Rights of Man and of the Citizen First U.S. Congress meets in New York Blake’s Songs of Innocence Jeremy Bentham’s Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation introduces the theory of utilitarianism

1790

1791

1792

1793

1794

xxi

Gilbert White’s Natural History of Selborne Congress sets permanent capital city site on the Potomac River First U.S. Census Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell Edmund Malone’s edition of Shakespeare Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Man Death of Benjamin Franklin French royal family’s flight from Paris and capture at Varennes; imprisonment in the Tuileries Bill of Rights is ratified Paine’s The Rights of Man (1791– 1792) Boswell’s The Life of Johnson Burns’s Tam o’Shanter The Observer founded The Prussians invade France and are repulsed at Valmy September massacres The National Convention declares royalty abolished in France Washington reelected president of the United States New York Stock Exchange opens Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Woman William Bligh’s voyage to the South Sea in H.M.S. Bounty Percy Bysshe Shelley born Trial and execution of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette France declares war against England The Committee of Public Safety (Comité de Salut Public) established Eli Whitney devises the cotton gin William Godwin’s An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice Blake’s Visions of the Daughters of Albion and America Wordsworth’s An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches John Clare born Execution of Georges Danton and Maximilien de Robespierre

CHRONOLOGY

1795

1796

1797

1798

1799

1800

Paine’s The Age of Reason (1794– 1796) Blake’s Songs of Experience Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho Death of Edward Gibbon The government of the Directory established (1795–1799) Hastings acquitted Landor’s Poems Death of James Boswell John Keats born Thomas Carlyle born Napoleon Bonaparte takes command in Italy Matthew Lewis’ The Monk John Adams elected president of the United States Death of Robert Burns The peace of Campo Formio: extinction of the Venetian Republic XYZ Affair Mutinies in the Royal Navy at Spithead and the Nore Blake’s Vala, Or the Four Zoas (first version) Mary Shelley born Deaths of Edmund Burke, Mary Wollstonecraft, and Horace Walpole Napoleon invades Egypt Horatio Nelson wins the battle of the Nile Wordsworth’s and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads Landor’s Gebir Thomas Malthus’ Essay on the Principle of Population Napoleon becomes first consul Pitt introduces first income tax in Great Britain Sheridan’s Pizarro Honoré de Balzac born Thomas Hood born Alexander Pushkin born Thomas Jefferson elected president of the United States Alessandro Volta produces electricity from a cell Library of Congress established Death of William Cowper and Mary Darby Robinson

1801 1802

1804

1805

1806

1807

1808

xxii

Marie Jane Jewsbury and Thomas Babington Macaulay born First census taken in England The Treaty of Amiens marks the end of the French Revolutionary War The Edinburgh Review founded England’s war with France renewed The Louisiana Purchase Robert Fulton propels a boat by steam power on the Seine Birth of Thomas Lovell Beddoes George Borrow and James Clarence Mangan Napoleon crowned emperor of the French Jefferson reelected president of the United States Blake’s Milton (1804–1808) and Jerusalem The Code Napoleon promulgated in France Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony Schiller’s Wilhelm Tell Benjamin Disraeli born Napoleon plans the invasion of England Battle of Trafalgar Battle of Austerlitz Beethoven’s Fidelio first produced Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel Scott’s Marmion Death of William Pitt Death of Charles James Fox Elizabeth Barrett born France invades Portugal Aaron Burr tried for treason and acquitted Byron’s Hours of Idleness Charles and Mary Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare Thomas Moore’s Irish Melodies Wordsworth’s Ode on the Intimations of Immortality National uprising in Spain against the French invasion The Peninsular War begins James Madison elected president of the United States Covent Garden theater burned down Goethe’s Faust (Part 1) Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony com-

CHRONOLOGY

1809

1810

1811–1820 1811

1812

1813

1814

pleted Lamb’s Specimens of English Dramatic Poets Drury Lane theater burned down and rebuilt The Quarterly Review founded Byron’s English Bards and Scotch Reviewers Byron sails for the Mediterranean Goya’s Los Desastres de la guerra (1809–1814) Alfred Tennyson born Edward Fitzgerald born Crabbe’s The Borough Scott’s The Lady of the Lake Elizabeth Gaskell born Regency of George IV Luddite Riots begin Coleridge’s Lectures on Shakespeare (1811–1814) Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility Shelley’s The Necessity of Atheism John Constable’s Dedham Vale William Makepeace Thackeray born Napoleon invades Russia; captures and retreats from Moscow United States declares war against England Henry Bell’s steamship Comet is launched on the Clyde river Madison reelected president of the United States Byron’s Childe Harold (Cantos 1–2) The Brothers Grimm’s Fairy Tales (1812–1815) Hegel’s Science of Logic Robert Browning born Charles Dickens born Wellington wins the battle of Vitoria and enters France Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice Byron’s The Giaour and The Bride of Abydos Shelley’s Queen Mab Southey’s Life of Nelson Napoleon abdicates and is exiled to Elba; Bourbon restoration with Louis XVIII Treaty of Ghent ends the war between Britain and the United States Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park

1815

1816

1817

1818

xxiii

Byron’s The Corsair and Lara Scott’s Waverley Wordsworth’s The Excursion Napoleon returns to France (the Hundred Days); is defeated at Waterloo and exiled to St. Helena U.S.S. Fulton, the first steam warship, built Scott’s Guy Mannering Schlegel’s Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature translated Wordsworth’s The White Doe of Rylstone Anthony Trollope born Byron leaves England permanently The Elgin Marbles exhibited in the British Museum James Monroe elected president of the United States Jane Austen’s Emma Byron’s Childe Harold (Canto 3) Coleridge’s Christabel, Kubla Khan: A Vision, The Pains of Sleep Benjamin Constant’s Adolphe Goethe’s Italienische Reise Peacock’s Headlong Hall Scott’s The Antiquary Shelley’s Alastor Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia Death of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Charlotte Brontë born Blackwood’s Edinburgh magazine founded Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey and Persuasion Byron’s Manfred Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria Hazlitt’s The Characters of Shakespeare’s Plays and The Round Table Keats’s Poems Peacock’s Melincourt David Ricardo’s Principles of Political Economy and Taxation Death of Jane Austen Death of Mme de Staël Branwell Brontë born Henry David Thoreau born Byron’s Childe Harold (Canto 4), and Beppo Hazlitt’s Lectures on the English Po-

CHRONOLOGY

1819

1820–1830 1820

1821

ets Keats’s Endymion Peacock’s Nightmare Abbey Scott’s Rob Roy and The Heart of Mid-Lothian Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein Percy Shelley’s The Revolt of Islam Emily Brontë born Karl Marx born Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev born The Savannah becomes the first steamship to cross the Atlantic (in 26 days) Peterloo massacre in Manchester Byron’s Don Juan (1819–1824) and Mazeppa Crabbe’s Tales of the Hall Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa Hazlitt’s Lectures on the English Comic Writers Arthur Schopenhauer’s Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung (The World as Will and Idea) Scott’s The Bride of Lammermoor and A Legend of Montrose Shelley’s The Cenci, “The Masque of Anarchy,” and “Ode to the West Wind” Wordsworth’s Peter Bell Queen Victoria born George Eliot born Reign of George IV Trial of Queen Caroline Cato Street Conspiracy suppressed; Arthur Thistlewood hanged Monroe reelected president of the United States Missouri Compromise The London magazine founded Keats’s Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems Hazlitt’s Lectures Chiefly on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth Charles Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer Scott’s Ivanhoe and The Monastery Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound Anne Brontë born Greek War of Independence begins

1822

1823

1824

1825

1826

xxiv

Liberia founded as a colony for freed slaves Byron’s Cain, Marino Faliero, The Two Foscari, and Sardanapalus Hazlitt’s Table Talk (1821–1822) Scott’s Kenilworth Shelley’s Adonais and Epipsychidion Death of John Keats Death of Napoleon Charles Baudelaire born Feodor Dostoyevsky born Gustave Flaubert born The Massacres of Chios (Greeks rebel against Turkish rule) Byron’s The Vision of Judgment De Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium-Eater Peacock’s Maid Marian Scott’s Peveril of the Peak Shelley’s Hellas Death of Percy Bysshe Shelley Matthew Arnold born Monroe Doctrine proclaimed Byron’s The Age of Bronze and The Island Lamb’s Essays of Elia Scott’s Quentin Durward The National Gallery opened in London John Quincy Adams elected president of the United States The Westminster Review founded Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony first performed William (Wilkie) Collins born James Hogg’s The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner Landor’s Imaginary Conversations (1824–1829) Scott’s Redgauntlet Death of George Gordon, Lord Byron Inauguration of steam-powered passenger and freight service on the Stockton and Darlington railway Bolivia and Brazil become independent Alessandro Manzoni’s I Promessi Sposi (1825–1826) André-Marie Ampère’s Mémoire sur

CHRONOLOGY

1827

1828

1829

1830–1837 1830

1831

1832

la théorie mathématique des phénomènes électrodynamiques James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans Disraeli’s Vivian Grey (1826–1827) Scott’s Woodstock The battle of Navarino ensures the independence of Greece Josef Ressel obtains patent for the screw propeller for steamships Heinrich Heine’s Buch der Lieder Death of William Blake Andrew Jackson elected president of the United States Births of Henrik Ibsen, George Meredith, Margaret Oliphant, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and Leo Tolstoy The Catholic Emancipation Act Robert Peel establishes the metropolitan police force Greek independence recognized by Turkey Balzac begins La Comédie humaine (1829–1848) Peacock’s The Misfortunes of Elphin J. M. W. Turner’s Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus Reign of William IV Charles X of France abdicates and is succeeded by Louis-Philippe The Liverpool-Manchester railway opened Tennyson’s Poems, Chiefly Lyrical Death of William Hazlitt Christina Rossetti born Michael Faraday discovers electromagnetic induction Charles Darwin’s voyage on H.M.S. Beagle begins (1831–1836) The Barbizon school of artists’ first exhibition Nat Turner slave revolt crushed in Virginia Peacock’s Crotchet Castle Stendhal’s Le Rouge et le noir Edward Trelawny’s The Adventures of a Younger Son Isabella Bird born The first Reform Bill Samuel Morse invents the telegraph Jackson reelected president of the

1833

1834

1835

1836

1837–1901 1837

xxv

United States Disraeli’s Contarini Fleming Goethe’s Faust (Part 2) Tennyson’s Poems, Chiefly Lyrical, including “The Lotus-Eaters” and “The Lady of Shalott” Death of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Death of Sir Walter Scott Lewis Carroll born Robert Browning’s Pauline John Keble launches the Oxford Movement American Anti-Slavery Society founded Lamb’s Last Essays of Elia Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus (1833– 1834) Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony first performed Death of Maria Jane Jewsbury Abolition of slavery in the British Empire Louis Braille’s alphabet for the blind Balzac’s Le Père Goriot Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls (Part 1, 1834–1842) Death of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Death of Charles Lamb William Morris born Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales (1st ser.) Robert Browning’s Paracelsus Births of Samuel Butler and Mary Elizabeth Braddon Alexis de Tocqueville’s De la Democratie en Amerique (1835– 1840) Death of James Hogg Martin Van Buren elected president of the United States Dickens’ Sketches by Boz (1836– 1837) Landor’s Pericles and Aspasia Reign of Queen Victoria Carlyle’s The French Revolution Dickens’ Oliver Twist (1837–1838) and Pickwick Papers Disraeli’s Venetia and Henrietta Temple

CHRONOLOGY 1838

1839

1840

1841

1842

1843

Chartist movement in England National Gallery in London opened Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s The Seraphim and Other Poems Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby (1838– 1839) Louis Daguerre perfects process for producing an image on a silvercoated copper plate Faraday’s Experimental Researches in Electricity (1839–1855) First Chartist riots Opium War between Great Britain and China Carlyle’s Chartism Canadian Act of Union Queen Victoria marries Prince Albert Charles Barry begins construction of the Houses of Parliament (1840– 1852) William Henry Harrison elected president of the United States Robert Browning’s Sordello Thomas Hardy and John Addington Symonds born New Zealand proclaimed a British colony James Clark Ross discovers the Antarctic continent Punch founded John Tyler succeeds to the presidency after the death of Harrison Carlyle’s Heroes and Hero-Worship Dickens’ The Old Curiosity Shop Chartist riots Income tax revived in Great Britain The Mines Act, forbidding work underground by women or by children under the age of ten Charles Edward Mudie’s Lending Library founded in London Dickens visits America Robert Browning’s Dramatic Lyrics Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome Tennyson’s Poems, including “Morte d’Arthur,” “St. Simeon Stylites,” and “Ulysses” Wordsworth’s Poems Marc Isambard Brunel’s Thames tunnel opened

1844

1845

1846

1847

1848

xxvi

The Economist founded Carlyle’s Past and Present Dickens’ A Christmas Carol John Stuart Mill’s Logic Macaulay’s Critical and Historical Essays John Ruskin’s Modern Painters (1843–1860) Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers, one of the first consumers’ cooperatives, founded by twentyeight Lancashire weavers James K. Polk elected president of the United States Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Poems, including “The Cry of the Children” Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit Disraeli’s Coningsby Turner’s Rain, Steam and Speed Edward Carpenter and Gerard Manley Hopkins born The great potato famine in Ireland begins (1845–1849) Disraeli’s Sybil Repeal of the Corn Laws The Daily News founded (edited by Dickens the first three weeks) Standard-gauge railway introduced in Britain The Brontës’ pseudonymous Poems by Currer, Ellis and Action Bell Lear’s Book of Nonsense The Ten Hours Factory Act James Simpson uses chloroform as an anesthetic Anne Brontë’s Agnes Grey Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights Bram Stoker and Flora Annie Steel born Tennyson’s The Princess The year of revolutions in France, Germany, Italy, Hungary, Poland Marx and Engels issue The Communist Manifesto The Chartist Petition The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood founded Zachary Taylor elected president of the United States Anne Brontë’s The Tenant of Wild-

CHRONOLOGY

1849

1850

1851

1852

fell Hall Dickens’ Dombey and Son Elizabeth Gaskell’s Mary Barton Macaulay’s History of England (1848–1861) Mill’s Principles of Political Economy Thackeray’s Vanity Fair Death of Emily Brontë Bedford College for women founded Arnold’s The Strayed Reveller Charlotte Brontë’s Shirley Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture William Thomas Stead born Death of Anne Brontë, Thomas Lovell Beddoes and James Clarence Mangan The Public Libraries Act First submarine telegraph cable laid between Dover and Calais Millard Fillmore succeeds to the presidency after the death of Taylor Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets from the Portuguese Carlyle’s Latter-Day Pamphlets Dickens’ Household Words (1850– 1859) and David Copperfield Charles Kingsley’s Alton Locke The Pre-Raphaelites publish the Germ Tennyson’s In Memoriam Thackeray’s The History of Pendennis Wordsworth’s The Prelude is published posthumously The Great Exhibition opens at the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park Louis Napoleon seizes power in France Gold strike in Victoria incites Australian gold rush Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford (1851– 1853) Meredith’s Poems Ruskin’s The Stones of Venice (1851–1853) The Second Empire proclaimed with Napoleon III as emperor David Livingstone begins to explore

1853

1854

1855

1856

1857

xxvii

the Zambezi (1852–1856) Franklin Pierce elected president of the United States Arnold’s Empedocles on Etna Thackeray’s The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. Crimean War (1853–1856) Arnold’s Poems, including “The Scholar Gypsy” and “Sohrab and Rustum” Charlotte Brontë’s Villette Elizabeth Gaskell’s Crawford and Ruth Frederick D. Maurice’s Working Men’s College founded in London with more than 130 pupils Battle of Balaklava Dickens’ Hard Times James George Frazer born Theodor Mommsen’s History of Rome (1854–1856) Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade” Florence Nightingale in the Crimea (1854–1856) Oscar Wilde born David Livingstone discovers the Victoria Falls Robert Browning’s Men and Women Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South Olive Schreiner born Tennyson’s Maud Thackeray’s The Newcomes Trollope’s The Warden Death of Charlotte Brontë The Treaty of Paris ends the Crimean War Henry Bessemer’s steel process invented James Buchanan elected president of the United States H. Rider Haggard born The Indian Mutiny begins; crushed in 1858 The Matrimonial Causes Act Charlotte Brontë’s The Professor Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Aurora Leigh Dickens’ Little Dorritt Elizabeth Gaskell’s The Life of Char-

CHRONOLOGY

1858

1859

1860

1861

1862

1863

lotte Brontë Thomas Hughes’s Tom Brown’s School Days Trollope’s Barchester Towers Carlyle’s History of Frederick the Great (1858–1865) George Eliot’s Scenes of Clerical Life Morris’ The Defense of Guinevere Trollope’s Dr. Thorne Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities Arthur Conan Doyle born George Eliot’s Adam Bede Fitzgerald’s The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyám Meredith’s The Ordeal of Richard Feverel Mill’s On Liberty Samuel Smiles’s Self-Help Tennyson’s Idylls of the King Abraham Lincoln elected president of the United States The Cornhill magazine founded with Thackeray as editor James M. Barrie born William Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White George Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss American Civil War begins Louis Pasteur presents the germ theory of disease Arnold’s Lectures on Translating Homer Dickens’ Great Expectations George Eliot’s Silas Marner Meredith’s Evan Harrington Francis Turner Palgrave’s The Golden Treasury Trollope’s Framley Parsonage Peacock’s Gryll Grange Death of Prince Albert George Eliot’s Romola Meredith’s Modern Love Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market Ruskin’s Unto This Last Trollope’s Orley Farm Thomas Huxley’s Man’s Place in Nature

xxviii

1864

1865

1866

1867

1868

1869

The Geneva Red Cross Convention signed by twelve nations Lincoln reelected president of the United States Robert Browning’s Dramatis Personae John Henry Newman’s Apologia pro vita sua Tennyson’s Enoch Arden Trollope’s The Small House at Allington Death of John Clare Assassination of Lincoln; Andrew Johnson succeeds to the presidency Arnold’s Essays in Criticism (1st ser.) Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend Meredith’s Rhoda Fleming A. C. Swinburne’s Atalanta in Calydon Arthur Symons born First successful transatlantic telegraph cable laid George Eliot’s Felix Holt, the Radical Elizabeth Gaskell’s Wives and Daughters Beatrix Potter born Swinburne’s Poems and Ballads The second Reform Bill Arnold’s New Poems Bagehot’s The English Constitution Carlyle’s Shooting Niagara Marx’s Das Kapital (vol. 1) Trollope’s The Last Chronicle of Barset George William Russell (AE) born Gladstone becomes prime minister (1868–1874) Johnson impeached by House of Representatives; acquitted by Senate Ulysses S. Grant elected president of the United States Robert Browning’s The Ring and the Book (1868–1869) Collins’ The Moonstone The Suez Canal opened Girton College, Cambridge, founded

CHRONOLOGY

1870

1871

1872

1873

1874

1875

1876

1877

Arnold’s Culture and Anarchy Mill’s The Subjection of Women Trollope’s Phineas Finn The Elementary Education Act establishes schools under the aegis of local boards Dickens’ Edwin Drood Disraeli’s Lothair Morris’ The Earthly Paradise Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s Poems Saki [Hector Hugh Munro] born Trade unions legalized Newnham College, Cambridge, founded for women students Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass Darwin’s The Descent of Man Meredith’s The Adventures of Harry Richmond Swinburne’s Songs Before Sunrise William H. Davies born Max Beerbohm born Samuel Butler’s Erewhon George Eliot’s Middlemarch Grant reelected president of the United States Hardy’s Under the Greenwood Tree Arnold’s Literature and Dogma Mill’s Autobiography Pater’s Studies in the History of the Renaissance Trollope’s The Eustace Diamonds Dorothy Richardson born Disraeli becomes prime minister Hardy’s Far from the Madding Crowd James Thomson’s The City of Dreadful Night Britain buys Suez Canal shares Trollope’s The Way We Live Now T. F. Powys born F. H. Bradley’s Ethical Studies George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda Henry James’s Roderick Hudson Meredith’s Beauchamp’s Career Morris’ Sigurd the Volsung Trollope’s The Prime Minister Rutherford B. Hayes elected president of the United States after Electoral Commission awards him disputed votes

1878

1879

1880

1881

1882

1883

1884

xxix

Henry James’s The American Electric street lighting introduced in London Hardy’s The Return of the Native Swinburne’s Poems and Ballads (2d ser.) Births of A. E. Coppard and Edward Thomas Somerville College and Lady Margaret Hall opened at Oxford for women The London telephone exchange built Gladstone’s Midlothian campaign (1879–1880) Browning’s Dramatic Idyls Meredith’s The Egoist Gladstone’s second term as prime minister (1880–1885) James A. Garfield elected president of the United States Browning’s Dramatic Idyls Second Series Disraeli’s Endymion Radclyffe Hall born Hardy’s The Trumpet-Major Lytton Strachey born Garfield assassinated; Chester A. Arthur succeeds to the presidency Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady and Washington Square D. G. Rossetti’s Ballads and Sonnets P. G. Wodehouse born Death of George Borrow Triple Alliance formed between German empire, Austrian empire, and Italy Leslie Stephen begins to edit the Dictionary of National Biography Married Women’s Property Act passed in Britain Britain occupies Egypt and the Sudan Uprising of the Mahdi: Britain evacuates the Sudan Royal College of Music opens T. H. Green’s Ethics T. E. Hulme born Stevenson’s Treasure Island The Mahdi captures Omdurman: General Gordon appointed to command the garrison of Khartoum

CHRONOLOGY

1885

1886

1887

1888

1889 1890

1891

1892

Grover Cleveland elected president of the United States The Oxford English Dictionary begins publishing The Fabian Society founded Hiram Maxim’s recoil-operated machine gun invented The Mahdi captures Khartoum: General Gordon killed Haggard’s King Solomon’s Mines Marx’s Das Kapital (vol. 2) Meredith’s Diana of the Crossways Pater’s Marius the Epicurean The Canadian Pacific Railway completed Gold discovered in the Transvaal Births of Frances Cornford, Ronald Firbank, and Charles Stansby Walter Williams Henry James’s The Bostonians and The Princess Casamassima Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee Rupert Brooke born Haggard’s Allan Quatermain and She Hardy’s The Woodlanders Edwin Muir born Benjamin Harrison elected president of the United States Henry James’s The Aspern Papers Kipling’s Plain Tales from the Hills T. E. Lawrence born Yeats’s The Wanderings of Oisin Death of Robert Browning Morris founds the Kelmscott Press Agatha Christie born Frazer’s The Golden Bough (1st ed.) Henry James’s The Tragic Muse Morris’ News From Nowhere Jean Rhys born Gissing’s New Grub Street Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray Grover Cleveland elected president of the United States Conan Doyle’s The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Shaw’s Widower’s Houses J. R. R. Tolkien born

1893

1894

1895

1896

1897

1898

xxx

Rebecca West and Hugh MacDiarmid born Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance and Salomé Vera Brittain born Death of John Addington Symonds Kipling’s The Jungle Book Moore’s Esther Waters Marx’s Das Kapital (vol. 3) Audrey Beardsley’s The Yellow Book begins to appear quarterly Shaw’s Arms and the Man Trial and imprisonment of Oscar Wilde William Ramsay announces discovery of helium The National Trust founded Conrad’s Almayer’s Folly Hardy’s Jude the Obscure Wells’s The Time Machine Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest Yeats’s Poems William McKinley elected president of the United States Failure of the Jameson Raid on the Transvaal Housman’s A Shropshire Lad Edmund Blunden born Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee Conrad’s The Nigger of the Narcissus Havelock Ellis’ Studies in the Psychology of Sex begins publication Henry James’s The Spoils of Poynton and What Maisie Knew Kipling’s Captains Courageous Shaw’s Candida Stoker’s Dracula Wells’s The Invisible Man Death of Margaret Oliphant Ruth Pitter born Kitchener defeats the Mahdist forces at Omdurman: the Sudan reoccupied Hardy’s Wessex Poems Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw C. S. Lewis born Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra and You Never Can Tell

CHRONOLOGY

1899

1900

1901–1910 1901

1902

Alec Waugh born Wells’s The War of the Worlds Wilde’s The Ballad of Reading Gaol The Boer War begins Elizabeth Bowen born Noël Coward born Elgar’s Enigma Variations Kipling’s Stalky and Co. McKinley reelected president of the United States British Labour party founded Boxer Rebellion in China Reginald A. Fessenden transmits speech by wireless First Zeppelin trial flight Max Planck presents his first paper on the quantum theory Conrad’s Lord Jim Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius Sigmund Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams V. S. Pritchett born William Butler Yeats’s The Shadowy Waters Reign of King Edward VII William McKinley assassinated; Theodore Roosevelt succeeds to the presidency First transatlantic wireless telegraph signal transmitted Chekhov’s Three Sisters Freud’s Psychopathology of Everyday Life Rudyard Kipling’s Kim Thomas Mann’s Buddenbrooks Potter’s The Tale of Peter Rabbit Shaw’s Captain Brassbound’s Conversion August Strindberg’s The Dance of Death Lewis Grassic Gibbon born Barrie’s The Admirable Crichton Arnold Bennett’s Anna of the Five Towns Cézanne’s Le Lac D’Annecy Conrad’s Heart of Darkness Henry James’s The Wings of the Dove William James’s The Varieties of Religious Experience

1903

1904

xxxi

Kipling’s Just So Stories Maugham’s Mrs. Cradock Stevie Smith born Times Literary Supplement begins publishing At its London congress the Russian Social Democratic Party divides into Mensheviks, led by Plekhanov, and Bolsheviks, led by Lenin The treaty of Panama places the Canal Zone in U.S. hands for a nominal rent Motor cars regulated in Britain to a 20-mile-per-hour limit The Wright brothers make a successful flight in the United States Burlington magazine founded Samuel Butler’s The Way of All Flesh published posthumously Cyril Connolly born George Gissing’s The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft Thomas Hardy’s The Dynasts Henry James’s The Ambassadors Alan Paton born Shaw’s Man and Superman Synge’s Riders to the Sea produced in Dublin Yeats’s In the Seven Woods and On Baile’s Strand Frank O’Connor, William Plomer, Edward Upward and John Wyndham born Roosevelt elected president of the United States Russo-Japanese war (1904–1905) Construction of the Panama Canal begins The ultraviolet lamp invented The engineering firm of Rolls Royce founded Barrie’s Peter Pan first performed Births of Cecil Day Lewis and Nancy Mitford Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard Conrad’s Nostromo Henry James’s The Golden Bowl Kipling’s Traffıcs and Discoveries Georges Rouault’s Head of a Tragic Clown

CHRONOLOGY

1905

1906

1907

G. M. Trevelyan’s England Under the Stuarts Puccini’s Madame Butterfly First Shaw-Granville Barker season at the Royal Court Theatre The Abbey Theatre founded in Dublin Death of Isabella Bird Russian sailors on the battleship Potemkin mutiny After riots and a general strike the czar concedes demands by the Duma for legislative powers, a wider franchise, and civil liberties Albert Einstein publishes his first theory of relativity The Austin Motor Company founded Bennett’s Tales of the Five Towns Claude Debussy’s La Mer E. M. Forster’s Where Angels Fear to Tread Richard Strauss’s Salome H. G. Wells’s Kipps Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis Births of Norman Cameron, Henry Green, and Mary Renault Liberals win a landslide victory in the British general election The Trades Disputes Act legitimizes peaceful picketing in Britain Captain Dreyfus rehabilitated in France J. J. Thomson begins research on gamma rays The U.S. Pure Food and Drug Act passed Churchill’s Lord Randolph Churchill William Empson born Galsworthy’s The Man of Property Kipling’s Puck of Pook’s Hill Shaw’s The Doctor’s Dilemma Yeats’s Poems 1899–1905 Exhibition of cubist paintings in Paris Henry Adams’ The Education of Henry Adams Henri Bergson’s Creative Evolution Conrad’s The Secret Agent Births of Barbara Comyns, Daphne du Maurier, and Christopher Fry

1908

1909

xxxii

Forster’s The Longest Journey André Gide’s La Porte étroite Shaw’s John Bull’s Other Island and Major Barbara Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World Trevelyan’s Garibaldi’s Defence of the Roman Republic Christopher Caudwell (Christopher St. John Sprigg) born Herbert Asquith becomes prime minister David Lloyd George becomes chancellor of the exchequer William Howard Taft elected president of the United States The Young Turks seize power in Istanbul Henry Ford’s Model T car produced Bennett’s The Old Wives’ Tale Pierre Bonnard’s Nude Against the Light Georges Braque’s House at L’Estaque Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday Jacob Epstein’s Figures erected in London Forster’s A Room with a View Anatole France’s L’Ile des Pingouins Henri Matisse’s Bonheur de Vivre Elgar’s First Symphony Ford Madox Ford founds the English Review Ian Fleming born The Young Turks depose Sultan Abdul Hamid The Anglo-Persian Oil Company formed Louis Bleriot crosses the English Channel from France by monoplane Admiral Robert Peary reaches the North Pole Freud lectures at Clark University (Worcester, Mass.) on psychoanalysis Serge Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes opens in Paris Galsworthy’s Strife Hardy’s Time’s Laughingstocks

CHRONOLOGY

1910–1936 1910

1911

Malcolm Lowry born Claude Monet’s Water Lilies Stephen Spender born Trevelyan’s Garibaldi and the Thousand Wells’s Tono-Bungay first published (book form, 1909) Reign of King George V The Liberals win the British general election Marie Curie’s Treatise on Radiography Arthur Evans excavates Knossos Edouard Manet and the first postimpressionist exhibition in London Filippo Marinetti publishes “Manifesto of the Futurist Painters” Norman Angell’s The Great Illusion Bennett’s Clayhanger Forster’s Howards End Galsworthy’s Justice and The Silver Box Kipling’s Rewards and Fairies Norman MacCaig born Rimsky-Korsakov’s Le Coq d’or Stravinsky’s The Firebird Vaughan Williams’ A Sea Symphony Wells’s The History of Mr. Polly Wells’s The New Machiavelli first published (in book form, 1911) Lloyd George introduces National Health Insurance Bill Suffragette riots in Whitehall Roald Amundsen reaches the South Pole Bennett’s The Card Chagall’s Self Portrait with Seven Fingers Conrad’s Under Western Eyes D. H. Lawrence’s The White Peacock Katherine Mansfield’s In a German Pension Edward Marsh edits Georgian Poetry Moore’s Hail and Farewell (1911– 1914) Flann O’Brien born Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier Stravinsky’s Petrouchka

xxxiii

1912

1913

1914

Trevelyan’s Garibaldi and the Making of Italy Wells’s The New Machiavelli Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde Woodrow Wilson elected president of the United States SS Titanic sinks on its maiden voyage Five million Americans go to the movies daily; London has four hundred movie theaters Second post-impressionist exhibition in London Bennett’s and Edward Knoblock’s Milestones Constantin Brancusi’s Maiastra Wassily Kandinsky’s Black Lines D. H. Lawrence’s The Trespasser Death of William Thomas Stead Second Balkan War begins Henry Ford pioneers factory assembly technique through conveyor belts Epstein’s Tomb of Oscar Wilde New York Armory Show introduces modern art to the world Alain Fournier’s Le Grand Meaulnes Freud’s Totem and Tabu D. H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers Mann’s Death in Venice Proust’s Du Côté de chez Swann (first volume of À la recherche du temps perdu, 1913–1922) Barbara Pym born Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloé R.S. Thomas born The Panama Canal opens (formal dedication on 12 July 1920) Irish Home Rule Bill passed in the House of Commons Archduke Franz Ferdinand assassinated at Sarajevo World War I begins Battles of the Marne, Masurian Lakes, and Falkland Islands Joyce’s Dubliners Norman Nicholson born Shaw’s Pygmalion and Androcles and the Lion

CHRONOLOGY

1915

1916

1917

Yeats’s Responsibilities Wyndham Lewis publishes Blast magazine and The Vorticist Manifesto C. H. Sisson born and Patrick O’Brian The Dardanelles campaign begins Britain and Germany begin naval and submarine blockades The Lusitania is sunk Hugo Junkers manufactures the first fighter aircraft First Zeppelin raid in London Brooke’s 1914: Five Sonnets Norman Douglas’ Old Calabria D. W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation Gustav Holst’s The Planets D. H. Lawrence’s The Rainbow Wyndham Lewis’s The Crowd Maugham’s Of Human Bondage Pablo Picasso’s Harlequin Sibelius’ Fifth Symphony John Cornford and Denton Welch born Evacuation of Gallipoli and the Dardanelles Battles of the Somme, Jutland, and Verdun Britain introduces conscription The Easter Rebellion in Dublin Asquith resigns and David Lloyd George becomes prime minister The Sykes-Picot agreement on the partition of Turkey First military tanks used Wilson reelected president president of the United States Henri Barbusse’s Le Feu Griffith’s Intolerance Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Jung’s Psychology of the Unconscious Moore’s The Brook Kerith Edith Sitwell edits Wheels (1916– 1921) Wells’s Mr. Britling Sees It Through United States enters World War I Czar Nicholas II abdicates

xxxiv

1918

1919

The Balfour Declaration on a Jewish national home in Palestine The Bolshevik Revolution Georges Clemenceau elected prime minister of France Lenin appointed chief commissar; Trotsky appointed minister of foreign affairs Conrad’s The Shadow-Line Douglas’ South Wind Eliot’s Prufrock and Other Observations Modigliani’s Nude with Necklace Sassoon’s The Old Huntsman Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony Yeats’s The Wild Swans at Coole Wilson puts forward Fourteen Points for World Peace Central Powers and Russia sign the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk Execution of Czar Nicholas II and his family Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicates The Armistice signed Women granted the vote at age thirty in Britain Rupert Brooke’s Collected Poems Gerard Manley Hopkins’ Poems Joyce’s Exiles Lewis’s Tarr Sassoon’s Counter-Attack Oswald Spengler’s The Decline of the West Strachey’s Eminent Victorians Béla Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle Charlie Chaplin’s Shoulder Arms The Versailles Peace Treaty signed J. W. Alcock and A. W. Brown make first transatlantic flight Ross Smith flies from London to Australia National Socialist party founded in Germany Benito Mussolini founds the Fascist party in Italy Sinn Fein Congress adopts declaration of independence in Dublin Eamon De Valera elected president of Sinn Fein party Communist Third International

CHRONOLOGY

1920

1921

founded Lady Astor elected first woman Member of Parliament Prohibition in the United States John Maynard Keynes’s The Economic Consequences of the Peace Eliot’s Poems Maugham’s The Moon and Sixpence Shaw’s Heartbreak House The Bauhaus school of design, building, and crafts founded by Walter Gropius Amedeo Modigliani’s Self-Portrait The League of Nations established Warren G. Harding elected president of the United States Senate votes against joining the League and rejects the Treaty of Versailles The Nineteenth Amendment gives women the right to vote White Russian forces of Denikin and Kolchak defeated by the Bolsheviks Karel Cˇapek’s R.U.R. Galsworthy’s In Chancery and The Skin Game Sinclair Lewis’ Main Street Katherine Mansfield’s Bliss Matisse’s Odalisques (1920–1925) Ezra Pound’s Hugh Selwyn Mauberly Paul Valéry’s Le Cimetière Marin Yeats’s Michael Robartes and the Dancer Edwin Morgan born Britain signs peace with Ireland First medium-wave radio broadcast in the United States The British Broadcasting Corporation founded Braque’s Still Life with Guitar Chaplin’s The Kid Aldous Huxley’s Crome Yellow Paul Klee’s The Fish D. H. Lawrence’s Women in Love John McTaggart’s The Nature of Existence (vol. 1) Moore’s Héloïse and Abélard Eugene O’Neill’s The Emperor Jones

1922

1923

xxxv

Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author Shaw’s Back to Methuselah Strachey’s Queen Victoria Births of George Mackay Brown and Brian Moore Lloyd George’s Coalition government succeeded by Bonar Law’s Conservative government Benito Mussolini marches on Rome and forms a government William Cosgrave elected president of the Irish Free State The BBC begins broadcasting in London Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter discover Tutankhamen’s tomb The PEN club founded in London The Criterion founded with T. S. Eliot as editor Kingsley Amis born Eliot’s The Waste Land A. E. Housman’s Last Poems Joyce’s Ulysses D. H. Lawrence’s Aaron’s Rod and England, My England Sinclair Lewis’s Babbitt O’Neill’s Anna Christie Pirandello’s Henry IV Edith Sitwell’s Façade Virginia Woolf’s Jacob’s Room Yeats’s The Trembling of the Veil Donald Davie born The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics established French and Belgian troops occupy the Ruhr in consequence of Germany’s failure to pay reparations Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk) proclaims Turkey a republic and is elected president Warren G. Harding dies; Calvin Coolidge becomes president Stanley Baldwin succeeds Bonar Law as prime minister Adolf Hitler’s attempted coup in Munich fails Time magazine begins publishing E. N. da C. Andrade’s The Structure of the Atom

CHRONOLOGY

1924

1925

1926

Brendan Behan born Bennett’s Riceyman Steps Churchill’s The World Crisis (1923– 1927) J. E. Flecker’s Hassan produced Nadine Gordimer born Paul Klee’s Magic Theatre Lawrence’s Kangaroo Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies and Sonnets to Orpheus Sibelius’ Sixth Symphony Picasso’s Seated Woman William Walton’s Façade Elizabeth Jane Howard born Ramsay MacDonald forms first Labour government, loses general election, and is succeeded by Stanley Baldwin Calvin Coolidge elected president of the United States Noël Coward’s The Vortex Forster’s A Passage to India Mann’s The Magic Mountain Shaw’s St. Joan G. F. Dutton born Reza Khan becomes shah of Iran First surrealist exhibition held in Paris Alban Berg’s Wozzeck Chaplin’s The Gold Rush John Dos Passos’ Manhattan Transfer Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby André Gide’s Les Faux Monnayeurs Hardy’s Human Shows and Far Phantasies Huxley’s Those Barren Leaves Kafka’s The Trial O’Casey’s Juno and the Paycock Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and The Common Reader Brancusi’s Bird in Space Shostakovich’s First Symphony Sibelius’ Tapiola Ford’s A Man Could Stand Up

xxxvi

1927

1928

Gide’s Si le grain ne meurt Hemingway’s The Sun also Rises Kafka’s The Castle D. H. Lawrence’s The Plumed Serpent T. E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom privately circulated Maugham’s The Casuarina Tree O’Casey’s The Plough and the Stars Puccini’s Turandot Jan Morris born General Chiang Kai-shek becomes prime minister in China Trotsky expelled by the Communist party as a deviationist; Stalin becomes leader of the party and dictator of the Soviet Union Charles Lindbergh flies from New York to Paris J. W. Dunne’s An Experiment with Time Freud’s Autobiography translated into English Albert Giacometti’s Observing Head Ernest Hemingway’s Men Without Women Fritz Lang’s Metropolis Wyndham Lewis’ Time and Western Man F. W. Murnau’s Sunrise Proust’s Le Temps retrouvé posthumously published Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse The Kellogg-Briand Pact, outlawing war and providing for peaceful settlement of disputes, signed in Paris by sixty-two nations, including the Soviet Union Herbert Hoover elected president of the United States Women’s suffrage granted at age twenty-one in Britain Alexander Fleming discovers penicillin Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s The Three-Penny Opera Eisenstein’s October Huxley’s Point Counter Point Christopher Isherwood’s All the Con-

CHRONOLOGY

1929

1930

spirators D. H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover Wyndham Lewis’ The Childermass Matisse’s Seated Odalisque Munch’s Girl on a Sofa Shaw’s Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism Virginia Woolf’s Orlando Yeats’s The Tower Iain Chrichton Smith born The Labour party wins British general election Trotsky expelled from the Soviet Union Museum of Modern Art opens in New York Collapse of U.S. stock exchange begins world economic crisis Robert Bridges’s The Testament of Beauty William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury Robert Graves’s Goodbye to All That Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms Ernst Junger’s The Storm of Steel Hugo von Hoffmansthal’s Poems Henry Moore’s Reclining Figure J. B. Priestley’s The Good Companions Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front Shaw’s The Applecart R. C. Sheriff’s Journey’s End Edith Sitwell’s Gold Coast Customs Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own Yeats’s The Winding Stair Second surrealist manifesto; Salvador Dali joins the surrealists Epstein’s Night and Day Mondrian’s Composition with Yellow Blue Death of Edward Carpenter and Flora Annie Steel Keith Waterhouse born Allied occupation of the Rhineland

xxxvii

1931

1932

ends Mohandas Gandhi opens civil disobedience campaign in India The Daily Worker, journal of the British Communist party, begins publishing J. W. Reppe makes artificial fabrics from an acetylene base John Arden born Auden’s Poems Coward’s Private Lives Eliot’s Ash Wednesday Wyndham Lewis’s The Apes of God Maugham’s Cakes and Ale Ezra Pound’s XXX Cantos Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies Birth of Kamau (Edward) Brathwaite and Ruth Rendell The failure of the Credit Anstalt in Austria starts a financial collapse in Central Europe Britain abandons the gold standard; the pound falls by twenty-five percent Mutiny in the Royal Navy at Invergordon over pay cuts Ramsay MacDonald resigns, splits the Cabinet, and is expelled by the Labour party; in the general election the National Government wins by a majority of five hundred seats The Statute of Westminster defines dominion status Ninette de Valois founds the VicWells Ballet (eventually the Royal Ballet) Coward’s Cavalcade Dali’s The Persistence of Memory John le Carré born O’Neill’s Mourning Becomes Electra Anthony Powell’s Afternoon Men Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Vol de nuit Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast Virginia Woolf’s The Waves Caroline Blackwood born Franklin D. Roosevelt elected president of the United States Paul von Hindenburg elected presi-

CHRONOLOGY

1933

1934

dent of Germany; Franz von Papen elected chancellor Sir Oswald Mosley founds British Union of Fascists The BBC takes over development of television from J. L. Baird’s company Basic English of 850 words designed as a prospective international language The Folger Library opens in Washington, D.C. The Shakespeare Memorial Theatre opens in Stratford-upon-Avon Faulkner’s Light in August Huxley’s Brave New World F. R. Leavis’ New Bearings in English Poetry Boris Pasternak’s Second Birth Ravel’s Concerto for Left Hand Peter Redgrove born Rouault’s Christ Mocked by Soldiers Waugh’s Black Mischief Yeats’s Words for Music Perhaps Roosevelt inaugurates the New Deal Hitler becomes chancellor of Germany The Reichstag set on fire Hitler suspends civil liberties and freedom of the press; German trade unions suppressed George Balanchine and Lincoln Kirstein found the School of American Ballet Beryl Bainbridge born Lowry’s Ultramarine André Malraux’s La Condition humaine Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London Gertrude Stein’s The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas Peter Scupham and Anne Stevenson born The League Disarmament Conference ends in failure The Soviet Union admitted to the League Hitler becomes Führer Civil war in Austria; Engelbert Doll-

xxxviii

1935

1936–1952

fuss assassinated in attempted Nazi coup Frédéric Joliot and Irene Joliot-Curie discover artificial (induced) radioactivity Einstein’s My Philosophy Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night Graves’s I, Claudius and Claudius the God Toynbee’s A Study of History begins publication (1934–1954) Waugh’s A Handful of Dust Births of Fleur Adcock, Alan Bennett, Christopher Wallace-Crabbe, and Alasdair Gray Grigori Zinoviev and other Soviet leaders convicted of treason Stanley Baldwin becomes prime minister in National Government; National Government wins general election in Britain Italy invades Abyssinia Germany repudiates disarmament clauses of Treaty of Versailles Germany reintroduces compulsory military service and outlaws the Jews Robert Watson-Watt builds first practical radar equipment Karl Jaspers’ Suffering and Existence Births of André Brink, Dennis Potter, Keith Roberts, and Jon Stallworthy Ivy Compton-Burnett’s A House and Its Head Eliot’s Murder in the Cathedral Barbara Hepworth’s Three Forms George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess Greene’s England Made Me Isherwood’s Mr. Norris Changes Trains Malraux’s Le Temps du mépris Yeats’s Dramatis Personae Klee’s Child Consecrated to Suffering Benedict Nicholson’s White Relief Death of Lewis Grassic Gibbon Edward VII accedes to the throne in January; abdicates in December Reign of George VI

CHRONOLOGY 1936

1937

German troops occupy the Rhineland Ninety-nine percent of German electorate vote for Nazi candidates The Popular Front wins general election in France; Léon Blum becomes prime minister Roosevelt reelected president of the United States The Popular Front wins general election in Spain Spanish Civil War begins Italian troops occupy Addis Ababa; Abyssinia annexed by Italy BBC begins television service from Alexandra Palace Auden’s Look, Stranger! Auden and Isherwood’s The Ascent of F-6 A. J. Ayer’s Language, Truth and Logic Chaplin’s Modern Times Greene’s A Gun for Sale Huxley’s Eyeless in Gaza Keynes’s General Theory of Employment F. R. Leavis’ Revaluation Mondrian’s Composition in Red and Blue Dylan Thomas’ Twenty-five Poems Wells’s The Shape of Things to Come filmed Steward Conn and Reginald Hill born Death of John Cornford Trial of Karl Radek and other Soviet leaders Neville Chamberlain succeeds Stanley Baldwin as prime minister China and Japan at war Frank Whittle designs jet engine Picasso’s Guernica Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony Magritte’s La Reproduction interdite Hemingway’s To Have and Have Not Malraux’s L’Espoir Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier Priestley’s Time and the Conways Virginia Woolf’s The Years Emma Tennant born

xxxix

1938

1939

Death of Christopher Caudwell (Christopher St. John Sprigg) Trial of Nikolai Bukharin and other Soviet political leaders Austria occupied by German troops and declared part of the Reich Hitler states his determination to annex Sudetenland from Czechoslovakia Britain, France, Germany, and Italy sign the Munich agreement German troops occupy Sudetenland Edward Hulton founds Picture Post Cyril Connolly’s Enemies of Promise du Maurier’s Rebecca Faulkner’s The Unvanquished Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock Hindemith’s Mathis der Maler Jean Renoir’s La Grande Illusion Jean-Paul Sartre’s La Nausée Yeats’s New Poems Anthony Asquith’s Pygmalion and Walt Disney’s Snow White Ngu˜gı˜wa Thiong’o born German troops occupy Bohemia and Moravia; Czechoslovakia incorporated into Third Reich Madrid surrenders to General Franco; the Spanish Civil War ends Italy invades Albania Spain joins Germany, Italy, and Japan in anti-Comintern Pact Britain and France pledge support to Poland, Romania, and Greece The Soviet Union proposes defensive alliance with Britain; British military mission visits Moscow The Soviet Union and Germany sign nonaggression treaty, secretly providing for partition of Poland between them Germany invades Poland; Britain, France, and Germany at war The Soviet Union invades Finland New York World’s Fair opens Eliot’s The Family Reunion Births of Ayi Kwei Armah, Seamus Heaney, Michael Longley and Robert Nye Isherwood’s Good-bye to Berlin

CHRONOLOGY

1940

1941

Joyce’s Finnegans Wake (1922– 1939) MacNeice’s Autumn Journal Powell’s What’s Become of Waring? Ayi Kwei Armah born Churchill becomes prime minister Italy declares war on France, Britain, and Greece General de Gaulle founds Free French Movement The Battle of Britain and the bombing of London Roosevelt reelected president of the United States for third term Betjeman’s Old Lights for New Chancels Angela Carter born Chaplin’s The Great Dictator Bruce Chatwin born Death of William H. Davies J. M. Coetzee born Disney’s Fantasia Greene’s The Power and the Glory Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls C. P. Snow’s Strangers and Brothers (retitled George Passant in 1970, when entire sequence of ten novels, published 1940–1970, was entitled Strangers and Brothers) German forces occupy Yugoslavia, Greece, and Crete, and invade the Soviet Union Lend-Lease agreement between the United States and Britain President Roosevelt and Winston Churchill sign the Atlantic Charter Japanese forces attack Pearl Harbor; United States declares war on Japan, Germany, Italy; Britain on Japan Auden’s New Year Letter James Burnham’s The Managerial Revolution F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Last Tycoon Huxley’s Grey Eminence Derek Mahon born Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony Tippett’s A Child of Our Time Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane Virginia Woolf’s Between the Acts

1942

1943

1944

xl

Japanese forces capture Singapore, Hong Kong, Bataan, Manila German forces capture Tobruk U.S. fleet defeats the Japanese in the Coral Sea, captures Guadalcanal Battle of El Alamein Allied forces land in French North Africa Atom first split at University of Chicago William Beveridge’s Social Insurance and Allied Services Albert Camus’s L’Étranger Joyce Cary’s To Be a Pilgrim Edith Sitwell’s Street Songs Waugh’s Put Out More Flags Births of Douglas Dunn, Susan Hill, and Jonathan Raban German forces surrender at Stalingrad German and Italian forces surrender in North Africa Italy surrenders to Allies and declares war on Germany Cairo conference between Roosevelt, Churchill, Chiang Kai-shek Teheran conference between Roosevelt, Churchill, Stalin Eliot’s Four Quartets Henry Moore’s Madonna and Child Sartre’s Les Mouches Vaughan Williams’ Fifth Symphony Peter Carey, David Malouf Iain Sinclair born Allied forces land in Normandy and southern France Allied forces enter Rome Attempted assassination of Hitler fails Liberation of Paris U.S. forces land in Philippines German offensive in the Ardennes halted Roosevelt reelected president of the United States for fourth term Education Act passed in Britain Pay-as-You-Earn income tax introduced Beveridge’s Full Employment in a Free Society

CHRONOLOGY

1945

1946

Cary’s The Horse’s Mouth Huxley’s Time Must Have a Stop Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge Sartre’s Huis Clos Edith Sitwell’s Green Song and Other Poems Graham Sutherland’s Christ on the Cross Trevelyan’s English Social History Craig Raine and W. G. Sebald born British and Indian forces open offensive in Burma Yalta conference between Roosevelt, Churchill, Stalin Mussolini executed by Italian partisans Roosevelt dies; Harry S. Truman becomes president Hitler commits suicide; German forces surrender The Potsdam Peace Conference The United Nations Charter ratified in San Francisco The Labour Party wins British General Election Atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki Surrender of Japanese forces ends World War II Trial of Nazi war criminals opens at Nuremberg All-India Congress demands British withdrawal from India De Gaulle elected president of French Provisional Government; resigns the next year Betjeman’s New Bats in Old Belfries Britten’s Peter Grimes Orwell’s Animal Farm Russell’s History of Western Philosophy Sartre’s The Age of Reason Edith Sitwell’s The Song of the Cold Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited Births of Wendy Cope and Peter Reading Death of Arthur Symons Bills to nationalize railways, coal mines, and the Bank of England passed in Britain

1947

1948

xli

Nuremberg Trials concluded United Nations General Assembly meets in New York as its permanent headquarters The Arab Council inaugurated in Britain Frederick Ashton’s Symphonic Variations Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia David Lean’s Great Expectations O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh Roberto Rosselini’s Paisà Dylan Thomas’ Deaths and Entrances Jim Crace and Philip Pullman born President Truman announces program of aid to Greece and Turkey and outlines the “Truman Doctrine” Independence of India proclaimed; partition between India and Pakistan, and communal strife between Hindus and Moslems follows General Marshall calls for a European recovery program First supersonic air flight Britain’s first atomic pile at Harwell comes into operation Edinburgh festival established Discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Palestine Princess Elizabeth marries Philip Mountbatten, duke of Edinburgh Auden’s Age of Anxiety Camus’s La Peste Chaplin’s Monsieur Verdoux Lowry’s Under the Volcano Priestley’s An Inspector Calls Edith Sitwell’s The Shadow of Cain Waugh’s Scott-King’s Modern Europe Births of Dermot Healy, and Redmond O’Hanlon Gandhi assassinated Czech Communist Party seizes power Pan-European movement (1948– 1958) begins with the formation of the permanent Organization for European Economic Cooperation (OEEC)

CHRONOLOGY

1949

1950

Berlin airlift begins as the Soviet Union halts road and rail traffic to the city British mandate in Palestine ends; Israeli provisional government formed Yugoslavia expelled from Soviet bloc Columbia Records introduces the long-playing record Truman elected of the United States for second term Greene’s The Heart of the Matter Huxley’s Ape and Essence Leavis’ The Great Tradition Pound’s Cantos Priestley’s The Linden Tree Waugh’s The Loved One Death of Denton Welch Ciaran Carson born North Atlantic Treaty Organization established with headquarters in Brussels Berlin blockade lifted German Federal Republic recognized; capital established at Bonn Konrad Adenauer becomes German chancellor Mao Tse-tung becomes chairman of the People’s Republic of China following Communist victory over the Nationalists Peter Ackroyd born Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex Cary’s A Fearful Joy Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-four Korean War breaks out Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Bertrand Russell R. H. S. Crossman’s The God That Failed T. S. Eliot’s The Cocktail Party Fry’s Venus Observed Doris Lessing’s The Grass Is Singing C. S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia (1950–1956) Wyndham Lewis’ Rude Assignment

1951

1952–

xlii

George Orwell’s Shooting an Elephant Carol Reed’s The Third Man Dylan Thomas’ Twenty-six Poems Births of Sara Maitland, and A. N. Wilson Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean defect from Britain to the Soviet Union The Conservative party under Winston Churchill wins British general election The Festival of Britain celebrates both the centenary of the Crystal Palace Exhibition and British postwar recovery Electric power is produced by atomic energy at Arcon, Idaho W. H. Auden’s Nones Samuel Beckett’s Molloy and Malone Dies Benjamin Britten’s Billy Budd Greene’s The End of the Affair Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon Wyndham Lewis’ Rotting Hill Anthony Powell’s A Question of Upbringing (first volume of A Dance to the Music of Time, 1951–1975) J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye C. P. Snow’s The Masters Igor Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress Peter Fallon born Reign of Elizabeth II At Eniwetok Atoll the United States detonates the first hydrogen bomb The European Coal and Steel Community comes into being Radiocarbon dating introduced to archaeology Michael Ventris deciphers Linear B script Dwight D. Eisenhower elected president of the United States Beckett’s Waiting for Godot Charles Chaplin’s Limelight Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea Arthur Koestler’s Arrow in the Blue

CHRONOLOGY

1953

1954

F. R. Leavis’ The Common Pursuit Lessing’s Martha Quest (first volume of The Children of Violence, 1952– 1965) C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity Thomas’ Collected Poems Evelyn Waugh’s Men at Arms (first volume of Sword of Honour, 1952– 1961) Angus Wilson’s Hemlock and After Births of Rohinton Mistry and Vikram Seth Constitution for a European political community drafted Julius and Ethel Rosenberg executed for passing U.S. secrets to the Soviet Union Cease-fire declared in Korea Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa guide, Tenzing Norkay, scale Mt. Everest Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Winston Churchill General Mohammed Naguib proclaims Egypt a republic Beckett’s Watt Joyce Cary’s Except the Lord Robert Graves’s Poems 1953 Death of Norman Cameron First atomic submarine, Nautilus, is launched by the United States Dien Bien Phu captured by the Vietminh Geneva Conference ends French dominion over Indochina U.S. Supreme Court declares racial segregation in schools unconstitutional Nasser becomes president of Egypt Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Ernest Hemingway Kingsley Amis’ Lucky Jim John Betjeman’s A Few Late Chrysanthemums William Golding’s Lord of the Flies Christopher Isherwood’s The World in the Evening Koestler’s The Invisible Writing Iris Murdoch’s Under the Net C. P. Snow’s The New Men

1955

1956

1957

xliii

Thomas’ Under Milk Wood published posthumously Births of Iain Banks, Louise De Bernières, Romesh Gunesekera, Kevin Hart, Alan Hollinghurst, and Hanif Kureishi Warsaw Pact signed West Germany enters NATO as Allied occupation ends The Conservative party under Anthony Eden wins British general election Cary’s Not Honour More Greene’s The Quiet American Philip Larkin’s The Less Deceived F. R. Leavis’ D. H. Lawrence, Novelist Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita Patrick White’s The Tree of Man John Burnside and Patrick McCabe born Nasser’s nationalization of the Suez Canal leads to Israeli, British, and French armed intervention Uprising in Hungary suppressed by Soviet troops Khrushchev denounces Stalin at Twentieth Communist Party Congress Eisenhower reelected president of the United States Anthony Burgess’ Time for a Tiger Golding’s Pincher Martin Murdoch’s Flight from the Enchanter John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger Snow’s Homecomings Edmund Wilson’s Anglo-Saxon Attitudes Janice Galloway, Philip Kerr and Kate Thompson born The Soviet Union launches the first artificial earth satellite, Sputnik I Eden succeeded by Harold Macmillan Suez Canal reopened Eisenhower Doctrine formulated Parliament receives the Wolfenden Report on Homosexuality and Prostitution Nobel Prize for literature awarded to

CHRONOLOGY

1958

1959

Albert Camus Beckett’s Endgame and All That Fall Lawrence Durrell’s Justine (first volume of The Alexandria Quartet, 1957–1960) Ted Hughes’s The Hawk in the Rain Murdoch’s The Sandcastle V. S. Naipaul’s The Mystic Masseur Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night Osborne’s The Entertainer Muriel Spark’s The Comforters White’s Voss Death of Dorothy Richardson European Economic Community established Khrushchev succeeds Bulganin as Soviet premier Charles de Gaulle becomes head of France’s newly constituted Fifth Republic The United Arab Republic formed by Egypt and Syria The United States sends troops into Lebanon First U.S. satellite, Explorer 1, launched Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Boris Pasternak Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape John Kenneth Galbraith’s The Affluent Society Greene’s Our Man in Havana Murdoch’s The Bell Pasternak’s Dr. Zhivago Snow’s The Conscience of the Rich Greg Delanty born Fidel Castro assumes power in Cuba St. Lawrence Seaway opens The European Free Trade Association founded Alaska and Hawaii become the fortyninth and fiftieth states The Conservative party under Harold Macmillan wins British general election Brendan Behan’s The Hostage Golding’s Free Fall Graves’s Collected Poems Koestler’s The Sleepwalkers

1960

1961

1962

xliv

Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party Snow’s The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution Spark’s Memento Mori Robert Crawford born South Africa bans the African National Congress and Pan-African Congress The Congo achieves independence John F. Kennedy elected president of the United States The U.S. bathyscaphe Trieste descends to 35,800 feet Publication of the unexpurgated Lady Chatterley’s Lover permitted by court Auden’s Hommage to Clio Betjeman’s Summoned by Bells Pinter’s The Caretaker Snow’s The Affair David Storey’s This Sporting Life Andrew Miller and Ian Rankin born South Africa leaves the British Commonwealth Sierra Leone and Tanganyika achieve independence The Berlin Wall erected The New English Bible published Beckett’s How It Is Greene’s A Burnt-Out Case Koestler’s The Lotus and the Robot Murdoch’s A Severed Head Naipaul’s A House for Mr Biswas Osborne’s Luther Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie White’s Riders in the Chariot Jackie Kay and Meaghan Delahunt born John Glenn becomes first U.S. astronaut to orbit earth The United States launches the spacecraft Mariner to explore Venus Algeria achieves independence Cuban missile crisis ends in withdrawal of Soviet missiles from Cuba Adolf Eichmann executed in Israel for Nazi war crimes Second Vatican Council convened by Pope John XXIII

CHRONOLOGY

1963

1964

Nobel Prize for literature awarded to John Steinbeck Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Beckett’s Happy Days Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange and The Wanting Seed Aldous Huxley’s Island Isherwood’s Down There on a Visit Lessing’s The Golden Notebook Nabokov’s Pale Fire Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich Kathleen Jamie born Britain, the United States, and the Soviet Union sign a test-ban treaty Birth of Simon Armitage Britain refused entry to the European Economic Community The Soviet Union puts into orbit the first woman astronaut, Valentina Tereshkova Paul VI becomes pope President Kennedy assassinated; Lyndon B. Johnson assumes office Nobel Prize for literature awarded to George Seferis Britten’s War Requiem John Fowles’s The Collector Murdoch’s The Unicorn Spark’s The Girls of Slender Means Storey’s Radcliffe John Updike’s The Centaur Tonkin Gulf incident leads to retaliatory strikes by U.S. aircraft against North Vietnam Greece and Turkey contend for control of Cyprus Britain grants licenses to drill for oil in the North Sea The Shakespeare Quatercentenary celebrated Lyndon Johnson elected president of the United States The Labour party under Harold Wilson wins British general election Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Jean-Paul Sartre Saul Bellow’s Herzog Burgess’ Nothing Like the Sun

1965

1966

1967

xlv

Golding’s The Spire Isherwood’s A Single Man Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove Larkin’s The Whitsun Weddings Naipaul’s An Area of Darkness Peter Shaffer’s The Royal Hunt of the Sun Snow’s Corridors of Power Alan Warner born Death of Ian Fleming The first U.S. combat forces land in Vietnam The U.S. spacecraft Mariner transmits photographs of Mars British Petroleum Company finds oil in the North Sea War breaks out between India and Pakistan Rhodesia declares its independence Ontario power failure blacks out the Canadian and U.S. east coasts Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Mikhail Sholokhov Robert Lowell’s For the Union Dead Norman Mailer’s An American Dream Osborne’s Inadmissible Evidence Pinter’s The Homecoming Spark’s The Mandelbaum Gate The Labour party under Harold Wilson wins British general election The Archbishop of Canterbury visits Pope Paul VI Florence, Italy, severely damaged by floods Paris exhibition celebrates Picasso’s eighty-fifth birthday Fowles’s The Magus Greene’s The Comedians Osborne’s A Patriot for Me Paul Scott’s The Jewel in the Crown (first volume of The Raj Quartet, 1966–1975) White’s The Solid Mandala Peter Ho Davies born Death of Frank O’Connor Thurgood Marshall becomes first black U.S. Supreme Court justice Six-Day War pits Israel against Egypt and Syria

CHRONOLOGY

1968

1969

Biafra’s secession from Nigeria leads to civil war Francis Chichester completes solo circumnavigation of the globe Dr. Christiaan Barnard performs first heart transplant operation, in South Africa China explodes its first hydrogen bomb Golding’s The Pyramid Hughes’s Wodwo Isherwood’s A Meeting by the River Naipaul’s The Mimic Men Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead Orson Welles’s Chimes at Midnight Angus Wilson’s No Laughing Matter Violent student protests erupt in France and West Germany Warsaw Pact troops occupy Czechoslovakia Violence in Northern Ireland causes Britain to send in troops Tet offensive by Communist forces launched against South Vietnam’s cities Theater censorship ended in Britain Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. assassinated Richard M. Nixon elected president of the United States Booker Prize for fiction established Durrell’s Tunc Graves’s Poems 1965–1968 Osborne’s The Hotel in Amsterdam Snow’s The Sleep of Reason Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle and Cancer Ward Spark’s The Public Image Monica Ali born Humans set foot on the moon for the first time when astronauts descend to its surface in a landing vehicle from the U.S. spacecraft Apollo 11 The Soviet unmanned spacecraft Venus V lands on Venus Capital punishment abolished in Britain Colonel Muammar Qaddafi seizes

1970

1971

1972

xlvi

power in Libya Solzhenitsyn expelled from the Soviet Union Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Samuel Beckett Carter’s The Magic Toyshop Fowles’s The French Lieutenant’s Woman Storey’s The Contractor Death of John Wyndham Hari Kunzru and David Mitchell born Civil war in Nigeria ends with Biafra’s surrender U.S. planes bomb Cambodia The Conservative party under Edward Heath wins British general election Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Durrell’s Nunquam Hughes’s Crow F. R. Leavis and Q. D. Leavis’ Dickens the Novelist Snow’s Last Things Spark’s The Driver’s Seat Death of Vera Brittain Communist China given Nationalist China’s UN seat Decimal currency introduced to Britain Indira Gandhi becomes India’s prime minister Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Heinrich Böll Bond’s The Pope’s Wedding Naipaul’s In a Free State Pinter’s Old Times Spark’s Not to Disturb Birth of Sarah Kane and Martin McDonagh The civil strife of “Bloody Sunday” causes Northern Ireland to come under the direct rule of Westminster Nixon becomes the first U.S. president to visit Moscow and Beijing The Watergate break-in precipitates scandal in the United States Eleven Israeli athletes killed by terrorists at Munich Olympics

CHRONOLOGY

1973

1974

1975

1976

Nixon reelected president of the United States Bond’s Lear Snow’s The Malcontents Stoppard’s Jumpers Britain, Ireland, and Denmark enter European Economic Community Egypt and Syria attack Israel in the Yom Kippur War Energy crisis in Britain reduces production to a three-day week Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Patrick White Bond’s The Sea Greene’s The Honorary Consul Lessing’s The Summer Before the Dark Murdoch’s The Black Prince Shaffer’s Equus White’s The Eye of the Storm Death of William Plomer Miners strike in Britain Greece’s military junta overthrown Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia deposed President Makarios of Cyprus replaced by military coup Nixon resigns as U.S. president and is succeeded by Gerald R. Ford Betjeman’s A Nip in the Air Bond’s Bingo Durrell’s Monsieur (first volume of The Avignon Quintet, 1974–1985) Larkin’s The High Windows Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago Spark’s The Abbess of Crewe Death of Nancy Mitford Death of Edmund Blunden The U.S. Apollo and Soviet Soyuz spacecrafts rendezvous in space The Helsinki Accords on human rights signed U.S. forces leave Vietnam King Juan Carlos succeeds Franco as Spain’s head of state Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Eugenio Montale New U.S. copyright law goes into effect

1977

1978

1979

xlvii

Israeli commandos free hostages from hijacked plane at Entebbe, Uganda British and French SST Concordes make first regularly scheduled commercial flights The United States celebrates its bicentennial Jimmy Carter elected president of the United States Byron and Shelley manuscripts discovered in Barclay’s Bank, Pall Mall Hughes’s Seasons’ Songs Koestler’s The Thirteenth Tribe Scott’s Staying On Spark’s The Take-over White’s A Fringe of Leaves Silver jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II celebrated Egyptian president Anwar el-Sadat visits Israel “Gang of Four” expelled from Chinese Communist party First woman ordained in the U.S. Episcopal church After twenty-nine years in power, Israel’s Labour party is defeated by the Likud party Fowles’s Daniel Martin Hughes’s Gaudete Treaty between Israel and Egypt negotiated at Camp David Pope John Paul I dies a month after his coronation and is succeeded by Karol Cardinal Wojtyla, who takes the name John Paul II Former Italian premier Aldo Moro murdered by left-wing terrorists Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Isaac Bashevis Singer Greene’s The Human Factor Hughes’s Cave Birds Murdoch’s The Sea, The Sea Death of Hugh MacDiarmid The United States and China establish diplomatic relations Ayatollah Khomeini takes power in Iran and his supporters hold U.S. embassy staff hostage in Teheran Rhodesia becomes Zimbabwe

CHRONOLOGY

1980

1981

Earl Mountbatten assassinated The Soviet Union invades Afghanistan The Conservative party under Margaret Thatcher wins British general election Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Odysseus Elytis Golding’s Darkness Visible Hughes’s Moortown Lessing’s Shikasta (first volume of Canopus in Argos, Archives) Naipaul’s A Bend in the River Spark’s Territorial Rights White’s The Twyborn Affair Iran-Iraq war begins Strikes in Gdansk give rise to the Solidarity movement Mt. St. Helen’s erupts in Washington State British steelworkers strike for the first time since 1926 More than fifty nations boycott Moscow Olympics Ronald Reagan elected president of the United States Burgess’s Earthly Powers Golding’s Rites of Passage Shaffer’s Amadeus Storey’s A Prodigal Child Angus Wilson’s Setting the World on Fire Greece admitted to the European Economic Community Iran hostage crisis ends with release of U.S. embassy staff Twelve Labour MPs and nine peers found British Social Democratic party Socialist party under François Mitterand wins French general election Rupert Murdoch buys The Times of London Turkish gunman wounds Pope John Paul II in assassination attempt U.S. gunman wounds President Reagan in assassination attempt President Sadat of Egypt assassinated Nobel Prize for literature awarded to

xlviii

1982

1983

1984

1985

Elias Canetti Spark’s Loitering with Intent Britain drives Argentina’s invasion force out of the Falkland Islands U.S. space shuttle makes first successful trip Yuri Andropov becomes general secretary of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist party Israel invades Lebanon First artificial heart implanted at Salt Lake City hospital Bellow’s The Dean’s December Greene’s Monsignor Quixote South Korean airliner with 269 aboard shot down after straying into Soviet airspace U.S. forces invade Grenada following left-wing coup Widespread protests erupt over placement of nuclear missiles in Europe The ?1 coin comes into circulation in Britain Australia wins the America’s Cup Nobel Prize for literature awarded to William Golding Hughes’s River Murdoch’s The Philosopher’s Pupil Konstantin Chernenko becomes general secretary of the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist party Prime Minister Indira Gandhi of India assassinated by Sikh bodyguards Reagan reelected president of the United States Toxic gas leak at Bhopal, India, plant kills 2,000 British miners go on strike Irish Republican Army attempts to kill Prime Minister Thatcher with bomb detonated at a Brighton hotel World Court holds against U.S. mining of Nicaraguan harbors Golding’s The Paper Men Lessing’s The Diary of Jane Somers Spark’s The Only Problem United States deploys cruise missiles in Europe

CHRONOLOGY

1986

1987

1988

Mikhail Gorbachev becomes general secretary of the Soviet Communist party following death of Konstantin Chernenko Riots break out in Handsworth district (Birmingham) and Brixton Republic of Ireland gains consultative role in Northern Ireland State of emergency is declared in South Africa Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Claude Simon A. N. Wilson’s Gentlemen in England Lessing’s The Good Terrorist Murdoch’s The Good Apprentice Fowles’s A Maggot U.S. space shuttle Challenger explodes United States attacks Libya Atomic power plant at Chernobyl destroyed in accident Corazon Aquino becomes president of the Philippines Giotto spacecraft encounters Comet Halley Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Wole Soyinka Final volume of Oxford English Dictionary supplement published Amis’s The Old Devils Ishiguro’s An Artist of the Floating World A. N. Wilson’s Love Unknown Powell’s The Fisher King Gorbachev begins reform of Communist party of the Soviet Union Stock market collapses Iran-contra affair reveals that Reagan administration used money from arms sales to Iran to fund Nicaraguan rebels Palestinian uprising begins in Israelioccupied territories Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Joseph Brodsky Golding’s Close Quarters Burgess’s Little Wilson and Big God Drabble’s The Radiant Way Soviet Union begins withdrawing troops from Afghanistan

1989

1990

xlix

Iranian airliner shot down by U.S. Navy over Persian Gulf War between Iran and Iraq ends George Bush elected president of the United States Pan American flight 103 destroyed over Lockerbie, Scotland Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Naguib Mafouz Greene’s The Captain and the Enemy Amis’s Diffıculties with Girls Rushdie’s Satanic Verses Ayatollah Khomeini pronounces death sentence on Salman Rushdie; Great Britain and Iran sever diplomatic relations F. W. de Klerk becomes president of South Africa Chinese government crushes student demonstration in Tiananmen Square Communist regimes are weakened or abolished in Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, East Germany, and Romania Lithuania nullifies its inclusion in Soviet Union Nobel Prize for literature awarded to José Cela Second edition of Oxford English Dictionary published Drabble’s A Natural Curiosity Murdoch’s The Message to the Planet Amis’s London Fields Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day Death of Bruce Chatwin Communist monopoly ends in Bulgaria Riots break out against community charge in England First women ordained priests in Church of England Civil war breaks out in Yugoslavia; Croatia and Slovenia declare independence Bush and Gorbachev sign START agreement to reduce nuclearweapons arsenals President Jean-Baptiste Aristide overthrown by military in Haiti

CHRONOLOGY

1992

1993

1994

Boris Yeltsin elected president of Russia Dissolution of the Soviet Union Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Nadine Gordimer U.N. Conference on Environment and Development (the “Earth Summit”) meets in Rio de Janeiro Prince and Princess of Wales separate War in Bosnia-Herzegovina intensifies Bill Clinton elected president of the United States in three-way race with Bush and independent candidate H. Ross Perot Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Derek Walcott Death of Ruth Pitter Czechoslovakia divides into the Czech Republic and Slovakia; playwright Vaclav Havel elected president of the Czech Republic Britain ratifies Treaty on European Union (the “Maastricht Treaty”) U.S. troops provide humanitarian aid amid famine in Somalia United States, Canada, and Mexico sign North American Free Trade Agreement Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Toni Morrison Nelson Mandela elected president in South Africa’s first post-apartheid election Jean-Baptiste Aristide restored to presidency of Haiti Clinton health care reforms rejected by Congress Civil war in Rwanda Republicans win control of both houses of Congress for first time in forty years Prime Minister Albert Reynolds of Ireland meets with Gerry Adams, president of Sinn Fein Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Kenzaburo Õe Amis’s You Can’t Do Both Naipaul’s A Way in the World Death of Dennis Potter

1995

1996

1996

1997

1998

1999

l

Britain and Irish Republican Army engage in diplomatic talks Barings Bank forced into bankruptcy as a result of a maverick bond trader’s losses United States restores full diplomatic relations with Vietnam NATO initiates air strikes in Bosnia Death of Stephen Spender Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin assassinated Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Seamus Heaney IRA breaks cease-fire; Sein Fein representatives barred from Northern Ireland peace talks Prince and Princess of Wales divorce Cease-fire agreement in Chechnia; Russian forces begin to withdraw Boris Yeltsin reelected president of Russia Bill Clinton reelected president of the United States Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Wislawa Szymborska Death of Caroline Blackwood British government destroys around 100,000 cows suspected of infection with Creutzfeldt-Jakob, or “mad cow” disease Diana, Princess of Wales, dies in an automobile accident Unveiling of first fully-cloned adult animal, a sheep named Dolly Booker McConnell Prize for fiction awarded to Arundhati Roy United States renews bombing of Bagdad, Iraq Independent legislature and Parliaments return to Scotland and Wales Booker McConnell Prize for fiction awarded to Ian McEwan Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Jose Saramago King Hussein of Jordan dies United Nations responds militarily to Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic’s escalation of crisis in Kosovo Booker McConnell Prize for fiction awarded to J. M. Coetzee

CHRONOLOGY

2000

2001

Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Günter Grass Deaths of Patrica Beer, Ted Hughes, Brian Moore, and Iain Chrichton Smith Penelope Fitzgerald dies J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire sells more than 300,000 copies in its first day Oil blockades by fuel haulers protesting high oil taxes bring much of Britain to a standstill Slobodan Milosevic loses Serbian general election to Vojislav Kostunica Death of Scotland’s First Minister, Donald Dewar Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Gao Xingjian Booker McConnell Prize for fiction awarded to Margaret Atwood George W. Bush, son of former president George Bush, becomes president of the United States after Supreme Court halts recount of closest election in history Death of former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Elliot Trudeau Human Genome Project researchers announce that they have a complete map of the genetic code of a human chromosome Vladimir Putin succeeds Boris Yeltsin as president of Russia British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s son Leo is born, making him the first child born to a sitting prime minister in 152 years Death of Patrick O’Brian Keith Roberts and R.S. Thomas In Britain, the House of Lords passes legislation that legalizes the creation of cloned human embryos British Prime Minister Tony Blair wins second term Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin wins Booker McConnell Prize for fiction Kazuo Ishiguro’s When We Were Orphans Trezza Azzopardi’s The Hiding

2002

2003

li

Place Terrorists attack World Trade Center and Pentagon with hijacked airplanes, resulting in the collapse of the World Trade Center towers and the deaths of thousands. Passengers of a third hijacked plane thwart hijackers, resulting in a crash landing in Pennsylvania. The attacks are thought to be organized by Osama bin Laden, the leader of an international terrorist network known as al Qaeda Ian McEwan’s An Atonement Salman Rushdie’s Fury Peter Carey’s True History of the Kelly Gang Deaths of Eudora Welty and W. G. Sebald Former U.S. President Jimmy Carter awarded the Nobel Peace Prize Europe experiences its worst floods in 100 years as floodwaters force thousands of people out of their homes Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl kidnapped and killed in Karachi, Pakistan while researching a story about Pakistani militants and suspected shoe bomber Richard Reid. British-born Islamic militant Ahmad Omar Saeed Sheikh sentenced to death for the crime. Three accomplices receive life sentences. Slobodan Milosevic goes on trial at the U.N. war crimes tribunal in The Hague on charges of masterminding ethnic cleansing in the former Yugoslavia. Yann Martel’s Life of Pi wins Booker McConnell Prize for fiction Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Imre Kertész Ariel Sharon elected as Israeli prime minister Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez forced to leave office after a nine week general strike calling for his resignation ends U.S. presents to the United Nations its Iraq war rationale, citing its Weapons of Mass Destruction as im-

CHRONOLOGY

2004

minent threat to world security U.S. and Britain launch war against Iraq Baghdad falls to U.S. troops Official end to combat operations in Iraq is declared by the U.S. Aung San Suu Kyi, Burmese opposition leader, placed under house arrest by military regime NATO assumes control of peacekeeping force in Afghanistan American troops capture Saddam Hussein J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, the fifth installment in the wildly popular series, hit the shelves and rocketed up the best-seller lists Nobel Prize for literature awarded to J. M. Coetzee Death of C. H. Sisson NATO admits seven new members— Bulgaria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovakia, and Slovenia Terrorists bomb commuter trains in Spain—al–Qaeda claims responsibility Ten new states join the European Union, expanding it to twenty–five members states total Muslim terrorists attack a school in Beslan, Russia, resulting in over 300 civilian deaths, many of them schoolchildren George W. Bush is re–elected president of the United States Allegations of corruption in the election of Ukraine’s Viktor Yanukovych result in the &ldquote;Orange Revolution” and Parliament’s decision to nullify the first election results— the secondary run–off election is closley monitored and favors Viktor Yushchenko for president A massive 9.0 earthquake rocks the Indian Ocean, resulting in a catastrophic tsunami, devastating southern Asia and eastern Africa and killing tens of thousands of people Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty wins Man Booker Prize for

2005

2006

2007

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fiction Terrorists bomb three subway stations in London, killing 52 and injuring more than 700 Pope John Paul II dies, marking the end of an era for the Roman Catholic Church. He is succeeded by Pope Benedict XVI Hurricane Katrina hits the U.S. Golf Coast, devastating cities in Louisianna and Mississippi, and killing over 1,000 people. J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince sells over 6.9 billion copies on the first day of release in the U.S. alone Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Harold Pinter Deaths of Saul Bellow and Arthur Miller Former Iraqi President Saddam Hussein is found guilty for crimes against humanity and is executed in Iraq Ban Ki-moon elected the next UN secretary-general International Astronomical Union rules that Pluto is no longer seen as a planet Fleur Adcock wins the Queen?s Gold Medal for Poetry Kamau Brathwaite wins the Griffin Poetry Prize for Born to Slow Horses Oil prices skyrocket as a barrel of crude oil tops ninety dollars Record-high mortgage foreclosures and a steep decline in the housing market strain financial industries causing multibillion-dollar losses at major banks and investment firms Seung-Hui Cho opens fire at Virginia Tech University killing 32 and wounding several others before turning the gun on himself The final volume of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, is released selling over 8.3 million copies in the first twenty-four hours Nobel Prize for literature awarded to Doris Lessing

List of Contributors

CHARLES ROBERT BAKER. Charles Robert Baker is a poet, and short story writer. He has written many literary biographies for American Writers, British Writers, American Writers Classics, and The Oxford Encyclopedia of American Literature. Mr. Baker lives in Dallas, Texas and is curator of Mark Twain: Father of Modern American Literature at Southern Methodist University. His current projects include a piece on Irwin Shaw for American Writers and in-depth research on the literary cafes of Paris. Ian Fleming

Germany (2006-2007). She is the author of Nathaniel Hawthorne: A Study of the Short Fiction, editor of Conversations with Clarence Major, and editor and interviewer for Finding the Words: Conversations with Writers Who Teach and Master Class: Lessons from Leading Writers. Meaghan Delahunt S USAN B UTTERWORTH . Susan Butterworth is a professor of English at Salem State College in Salem, Massachusetts, where she teaches courses in literature, research, and writing. She has written reference articles for such volumes as the Oxford Encyclopedia of American Literature, American Writers, British Writers, Magill’s Survey of World Literature, Musicians and Composers of the Twentieth Century, Critical Survey of Mystery and Detective Fiction among many others. She also writes and publishes creative nonfiction, travel and memoir writing, and literary biography. Kate Thompson

SUSAN BALÉE. Susan Balée is a freelance writer and part-time editor at The Philadelphia Inquirer. She regularly publishes essays on literature in The Hudson Review and book reviews in The Inquirer. For the National Endowment of the Arts’ “Big Read” project, she contributed to three audio programs on, respectively, Leo Tolstoy’s “Death of Ivan Ilych,” Jack London’s “The Call of the Wild,” and Marilynne Robinson’s “Housekeeping.” Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in the Times Literary Supplement of the London Times, The Weekly Standard, The Women’s Review of Books, Philly Fiction II, and many other publications. Jim Crace

N IKOLAI E NDRES . Nikolai Endres received his Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill in 2000. As an associate professor at Western Kentucky University, he teaches Great Books, British literature, classics, mythology, critical theory, and gay and lesbian studies. He has published on Plato, Petronius, Gustave Flaubert, Oscar Wilde, Gore Vidal, and others. His next project is a “queer” reading of the myth and music of Richard Wagner. He is also working on a book-length study of Platonic love as a homoerotic code in the modern gay novel. John Addington Symonds

J. C. BITTENBENDER. J. C. Bittenbender, Ph. D., is an associate professor of English at Eastern University in St. Davids, Pennsylvania where he teaches twentieth-century British literature. He specializes in modern Scottish and Irish literature and has published articles on Robert Burns, James Kelman, Alasdair Gray and other Scottish writers. His other areas of academic interest include Bakhtinian theory and censorship studies. Kathleen Jamie

PATRICK DENMAN FLANERY. Patrick Denman Flanery teaches contemporary literature and critical theory in the School of English at the University of Sheffield. He holds a BFA in Film from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, and a Master of Studies and doctorate from the University of Oxford’s Faculty of English Language

NANCY BUNGE. A Professor at Michigan State University, Nancy Bunge has held Senior Fulbright lectureships at the University of Vienna in Austria (1986-1987), the Free University of Brussels and the University of Ghent in Belgium (1999-2000), and the University of Siegen in

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CONTRIBUTORS and Literature. He is a frequent fiction reviewer for the Times Literary Supplement, and has research interests in twentieth-century and contemporary British, American, and postcolonial literatures, the history of the book, and adaptation studies. David Mitchell

ADRIAN PATERSON. Lecturer in English at Hertford College, Oxford, where he teaches nineteenth and twentieth century literature. A graduate of Worcester College, Oxford, and Trinity College, Dublin, he has published widely on modern poetry and Irish writing, notably on W.B.Yeats, Thomas Moore, James Clarence Mangan, Ezra Pound, and James Joyce. He is the author of a forthcoming study of Yeats’s uneasy but intimate relationship with music entitled Words For Music Perhaps: W.B.Yeats and Musical Sense, and is researching Perfect Pitch, a study of music in Irish writing. Frank O’Connor

J.-A. GEORGE. Jodi-Anne George holds a doctorate in English from the University of London (King’s College). She is currently a Senior Lecturer in English at the University of Dundee, Scotland. Her research interests include Old and Middle English, early drama, translation theory, Victorian Mediaevalism and historical fiction. She also runs the Joot Theatre Company, which is based at the University of Dundee. Andrew Miller

LYDIA RAINFORD. Lydia Rainford is an Associate Lecturer at the Open University. She has published research on modernism, visual culture, and Samuel Beckett. She is the co-editor of Literature and Visual Technologies and the author of She Changes by Intrigue: Irony, Femininity, and Feminism. Arthur Symons

EMMA MASON. Emma Mason is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of English and Comparative Literary Studies at the University of Warwick. She is the author of The Cambridge Introduction to Wordsworth (2009), Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century (2006), and with Mark Knight, Nineteenth-Century Religion and Literature: An Introduction (2006). She is also a coeditor of The Blackwell Companion to the Bible in English Literature (2009). Maria Jane Jewsbury

SOPHIE RATCLIFFE. Educated at Oxford and Cambridge, Sophie Ratcliffe teaches and researches twentieth and twenty-first century literature at Oxford University. She also reviews contemporary fiction for the national press in the UK. Her first book, entitled, On Sympathy, was published in May 2008 with Oxford University Press. She is currently working on a book about the idea of sentiment in novels written after 1950. Hari Kunzru

ABBY MIMS. Abby Mims’ stories and essays have been published in several literary magazines and anthologies, including, The Santa Monica Review, Swink and Woman’ s Best Friend: Women Writers on the Dogs in Their Lives. She has received awards from various writers’ conferences and was featured in the New Short Fiction series, presented by the Beverly Hills Library. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from UC Irvine and currently resides in Portland, Oregon, where she’s at work on a memoir. Susan Hill

LAWRENCE SAIL. Lawrence Sail has published nine collections of poems as well as a book of essays, and has edited a number of anthologies. He has been chairman of the Arvon Foundation, program director of the Cheltenham Festival of Literature, a judge for several national book awards, and the British representative on the jury of the European Literature Prize. He has been the recipient of a Hawthornden Fellowship, an Arts Council writer’s bursary and a Cholmondeley Award, and is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Patricia Beer

THOMAS O’GRADY. Thomas O’Grady is Professor of English, Director of Irish Studies, and a member of the Creative Writing faculty at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. His essays on Irish literature and culture, as well as his own poems and short stories, have appeared widely in scholarly and literary journals on both sides of the Atlantic. His book of poems What Really Matters was published in 2000 by McGillQueen’s University Press. Greg Delanty

J. M. TYREE. is the co-author, with Ben Walters, of BFI Film Classics: The Big Lebowski, published by The British Film Institute and distributed in the USA by The University of California Press. His essays have appeared in The Believer, Film Quarterly, The Nation, and Sight & Sound.

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CONTRIBUTORS ber 2007. Virginia Center For the Creative Arts granted her a residency during August 2007. Peter Ho Davies

He is currently a Truman Capote Fellow in Fiction at Stanford University’s Wallace Stegner Fellowship Program in Creative Writing. Iain Sinclair

LES WILKINSON. Les Wilkinson is Senior Master at Nottingham High School, England, where he has taught English for thirty years and where he has directed a number of major dramatic productions, including his own recent translation of Pirandello’s Sei Personaggi in Cerca d’Autore. His interest in Scottish Literature was awoken at St. Andrews University where he studied in the early seventies. He writes occasionally and continues to perform traditional and modern folk music and song. Lewis Grassic Gibbon

JULIE WAKEMAN-LINN. Julie Wakeman-Linn holds a Masters in English Literature from The University of Wisconsin and a Masters in Writing from the John Hopkins University. She teaches at Montgomery College, Rockville, Maryland and is the editor of The Potomac Review. Her novel, “Chasing the Leopard, Finding the Lion” was a 2008 Finalist for the Bellwether Prize for fiction. She received an Arts Humanities Council of Montgomery County Creative Artist Grant in Septem-

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PATRICIA BEER (1919—1999)

Lawrence Sail tions of poems, including Selected Poems (1979) and Collected Poems (1988); Mrs. Beer’s House (1968), a well-received autobiography of her early years; an introduction to the Metaphysical poets (1972); and a novel, Moon’s Ottery (1978). She also contributed regularly to national periodicals such as the Listener, the Times Literary Supplement, and the London Review of Books. Toward the end of her life, ill-health could not altogether outflank her wit and verve, and Autumn, her last collection of poems, appeared just two years before her death from a stroke on August 15, 1999. A selection of reviews and essays that she had been preparing was published in 2002. Patricia Beer was a considerable presence. Tall and poised, she had an expressive and mobile face that could register delight, humor, or horror (or mock horror) as vividly as seriousness and passion, and her eyebrows seemed always about to lift. Her appearance was matched by a memorable voice, which, retaining the sly softness of a Devon accent, was a distinctive feature both of her conversation and of her readings. Along with a natural vivacity, she combined shrewdness and a certain wariness. It has commonly been said that her work was, for many years, undervalued. Nonetheless, her first two books were Poetry Book Society Choices, as was a later collection, Friend of Heraclitus (1993), while Driving West (1975) was a PBS Recommendation.

PATRICIA BEER WAS born in Exmouth, Devon, on November 4, 1919. Her father, Andrew William Beer, was a railway employee, spending all his working life at Exeter Goods, finally becoming chief clerk there. Her mother, Harriet Jeffrey Beer (always known as Queen), born on the other side of the Exe Estuary at Torquay, was a teacher. She belonged to the Plymouth Brethren, a strict fundamentalist Christian sect with a narrow vision of salvation. Patricia and her sister, Sheila, were brought up very much under the influence of this persuasion and the dominant mother who adhered to it. Further back, their paternal grandfather was a carpenter specializing in coffins, while their mother’s father made tombstones. Beer went to Exmouth Grammar School, where she shone, and from there to Exeter University, where she read English. After taking a B.Litt. at St. Hugh’s College, Oxford, she spent some seven years in Italy, where she taught English at the University of Padua (1947–1949), the British Institute in Rome (1949–1951), and the Ministero Aeronautica in Rome (1951–1953). After returning to England in 1953 she worked at various jobs for nearly ten years until in 1962 she became a lecturer in English at Goldsmiths College, London. She married twice: first the writer P. N. Furbank and then, in 1964, John Damien Parsons, an architect. They took to living for an increasing part of the year in the county of her birth, in a farmhouse peacefully set in the Otter Valley in East Devon, close to the village of Upottery. In 1968 she resigned her post at Goldsmiths and became a full-time writer.

POETRY

Beer set out her view of her own poetry in the introduction to her 1988 Collected Poems. Something of an apologia, it describes how, returning to England after seven years in Italy, she hoped to start again with poetry, having written none since her school days:

In terms of publication she was a relatively late starter: her first collection of poems, Loss of the Magyar and Other Poems, appeared in 1959. Over the next thirty years, she steadily produced an impressive range of books—nine more collec-

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PATRICIA BEER labics and stands clear of the others in the book. Above all, here are themes that will recur centrally throughout Beer’s poems—death, religion, ghosts, family. Here are also persona poems, another persistent strand, in the voices of Shakespeare’s Juliet; of Nicolis Loizou, a Greek shepherd; and of a set of chess pieces. The Survivors, which came out four years after Loss of the Magyar, consolidated and added to the territory, with a dialogue between the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Thomas More and poems spoken by Judas Iscariot, a witch, and a murderous mariner. The poems in this book are again highly crafted, and this time they include ballads, a form that Beer continued to exploit. The Duke of Norfolk/Thomas More poem could stand for another feature of Beer’s approach: her feeling for history and what might lie beneath its surfaces. Further Shakespearean characters appear (Ophelia, Desdemona, Antony, Cleopatra), as do a vampire, the aforementioned witch, a warlock, and assorted ghosts. The “survivors” of the title range from Noah to the brother of a child who died, abandoning “the air / He could not prosper in.” The poem, “Next of Kin,” concludes:

There I was, thoroughly informed about English Poetry up to the end of the nineteenth century but almost totally ignorant of what had been done in the twentieth. The poetic scene I stepped into was inevitably a death-trap. It was really the scene of the Forties still. The Movement had begun to stir but was not yet under way. The Hawk in the Rain [Ted Hughes, 1957] had not yet been published. The myth-kitty had not yet been sneered out of existence; to many it was still Aladdin’s cave. (pp. 14–15)

Beer felt that the mixed reception accorded her first collection resulted from her relative ignorance of contemporary work and from her being “greatly taken” with the poetry of the 1940s, characterized by one critic as “lush and loose.” She writes, “I soon went on to extensive reading of much better poetry and to an attempt at hard thought about what I was trying to do.” She concluded that “growing up as a poet appears to need one of the skills that is essential to growing up as a human being: the ability to recognize and resist bullying” (introduction to Collected Poems, p. 16). All the same, when her later work was criticized as too sparse in comparison to her earlier work, she had little option but to fling her hands up and proceed on her own terms. In the light of this it is not surprising that Beer included in the Collected Poems only fifteen poems from her first two books, though this is considerably more than the six she had chosen for the Selected Poems of nine years earlier. In both books, they are headed “Early Poems from Loss of the Magyar (1959) and The Survivors (1963),” a title that implies her judgment of the undeveloped quality of those poems. While the development of Beer’s work can be seen as a gradual discovery of her voice and her themes, there are clear traces of them from the outset. The twenty-six poems of Loss of the Magyar are carefully wrought and make full use of rhyme, and if a number of them are set pieces, they also have at times the laconic tone and astringent asides that became distinctive features of Beer’s work. The title poem tells of the disaster that befell the Magyar, a brig—of which her great-grandfather was the master and part owner—that sank off Hartlepool in perfect weather after colliding with a steamer. In scope and ambition the poem anticipates her use of syl-

And when he died I shrugged it off, Neither rejoiced nor wept For someone I could hardly love But wholly could accept. (p. 12)

This and other poems in the collection show two predominant traits of Beer’s poetry: a clear-eyed, disabused approach to experience, but also the suggestion that a light or laconic tone may accommodate altogether more disturbing and emotional responses. After another four years (throughout Beer’s career this is most commonly the interval between her publications) came Just Like the Resurrection (1967). As with its predecessors, the title sets it in the realm of loss and retrieval—in this case, the ultimate retrieval. Seen by some critics as marking a quantum development, this collection is indeed more sharply focused and fundamentally more interesting. There are conceits, poems in syllabics, and a striking number of persona poems, with a cast that includes the widow of a

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PATRICIA BEER British mountaineer whose body has been preserved by ice, Brunhild, the prodigal son, the poet Drayton, a chemist, and a monk. “Lion Hunts” (included by Philip Larkin in his Oxford Book of Twentieth-Century English Verse1973), is a reminder of the poet’s awareness not only of the relationships between humans and animals (“A lion is never a lion in a royal hunt / Only a victory to cheer the king up.”) but also of social hierarchies in general. “Concert at Long Melford Church,” whose closing line provides the book with its title, aptly exemplifies Beer’s poetry:

from appearance to sensitivity Beer makes something more of it. The line stands out all the more given the reversion in the rest of the stanza to simple description and the straightforward opposition of “hard” and “soft.” The second stanza combines the general and the particular in a different way. Appearing to focus on one event, it nonetheless opens out into a philosophical perspective, while continuing to relay the effect of the scene on those present. With its possible echo of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (“I had not thought death had undone so many”), the third stanza is the first to engage with the poem’s ostensible subject of life’s relation to death. Yet the next two verses go in another direction, with their recall of childhood visits to the graves of the writer’s grandparents, occasions which rescue the specific from the generality of death with the striking description of “Steering past the heels, elbow and chin // Of those submerged and dangerous bodies,” returning to the locus of the poem’s occasion only in the last three lines of the fifth verse. “But todayѧ,” almost as if Beer has to recall herself to attention.

Long Melford church is built of flint and glass, The tombstones make your teeth ache And the paths leading up to it look Particularly hard through so much soft grass. Today a concert in afternoon light Gives the church a more brittle purpose Than usual, more capable of close. From this people will go home free tonight. And there are so many. A Suffolk Festival Has brought everybody out from London Like a saint or a marvel. The proportion Of living men to graves is medieval.

In the final stanza the note of personal reminiscence gives way to the immediacy of the concertgoers spilling out of the church during the interval: and here too the detail of people’s recognizing and greeting of one another is played off against the abstract notion, albeit expressed casually as if in conversation, of the final line, “It looks just like the Resurrection,” which repeats exactly a comment made at the time by Beer’s husband, Damien. Thus the poem rounds to the same kind of low-key observation as at its opening, to good effect, completing as telling a parabola as the conjunction, in Sir Stanley Spencer’s painting The Resurrection at Cookham (1924–1926), of earthly fullness and the radically unearthly event.

We were taught not to walk on graves as children. Holding flowers for grandparents, we worked out Where each corpse would be, walked round it, Steering past the heels, elbow and chin Of those submerged and dangerous bodies. But today the paths and the narrow porch Cannot contain those coming out of church During the interval, into the sun and yew trees. They spread all over the churchyard. They scan The crowd, recognise, smile and shake hands. By each tombstone a well-dressed person stands. It looks just like the Resurrection. (p. 27)

Shifts in tone and linguistic register run through the poem’s twenty-four lines. The opening line is plain, a kind of guidebook entry, but it leads directly into a line quite other—“The tombstones make your teeth ache”—which is sufficiently quirky to make “your” particular as well as general. The image neatly exploits the phrase “tombstone teeth,” but in transferring the sense

Formally, the poem combines four- and fivestress lines in a way that enhances the impression of a conversational tone, an effect further developed by Beer’s use of consonance as well as full rhyme. This structure neatly contains the uncontainable crowd in quatrains and proves flexible enough to accommodate the almost throwaway

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PATRICIA BEER comment, the telling detail, and the ruminative note that together fulfill the poem’s intention. The Estuary (1971) is the first of three collections whose titles are explicitly or implicitly topographical. The river in question is the Exe, and a number of the poems home to Beer’s Devon childhood and family, which she had recently described powerfully in her autobiography, Mrs. Beer’s House, published three years earlier. These poems are relatively longer and many are syllabic. The theme of death is more prominent than ever, but, as so often in Beer’s poetry, what might be bleak turns out to be bracing. Exemplifying what seemingly plain writing can carry by way of implication, the memorable “The Faithful Wife” evinces how far Beer has moved from “loose and lush” toward leanness, one characteristic of Movement poetry. “I am a career woman at a conference,” we learn in the opening stanza, and the poem balances the speaker’s recollection of home and what is to be done there (“I must sweep the paths when I get back”) against the conference, where

home county, Devon, was in many respects the most personal and intimate collection she had yet published. Some of the poems look back to childhood; others celebrate the seasons and the East Devon landscape surrounding the poet’s farmhouse. In “The Healer” and “The Water Diviner,” Beer brings her empathetic gifts to bear on personae close to country life. “The Land Girl at the Boss’s Grave” does the same in the context of social hierarchy; and awareness of a different order underwrites “John Milton and My Father”: He tasted hierarchy as Milton did And was enchanted by it: jewelled stairs And thrones and powers and principalities. Each night he knelt but glanced up through his prayers To the mountain where sat golden almighty God With nothing over him but empty space. (p. 28)

Three poems (“Swatting Flies,” “Jane Austen at the Window,” and “Home”) depict a figure at a window, an image that meshes with Beer’s capacity for seeming to look at life at an angle and from a certain distance. Appropriately in this respect, there is the poem “In Memory of Stevie Smith,” about a fellow woman English poet (1902–1971) who had the same kind of gift and whom Beer had met. A striking counterpoint is “The Accident,” in which a wife pleads directly for her husband’s help. It begins: “Dear Husband, please come to me.” This keeps company with an affectionate sonnet addressed to her husband Damien, which prefaces the Collected Poems and whose sestet reads:

ѧfor the past week you and I Have been conducting a non-affair That could not even be called flirtation That could not be called anything Except unusually straightforward desire, Adultery in the heart. Life is so short. (p. 35)

“Life is so short”—the adulterer’s great excuse, of course, but the poem ends with an injunction which imagines both parties at home once more: You are middle-aged now, as I am. Write your notes up, Fix the rattling window, Keep your marriage vows. As I shall.

I do not write love poems, but if I did I too would praise the continuity Of love and not the onset. So a name Would not be necessary, for I should Of course mean you, who have survived with me, And address all my sonnets to the same.

(p. 36)

A domestic note of a different kind is struck in two poems about cats, “The Coming of the Cat” and “The Cat in the Tree”: in the first, the cat as witch’s companion; in the second, a kitten just acquired. These creatures will recur in later poems. Driving West (1975), with poems written when Beer was spending increasing time in her

(p. 5)

She is correct: love is considered directly in relatively few of her poems. Sometimes, as “The

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PATRICIA BEER Faithful Wife” and “Ballad of the Red-Headed Man” show, it is love in its threatening aspects that is her subject; elsewhere love is viewed with the wry wisdom of hindsight, as in “First Love” and “The Letter.” The forthrightness of “The Accident” surfaces again in poems written about being in hospital, in Beer’s final collection, Autumn. The Selected Poems of 1979 includes seventeen new ones. Notable among these is “Parson Hawker’s Farewell,” another persona poem and one of Beer’s best. It evokes the priest of a North Devon parish who was renowned for burying bodies and body parts retrieved from the sea, as well as objects—here, a ship’s figurehead:

You did not love me. I sacrificed too much perhaps, I showed you the way to rise above me And you took it. You are the ghost With the bat-voice, my dear. I am not lost. (pp. 46–47)

Like the Selected Poems, the Collected Poems (1988) ends with poems not previously gathered in book form, fourteen of them this time. Among the best are “The Third Eyelid” and “Chloe,” cat poems which view that beast with scrupulous respect and affection; and “The Dance of Death,” one of Beer’s most memorable poems of direct feeling, which links the memory of a childhood walk with the death of the poet’s mother. Friend of Heraclitus (1993) is divided into three sections. In the first, poems dominated by personal or more general history weigh experience against time. The second, “Wessex Calendar,” is a sequence of twelve sonnets. And the third, “Observations,” is just that, a series of brief aperçus. Robbed of the quality of discursive conversation present in so much of Beer’s work, these short imagist pieces have a quite different effect, not without a power of its own. Here is “From the Cliff”:

All its paint licked off, it had a body Still, better without gaudiness, a face Hinting at what was behind the colours. (pp. 133–134)

The Lie of the Land (1983) carries forward what are by now the well-developed themes of Beer’s poetry in the various modes that she inhabits. Thus “Lament of the Duke of Medina Sidonia” is another persona poem, which plays to the poet’s historical sense as well as linking with the period and events of her novel Moon’s Ottery (a dialogue from the novel between Saint George and the Dragon, an item in a village pageant, is also included here), while “Farmhouse Time” celebrates her East Devon farmhouse. “The Conjuror” finely describes one churchyard occasion taken over by another, “the funeral that we came for” pre-emptively upstaged by the card on another grave reading “With reverent sympathy / From the Magician’s Club.” “Hans Christian Andersen” relates that writer’s timor mortis, specifically his fear of being buried alive, which led him to prop by his bed a notice that asserted “I am not really dead.” This clearly impressed Beer, who returned to the anecdote in the introduction to her Collected Poems: to produce a volume entitled thus was, she suggested, “a way of saying ‘I am not really dead.’” One of the most powerful poems in The Lie of the Land is the final one, “The Lost Woman,” in which the ghost of her mother continues to haunt her, and finally retorts:

Northwards. Twenty young men on bicycles Swim along the lane. The hedge comes up to their handlebars A tree rises to cover them A gate dips to reveal them Their backs are curved They gleam like fish. Southwards. A score of dolphins Leap for nobody but the Lord. They arch over the sea like cyclists They shine like machinery. (p. 57)

What might have been little more than an entry in a poet’s notebook is given weight and substance beyond the sum of its parts. This it owes quite largely to the aptness of the comparison between the cyclists and the dolphins. Though Beer affirmed that part of her development as a

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PATRICIA BEER and the faux-naif: for instance, uncertainties of belief, whether religious or secular, as in the case of feminism; the legacy of her upbringing; the fruits of wide reading and an eye for the idiosyncratic; and a restlessness often expressed as wariness or unease. And because the impact of her work is cumulative rather than intensive, it is also possible to underestimate the breadth of her themes. If death and the poet’s family have major roles, there are also considerable parts for religion and for literary allusiveness (Shakespeare’s characters above all, as well as, inter alios, Christopher Marlowe, Jane Austen, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, John Donne, Charles Dickens, Charlotte Brontë, and Wilfred Owen).

poet involved the eschewing of simile in favor of metaphor, it serves her well here in the depiction of a geometric equivalence that aligns the curves of the cyclists’ backs with the arching of the leaping dolphins. And it is a matter not just of geometry but of symmetry, with much in the five lines of the second stanza playing off the eight lines of the first. “Northwards”—“Southwards”; “Twenty young men”—“A score of dolphins”; “Their backs are curved / They gleam like fish”— “They arch over the sea like cyclists / They shine like machinery.” The poem thrives on the economy of its verbs, all in the present tense and many of them monosyllables—“swim,” “comes,” “dips,” “gleam,” “leap,” “arch,” “shine.” The terms of the comparison are so deftly delineated that, by the end of the poem, it is as if the two components have become virtually interchangeable. The overall meshing effect is reminiscent of Umberto Boccioni’s dynamic Futurist paintings of cyclists, though his perspectives aimed to convey movement and speed, while Beer’s approach is altogether more static. In the first stanza movement is transferred to features of the landscape (hedge, tree, gate) from the figures in motion through it; in the second, the dolphins’ arching is more architectural than animated. And as so often in Beer’s work, fine judgments inhere in the seeming artlessness of expression. Beer’s final collection, Autumn (1997), lives up to the implications of the title, with an emphasis more on transience than transcendence. Once again the figure of her mother, in “Ballad of the Underpass,” is a commanding absence. The book also contains Beer’s longest poem, “Poor Ghost,” in the voice of Hamlet’s father. The book’s second section, “Sequence,” consists of seven hospital poems arising from the poet’s own illness. Written in taut rhyming couplets, these poems bear witness to an impressive, bleak honesty. As Beer writes in the final poem: “I have known illness / Like a truth in all its fullness.”

Beer’s feeling for history infuses poems set in museums or that evoke battlefields such as Sedgemoor or Waterloo. An interest in social history pervades her work. She also celebrates the beauty of the West Country and, more generally, of the seasons and the natural world, not least the sea, which infiltrates more of the poems than a reader might at first think. There are three calendar poems and others marking solstice, equinox, and Christmas. Her witches and ghosts are on the whole benevolent, as are the cats that sometimes accompany them. In fact there is a considerable Beer menagerie, largely domestic: it includes sparrows, fish, geese, bulls, lemmings, but also polar bears, gorillas, and lions. Some of the poems reflect her travels in Spain, Italy, and Greece, and a few consider the world of painters and their work. Technically Beer makes deft use of syllabics and has a distinct liking for both full and near rhymes. Sonnets and other traditional forms are in her repertoire, and she marshals nearly all her poems in neat stanzas. In a 1990 radio interview with the British poet Clive Wilmer, Beer spoke of trying “to take traditional forms and make them more flexible, make them less of a stranglehold.” Somewhat unexpectedly, she also went on to mention the influence of Gerard Manley Hopkins, alluding to the movement of his verse and to his use of rhyme. Yet the most characteristic movement of Beer’s poems resembles informal speech, and few poets have

It is easy to read over the top of Beer’s poems, carried along by the conversational ease that is her preferred idiom. In fact a lot is going on under the surface of her wit, made into an open secret by her ability to deploy both irony

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PATRICIA BEER feared killer and when the local chemist and the village herbalist enjoyed considerable status. Whereas the doctor “stood aloof and unloved in his aura of medical endowment,” they “had more the endearing qualities of the magician” (p. 82). Matters were not helped by the hard start that Beer had, being prematurely born by two months and tongue-tied, so unable to feed properly. No doubt the dominant features of Beer’s childhood were her mother and—channeled and perhaps intensified by her mother—the Plymouth Brethren. She and they were the iron structures, and the strictures, of Beer’s early life: and it is small wonder that, as an adult, she would convert to Roman Catholicism. Her father, by comparison, appears lovable but weak and increasingly isolated—“Three Against One,” as one chapter heading describes it. Relatively little is said about Beer’s relationship with her sister, Sheila (it was Sheila who wrote on the gatepost of their house what was to become the memoir’s title), but the sisters clearly felt great solidarity: whether it was the family or the Brethren they were facing, they were alone in it together. Two of the book’s twelve chapters are given over to explaining the beliefs of the Plymouth Brethren—their insistence on rigid adherence to the Bible’s nostrums; their inflexible opposition to all worldly pleasures, not least the cinema and dancing; and above all their conviction that salvation was a matter of faith and election alone. No amount of good works could help. Mrs. Beer’s House also illuminates the writer’s own developing character, as in this revealing explanation of her early desire to be famous, conveyed with a nice note of selfdeprecation: “Certainly I felt the need to be famous; I cannot remember a time when I did not.ѧ If I were to become famous, really famous, world-famous, there would be a crowd outside the house as I lay dying” (p. 170). She is equally honest in describing her attitudes to education when she was about to go to Exmouth Grammar School:

been better at reproducing on the page the cadences of the spoken word. It is to the modest, sometimes apparently marginal adjustments and qualifications of conversational English that she entrusts her central observations. This can become a potent way of exploring experience, perhaps even of warding off some of its darker aspects. When it comes to affinities with other poets, Alan Jenkins mentions (in The Oxford Companion to Twentieth-Century Poetry in English, 1994) not only Stevie Smith but also, further back, Thomas Hardy and, further back still, nineteenthcentury hymns and medieval charms. Among Beer’s contemporaries, the ballads of Charles Causley and the wit of D. J. Enright have something in common with her work; her poems have also been compared to those of another contemporary, John Heath-Stubbs. But finally hers remains a distinctive and independent voice, notable for its tenacity and its capacity for reminding us of the slippery surfaces of life— their delights, but also what might underlie them in the way of history, paradox, or oddity.

PROSE

The first of Patricia Beer’s books of prose was Mrs. Beer’s House, published in 1968 and reissued ten years later. Subtitled An Autobiography of Childhood, it covers the first fourteen years of Beer’s life, from 1919 to 1933 (though for a number of years she would give the year of her birth as 1924). A powerful and vivid memoir, it operates successfully on three levels—as a family history, as an evocation of a particular period and place, and as an insight into the workings of the Plymouth Brethren. The picture that emerges of the coastal town of Exmouth, and of the nearby village of Withycombe Raleigh, where the family lived, is of a place and a society quite isolated—as indeed Devon was then. In this perspective, an outing to Exeter, ten miles inland, was virtually the equivalent of space travel. Beer lovingly recalls a visit to the city’s museum, the cathedral, and Deller’s café, locally well known. Equally telling is the chapter about health and sickness at a time when tuberculosis was a widely

It was now that the long, continuous and successful run of my free education began, with its ambition, its top-of-the-class, its scholarships and its examples to the other children. With my rigidity, my respect

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PATRICIA BEER of Metaphysical Poetry”: “What first strikes most readersѧ is the fact that so much of it, even after three hundred years and in spite of all the changes in language that such a stretch of time must bring, sounds like people actually talking” (p. 13). She gives a lucid account of the main elements of metaphysical poems—the use of meter and verse to enact emotion rather than contain it; the sense of argument and persuasion; the treatment of religious themes; a love of conceits and puns. There follow chapters on four individual poets—Donne, George Herbert, Henry Vaughan and Andrew Marvell. In each she gives close readings of particular poems that she takes as representative, measuring them against one another to test the definitions she has already put forward. This procedure works well, and again there are reminders of Beer’s own predilections, for instance when she praises Herbert’s “mental agility,” his “‘hopping’ technique” (p. 70), which shows the reader the movement of his mind. The same is true when she writes of Vaughan: “Greenness, growing plants, Spring, early morning, freshness after rain: all these things inspired both his life and his poetry” (p. 81).

for authority, my bookishness and my anxieties, I was admirably fitted to be a teacher’s pet, a swot, a conformer, and to profit as no rebel could have done from the educational methods of those days. (pp. 59–60)

The memoir concludes with the sudden death of Beer’s mother, almost as unexpected for the reader as it must have been for her husband and children. The poignant description of her last hours is justified by what has gone before and by Beer’s unsentimental attitude towards her parents: “After a lifetime of relatives and children, husband and wife were alone together at last.” (p. 235). Given the hold that the mother exercised over the family, it is unsurprising that she continued to live on in Beer’s poetry over the years. The ending of the memoir completes a circle, with father and daughters moving back to Torquay, repeating in reverse the journey made on the Starcross ferry years earlier when they had moved to Exmouth. Yet the closing sentence also leaves open the possibility of a sequel or continuation: “A sharp wind, which blew our black hats off, was coming across the estuary as we walked over the damp boards of the landingstage towards a side of the river that I have never liked” (p. 240). And, in fact, by the time of her death Beer had written, both in fictional and nonfiction versions, a continuation of her life story, “The Starcross Ferry.” It remains unpublished as yet. The first of Beer’s critical books, An Introduction to the Metaphysical Poets, came out in 1972 and was reprinted at either end of the 1980s. As the preface states, it is aimed at sixth-formers and first-year university students. Tracing the use of “metaphysical” to Dr. Johnson, who meant it disparagingly, she also distinguishes its implications by comparing an Elizabethan poem, Thomas Campion’s “When thou must home to shades of underground,” with John Donne’s “The Apparition.” In Donne’s poem Beer finds a greater closeness to the spoken language—“This question of the speaking voice is a key to much of the technique” (p. 11). The comment is an interesting one, given the conversational element in Beer’s own work. She emphasizes the point again in the chapter on “The Chief Characteristics

The concluding chapter, “The Metaphysical Poets and the Twentieth Century,” usefully considers these poets from more recent perspectives. Beer suggests that, following the Metaphysicals, poetry took quite a different path, and it was only with the arrival of modernism and the work of Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot that this kind of poetry once again found favor with readers. She goes on to examine contrasting pairs of poems—Percy Shelley’s “Ozymandias” and Ted Hughes’s “Relic”; Wordsworth’s “London 1802” and Thom Gunn’s “My Sad Captains”; another Wordsworth poem, “Gipsies,” and Pound’s “The Gypsy.” In each case she discerns in the more recent poem pronounced affinities with the Metaphysicals: greater fluidity and ambiguity, less regularity, a discernible stress or tension, the poet thinking as he writes and exploring his own mind. Beer adopted this comparative approach again years later in a lecture delivered at the British Library in November 1994, “The Truth of Imagination.” The poems she cites all play, in

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PATRICIA BEER one way or another, on the theme of home, and Shelley, Wordsworth, Pound, and Gunn all feature again, though with different poems. This time the method is less effective, partly because some of the poets chosen for comparison are inherently less interesting (for example Felicia Hemans and John Howard Payne, included for his poem “Home Sweet Home”) and partly because the lecture has a disproportionate amount of direct quotation in relation to informing comment. No such reservations apply to An Introduction to the Metaphysical Poets. Airy and clear, it presents an engaging outline of complex territory and encourages the reader to explore further. At her death Beer left a manuscript on the writing of poetry, intended for the use both of teachers and students. It, too, illustrates the points it makes by detailed reference to well-known poems, but to date this remains unpublished. Reader, I Married Him, perhaps Beer’s bestknown book, was published in 1974 and reprinted twice within three years. Subtitled A Study of the Women Characters of Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell and George Eliot, it falls squarely within the parameters of what the nineteenth century called “the Woman Question” a subject provoking quickening interest in the 1970s. Beer sets out her own position in a brief preface:

fected their attitude to “the Woman Question” and points to the fact that three of them “relied on the help of men in getting their work published” (p. 16). In the case of Jane Austen, the help (from her father) was not of great use, since, as Beer nicely puts it, he “displayed the lack of persistence in selling which springs from lack of faith in the product” (p. 16). And there were double standards in criticism and reviewing, with women writers all too often the victims of dismissive condescension. When Beer writes of George Eliot’s reservations about the position of women, she strikes a note particularly concordant with her own views: “Throughout her life she refused to commit herself to any women’s cause. Where wrongs existed she was neither ignorant nor unsympathetic: the plight of seamstresses and prostitutes engaged her full compassion” (p. 40). She goes on to detail Eliot’s moral and practical support for such causes as the Elizabeth Garrett Anderson Hospital, the Working Women’s College, and the founding of Girton College, Cambridge. Yet she Eliot had reservations: “They were the reservations of a mind too subtle and too reflective to take the kind of plain straightforward view on any of these issues that would lead to committed action” (p. 41). And Beer quotes a letter of October 1869 from Eliot to Mrs. Nassau John Senior, in which she makes no bones about it: “There is no subject on which I am more inclined to hold my peace and learn, than on the ‘Women Question’. It seems to me to overhang abysses, of which even prostitution is not the worst. Conclusions seem easy so long as we keep large blinkers on and look in the direction of our own private path” (p. 41).

The highly important and enjoyable books that have appeared in the last ten years both in England and America on the subject of Women’s Lib have one shortcoming. Whatever they may claim to do, in fact they treat literature as if it were a collection of tracts into which you dip for illustrations of your own polemic, falsifying and omitting as necessary, your argument being of more moment than the other person’s work of art. This rhetorical approach seems a pity as novels and plays are so much more illuminating if they are not used as a means to an end, either by writer or reader.

In the world of Jane Austen’s novels, as Beer sees it, women are “in a state of hope and expectation” (p. 45), but given that this has everything to do with their prospects for marriage, these are also “women in a state of competition, who exist in an element where solidarity could be fatal” (p. 46). Not that the male characters exhibit much solidarity either, Beer concedes. She is good on the importance of dancing in the plots of the novels and the way in which, in executing dance figures, “the women characters display their full characters” (p. 67);

(p. ix)

The independence of mind this suggests is amply borne out by the text. Close and incisive reading goes along with rejection of the formulaic and theoretical and a strong identification with the writers subject under consideration. An opening chapter considers how the biographical circumstances of the four novelists af-

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PATRICIA BEER points out, the sense of entrapment and claustrophobia that Brontë’s characters suffer does not altogether exclude ambiguity, as in Villette, where Lucy Snowe’s desire for liberation culminates not just in simple escape:

and she points out that “Austen invests dancing heavily with symbolism” (p. 68). If the men can be pretty unpleasant, there is also the sense that a kind of courtliness prevails, in however attenuated a form: “‘Teazing, teazing man!’ exclaims Elizabeth about Mr Darcy, and indeed the heroes do lead the heroines a dance” (p. 72). (But “Mr Darcy really is a Miss World judge,” Beer also writes, and you know what she means). The conclusion is characteristically moderate: “To talk of conflict between Jane Austen’s ideals for women and her basic acceptance of a maledominated society is perhaps to use too dramatic a word; but some sort of stress and ambivalence we do find—and must enjoy without asking more” (p. 82).

In the magnificent chapter at the end of the book where Lucy, drugged by her enemies, shakes off the sedative and breaks out of the pensionnat to wander through the streets and parks of Villette alone in a festive mob, she seems a heroine, the glorious prototype of all struggling imprisoned women, until we reflect that she is looking for the reactionary Paul Emanuel; she is looking for a man. (p. 126)

Beer goes on to view the work of Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, and Elizabeth Gaskell through the prism of religion. In the case of Gaskell, it is hard to exclude Beer’s own background when reading such observations as: “Formulae and abstractions were unsympathetic to her. She could not write a ‘social problem novel’ though she wrote about social problems, and neither could she write about anything less than the human realities of religion though in fact her experience, as born Dissenter and Dissenter’s wife, had given her plenty of material for something more theoretical” (p. 130). Beer’s detailed discussion of Mrs. Gaskell’s heroines and their relationship to such themes as prostitution, atonement, and honesty shows her critical method at its best. It is not that of the academy, but rather that of a curious and wellinformed reader. It also shows a fondness for the kind of elliptical language not out of place in the period she is considering, as when she writes of Jane Austen that “she seems at least not to have been plain to a degree that preys on a woman’s mind” (p. 2). At the same time she can be snappily contemporary, as in her occasional references to the satirical magazine Private Eye; Dorothea, she writes in the same vein when she is considering Middlemarch, “is destined to marry into Pseuds’ Corner” (p. 209). The final chapter, on George Eliot, considers what that writer has to say about creativity, the tyranny of husbands, and the search undertaken by many of her women characters for a fatherconfessor. Beer sees Eliot’s attitude to her

Charlotte Brontë (like Jane Austen, the daughter of a clergyman) proves to be a very different case, in part because of social changes and in part because of a difference in class. And of course Brontë’s characters are no strangers to the world of paid work. Austen and Brontë are both eloquent on the horrors of being a governess or teacher. Mansfield Park and Emma, on the one hand, Villette and Shirley on the other, offer very different views of female interests and accomplishments, but here too Beer insists that “Charlotte Brontë writes of individuals, each with her own frustrations and her own solution to them. She does not think in terms of a cause and can see no body of women to lead” (p. 88). Beer does, though, bring out the restlessness of Brontë’s characters and the ways in which it is expressed far more passionately—indeed, boldly and with resentment—than could be imagined in the world of Jane Austen’s characters. Once again Beer’s command of detail makes her commentary convincing, whether in writing of Brontë’s first novel, The Professor, or when considering the role of men as teacher, spy, or “tamer,” or reflecting on “the surprising amount of transvestism in the novels: surprisingѧin the sense of being in excess of the real demands of the plot” (p. 111). It also leads her to disagree firmly with the feminist conclusions drawn by Kate Millett, even though it is true that “In Charlotte Brontë’s world women expect and find objectionable attitudes in men” (p. 122). As Beer

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PATRICIA BEER but not before he has become an object of love to both Alice (to whom he becomes betrothed) and Rosalind. The war with Spain and in particular the gathering of the Armada to invade England are very much part of the story, from the warning beacon on the hill nearby to a vivid description of the sighting of the Armada itself as it heads east up the English Channel. Historical detail is generally managed competently, with references to, for instance, Dr. John Dee and Robert Dudley, and to Queen Elizabeth’s speech to her troops at Tilbury. But the force of the book resides in its knowledgeable and affectionate picture of country life. As well as an appreciation of the seasons and the natural world, there is a cast of characters that includes gentry, tenants and peasants, the village priest, and the local white witch, Mrs. Clapp. A suggestion of the theatrical is heightened by the set piece describing in detail the village pageant (this includes the verse dialogue between Saint George and the Dragon that later appeared in the 1983 poetry collection The Lie of the Land), and is further enhanced by the almost Shakespearean neatness of the novel’s ending, when, following the murder of Xavier by persons unknown, Alice is betrothed to Dick Pulman, a local farmer who has long been an admirer, while Rosalind is to marry Mr. Suckbitch, a sympathetically portrayed and apparently somewhat vague bachelor who is nonetheless himself a dilettante spy reporting to Sir Francis Walsingham in London.

heroines as much more distanced and dispassionate than is the case with Austen, Brontë, and Gaskell, with the possible exception of her characterization of Maggie Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss. By comparison with her fellow writers, Eliot comes across as more radical and in some respects more heroic. Yet, as the fatherconfessor figures in her novels suggest, it is to men that women often turn. Here, as throughout, Beer impressively clears her own path through the literary, historical, and political undergrowth. She is adept at seeing the conjunctions of the life and the work of her subjects, without deducing false analogies between the two. And in keeping with her preference for close reading and little or no theory, the book has no grand conclusion, just a point about Julius Klesmer, in Daniel Deronda, being “one confessor who does not fail” (p. 213). An apt coda to Reader, I Married Him came in a radio program broadcast in the summer of the year following the book’s publication. Entitled “An Imaginary Conversation between Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë,” it featured two well-known actors, Joan Plowright and Anna Massey. It takes the form of a sparkling dialogue, covering many aspects of “the Woman Question,” from the claims of tranquility versus passion for a writer, to the condescension shown to women writers and the possibility of paid employment and independence. It is skillfully sustained and shows Beer’s sensitivity to, and enjoyment of, the language of the time. Moon’s Ottery, Beer’s only published novel, appeared in 1978. Set in the writer’s East Devon heartland, it has her house, Tiphayes, appearing as Sparkhayes, and the village of Upottery transmogrified to Moon’s Ottery. The action, taking place from June 1587 to Spring 1589, centers on the lives and fortunes of Alice and Rosalind, the daughters of a yeoman farmer, John Mutter. Beer skillfully avoids the kind of archaism that is a common fault in historical novels, particularly in dialogue, by deploying the dialect idiom of East Devon, which has a timelessness about it and comes across as entirely convincing. The plot involves a mysterious Spaniard, Xavier, who is ultimately revealed to be a spy,

If Beer’s knowledge of and affection for East Devon form the engaging ground for the book, the novel also benefits from the same wry tone that informs her other work. Here Rosalind muses on her growing feelings for Xavier: It was not the shame of having a past passion recalled that she dreaded. She had never been in love before, but she had enough imagination to see how foolish a woman might feel when and if ever she fell out of love: how unattractive, how fat, how ill-chosen the object of her passion might now seem to herself and have seemed to others all alongѧ. She had read stories where those in love, for various quite credible reasons, gave no indication of their feelings, but she doubted if this happened in real life. Nobody had ever been in love with her, she was sure, but she was equally sure that if

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PATRICIA BEER in which she calls attention to Beer’s “casual, caustic humour” (p. xiv) and her independence of mind, her refusal “to be tribalised. Instead, her voice is that of the common-sense observer on the sidelines” (p. xv). She also quotes a comment about Beer by the poet Elaine Feinstein: “She was naturally downright—she never fudged or hedged—and her convictions rose from the attention she gave to whatever she read. Few reviewers offer so much pleasure to a casual reader” (p. xvi).

anybody had been he would have done something detectable about it. (p. 172)

Published in 2002, three years after Beer’s death, As I Was Saying Yesterday: Selected Essays and Reviews displays the scope of her interests and knowledge. All but two of the fifty-three pieces in the book are reviews, even if some of them extend into the idiom and length of essays. The earliest first appeared in January 1971, the latest in May 1999. Most were written for the Listener or the London Review of Books (there is a brief preface by Mary-Kay Wilmers, who worked at the Listener in the late 1960s and went on to become editor of the London Review of Books). The two pieces that are not reviews are an extract from Wessex: A National Trust Book (1985), with text by Beer and photographs by Fay Godwin, and an essay about her own Devon accent delightfully called “Furry Souls.” Here she recalls how, in her last year in the sixth form, she was told she would never get anywhere “with that accentѧ. So I went off to an elocutionist called Miss Rose Somebody. I suppose there are many possible ways of changing a person’s accent. Hers was to make me learn by heart a set of poems of riveting soppiness and recite them to her without a Devon accent” (p. 73). Beer professes herself quite at ease with people’s responses to her accent and, putting the matter into a literary perspective, quotes T. S. Eliot’s point about all poets writing in their own voice. But she sees herself now as in a limbo, caught somewhere between standard English and a residual Devon accent, so that the East Devon locals “obviously bracket me with the woman up the bungalows whose gnome rests eternally on its elbow and who comes from Potters Bar” (p. 76).

“On New Fiction” considers ten novels, eight of them written by women and two of them colonizing Jane Austen territory—Mansfield Revisited (1984) by Joan Aiken and Antipodes Jane (1984) by Barbara Ker Wilson. Beer sets about them uncompromisingly: “There should be a clinical word for those who cannot leave Jane Austen aloneѧ. The condition is increasingly common” (p. 11). And in fact she commandeers Rudyard Kipling’s coinage “Janeites” to describe the authors of such endeavors. As she observes in a review of David Cecil’s A Portrait of Jane Austen (1978), “Janeism is of course a religion, possibly the most flourishing in Britain today” (p. 165). Other fiction reviewed includes Lives of Girls and Women (1971) by Alice Munro, Muriel Spark’s Territorial Rights (1979), and Patrick White’s A Fringe of Leaves (1976)—all of these discussed with enthusiasm. Beer’s criteria as a critic soon become apparent: she sets much store by honesty, accuracy, the right scale and proportion. She has a scrupulousness that she appreciates in others. She is always alert to the aptness or otherwise of a title. The reader is given clear bearings. If there are times when her humor is caustic, she is never less than conscientious. Afflatus and grandiloquence are anathema to her: this is a voice one comes to trust. Yet the element of contingency built into the book’s genesis (and the understandable tendency of editors to give her bad books to send up as well as good ones to ponder) can look like something of a limitation, a matter of happenstance rather than a systematic indication of her own preferences. On the other hand, it could be argued that what emerges is a mosaic in keeping with Beer’s dislike of grand statements and

The book is divided into seven sections, each covering a separate theme, starting with “On New Fiction” and ending with “On Society.” There is something quaint about that “On,” even if it suggests essays more than reviews. More in keeping with Beer’s temperament is the title of the book, which she chose herself, though by the time of her death she had, it seems, only just made a start on the actual selection. That was completed by Sarah Rigby, who also wrote an introduction

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PATRICIA BEER translations in the book (“in translation it is often very difficult to catch the tone of the comment” p. 36) any more than the inclusion of “The Song of Deborah” from the Old Testament: “Heaven knows that women have always been allowed to prophesy, the sensitive other-worldly creatures, but I am willing to bet that the writer of the ‘Song’ was a man, and possibly inspired by the traditionally masculine Holy Ghost for good measure” (p. 36).

that her agreement to review given works itself indicates choices and preferences. Perhaps the most pertinent test comes in the nine reviews gathered in the section “On New Poetry,” dealing with Beer’s own center field. Some of the general points she makes are uncontentious, such as the importance of rhythm (a virtue she seeks also in prose) or her mockery of silly autobiographical notes in volumes of poems: “They are very vain. They testify to innumerable talents some of which would not be easy to combine, like weaving, playing the saxophone and taking part in a women’s revolution. They sprinkle great drops of ego all over us like somebody preparing a lettuce” (p. 44). In particular, here is approval of Norman MacCaig, Robert Lowell, Peter Porter, Kit Wright, and Peter Redgrove, as well as positive appreciation of the work of five American women poets nicely described as having “already published work— much of it clanking with awards” (p. 37). Beer has the ability to capture something of the essence of a poet in a single sentence, as when she writes of R. S. Thomas: “His attitude is the hoping-it-might-be-so of Hardy but without the charm” (p. 50).

Feminism and its possible effects are a considerable component in a number of the essays and come across as one of Beer’s main preoccupations. Reviewing Donald Davie’s book about English dissenters, A Gathered Church (1978), she even deploys the issue as a critical analogy, suggesting that what Davie has done “is very like getting up an anthology of poems by women. Neither religious belief nor gender has much to do with the ability to write. Obesity, say, or exceptionally bright red hair might have more” (p. 69). The longest piece in the book, about Rebecca West, defines feminism as propaganda, though “She does not go so far as to falsify the text, as more recent feminist writers have done” (here Beer’s animus against Kate Millett, focused on her reading of Villette, is repeated). Similarly, in “New Women” she refers to a Virago reprint (1980) of Sarah Grand’s The Beth Book (1897) as “a compilation, almost a manual, of stock feminist grievances, so predictable that it is not necessary to enumerate them” (pp. 92, 105). She gives rather more credence to the feminist view of some nineteenth-century novels put forward in The Female Imagination (1975) by Patricia Ann Meyer Spacks, as she does to Angela Carter’s The Sadeian Woman (1978). In “For a Lark,” Beer sympathizes with Cyril Connolly’s refusal to consider submissions to Horizon from women on the grounds that “their subject matter was too familiar, usually petty in itself and seldom presented with any degree of skill” (p. 184). “Slaves in Love,” a review of seven books about the situation of women, opens by suggesting boldly: “A man’s definition of a feminist is likely to be more interesting than a woman’s” (p. 189). Yet she does have a good opinion of Juliet Mitchell’s book Woman’s Estate (1971), with its

As well as reviews of books by single poets, there are also critiques of anthologies, seven in all, including a volume in the Faber Poetry Introduction series, The Oxford Book of Local Verses (1987), and collections of verse by gay men and lesbians. The most interesting of these pieces is “Songs of Women,” a review of The Penguin Book of Women Poets (1978). “I am a feminist,” writes Beer, “and yet I believe that;ѧthe three women editors;ѧhave in no way advanced the cause; and their preface suggests that they meant to” (p. 34). Beer argues that not only is it inadvisable to isolate women writers, but also an anthology such as this one “is a gratuitous demonstration of the fact that there never have been, and that there are not at present (the near future will, I think, be different in this respect) as many first-rate women poets as men poets” (p. 34). It also allows too great a tolerance of less than impressive poets: she instances an extract from “Aurora Leigh” by Edith Sitwell (a favorite target). Nor does she approve of the number of

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PATRICIA BEER analysis of what women’s liberation is up against. Later in the same piece, considering what women read, she resumes a more critical tone with the assertion that “most of what is written specifically for women—women’s pages, women’s magazines, women’s radio—is dreadfully bad. And women like it” (p. 192). None of this is likely to have appealed to those of Beer’s contemporaries who believed passionately that women still had to fight their corner in a male-dominated and inequitable society. Nor would academics of a certain stripe think much of the viewpoint evident in “Hippy Wordsworth,” in which Beer describes how she found herself reeling from a description of the George Eliot Centenary Conference—“where, it appears, structuralists, anti-structuralists and poststructuralists all flailed about trying to hit each otherѧ. I needed to turn to the concept that there are readers who peacefully enjoy the literature of the past, and if they want help, prefer something helpful” (p. 169). “On Religion” is, perhaps surprisingly, the shortest section. Though Beer maintained that religion was not a theme she addressed much, that view is not borne out by the amount of space devoted to the subject in Mrs. Beer’s House and its considerable presence in her poems. One of the essays here, “Happy Few,” reviews a book specifically about the Plymouth Brethren, Told in Gath (1990) by Max Wright. Beer enjoys herself, with a greater sense of relaxation and certainty than in her autobiography: distance lends amusement as well as disenchantment to the view. Here she is, for example, on the subject of the Brethren’s preference for extemporaneous prayer rather than a set liturgy:

The last two sections of the book, “On Lives” and “On Society,” show Beer at her most incisive, whether detecting the fraudulent or providing an interesting context for the books under review. They abound with the characteristic Beer tone, the way in which little qualifying phrases punch well beyond their weight: witness the wry opening sentence of her review of Roy Fuller’s memoir Souvenirs (1980), where she writes that he “both claims and demonstrates that he can remember very little about the events of his earlier life, which is in a way unfortunate as they are the subject of the book” (p. 135). It’s that “in a way” which does it. And the philosophical beginning of the piece reviewing biographies of Elizabeth Smart and Anne Sexton has a kick to it which the seemingly casual tone does not wish to disguise: Who deserves a biography? I suppose that in the eyes of God either everybody does or nobody. But in this imperfect world there is hot and eccentric debate as to who does or does not qualify. There are no objective criteria, it seems. The zeitgeist and not the Holy Ghost is the arbiter here on earth, and in the last few years one of its favorite subjects has been minor women writers who have quite recently died and on whom other women writers have become fixated. (p. 157)

One of the best and most considered pieces is “Two Hares and a Priest,” about the poet Elaine Feinstein’s Pushkin (1998), a reflective and cogent review likely to send the reader in search of the book. “On Society” includes, along with several demolitions—some of them carried out on such inviting structures as Dance Little Ladies: The Days of the Debutante (1977) by Margaret Pringle—an interesting piece about a compilation of women’s writing during the Second World War, Hearts Undefeated (1994), by Jenny Hartley. Beer alludes to her own time as an auxiliary land girl on a Devon farm, and makes the point that, contrary to what might have been expected, the war did little to break down class divisions and barriers. The reader may well be reminded of the sense of social hierarchies underlying much of what Beer writes about her family and the society of her time. If Beer’s humor can at times be

Their prayers were a ragbag of stale exhortations updated with topical sideswipes, addressed to those present in the flesh; informative remarks addressed to God, who often had to be reminded that it was Sunday; and any odd bits and pieces that were good for padding. This last was important in view of the essentially competitive nature of this kind of prayer. It had to be long-winded. It also had to be loud and determined, so often were two brethren guided to rise to their feet simultaneously, when it could become a trial of strength. (p. 61)

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PATRICIA BEER that, in some ages, the reclaiming of this territory could be more truly radical than loyalty to an increasingly attenuated avant-garde.

acidic or arch, she scores bull’s-eyes consistently, and there is much in these reviews and essays that is worth pondering.

CONCLUSION

“O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,” wrote T. S. Eliot in “East Coker.” The plunge into oblivion is striking enough in the case of many writers whose work seems to become largely invisible in the years immediately following their demise, even if some emerge sooner or later into the light of a posthumous reputation. At the time of writing it is too soon to know how well Beer’s work will wear in the longer term, particularly at a time of increasingly vehement relativities and of polarization, let alone the making and unmaking of reputations at an alarming pace. Despite her description of herself in an interview as “a rather wonky feminist” (in Poets Talking, Clive Wilmer, Carcanet, 1994, p. 61), she certainly has her place in the history of that movement and, though she reacted strongly against the corralling implicit in the notion of “women writers,” she did allow her work to be included in Fleur Adcock’s The Faber Book of Twentieth-Century Women’s Poetry (1987). With a national reputation, Beer also honored the local habitation of her roots in Devon; and to hear her read was and is a timely reminder of the role of the speaking voice in highlighting the “memorable speech” that is poetry. Perhaps the balance (or uncertainty) implicit in all this typifies the nexus of her work. She reminds us that the middle ground does not have to be a region of vapid compromise, and does so with verve and wit in language that is thoroughly accessible to the general reader. It may even be

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF PATRICIA BEER POETRY Loss of the Magyar and Other Poems. London: Longmans, Green & Co. Ltd, 1959. The Survivors. London: Longmans, Green & Co. Ltd, 1963. Just Like the Resurrection. London: Macmillan, 1967. The Estuary. London: Macmillan, 1971. Driving West. London: Gollancz, 1975. Selected Poems. London: Hutchinson, 1979. The Lie of the Land. London: Hutchinson, 1983. Collected Poems. Manchester: Carcanet, 1988. Friend of Heraclitus. Manchester: Carcanet, 1993. Autumn. Manchester: Carcanet, 1997.

PROSE Mrs. Beer’s House. London: Macmillan, 1968; reprint, London: Hutchinson, 1978. An Introduction to the Metaphysical Poets. London: Macmillan, 1972; reprints, 1980, 1989. Reader, I Married Him: A Study of the Women Characters of Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell and George Eliot. London: Macmillan, 1974; reprint, New York: Barnes & Noble, 1974. Moon’s Ottery. London: Hutchinson, 1978; reprint, Manchester: Carcanet, 1988. Wessex: A National Trust Book. Photographs by Fay Godwin. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1985. The Truth of Imagination. London: British Library, 1995. As I Was Saying Yesterday: Selected Essays and Reviews. Manchester: Carcanet, 2002.

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JIM CRACE (1946—)

Susan Balée Crace has been compared to magic realists such as Gabriel García Márquez and Jorge Luis Borges for the invented details of his settings, to nostalgic memorialists such as Marcel Proust for his forays into the past, and to social commentators such as Thomas Hardy for his exploration of class and culture in isolated communities.

W HEN J IM C RACE was nominated in 1997 for Britain’s most prestigious literary award, the Man Booker Prize, A. S. Byatt described him as England’s most significant fiction writer of the decade. However, despite the accolades of book critics, the first full-length work of scholarship devoted to Crace did not appear until late in 2006, a few months before his ninth novel, The Pesthouse (2007), arrived in bookstores. Happily, Philip Tew’s Jim Crace, published by Manchester University Press as part of its Contemporary British Writers series, requited the wait. This study provides a dense but satisfying stew of biography and literary analysis.

Moreover, almost all of the critics who write about Crace have noticed the poetic rhythms of his prose. One study, by the linguist John Constable and the mathematician Hideaki Aoyama, uses a scientific technique to prove that Crace writes not prose, but poetry. Crace, who acknowledges the rhythmic quality of his prose, nevertheless eschews comparisons to most other writers (although he willingly acknowledges the influence of the fabulists García Márquez and Salman Rushdie). Otherwise, he frequently points out to interviewers that his background is in journalism and that, though he reveres literature, he isn’t particularly influenced by most of what he reads. Thus, by his own account, his books aren’t the consequences of other writers’ narratives but are his own inventions—or, rather, inventions that somehow transcend Crace the person, the author at the computer monitor.

As Tew explains, and readers already know, Crace is hard to place in the literary landscape. Contemporaries such as Ian McEwan (b. 1948) and Martin Amis (b. 1949) can be pegged as social realists, Julian Barnes (b. 1946) as a contemporary satirist, but where does Crace fit? He seems dislocated from his peers, pursuing a different fictional goal. Tew synthesizes the comments of a variety of critics and interviewers, from Frank Kermode to Adam Begley, when he observes that Crace’s work is difficult to classify because it “derives from his mélange of fable, myth and parable set in a multiplicity of landscapes and cityscapes. The allegorical features, common to classical pastoral, extend these environments inferentially to those of the world, as do the details of interactions and immediate environment” (2006, p. 3).

As Crace put it in an interview with Andrew Lawless, he begins with an idea, then waits for the narrative to take over—to abandon him. “With writingѧyou’re wanting this intuitive thing to bubble up, and to lead the story to places you don’t expect it to goѧI love that moment of abandonment, when a story starts to take over and take its own direction.” Crace claims his stories have abandoned him to the point that they actually advocate positions he himself does not hold. For example, Crace was surprised that Quarantine (1997), his acclaimed novel about Jesus’ forty days in the desert, rang true for so

Reviewers consistently note the breadth of Crace’s imagination as well as the stylistic prowess of his prose. His highly original novels—he sets most of his stories in imaginary places “which sound authentic, that are more real than real” (Ross, pp. 101-102)—have made him a popular as well as a critically acclaimed author.

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JIM CRACE and ideas commensurate with the Middle Ages and a mighty desire to leave the country’s toxic earth and head back to the new promised land: Europe. Jim Crace has won numerous awards in his native England, including the Guardian Fiction Prize and the Whitbread award twice (once for his first novel, and again in 1997 for best novel of the year, for Quarantine). In America, Crace’s Being Dead won the prestigious National Book Critics Circle Award in 2001.

many religious readers. Crace, an avowed atheist, had no idea his book would strike such a spiritual note. Crace is also a political activist of a socialist bent, but he observes that his politics never color his stories. His primary interest is in the moment when change occurs in a community. In his first book, Continent (1986), marketed as a novel but really a loosely linked collection of seven stories set on an imaginary third world continent, advanced Western technology collides with the inhabitants’ primitive beliefs and lifestyles. The Gift of Stones (1988), set on a cold coastline during an invented version of the Stone Age, also depicts the moment when an old way of life is irrevocably displaced by a new. In this case, the appearance of bronze tools disrupts the culture of the “stoneys,” rendering their way of life obsolete. Arcadia (1991) treats the changes in a city’s commerce and architecture as an ancient outdoor marketplace is replaced by a sterile indoor mall. Signals of Distress (1994), which possesses the most conventional narrative of Crace’s novels (a historical novel lightly embroidered with invented facts), investigates the upheaval in a rural seashore community when the livelihood of its poorest members (kelp collection for soda ash) is erased by a new process invented by a French chemist. The novel, set in 1836, also explores the themes of slavery and emigration to the New World. Being Dead (1999) displays Crace’s most original narrative: a married couple is murdered on a beach, and the story moves both backward, to depict their lives before the day they died, and forward, to depict their deaths and then their bodies’ ongoing decomposition. A third narrative examines the effect of both their lives and their deaths on an estranged daughter. The Devil’s Larder (2001) is a compendium of short meditations on food, while Six (2003), published as Genesis in the United States, examines the nature of love and lust, sex and conception, and the protean nature of relationships between men and women. The Pesthouse (2007) imagines life in America long after a cataclysm has eradicated all technology. Citizens—if they can be called that, for there is no central government—have tools

LIFE

“I am not my own subject matter,” Crace told Adam Begley (2002). Jim Crace frequently tells interviewers that he is one of the least autobiographical writers they will ever meet, and yet the facts of his life—now finally known in some detail thanks to Philip Tew—underscore many of the themes that recur in his work: the tension between the urban and the rural, the attention to marginal spaces (the edge of town, the tideline, the end of one era and the beginning of another), an awareness of third world lifestyles and attitudes toward the West, the role of the storyteller in the community, the conflicts of class in every community, the isolation of the individual in a foreign community or a community to which he does not naturally belong. There are more, but these are the ones that can be found in nearly all of Crace’s books. Of course, no simple one-on-one correspondence exists between specific events and people in Crace’s life and the plots and characters of his novels, but the detailed knowledge Tew presents about his subject does enrich the critical appreciation of Crace’s work: Charting precise biographical coordinates or sources for Crace’s work is problematic, especially given Crace insistently proselytizes the dogma that his life is uneventful, his origins without particular distinction and that neither can help in situating the fiction. This may partly further explain his being marginal in academic criticism, especially as such claims are disingenuous; his fiction is permeated by specific lived experiences that provide the subtext of his workѧThat Crace appears almost too eager to

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JIM CRACE passed the national exams that track British students toward university, Crace left behind his working-class neighborhood to attend the selective Enfield Grammar School. Crace was suddenly marginalized both at home and at school. The kids back in his neighborhood resented his new, privileged status, and he could not talk to them about it without sounding like either a braggart or a fool. As he told Tew, “I was the only boy from the flats who went to the grammar school, and felt a little bit of a fraud thereѧI learnt very early on to hide that part of myself. Instead I became the comedian among those kids who went to the secondary modern” (2006, p. 8).

dismiss any biographical relevance, insisting on a total separation of his life and work, may derive from the secular Puritanism that characterizes the area in which Crace grew up, where that tradition is suspicious of notions of superiority, excellence and egotism (2006, p. 25)

This leads us to the first central fact of Jim Crace’s life: he is the son of two working-class parents. Though born in Hertfordshire on March 1, 1946, from six weeks of age on he grew up in Enfield, North London. Both his social and his physical place in the fabric of his era helped to make him the man and the novelist he is. His father, Charles Sydney Crace, was “a stalwart, a trade unionist, a socialist, a member of the Labour party, a paragon,” he told Sally Vincent in an interview for the Guardian (p. 40). Charley Crace was also a devout atheist, passing on an ardent lack of belief in God to his son. Crace’s mother, Edith (née Holland), was a homemaker and, as Crace said, taught him social skills. Crace’s childhood was spent in a groundfloor apartment in Enfield, on the very outskirts of London. The back of the building where Crace lived overlooked fields and forest and was adjacent to Forty Hall, a Jacobean manor house. As Crace described it to Nicholas Wroe, “Out of the front windows it was houses all the way to Croydon. But out of the back it was fields all the way to Cambridge.” Crace and his father often wandered in the woods near their home, and as Crace told Tew, “You cannot be in any doubt that I love landscape. My novels are full of it. Landscape is almost a character in them all.” He takes pains to clarify that his knowledge of landscape does not come from books, but from actually walking out in it: “That’s where I obtain my raw materials” (2006, p. 5). The marginal area between city and country where Crace spent his childhood is repeated frequently in Crace’s novels, where much of the action takes place on a strip of land beside the ocean (The Gift of Stones, Signals of Distress, Being Dead, a long segment of The Pesthouse) or in an area of a city that is marginal (Arcadia, Genesis). Jim Crace’s work also explores marginality in a social context, and this is explained by his school experiences. At age eleven, having

Meanwhile, at Enfield Grammar School, he was also relegated to the margins. The rich boys made him feel an imposter; he could not compete with their expensive clothes and social ease. He was passed over for positions of authority in the school, he told Tew, and, overall, he felt “rebuffed by my education” (2006, p. 9). Nevertheless, he followed the course charted by his own father, an autodidact. He absorbed culture, and with his father he attended new plays, art exhibits, and concerts. After graduation, he began to travel. In the fall of 1965, he began studying for an external University of London degree in English literature at Birmingham College of Commerce. He ran the student newspaper and got involved in political activism, and in 1968 he graduated with honors. Committed to radical politics at a time when French students were rioting in Paris and the Vietnam War was roiling America, Crace applied for work with the international development group Voluntary Service Overseas in Africa. During his time there, Crace wrote educational television scripts in Sudan and taught school in Botswana. The impact on his worldview was dramatic. He told Tew, “The whole business of being in Africa was essential” (2006, p. 11)—it offered him a new landscape to inhabit, a firsthand vision of racial politics in the third world, and a deep understanding of the effect of slavery and a colonial past on present-day Africa. Many of the themes, landscapes, and people that appear in his first book, Continent, can be traced to his sojourn in Africa.

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JIM CRACE the head, then you can come up with lies which are more powerful than any truth”—he did bring something with him from his two decades as a practicing journalist: discipline. He has told several interviewers of his work habits: At least five hours a day, every day, are spent in his office. He sets a five-thousand-word-per-week goal for himself and tries to achieve it between Monday and Friday. As for the words he writes, he described to Jean W. Ross “five impulses which form the basis of my fiction.” They are:

In 1970, he returned to England, settled in London, and began writing educational programs for the British Broadcasting Corporation. He reconnected with Pam Turton, the sister of a college friend, and they were married in January 1975. That summer, he published his first short story in the prestigious New Review, a literary journal edited by Ian Hamilton. The story, “Annie, California Plates,” was about a communal car used by a series of hitchhikers going back and forth across America. He published a few more stories, but his success with fiction had an ironic consequence: it offered him opportunities in journalism. From 1976 to 1987 he was a featured freelancer for the Telegraph and the Sunday Telegraph Magazine. Both periodicals were politically conservative, but the editors permitted Crace to find his own path on long articles about the effects of the Chernobyl disaster on Welsh farmers, about life on an oil rig in the North Sea, a travel piece on California’s Pacific Highway, interviews with rock stars, and a variety of other topics.

One, the simple pleasures of invention, of convincingly merging the real and the concocted, the mundane and the bizarre; two, an admiration for the disciplines of good journalism—clarity and depth of expression, orderliness of structure and design; three, a preoccupation with international issues and politics, and a disdain for the domestic; four, an instinctive preference for restrained and dispassionate prose which avoids sentiment and declamation but which takes its power from the narrative itself and not from authorial intervention; and five, a “fear-of-self” hostility towards political repression, conservatism, racism, sexism, Puritanism, officialdom, and rules.

By this time, Crace and Pam had two children; they lived (and still do) in Birmingham. As Crace was becoming increasingly successful as a journalist, selling all the nonfiction he could write, his fellow contributors from the New Review days had completed novels that they did not have the contacts to sell. Until 1986, Crace believed “fiction was a bourgeois indulgence. If you wanted to be involved in politics and writing, it had to be through journalism” (2006, p. 17). But then he found his voice as a fiction writer, and it was not the same voice he’d had as a journalist. Journalism’s first rule is a strict adherence to the truth, and Crace had always been scrupulous in sticking to it. Fiction offered a different path, and when Crace read a novel by García Márquez he had a “eureka” moment: “This guy is just making things up! I can do that. And I wrote Continent without any trouble at all. My voice wasn’t what I hoped it would be, but I had found it,” he told the Sunday Telegraph’s Helen Brown.

(CA, p. 99)

When he’s not working, he’s with his family, or walking the dog, or birding, or gardening, or enjoying and observing nature. As he takes pains to point out to interviewers, he lives a stable, albeit dull life. He will reiterate that his childhood was happy, he loved his parents (both now dead), and he’s still married to the same woman. In 1987, Crace sold the American rights to Continent for $40,000. In the same period, the Sunday Times pulled an article Crace had written about a riot in Tottenham because the editor felt Crace’s views were too left-wing and antipolice (Crace pointed out that innocent people had been convicted for provoking the violence). Fortunately, the American money enabled Crace to retain his ethical sensibilities. He left journalism and became a full-time novelist.

CONTINENT

Although Crace left behind a strict adherence to the truth—he told his interviewer Robin Pogrebin, “If you hit the [nail] of storytelling right on

Although called a novel, Continent is really seven stories linked by geography. The epigraph, by one Pycletius (an ancient historian invented by

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JIM CRACE Crace), reads: “There and beyond is a seventh continent—seven peoples, seven masters, seven seas. And its business is trade and superstition.” This seventh continent is a poor place—at some moments it seems like Africa, in others like parts of South America. It has a distinctly third world feel to it, and its people are largely rural and superstitious. “Talking Skull,” the first tale, is told from the point of view of Lowdo, a farmer’s son. A student in the city, Lowdo is an enigma to the fathers of his urban friends:

Lowdo is ridiculed in his own village for his lack of belief in the magic powers of the freemartin milk; he is called a “talking skull” by his father and others every time he attempts to enlighten them with scientific fact. Thus Lowdo, like Jim Crace as a boy, no longer fits in among the primitive mind-set of his home and is not quite comfortable in the intellectual realm of the city. Still, it is a friend’s father who reveals to him that Lowdo is not so alienated from the superstition that gives him his wealth as he may suppose. The man tells him, “All our business fortunes are based as much as yours on superstition. What is superstition but misdirected reverence? Your clients overvalue bogus milk. Ours overvalue transistors, automobiles, fashionable clothes, travel” (p. 19). So is the epigraph of Continent realized in this and the stories that follow.

Your fathers shake their heads and marvel at my watch and bracelet and expensive clothes and extravagant education. If they could see me now, fellow students, on a mule among my neighbors, answering their greetings, skirting their lethargic cattle, then they would wonder even more at the source of my riches. Would they welcome me into their homes in this stiff tunic and peasant hat? Would they welcome my father if he came to town?

Each story in the collection emphasizes a different moment of dislocation and estrangement. “The World with One Eye Shut” is a Kafkaesque tale of a man imprisoned in a totalitarian state; he can look out his cell window if he presses half his face against the wall and shuts that eye. “In Heat” describes a journey made by an anthropologist and his wife to study a group of primitive people in the forest whose women all get pregnant at the same time. Tew observes, “This tale involves recurrent Cracean themes: the juxtaposition of nature and scientific concerns, their opposing accounts of the world” (2006, p. 51). “Sins and Virtues” is the story of an old calligrapher, a “sin lister” who writes down people’s Sins and Virtues on a parchment that is then burned at their funerals. Visitors from the civilized world, however, have discovered his calligraphy and proclaimed it art. Soon forgers are copying his work and selling it to museums in America. The sin lister’s last authentic work is his own catalog of Sins and Virtues. He writes in his country’s untranslatable language, “Talent shares its box with Deceit, the same word in Siddilic for Forgery. ‘ALL THIS WORK IS FALSE,’ I have written and decorated in gold” (p. 100). He does not sign the list and only he and the reader know what the words mean. Without his signature, the document will be sold cheaply,

(p. 7)

Lowdo’s prosperity derives from superstition and a chimera of nature—the freemartin cow. Crace is fond of inventing new species, but freemartins actually exist and are well-known to ranchers. Freemartins are sexually ambiguous heifers; they are always born twinned with a bull, and the male’s hormones masculinize the twin in utero. Lowdo’s father has made his fortune selling the milk (the story remains ambiguous as to whether freemartins can actually produce milk—Lowdo, trained in science, repeatedly says they cannot—or if Lowdo’s father simply pretends they do) to peasants who believe the milk promotes fertility and virility. In this story, Jim Crace first reveals his penchant for graphic, visceral description (a penchant that will reach its highest point—or lowest, depending on one’s perspective—with descriptions of the murdered protagonists of Being Dead). Thus, a close-up view of the freemartin’s nether regions: Her genitals are badly malformed, her vagina wide and explosed with an enlarged clitoris and a stringy tuft of vulval hair. Her udders are undeveloped. A fold of skin—a rudimentary penis—runs from her udders to her navel. She is a freemartin, the malformed, cursed, and sexually disruptive twin of a bull calf. She is the warped demon of fertility. (p. 8)

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JIM CRACE though it is the most valuable of his pieces, the true piece of art.

has invented, and can find nothing valuable for the mineral company among the earth samples he tests. (Fans of Herman Melville will recognize a “Bartleby the Scrivener” quality to the futility of his daily labors.) However, within the realm Adam Begley named “Craceland,” the descriptions of the layers of rocks foreshadow similar stony descriptions in The Gift of Stones: “The clays of the valley consorted with the volcanic earthsѧFlints jostled sandstones, topsoils ran loose among clods, the rounded pebbles of the riverbed bubbled in the wasteland shales. He was struck how—held and turned in the daylight— each stone was a landscape” (pp. 130–131). The company agent begins to believe the earth should be left undisturbed, that the discovery of gold, agate, topaz, or silver will destroy the landscape he has come to love. So he reburies the samples and hides up in the hills. By the time he has regressed into his primitive, ancestral self, there’s a clear image of the next novel Crace will write: “He was naked. There were no clothes. He squatted on his haunches and chipped at flints. Someone had caught a hare—but nobody yet knew how to make fire, so its meat was ripped apart and eaten raw” (p. 136). As Crace explained to Tew,

Perhaps the most striking story in the book is “Electricity.” Crace describes how electricity is introduced in a rural village. The consequences, both funny and tragic, will remind readers of García Márquez and other magic realists. The hotelier who is to get the first electricity installs an airplane propeller as a ceiling fan. When the switch is flipped, the electricity comes on and disaster ensues. Some of the best prose in “Electricity” illustrates another Cracean skill—the personification of objects. Just as Crace will liken a city to a body in his later novel, Arcadia, the house the electricians wire is similarly humanized: “They bury flayed mechanical limbs of wire deep into the wall plaster. They handle the tendons and sinews, the long red arteries, the blue veins, with the intimacy of surgeons” (p. 107). The underlying narrative is that of Frankenstein: when the power is turned on, the house will come to life, light, and tragedy. As John Blades said in his review of Continent, “Crace’s prose is elliptical rather than explicit, instead of fully mapping out his continent, he leaves readers’ imaginations to explore its deeper mountain clefts, its shadowy valleys, its hidden psychological recesses” (Chicago Tribune Bookworld, p. 3). Continent went on to win four major literary prizes, including the Whitbread award for a first novel. If the landmass associated with these tales could never be identified, Crace, at least, was firmly located on the literary map.

It’s the one piece I’ve written that I’ve done in a complete reverie. All the other pieces were cunningly conceived by me—I don’t use the word cunningly to polish my own medals as it were—but consciously conceived would be a better word. Whereas I was possessed when I wrote “The Prospect from the Silver Hill.” I’m very fond of the memory of the writing of that piece. (2006, p. 58)

So fond, perhaps, that he pursued that image of the company agent’s ancestral self into a book set in the Stone Age. Surely the storyteller who is the main protagonist of The Gift of Stones is a very similar character. And this narrator also has a physical deformity, which Crace describes with graphic glee. Indeed, the first paragraph of the novel begins:

THE GIFT OF STONES

The last story in Continent foreshadows a major theme of Crace’s 1988 novel The Gift of Stones. “The Prospect from the Silver Hill” is about a mineral company’s agent assigned to a remote hill region to identify the ores and stones found there. Lonely, sad, and insomniac, the agent becomes isolated from the workers he encounters as they begin to recognize that he is going crazy. He kisses boulders, speaks of a wife and child he

My father’s right arm ended not in a hand but, at the elbow, in a bony swellingѧIts skin was drawn tight against the bone and tucked frowning into the hole left by the missing lower joint. The indented scar was like those made in the ice by boys with

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JIM CRACE issue of the New Republic). Far more numerous are those critics who praise his work, such as Perry Glasser, who said of The Gift of Stones: “Crace’s language, crackling with sensory detail and intensely imagined, achieves the kind of effortless ease that comes only with extraordinary work and careѧPoetry lurks in this prose.”

stones—a small uneven puncture, wet with brackish pus. (p. 1)

This wounded arm, seeping pus that its owner describes as “unsummoned semen [that] had found less rewarding outlets from his body” (p. 1) is the reason the narrator’s father has become the community’s storyteller. He cannot work the stone with only one hand, but he can tell stories to the knappers as they chip and shape the flints. In this way, he still has a niche in their society, a purpose and a value despite his missing arm. (It is also worth noting that Crace’s father, Charley, also had a deformed arm, withered by a childhood illness. The injury to his arm forced him to leave school but also set him on the path of selflearning—a gift he obviously passed on to his son.) And by the end of the novel, when the stoneworkers are rendered obsolete by the invention of bronze tools, the storyteller has the task of inventing a future for them. Brad Leithauser, in his review of the novel, noted, “a commendable respect and affinity for physical labor radiates from The Gift of Stones” (Washington Post Book World, p. 3). So does respect for the intangible creations of the storyteller. As the daughter says of her father, “Salute the liars—they can make the real world disappear and a fresh world take its place” (p. 64). Obviously, novelists are among the world’s greatest liars, and every time we immerse ourselves in one of their creations, the real world disappears for us readers. Crace seems at last to be acknowledging that his day job has some value, even if it’s not journalism or politics. Another reviewer, Lowry Pei, disliked the novel, finding Crace’s descriptions of the landscape and the people “consistently, aggressively sour.” Indeed, critics who dislike Crace’s work tend to dislike it for the same reasons: they find his visceral descriptions of deformed or diseased (or dead) bodies disturbing and off-putting. Or they fault him as a cold and clinical technician—a master craftsman working without emotion. They find his narrative devices too tricky or his plots too schematic. However, the voices of Crace critics are few (although occasionally strident, such as Dale Peck’s “hatchet job” on Crace in a 2001

Love remains elusive (and illusive) for the storyteller, and this too is a trait he shares with other Crace characters. As this theme recurs in so many of Crace’s books, it may be worth describing it in some detail here. The storyteller’s failure to physically consummate his relationship with Doe, the woman he desires (and the mother of the woman who calls him Father), is due to her disdain for him. Similar disdain animates female characters in Crace’s other novels—Signals of Distress and Being Dead in particular—as they react to male protagonists portrayed as both foolish and physically unattractive. Even in Genesis, a novel about a successful actor’s sex life, the main character does not easily seduce women— his insecurity and his cowardice occasionally unman him. Felix Dern of Genesis, like the storyteller from Stones, Aymer Smith of Signals, and Joseph of Being Dead, is obsessed with sex but poorly versed in love. Further, all these characters are described as lonely masturbators, lending a Uriah Heep quality to their personalities—an attribute not likely to make them more attractive to the women in the stories (or to women readers for that matter). Franklin Lopez, the protagonist of The Pesthouse, comes closest to being a truly likable male character. Franklin loves Margaret as much as the storyteller loved Doe, but Franklin’s love is requited. He is attractive in a number of ways, and Margaret is drawn to him. Still, Crace doesn’t let these two characters consummate their relationship in the course of the novel, so the romantic promise of their characters is ultimately unfulfilled. Indeed, if Crace is coy about anything, it’s romantic love. Although The Pesthouse has its tender moments, Crace has yet to write a novel that treats this great human emotion as anything other than ridiculous and awkward or a shallow disguise for lust. Nevertheless, he writes superbly

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JIM CRACE about craftsmanship and about landscape and objects in the landscape. The Gift of Stones makes a present of worked stone to the reader:

cally, “Arcadia.” Ironies abound in this novel, for it is Victor, the son of a beggar who survived thanks to the leftover orts of the Soap Market and the kindness of shoppers there, who decides to erect the sterile arcade in its place. The tale begins with Victor, at eighty, a billionaire who only sees the city from the top of his skyscraper, deciding to reconfigure it to suit his own designs. Other characters include Rook, a former “soapie” who is now Victor’s assistant; Joseph, a farm boy who escapes the drudgery of rural life to lose himself in the city; and Em and Aunt, Victor’s mother and aunt, and their story of nearly a century previous, when Victor was the baby at his beggar mother’s breast. As Richard Eder emphasizes in “The Phantom of the Market,” the characters in Arcadia “are abstract figures in a social parable.” Certainly, it is difficult to find a character to sympathize with among this crew. Eder commends the novel’s “compelling tone and vision,” but notes it “lacks the strength of Stonesѧbecause its communal story is less moving and more constricted” (Los Angeles Times Book Review, pp. 3, 12). Indeed, the one character worth caring about is the city itself. In an interview with his biographer, Philip Tew, Crace reveals that Jane Jacobs’s books, the best-known of which is The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961), were a major influence on him as he wrote Arcadia. Jacobs decries the destruction of vibrant neighborhoods when shopping or cultural centers are built in their midst. The communal life of the streets is disrupted by the sterility of buildings whose activity is all on the inside. Crace told Tew, “She certainly expressed in non-fiction exactly what I wanted to say in fiction, so I won’t pretend I didn’t raid her cynically and thoroughly” (2006, p. 77). Jacobs and Crace emphasize that cities are necessary for modern culture. They have resources that cannot be found in the country; indeed, they are the destination points for rural people—the place to find work and, also, anonymity. This is its main attraction for the country boy Joseph. As he loads boxes of produce on a train bound for the city, he muses: “His was

Today the master’s dream came true. He found a flint which had the colours of this leaf. It was an oak in stone. He shaped it with the bays and the headlands of this leaf. You see the stem and veins? You see the curling stalk? Leaf made them all in stone. He made the flint so light and thin that it began to rustle like a winter leaf disturbed by wind. (p. 63)

The master stoneworker, Leaf, is so skilled with his anvil and hammer that the storyteller’s listeners believe he might truly be able to carve a leaf from stone. Crace can certainly conjure one with the specificity of his description. In an interview with Tew, Crace describes an experience in the British Museum that grounds The Gift of Stones. Crace and his son were looking at “worked flint heads, some of them incredibly beautiful. I remember saying how lacking in sophistication that world must have been, but I was deceiving myself. Those displayed in front of me were beautifully workedѧperfectly symmetrical and done with immense skill” (2006, p. 61). Crace goes on to note that “any damn fool could make an arrowhead out of metal by pouring some hot metal into a mould and then letting it dry,” but finding and cutting the flint required immense talent and sophistication. Crace likens the obsolescence of the “stoneys” in his tale to that of the “metal bashers” in his adopted city of Birmingham. He wonders “how a city that has lost all its pride and selfesteem at being a working city, not a cultural one, would reinvent itself” (2006, p. 62). Perhaps it’s not surprising that The Gift of Stones ends with the stoneys’ future as yet unwritten and that Crace’s next book would be about a city reinventing itself.

ARCADIA

This novel tells the story of the Soap Market, an open-air produce market deep in the medieval heart of an old city, that is ultimately replaced by an enclosed glass shopping mall called, ironi-

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JIM CRACE Nevertheless, as Eder underscores in his review, “Crace catchesѧthe rhythms of growth, of organic life, in the city.” And the novel ends with the rarely seen narrator, the Burgher, once a newspaper columnist and now Victor’s biographer, daring to eat a pear and celebrating the life of the city he has observed for three hundred pages: “There is a little sun which falls directly on my face, my shirt, the damaged pear. I eat it now. I eat it now. The eye, the core, the stalk are given to the pavement, and flattened by ten thousand feet, as everyone is flattened by the town when they are done, when they are waste” (p. 309). And, after all, the organic death in the urban setting isn’t really so bad. The last two lines of the novel read: “My tongue’s kept busy by the scrap of pear skin lodged between my teeth. That’s all that stops me sucking in our city air, and whistling” (p. 311).

a rural face. But his body, give or take a scar or two, was smart enough for town. He dreamed of the day when he would press his own nose to the steamy glass and glide away on the Salad Bowl Express.” Joseph seeks the privacy he knows he will find in the city. “His neighbors would be strangers. They’d hardly nod. He’d be a mystery to them. They’d only know the things he chose to tell” (p. 31). Of course, readers know how often country folk come to a bad end when they migrate to the city. The story of Victor’s mother, forced to take her baby to the city after her husband dies and leaves her penniless, is such a tale. Indeed, there is an entire subgenre of eighteenth- and earlynineteenth-century literature cautioning rural emigrants about the dangers of city life. And for those who could not read, the illustrations of William Hogarth informed them of the pitfalls they would face; Hogarth’s most famous series of etchings are about innocents destroyed or perverted by the city. The two that most apply to Arcadia, however, are The Harlot’s Progress (1731–1732) and The Beggar’s Opera (c. 1728). As Tew points out, “town and country oppositions multiply” (2006, p. 80). The bucolic country life Victor’s mother invents—“Em looked back upon the village she had known. She made a tinseled paradise of it” (Arcadia, p. 105)—is no more real than Joseph’s imagined life of leisure in the anonymous city. Both city and country have virtues and vices. However, Crace points out that cities have one allure the countryside cannot trump: “We flock in to the city because we wish to dwell in hope. And hope—not gold—is what they pave the cities with” (Arcadia, p. 240). Perhaps because the city was the best-drawn character in Arcadia, reviewers had mixed feelings about the novel. In addition to the usual lauding of Crace for his virtuoso prose style, some critics found the unnamed city to be stereotypical of a comic book setting. Crace acknowledged to Tew that Arcadia “was a book in which I relied on outside sources more thoroughly, because I didn’t have the background to write this book without undertaking that kind of reading” (2006, p. 89).

SIGNALS OF DISTRESS

Crace’s next novel displayed a lighter touch—or, as Merritt Moseley says in his entry in the Dictionary of Literary Biography, “the human and the humorous are more fully developed”—than Arcadia and the critical reaction to Signals of Distress (1994) was overwhelmingly favorable. The novel is, in form, a literary historical novel. Set in 1836, Signals focuses on a community of people who live on a remote English coast whose port is called Wherrytown. This community is comprised of fishermen and kelpers—poor people who gather seaweed, then burn it for its ash, which is sold to make soap. A storm drives aground The Belle of Wilmington, an American vessel, just off the coast. The Belle is carrying not only its American sailors but also a slave named Otto and four hundred head of cattle. The cattle escape to the dunes, and the sailors put up at the town’s only inn to wait for their ship to be repaired. Meanwhile, a steamship has also brought Aymer Smith to Wherrytown. Smith’s family owns the soap-making firm that buys ash from the town’s kelpers, but kelp is no longer needed for the ash: a French chemist has discovered a cheaper and more effective way of making the soda ash. Aymer, who fancies himself a philan-

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JIM CRACE thropist and an emancipator, has chosen to come to the town to inform the families himself that their livelihoods are lost. Aymer Smith’s heart is in the right place, but no one likes him. His own brother deems him “a waster and a fool” (p. 20). Even Crace seems to enjoy pointing out his main character’s hypocrisy. When Aymer tells the dinner company at the inn that he won’t eat sugar, “sugar being the consequence of slavery” (p. 53), another character points out that Aymer insisted on having sheets on his bed, which, made from cotton, are also the consequence of slavery. Aymer does set Otto the slave free, but, ironically, he sets him loose in a winter landscape without proper clothing, food, or language, and his missing presence haunts the rest of the novel.

On the beach the living kelp was as polished and as leathery as a prince’s boot, in mustards, crimsons, purples, tans. In the shallows, where the tide was frowning white round rocks and bars, the deeper kelps and wracks spread darkly on the surface, or danced arabesques in undulating groves of weed, like spirit-women at a ball in heavy satin frocks. (p. 79)

Crace has seen his share of seaweed, obviously, and with a naturalist’s eye. But he’s equally good at describing something he’s never seen, except in his mind’s eye: Heѧcame at last into the corner of a field that had been tilled and turned for winter. It looked at first like a landscape of ten thousand lakes; the mountains were the ridges in the earth; the valleys, furrows; the narrow pools, each shaped like icy mouths, reflecting all the silver in the sky. Again, it looked as if some fairy silversmith had dropped a cargo of brooches, or tried to plant the soil with polished, metal leavesѧThe field was full of fishѧa four-acre crust of earth and a shoal of pilchards staring at the moon, their eyes as dead as flint, their scales like beaten tin, their fraying fins and tails like frost, their flesh composting for the next year’s crop.

Aymer also develops a crush on a fellow traveler at the inn—Katie Norris—who, with her husband, is planning to travel on The Belle of Wilmington to Canada to start a life in the New World. Katie is polite, although she can’t stand Aymer, and the latter’s lusty thoughts give him the idea to ask another girl, the robust young kelper Miggy Bowe, if she will marry him. In Dickensian fashion, Aymer convinces himself that the union would be a wonderful thing for Miggy: “He could liberate the girl. What better dowry could there be? He’d break her chains of poverty” (p. 76). Of course Miggy has no interest in Aymer—she loves a young American sailor— but Crace has fun mocking the pretensions of the “virgin and masturbator” (p. 23). As Richard Lane notes in “The Fiction of Jim Crace: Narrative and Recovery”: “The protagonist is a humanist, someone who thinks he cares, but is revealed to be a pompous prig out of touch with the world he wants to save” (p. 27). In other words, Crace has once again invented an unlikable man as his primary character. Although Crace tells Tew his method for humanizing unsympathetic characters “is to see that person in an intimate relationshipѧwith his trousers off” (2006, p. 83), this doesn’t really work for Aymer Smith. Meanwhile, critics lauded the book despite the main character. Indeed, the descriptions of the landscape are predictably magnificent. The worthless kelp becomes beautiful in Crace’s rendering of it:

(pp. 174–175)

As Crace gleefully told the interviewer Michele Field, “I wouldn’t know a pilchard if it fell in my lap.” Nevertheless, the fish in the field emphasize what Crace does so skillfully: he dislocates objects and people from their natural environments. Dried seaweed is nothing like the living kelp. Half the people in Wherrytown don’t belong there—they are, as Crace explained to Tew, “washed up on the shores of this place where their culture, and their attitudes and their responses don’t really gel. The American sailors, Aymer himself, certainly Otto, and even the cattle themselves, are all dislocated” (2006, p. 97).

QUARANTINE

This 1997 novel, about Jesus’ forty days in the Judean desert, earned rave reviews from critics and readers and two major literary prizes: the Whitbread Book Award for best novel and the Writers’ Guild Best Fiction Book. Quarantine

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JIM CRACE to the scientific revolution.” In his interview with Andrew Lawless, Crace explained further: “I’m very aware that no matter what I’ve said about my views on religion, there’s a deep ambiguity, in me and my books, that shows through about spirituality.” The ambiguity, however, is what critics praised.

was also short-listed for the Booker Prize. In the novel, Crace explores the ancient practice of “quarantine”—forty days of chosen isolation to fast and meditate. Jesus is just one of several characters who have come to the wilderness—the Hill of Temptation, an actual spot in Jericho where Christ is supposed to have holed up in a cave to pray and reflect. Among the other pilgrims to the cave-riddled hill, one character is mad, another is barren, and two—the trader Musa and his abused wife, Miri—are not even pilgrims at all. They have been left in the desert by their caravan because Musa was near death and unable to travel. While Miri is out digging her husband’s grave (relieved that her oppressor will soon be dead), Jesus arrives at Musa’s tent and asks the barely conscious man for a sip of water. Jesus “laid his hand on Musa’s chest and pressed so that the devil’s air expressed itself and filled the tent with the odour of his feverѧ[Jesus] tipped a little water on Musa’s cheeks and lipsѧHe shook the water from his hands over Musa’s face, a blessing. ‘So, here, be well again,’ he said, a common greeting for the sick” (pp. 25–26). And Musa is brought back to life. Unfortunately, it may be the devil that Jesus has reanimated, for when Musa regains his strength, he has lost none of his cruelty.

The Christian writer Bruce Bawer wrote in his Washington Post review that Quarantine was “immensely impressiveѧa tour de force, a garment expertly tailored from materials of the highest quality.” (Washington Post Book World, p. 5) Certainly, the novel Crace intended to write, debunking Jesus’ desert experience—on the very rational basis that no one can survive forty days without food or water—became a very different book by its end. Jesus is not even the novel’s main character for most of the book. As Tew observed, “Crace’s skepticism explains why initially he focuses not on Christ, but rather on the feverish Musa” (2006, p. 118). Musa in this book is the true believer—he is convinced that a “spirit” revived him. However, as Scott Bradfield put it in an Observer review, “Musa, like Satan, provides the ultimate con-man and dissembler.” In the course of the novel, Jesus finally recognizes that Musa is the devil sent to tempt him. Musa tries to give Jesus food and drink, which he will not accept. His bodily sufferings— loose teeth, suppurating wounds, swelling legs, cramps, thick blackening tongue—echo the visceral descriptions of the beaten donkey. Dreams and reality become interchangeable as Jesus suffers, and this may inform the “hallucinatory” quality so many reviewers praised in the book. Tew writes, “There is something grotesque in [Jesus’] death, in Musa himself and in his appropriation of the death’s symbolic potential” (2006, p. 132).

One of the first things he does is beat a donkey to death. The graphic descriptions of this violence are familiar to Crace’s readers (and such descriptions reach their apogee in his next novel, Being Dead): “Her face was fruit. It bruised and split and weptѧHe knocked her top front teeth into her mouth. They cracked out of her gums like stones from apricots” (p. 37). Musa goes on to trick and deceive the other pilgrims, breaking virtually all of the Ten Commandments. Meanwhile, he longs to see Jesus again, to lure him from the remote cave he’s chosen beneath a cliff. The reviewers Frank Kermode in the New York Times, Jason Cowley in the London Times, and John Updike in the New Yorker all used the word “hallucinatory” to praise the narrative power of Quarantine. Brooke Allen in the New Criterion noted that Crace’s atheism was not strong enough to counter “the power of the Christian narrative,” which has “proved resistant

Perhaps inspired by death’s symbolic potential, Crace focused his next—and in many critics’ opinions, his best—novel on exactly that subject.

BEING DEAD

In an interview with Ron Hogan for the online magazine Beatrice, Crace acknowledges that the

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JIM CRACE each division is less discrete” (2006, p. 137) than Begley surmises. Tew also makes sense of the grotesque imagery that might finally explain its routine occurrences in so many of Crace’s novels. Insofar as such imagery is pervasive in Being Dead—a novel overtly about death—it would be disingenuous for a Crace scholar not to attempt to analyze it here. Readers are smacked in the face with the aftermath of violent death, with descriptions such as this one of Celice:

genesis for Being Dead (1999) came while he was writing Quarantine: Thinking about the bleakness of my own atheism, and the inadequacy of the old fashioned kind of atheism when the big events of life—especially death—came along, made me want to see whether I could come up with a narrative of comfort, a false narrative of comfort, but one that could match the narratives of comfort religions come up with to get you through death and bereavement. (Hogan, 2000)

Thus, Being Dead opens within moments after a middle-aged couple, Joseph and Celice, have been murdered during a weekday trip to the coast. They have been murdered among the dunes while having sex. Crace underscores the saying that no one can ever see into someone else’s marriage. Their colleagues had almost never seen the two scientists together or visited them at home: “How unexpected, then, that these two, of all couples, should be found like this, without their underclothes, their heads caved in, unlikely victims of unlikely passions” (p. 1). The extremely clever narrative strands, which move both backward into the lives that led them to this moment and forward into the disappearance of their physical bodies from the world’s stage, try to answer both the spiritual and the physical questions death raises. The novel is a tour de force of narrative. It was short-listed for the Whitbread award for novel of the year and it won the American National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction. Amid the rave reviews it received was one in the autumn 2000 issue of the Hudson Review ,which predicted, “[Crace] will probably be the writer who defines this era for a future generation” (Balée, p. 513). Crace’s manipulation of narrative time is unprecedented. Adam Begley describes it best in “A Quiet Brit’s Loud Talent: Jim Crace’s Corpse Comedy.” Crace sets up “a kind of necrometer: It runs forward from the instant of death to the discovery of the bodies by police dogs six days later; it charts decay and the necrophagous activity of beetles, birds, crabs and rodents; and it monitors, also, the half-hearted search conducted by the dead couple’s disaffected daughter.” Philip Tew unpacks Begley’s analysis and concludes that “the novel is more complex and

Her hair was matted with wet blood and the syrup of her brain. One cheek was flattened by the pounding impact of the granite. Two teeth were cracked, longways. Her facial artery, that superficial lifeline from the carotid, which climbed over her lower jaw to supply the colour to her cheek and feed the brain with oxygen, had been torn in two. Blood had spread across her throat and shoulders and soaked invisibly into her summer jacket. There were dark patches on the grass and sand. Blood does not keep its livery for long. Celice was blackening. (p. 38)

Tew invokes Wolfgang Kayser’s The Grotesque in Art and Literature to explain the bloody descriptions. Kayser, writing in 1957, said, “The art of our day shows a greater affinity to the grotesque than that of any other epoch” (quoted in Tew, 2006, p. 11). One can make a case that both popular and high culture have been increasingly focused on the body since then. Television shows in the early twenty-first century ubiquitously treat bodily trauma—either to the living body (House, Grey’s Anatomy, Scrubs), or manifested by the dead body (CSI, Bones, Cold Case Files). Major art exhibits including, among other grotesqueries, a decaying cow corpse under glass and close-up photos of fly-blown vomit appeared throughout the 1990s and into the new millennium. In the early 2000s, the German anatomist and self-described “plastinator” Gunther Von Hagens mounted a traveling show of flayed corpses, tweaked into sculptural poses supposedly designed to show particular muscles at work or the effects of fatal diseases. Vast numbers of tourists paid to see the exhibition, Body Worlds, at every city it visited. (The show also drew legal censure from countries that have strict anatomy laws, such as England.) However, some visitors in

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JIM CRACE every city were also offended by what they saw as a grotesque mockery of death and mistreatment of corpses. Hagens, for example, accessorized some of the corpses. One wore a bowler on his skull; another, the body of a man who died of lung cancer, had a cigarette between his phalanges. Thus, it seems clear that the focus on grotesque images of the body has grown more intense since Kayser published his study in 1957. The reason may have something to do with the decay of religion with its belief in a spiritual dimension to human life. Grotesquerie focuses only on the body.

waves. And Joseph and Celice enjoy a loving and unconscious end, beyond experience. These are the everending days of being dead. (p. 210)

World without end, amen.

THE DEVIL’S LARDER

Crace’s next book, in 2001, was a compendium of sixty-four short fictions about food. As the reviewer D. J. Taylor wrote in the Spectator, the collection “roams all over the nutritional universe: neat little descriptions of scene and incident, tall stories, fragments of culinary law” (p. 39). Some critics noted that Crace’s linkage of childhood foods and memory suggests Marcel Proust and the famous madeleine that initiates Proust’s seven-volume Remembrance of Things Past (published in English 1922–1931). However, the majority of the stories in The Devil’s Larder, from the amuses-bouche one-liners to the several-page anecdotes, have a much lighter touch than anything Proust ever wrote. Crace’s confection is well spiced with his trademark ingredient—mischievousness—a flavor that alternately delighted or annoyed critics. For example, he begins with an epigraph from “Visitations” (a section of the Bible he invented for this purpose, though it looks authentic enough at first glance): “There are no bitter fruits in heaven. Nor is there honey in the Devil’s Larder.” Moreover, some of these tales appeared in an earlier collection titled The Slow Digestions of the Night (1995), a title taken from a poem by another favorite invented character of Crace’s, the writer Mondazy (snippets of his work appear in several books, along with Boulevard Liqueur, tarbony trees, manac beans, and other Crace creations). The book’s epigraph is attributed to Mondazy, perhaps tweaking the lines on W. B. Yeats’s tombstone, writes: “Horseman, let your reins fall light, / and ride the slow digestions of the night.” Still, although Adam Phillips in the New York Times both praised and lamented Crace’s ability to “let a simple observation draw itself out until it begins to go mad,” he could not help but

Tew believes Crace’s use of the grotesque is in keeping with his general affinity for fiction that “dislocates.” In The Contemporary British Novel (2004), Tew describes “a disrupted conventionality, and a sense of otherworldliness” in Crace’s writing as well as in the work of other contemporary British fictionists (p. 29). In his 2006 critical biography of Crace, Tew says “there is a numbing poignancy in such details, which reasserts the tension between the ‘physical’ and the ‘spiritual’ that informs the grotesque possibilities of representing human formѧCrace also emphasizes the distortion of the grotesque as a natural process that transforms not only the literal but also the contextual world affected by that change” (p. 139). Perhaps because Joseph and Celice are scientists and naturalists, it seems appropriate that their bodies should return to nature—feeding insects, crabs, and birds. Many of the novel’s reviewers concurred, in essence, with Frank González-Crussi’s assessment in “Approaching the Unknowable”: “We shall perceive absolutely nothing of death itself, but our vision of life—that other mystery—will be wondrously enhanced.” Being Dead takes a crime-scene narrative and, somehow, turns it into a redemptive eulogy for the dead. The ending carries this elegiac quality beyond the book itself, with lines that continue to echo like a remembered hymn. All along the shores of Baritone Bay and all the coast beyond, tide after tide, time after time, the corpses and the broken, thinned remains of fish and birds, of barnacles and rats, of molluscs, mammals, mussels, crabs are lifted, washed and sorted by the

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JIM CRACE state subject to sudden floods and student riots.” The city, as in Arcadia, does have a distinct personality in this novel. Some critics tried to locate it in South America; others thought it resembled Budapest. One might also see it as a cross between Barcelona and Prague (which flooded dramatically during the time Crace was writing the book). Quinn found Dern less interesting: “We learn perhaps more than we need to about the grapplings, gropings, swellings and spillings of the priapic Lix, whose sex life seems to have been busier than most but certainly not happier.” Quinn laments the fact that Felix Dern seems less “a forlorn individual thanѧa representative of mankind’s baser instincts and motivations—a Darwinian cipher.” Crace, in his interview with Lawless, explains that as he was writing Genesis,

acknowledge the inventiveness of the author’s imagination (October 21, 2001). What Crace offers readers is a sixty-four-course meal of food stories. He has thought about food in every context the reader has ever encountered and a few contexts the reader has never encountered, such as this short entry, the forty-first tale: Spitting in the omelette is a fine revenge. Or overloading it with pepper. But take care not to masturbate into the mix, as someone in the next village did, sixty years ago. The eggs got pregnant. When he heated them they grew and grew, becoming quick and lumpy, until they could outwit him (and all his hungry guests waiting with beer and bread out in the yard) by leaping from the pan with their half-wings and running down the lane like boys. (p. 110)

The idea of such intense male fertility provides the genesis of Crace’s next novel, published as Six in the United Kingdom and released as Genesis in the United States.

My mum started going down with dementia and cancer, and during the last year of writing that book I was her sole carerѧand in the end, the last couple of months, [that] meant constant care, changing of nappies as if she were a baby, and finally she died. The result wasѧa flawed bookѧIt’s flawed to some extent because I wanted it to be an optimistic book, but there was no optimism in my heart at that pointѧSo, despite my claims that I’m completely non-autobiographical, one’s life does grin through in the writing that you do.

GENESIS

Felix Dern, the actor-protagonist of this 2003 novel, has a problem: “Every woman he dares to sleep with bears his child” (p. 3). At the opening of the novel, his current wife, Mouetta, is pregnant with his sixth child. The book is divided into six chapters, each of which describes the consequences of Dern’s sexual experiences from his student days in 1979 to the novel’s current time in 2002, when he is a successful and wellknown actor. Male and female critics certainly viewed the novel differently. Rachel Cusk, reviewing the book for the New Statesman, noted that there was an awful lot of sex but “strikingly, no love. No familial love at least—for a man like Felix, romantic love, sexual love, is the seat of all human drama and all human frailty.” Male critics, such as Anthony Quinn for the New York Times, were intrigued by the mythical city in which Crace set the tale. This place, called “the City of Kisses” was once known as “the City of Balconies.” Quinn describes it as “vaguely eastern European in mood, it is a semi-police

(Lawless, 2007)

THE PESTHOUSE

Jim Crace’s 2007 novel The Pesthouse is quite a bit more optimistic than Genesis, despite its dire setting: America in a grim, postapocalyptic future. The two protagonists of the novel, like the two protagonists in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road—a novel that came out in the United States a few months before Crace’s, and to which The Pesthouse is inevitably compared—are trying desperately to get to a safer place. For Franklin and Margaret of The Pesthouse, Europe is the safer place, and the westward migration that once was synonymous with America’s manifest destiny has, in Crace’s vision, turned into an easternbound flight to the coast in the hope of finding passage in a ship over the Atlantic.

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JIM CRACE Crace, in a witty essay titled “Love, Hate, and Kicking Ass” (available as an Amazon.com download), explains what motivated him to write The Pesthouse. “I [felt] betrayed by America Abroad, its imposing presence everywhere,” he wrote. “Huck Finn [had] become a bully.” Crace decided to write a novel that would “put America in its place.” But the narrative abandoned him, as his narratives do, and America could not be crushed like a bug. As I observed in “Jim Crace’s Violent Verities,” “The Pesthouse stubbornly refused to subvert the American mythology of hope, of a future better than the past” (Balée, p. 521).

breakfasted and squabbled among the underskirts, crying at the waves. (p. 196)

In the end, Margaret and Franklin and their adopted daughter Jackie turn their backs to the east and the dream of sailing back to Europe. The last lines of the novel are: “They could imagine striking out to claim a piece of longabandoned land and making home in some old place, some territory begging to be used. Going westward, they go free” (p. 255). So does this novel end with hope and the possibility of a happy future. In The Pesthouse, Jim Crace seems to be turning toward a new kind of narrative, an optimistic one.

Its optimism and its large, detailed narrative—Franklin and Margaret have families and communities as well as histories—make it a far more ambitious novel than McCarthy’s The Road, though McCarthy’s book, a best seller that was both an “Oprah’s Book Club” selection and a Pulitzer Prize winner, sharply influenced critics who went on to read The Pesthouse. Even Adam Begley, one of Crace’s greatest champions, deemed The Road “a much more powerful account of our post-apocalyptic future” (New York Observer, May 6, 2007).

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF JIM CRACE UNCOLLECTED SHORT WORK “Annie, California Plates.” New Review 1, no. 3: 30–33 (June 1974). Reprinted in Introduction 6: Stories by New Writers. London: Faber and Faber, 1977, pp. 79–89. “Helter Skelter, Hang Sorrow, Care’ll Kill a Cat.” New Review 2, no. 21 (December 1975): 45–49. Reprinted in Introduction 6: Stories by New Writers. London: Faber and Faber, 1977, pp. 90–102. “Cross-Country.” New Review 3, no. 25: 47–52 (1976). “Seven Ages.” Quarto 7: p. 3 (June 1980). “The Sixth Continent: Talking Skull.” Quarto 20: pp. 10–11 (August 1981). “Hearts of Oak.” In 21: 21 Picador Authors Celebrate 21 Years of International Writing, edited by Tariq Ali. London: Picador, 1993. pp. 71–79. “Wrath.” In Eight Little Greats, edited by Dominic Gray. Leeds: Opera North, 2004. p. 18. “Too Young for Funerals.” Harvard Review 28: 6 (spring 2005). “Love, Hate, and Kicking Ass.” Amazon.com/Shorts (2007).

Crace, however, is trying to do something very different than McCarthy, and it is probable that readers who have not been influenced by The Road will see The Pesthouse as its own novel and as a turning point in Cracean fiction. Despite the murder and mayhem of the travelers’ experiences in this narrative, the novel ends with a sense of hope. Further, Crace’s lyrical prose and startling use of personification are also on display. The first time Margaret sees the ocean, she is struck by its unremitting, unproductive strength and its patience. Now the leaden surface was alive. What had been flat a little way offshore seemed to resent the unresponding land. It had raised itself up in folds and furrows of water that broke against the beach, flashing their white underskirts, unloading and delivering themselves, time after time, never seeming to progress. The sea was like a great lung, but exhaling and inhaling water rather than air. The gulls

NOVELS

AND

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

Continent. London: Heinemann, 1986; New York: Harper & Row, 1987. The Gift of Stones. London: Secker & Warburg, 1988; New York: Scribner’s, 1989.

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JIM CRACE Layman Book. Edited by Merritt Moseley, University of North Carolina at Asheville. The Gale Group, 2000. Pp. 84-93. Eder, Richard. “The Phantom of the Market.” Los Angeles Times Book Review, October 4, 1992, pp. 3, 12. ———.“Cavedweller.” Los Angeles Times Book Review : 2 (12 April 1998). Glasser, Perry. “A Stone Age Storyteller Speaks from the Dawn of Narrative Art.” Chicago Tribune Books, April 16, 1989, p. 6. González-Crussi, Frank. “Approaching the Unknowable.” Commonweal ,July 14, 2000, p. 27. Jones, Tobias. “A Voice Crying in the Wilderness.” Spectator : p. 39 (14 June 1997). Kermode, Frank. “Into the Wilderness: Review of Quarantine.” New York Times, 12 April 1998: p. 8. Lane, Richard J. “The Fiction of Jim Crace: Narrative and Recovery.” In Contemporary British Fiction, edited by Richard J. Lane, Rod Mengham, and Philip Tew. Cambridge, U.K., and Malden, Mass.: Polity, 2003. Pp. 27–39 Leithauser, Brad. “Not Written in Stone.” Washington Post Book World, May 21, 1989, p. X3. Peck, Dale. “The Devil You Know.” New Republic, December 31, 2001, p. 38. Phillips, Adam. “Eat this Book.” New York Times, October 21, 2001. ———.Hatchet Jobs. New York and London: New Press, 2004. Pei, Lowry. Untitled review of Continent. Boston Review, 12, no. 4: 30 (August 1987). Quinn, Anthony. “Reproduction Values.” New York Times, November 23, 2003, p. 8. Taylor, D. J. “A Light Collation.” Spectator, September 15, 2001, pp. 39–40. ———.Gone to Seed. Guardian, Saturday Review (September 6, 2003), p. 6. Tew, Philip. The Contemporary British Novel. New York and London: Continuum, 2004. ———.Jim Crace. Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 2006. Wroe, Nicholas. “The Reluctant Storyteller.” Guardian, Saturday Review, July 8, 2000, p. 13.

Arcadia. New York: Atheneum, 1991; London: Jonathan Cape, 1992. Signals of Distress. London: Viking, 1994; New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995. The Slow Digestions of the Night. London and New York: Penguin, 1995. (Short stories.) Quarantine. London: Viking, 1997; New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997. Being Dead. London: Viking, 1999; New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2000. The Devil’s Larder. London: Viking, 2001; New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2001. Six. London: Viking, 2003; Genesis, New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 2003. The Pesthouse. London: Picador, 2007. New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2007.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Allen, Brooke. “Jesus Lives.” New Leader : 15–16 (1–15 June 1998). ———.“Meditations, Good and Bad.” New Criterion 18, no. 9: 63 (May 2000). Balée, Susan. “Maximalist Fiction.” Hudson Review 53. 3: 513 (Autumn 2000). ———.“Jim Crace’s Violent Verities.” Hudson Review 60, no. 3: 517–527 (autumn 2007). Bawer, Bruce. “Temptation in the Wilderness.” Washington Post Book World: p. X05, May 3, 1998. Begley, Adam. “A Quiet Brit’s Loud Talent: Jim Crace’s Corpse Comedy.” New York Observer : p. 27, February 12, 2001. ———.“The Pesthouse.” New York Observer May 1, 2007. ———.“A Pilgrim in Craceland.” Southwest Review 87, nos. 2–3: pp. 227–240 (2002). Blades, John. “Blurbists Credited with Discovery of Continent.” Chicago Tribune Bookworld, April 5, 1987, p. 3. Bradfield, Scott. “He’s Dirty, He Slouches, and He’s Lousy at Woodwork. Still, He Does a Good Miracle.” Observer, June 15, 1997, p. 16. Brown, Helen. “A Writer’s Life: Jim Crace.” Sunday Telegraph, Books Section, August 31, 2003, p. 2.

INTERVIEWS

Constable, John, and Hideaki Aoyama. “Testing for Mathematical Lineation in Jim Crace’s Quarantine and T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets.” In Belgian Journal of Linguistics: Linguistic Approaches to Poetry, no. 15, edited by Christine Michaux and Marc Dominicy. Antwerp, Belgium: University of Antwerp, 2001. Pp. 35–51 Cusk, Rachel. “Misconceptions.” New Statesman, September 8, 2003, p. 51. Dictionary of Literary Biography, Volume 231: British Novelists Since 1960, Fourth Series. A Bruccoli Clark

Anon. “Jim Crace: E-mail Interview Conducted on January 27, 2000.” www.jim-crace.com. Balée, Susan. “Where The Pesthouse Came From.” Philadelphia Inquirer, May 13, 2007. Begley, Adam. “Jim Crace: The Art of Fiction CLXXIX.” Paris Review, 167: 183–214 (fall 2003). Field, Michele. “Jim Crace: Moral Activist, Conservative Romantic.” Publishers Weekly, October 2, 1995, p. 49. Hogan, Ron. “Beatrice Interview: Jim Crace.” Beatrice On-

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JIM CRACE Pogrebin, Robin. “Unplanned Obsolescence.” New York Times Book Review ,July 16, 1989, p. 12. Proctor, Minna. “Jim Crace.” Bomb Magazine, 71 (Spring 2000): 1–17. www.bombsite.com/crace/crace.html. Ross, Jean W. “CA Interview.” Contemporary Authors. Vol. 135. Detroit: Gale Research, 1992. Pp. 99–103. Vincent, Sally. “Death and the Optimist.” Guardian, Weekend Magazine, August 25, 2001, pp. 39–40, 42, 44.

line Magazine (www.beatrice.com/interviews/crace), 2000. Lawless, Andrew. “The Poet of Prose—Jim Crace in Interview.” Three Monkeys Online (www. threemonkeysonline.com), February 2005. Miller, Laura. “Chowing Down.” Salon.com: Online Journal (29 October 2001): 1–5. http://dir.salon.com/books/int/ 2001/10/29/crace/index.html.

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PETER HO DAVIES (1966—)

Julie Wakeman-Linn from California to Georgia. He may be transplanted to the United States from England, but he has experienced many regional flavors, which he uses successfully in characters and settings.

PETER HO DAVIES was born on August 30, 1966, in Coventry, England, to Thomas Enion Davies and Sook (Ying Ho) Davies. His Welsh father met his Chinese mother in Malaysia, and thus diverse cultures were arrayed at his birth, and they all have enriched his writing. Critics and reviewers have sometimes called him Asian American, but Ho Davies refers to himself as “Sino-Celtic” in interviews. His parents’ cosmopolitan background is apparent in his writing, particularly in his wide-ranging settings from England to Africa, Malaysia to the East and West Coast of the United States. Ho Davies’s writing is thus praised by James Wood in the Richmond Review not only for “its vivid evocation of feeling” and its “sharp eye for detail” but also for “its capacity to immerse the reader in new worlds.”

The writer’s work includes two short story collections, The Ugliest House in the World (1997) and Equal Love (2000), and a novel, The Welsh Girl (2007); all three have won national and international awards. Ho Davies’s fiction provides the perspective of outsiders who observe and seek to comprehend the world they currently inhabit. The narrators in his fiction do not always understand their circumstances, but they offer the reader a window into the story’s environment and into the human condition. His juvenile narrators don’t comprehend adult concerns; his traveler narrators—including expatriates, immigrants, attendees of academic conferences, and German POWs—watch, interpret, and struggle to comprehend. Such cultural visitors provide fresh perspectives on places, whether it is Normandy beach on D-day or Kuala Lumpur or Phoenix, Arizona. Though Ho Davies’s narrators are outsiders, they don’t challenge or threaten the world they inhabit; they seek to interpret and blend. For instance, in the story “Frogmen” in Equal Love ,the children exploit their situation by playing on the grief of adults around them, but they do not question why their friend drowned or what that means or why their parents are acting so odd.

Ho Davies earned a bachelor of science degree in physics from the University of Manchester in 1987 and a bachelor of arts degree in English from Cambridge University in 1989. In 1992 he came to the United States to study at Boston University, where he earned a master of arts the following year. He married Lynne Anne Raughley in 1994 and has continued to live in the United States. They have a son, Owen, who was born in 2004. Ho Davies has worked in England and in Malaysia, and teaching positions have taken him to far corners of the United States. He was a lecturer at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, from 1996 to 1997. Next he taught as an assistant professor at the University of Oregon in Eugene from 1997 to 1999. He joined the faculty of the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor in 1999, and in 2002 he became the director of the MFA creative writing program there. He has been invited to lead workshops at writers’ conferences

The visions of these places reflect light back into each observer’s moral center. The chief strength of Ho Davies’s fiction lies in his depiction of the ways his characters, as outsiders, seek to connect to other people. Their struggle is not only to understand but also to be accepted, loved, and understood. Garan Holcombe, writing in Contemporary Writers, defines this emotional depth

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PETER HO DAVIES as “the search for connections, the need for emotional reciprocity, the complexity of sentimental ties” (2004). Ho Davies’s stories often have lively, unusual plots. For example, a cottage in Wales becomes a battleground; the description of an alien abduction is both the current problem and the backstory for a marriage; the outcome of an attack of five thousand Zulu warriors on a company of British soldiers underscores the story even though the attack happened three months earlier. Despite the odd and unique plots, all actions are directly told and easy to experience on the page. Ho Davies makes the events seem like everyday occurrences that could happen to anyone, but layers of connections in the writing continue to emerge in the reader’s mind long after finishing the story. In addition to the blend of his origins, Ho Davies’s education, with degrees in science and humanities, suggests that he is well placed to observe human nature. Garan Holcombe notes, “There is something of the outsider to Ho Davies” (2004). His writing shows the sensitivity of a humanities education and the precision of scientific training. He is not confined to a single intellectual perspective, thus enriching his observations of human nature.

Davies’s short fiction has been chosen to appear in many of the finest literary magazines, including literary journals and magazines with national and international circulation. “Today is Sunday” was published in the Atlantic Monthly; “The Next Life” as well as “The Criminal Mastermind Is Confined,” appeared in Harper’s. “Relief” first appeared in the Paris Review before it was chosen to be included in Prize Stories, the Best of 1998: The O. Henry Awards. Ho Davies’s short fiction has been selected for annual prize anthologies several times. “The Ugliest House in the World” appeared in The Best American Short Stories 1995, edited by Jane Smiley. The next year “The Silver Screen” was chosen for The Best American Short Stories 1996, edited by John Edgar Wideman, and “Think of England” appeared in The Best American Short Stories 2001, edited by Barbara Kingsolver. PRIZES AND AWARDS

Ho Davies is recognized by the literary community for his excellence in technique and vision. Garan Holcombe says that Ho Davies “is an acute observer of the often unsettling ordinariness of life; his stories resonate with simple yet beautifully judged images. He conveys eternal truth with precision.” (2004). The critical reception to his work has helped promote fellowships from national and regional arts groups. He was a fellow at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts. He was also awarded a fellowship from National Endowment for the Arts in 1998. In 2004 he received a Guggenheim award in support of his work on his novel, The Welsh Girl.

The British and American literary worlds alike recognize Ho Davies’s skill in fiction, and his short story collections have been awarded prizes in both countries. In 1997 his first story collection, The Ugliest House in the World, received the Oregon Book Award, and a year later it was honored in England with the Macmillan Silver Pen Award and the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize. In 2000 his second collection, Equal Love, was published in Boston and in London. It was shortlisted for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, and the New York Times selected it as a Notable Book of the Year. In 2001 the Asian American Writers’ Workshop nominated Equal Love to its short list for the Asian American Literary Award. In 2003 Granta magazine added Ho Davies to its prestigious list, naming him as one of the twenty Best of Young British Novelists. This recognition was in anticipation of his first novel, The Welsh Girl, which was published simultaneously in 2007 in the United States and England. In August 2007, The Welsh Girl was nominated to the long list, thirteen titles, for the Man Booker Prize.

PUBLCATION CREDITS

THE UGLIEST HOUSE IN THE WORLD

In addition to the recognition and support from his arts foundation and writing residencies, Ho

Peter Ho Davies’s voice is quiet throughout his writing, but his variety in characters, setting, and

FELLOWSHIPS AND GRANTS

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PETER HO DAVIES conversations and activities. The son is having a casual affair with the neighbor’s daughter. The father often entertains the neighbor’s grandson, but the boy is accidentally killed on the father’s property, and this irreparably separates him from the community; the divergent attitudes and needs of the father and of the townspeople separate them and prevent a sharing of grief. The townspeople drive the father away from the graveside after the funeral and eventually out of the village entirely. In the Washington Post Book World, Jay Fernandez calls the story, “a flawless rendering of the unexpectedly far-reaching arms of guilt— ethnic, familial and personal.”

plots is more flamboyant. His first collection, The Ugliest House in the World, published by Houghton Mifflin in 1997, demonstrates the extent of that variety. The stories dramatize personal struggles, often set against a larger community conflict such as war or economic hardship. In stories where the community is not in chaos, Ho Davies still adds a catalytic element; sometimes an accidental death triggers the struggle of the narrator, who then explores what the loss signifies. For instance, in “I Don’t Know, What Do You Think,” Clive, a fifty-three-year-old husband and father, joins Lifeline, a suicideprevention hotline, to try to understand his daughter’s death. Bromhead, the hero in “Relief,” remembers his interactions with a young soldier who is pulled out of his grasp to death. In all the stories, the setting provides a vivid and specific backdrop for the characters, whether it is South Africa in 1899 or Malaysia in 1949 or Coventry in the mid-1980s.

Another prize-winning tale, “Relief,” is a humorous and ironic story in which two officers in the Boer War, lieutenants Bromhead and Chard, explore what each believes courage means. They bring widely divergent perspectives to the question. The serious moral dilemma centers comically around an unfortunate fart— one of several meanings behind the title—at an officers’ dinner honoring two heroes. The story focuses on three lieutenants, Wilby and the heroes Bromhead and Chard. Riding to his new assignment in the Boer War, Lieutenant Wilby has been suffering from painful flatulence for days. He farts as he rides, and feels “some undeniable relief in this” (p. 31). He arrives at Rourke’s Drift and thinks that “he should be rejoicing to be here, standing on the ground of” what the army newspaper is calling “the most famous battle in the world and yet he only felt the churning of his wretched stomach” (p. 32). Historical significance competes with indigestion.

The title story, which first appeared in the fall 1994 issue of the Antioch Review, is the story of a son watching, evaluating, and criticizing his father’s attempt to fit into a community in his native Wales. The father has moved back to the village of his birth after his retirement. Visiting his father to attend the funeral of a neighbor’s child, the son views Wales and Welsh nationalists with disdain. “What about the Welsh nationalists?” the son asks and continues with a concern that is half humorous, half serious, “What if they start another arson campaign against holiday homes?” The son calls the cottage, into which his father has invested his entire retirement, the second ugliest house in the world. The exterior walls are finished in “pebble-dash,” which is formed by throwing gravel into the stucco while it is still wet, but instead of pebbles the original owner had used multicolored gravel such as that found in the bottom of a fish tank. The cottage becomes a war zone as the townspeople reject the father. The story is ambitious in its scope, ably depicting the father-versus-son struggle and the townsfolk-versus-father struggle, all in the context of who belongs and who doesn’t.

Arriving in the camp, Wilby is thrilled to be invited to meet Bromhead and Chard, who commanded a single company that had “fought off a force of some five thousand Zulus” (p. 32). At an officers’ dinner to honor the heroes, Lieutenant Wilby asks, “How does it feel to be heroes?” Chard answers, “Principally, the sensation is one of reliefѧalso relief to have learned some truth about myself. To have found I am possessed of— for want of a better word—courage” (p. 36). His pomposity blankets the dinner until Bromhead, disgusted by Chard’s “blowhard” speech, com-

As in many small towns the father and neighborhood are intertwined through daily

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PETER HO DAVIES poverty during the long strike. In the evening, because Caitlin will not allow the deliveryman, a carter, into her front parlor, so Thomas must move the heavy clock from the hall to the parlor by himself. As they try to slide it into the parlor niche prepared for it, they realize the clock is too tall. Thomas berates Caitlin, “You never thought to measure. It couldn’t be grand enough for you” (pp. 72–73). She begins to cry and then confronts Thomas with anger: “Do something if you’re so clever” (p. 73). Thomas must cut off the finial to make it fit. That night Thomas willfully impregnates Caitlin, his own pleasure gratified against her fear about raising another child without income—and she knows they will face disapproval for selfishly having another child.

pares a hero to a “beautiful young debutante” when she first realizes “quite how delightful” she is. The two men could not be more different, even though they are “inextricably linked” by the event and honored together in news articles, so that Bromhead feels “like a blasted vaudevillian” (p. 36). The conversation turns to the Zulu practice of disemboweling enemies, and that is when poor Wilby farts. Chaos ensues because Bromhead, being slightly deaf, didn’t hear the sound, and it must be explained to him. Everyone is horrified at dwelling on the indiscretion in the midst of an elegant dinner. Bromhead tells a story on himself of flatulence and embarrassment from his school days, and the moment of embarrassment passes. This anecdote moves the reader into Bromhead’s consciousness. The story relaxes, sojourning in his calm mind, but it carries the reader into his memories of the terror of the Zulu attack. The sensation of relief is so human, physically, emotionally, but the story demonstrates the sensation is not intellectual, but visceral. At the center of the collection is the novella “A Union,” the story of a husband and wife during the 1899 strike in a Welsh slate quarry. The story pits townspeople against mine owners and soldiers, brother against sister, and strikebreakers against loyal unionists. All the conflicts feel like interpersonal battles. The clashes intrude into the fabric of the marriage. The first day of the strike is also the day that a grandfather clock is to be delivered at the house of Thomas and Caitlin. The clock will stand in their front parlor, a room not lived in but used only for display to other villagers. It “was the front of the house, visible from the street, and as in every house in town, it was the show room” (p. 70). That morning Thomas and Caitlin contemplate returning the expensive clock because the strike is likely to leave the couple and their two young sons without income for months. Later, when Thomas wishes to make love to Caitlin, she puts him off, saying, “It’s not a good time. It’s too risky,” and telling him they “couldn’t afford another one now” (p. 70). The clock symbolizes their struggle to keep their dignity and sense of self as they and their town descend into

The town, led by the minister, unifies to protest, harass, and ultimately fight the mine owners. Anyone who breaks the strike is rejected by the majority. As the strike goes on and on, townspeople leave. Strikebreakers start attending church services in the valley away from the town. Thomas believes he and Caitlin’s brother must demonstrate loyalty to the union, showing his son his beliefs as well. Over the months their lives are trimmed, reduced, diminished. They sell off household goods to tourists and strangers. An uncle who lives down in the valley gives them food. They can’t sell the clock, because it is damaged. Thomas is ashamed and “couldn’t bear to let it out of the house in its mutiliated state. It would be admitting something he wasn’t prepared to admit to himself or Caitlin” (p. 116). The strike lasts nine months. The morning the baby is born, Caitlin confronts Thomas, and he must rethink his dignity and defiance. He returns to work. “Safe” is a comic turn on the approaching middle age of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The story offers their further adventures in Patagonia among a Welsh enclave. The opening paragraphs of Ho Davies’s stories are immediately engaging, often with a dash of sardonic wit. “Safe” begins with Butch having “known it would come to this when the Kid started shooting ostriches again” (p. 129). When their attempt at ostrich farming fails, Butch considers their lifestyle and wishes for changes. The title, “Safe,” has a double meaning, working as part of the

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PETER HO DAVIES plot and as a key point in the narrator’s emotional state. Butch makes friends with Robert Evans, a Welsh banker and community leader who owns a large safe. Evans proudly describes it as “South Walian steel” as he shows it off to Butch (p. 134). Next Butch contemplates a peaceful, nonviolent, safe life—if he could settle down with Ella, a life without the Kid. “Going straight had been their idea, Butch and Ella’s together. He’d like it when they’d both been on the same side trying to persuade the Kid” (p. 136). Butch contemplates all kinds of plans and strategies, but when Ella announces she is pregnant, the two men need an immediate solution, and they rob Evans’s bank, dynamiting the safe. Butch wishes for other outcomes and says, “I’m getting too old for this” (p. 143). It is an uneasy partnership, with Butch questioning the Kid and also relying on him.

a quiet mediation on death and how it hurts those who are left living. “Coventry” follows a young man, Chris, as he moves off the dole and toward a job. The story is about how people change and don’t change. A key subtext is the stories people tell others as opposed to what they truly believe. Chris befriends Frank, a middle-aged man with no hope of employment. The older man has a seventeenyear-old daughter, Lisa, who has a job as a tour guide and is also the younger man’s lover and his former student. The story opens with the two men waiting for a Lady Godiva figure on the town clock to appear and strike the hour that signals the opening of the pubs. They debate the origin of the Lady Godiva story, what she was or wasn’t wearing, who struck Peeping Tom blind for glancing at her nakedness. The story is replete with anecdotes whose details are subject to debate and interpretation.

“I Don’t Know? What Do You Think” is the story of Clive, a fifty-three-year-old man who tries to work through his grief at the accidental death of his daughter. The setting and plot include the telephone help line called Lifeline and a transsexual named Mary, but even with these quirky aspects, the story doesn’t exploit the oddities. Instead the actions feel like everyday experiences. Clive describes his calls, including the hoaxes, the silent ones, the grieving ones, and the suicides. He values the training he has received, and a key phrase becomes his mantra: “Don’t expect to join Lifeline to feel good.” The training preaches: “the object of the exercise is to make the other person feel good” (p. 148). Clive always finds the ordinary in the odd. For example, he works at smoothing over the transsexual’s unlikely desire to go to football games and drink beer. He aids Mary in her attempts to live as a woman and to bury her past. Mary refers to her male self as a separate person, Martin, and even pretends to Clive’s wife that Martin was her son, now deceased. Throughout the story Clive listens and wants to help Mary feel normal. The story gently suggests that he is trying to make his grief for his daughter normal, an emotion he can work through and finally accept. When Mary commits suicide, Clive hears about it indirectly through the obituaries, and he grieves. The story becomes

Through such mundane activities as dart matches at the pub, getting new eyeglasses, and watching the old-age-pensioner tourists, the two men fill their days as each develops a philosophy of unemployment. The secrecy and half-truths are most evident in the silence about Frank between the lovers. They never discuss him. Lisa says her father is “bor-ring,” and Chris thinks, “Frank’s only boring when we talk about him. When we don’t, when he’s this shared unspoken thing, she likes it. It’s romantic. She thinks the secrecy brings us together” (p. 183). The reader knows that Chris has no feelings for Lisa; he actually feels bad for Frank and is lying to them both. Chris still loves another girl, Karen, who left him for a man with a more successful academic career. Chris sleeps with Lisa for amusement. He says, “I wish she could just see that I sleep with her every Monday for something to do” (p. 184). He delays and equivocates, avoiding telling Frank and Lisa that he has a job and will be leaving Coventry soon. The entire story is a debate of details while ignoring main issues. Chris realizes his mistakes as he prepares to leave. He walks past Karen’s house and throws a rock. He doesn’t mail his conciliatory letter. Moving away but not maturing is a pattern in his behavior. He and Frank

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PETER HO DAVIES His poster painting is only a career step, he believes; “he wanted to be a famous artist” (p. 214). A branch of the insurgency meets in the movie theater, and each member of the squad identifies with an American movie star. Mr. Ming, or “The Duke,” leads the group; Mr. Chen, Gary Cooper, opposes his decisions; and Mr. Kuk, Audie Murphy, is the first to die. Lee is drawn into the group and then must find his way out or die along with them. He is stopped by the insurgents in the jungle, and at gunpoint he is recruited. “Lee’s appearance was an omen, Mr. Cooper said. He would bring them luck. Grudgingly the Duke said he would give Lee a chance to join them or die” (p. 230). The story has an ironic taste as the violence is muted. The ending is abrupt. The irony spins into black humor when the Duke is beheaded and Lee turns the head in to the police for the reward. This act both saves Lee and condemns him to live a life that is happy and successful, but not famous. He becomes the producer of a theater group of surrendered communists who “toured New Villages acting out short plays showing the errors of communism” (p. 230). The story ends with Lee, “truly happy,” finding his dream through betrayal and political expediency.

climb the cathedral spire. Viewing the city, Chris thinks, “I feel like I should be trying to memorize the view” (p. 188). Chris finally tells Frank he is leaving Coventry, and Frank asks, “Have you told Lisa?” thus revealing that their secret love trysts were not a secret at all. Chris’s reaction is one of blankness; he says, “All I can think is how unsurprised I am.” They wave at the tourists below, and then Frank spits on them. The story ends with the two of them going down to the pub, Frank leading, Chris putting his hand on Frank’s shoulder, pretending nothing has changed. “Buoyancy” offers a radical shift. The story, set in Malaysia, is told from the perspective of a child. It is half a ghost story, half the story of a failed quest. It opens with a large earthenware jar in a garden. The child is told that his great-uncle drowned inside it, and the jar haunts the child. The middle of the story tells of the uncle’s search for a creature in the depths of an abandoned mining pool. Ho Davies is often praised for the success of his child narrators as interpreters of human behavior, and in this story the uncle’s life and experiences are effectively related by the child, but the narrative distance blurs when the uncle begins diving in the mining pool. The child’s perspective fades when the narrator observes, “No one knew what he was thinking about for so many hours in the water (p. 198),” yet after an attempt or two to explain his thoughts and plans, the story takes the reader down into the pool inside the great-uncle’s consciousness. The passage treats the reader to the man’s obsession with the unseen creature. When the “creature” is revealed to be the increased pressure due to the depths of the pond, the story retreats from his point of view. The narrator relates how the uncle suffers an embolism that ruptures his lung, and the story draws back to a safer distance of retelling family history. The remainder of the uncle’s life is observed and not explained, leaving the reader to consider his or her own failed quests in comparison to the creature in the pool.

EQUAL LOVE

Peter Ho Davies’s second collection of short stories, Equal Love, was published in 2000 by Houghton Mifflin in the United States and Granta in England. The twelve stories examine love in a variety of pairings: between a man and woman, a parent and child, and siblings. Offering many variations, the collection is praised in a review by Michael Byers, who writes, “Davies’s stories are allusive, mysterious, often funny, and tender.” He further applauds the “chorus of voices” for its diversity (p. 1). The first story, “The Hull Case,” is a sensitive and painful examination of a mixed marriage. The wife believes that she has been abducted by aliens and summons the authorities in the figure of a U.S. Air Force colonel who interviews her. As she tells her story of blue lights and short gray men and long thin needles to the colonel,

“The Silver Screen” takes the reader back to 1948 Malaysia. Set inside the communist insurgency but wreathed in pop culture, the story is filtered through the perceptions of Lee, a young man who paints posters for a movie marquee.

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PETER HO DAVIES narrator wishes she could stay with her father, but she anticipates the difficulties of puberty, buying bras and the like, with a male parent. Throughout the story, teeth are both fragile and “for life.” The father’s last act of the story is to remove a baby tooth for his daughter to make way for the incoming permanent tooth. When he kisses her good night, “he smelled of tears” (p. 34). She lies awake and feels thrilled and eager for the new incisor, yet she tugs each one of her teeth, checking how firm they are as if she is fearful for the next stage of her life.

the husband recalls their life, their courtship, their marriage, and their inability to have children. The story is told in present tense, so the immediacy of the husband’s embarrassment is vivid. Twice in the story the narration steps away from the alien abduction interview into other action, first into a long flashback about their earlier lives and then into a conversation with the airman who is the colonel’s driver. The story ends like a science fiction television series episode, first pulling back to a summary of the next months in the lives of the Hulls. The last image creates an uncertainty, a luminous, dreamlike moment. While the reader questions whether it is real or fantasy, sympathy is completely engaged for Henry Hull, for his past, and for his current situation. “Brave Girl” is a father-daughter story. The daughter observes her father, a dentist, finishing up his workday before he takes her to live with her mother, now remarried to an army captain. The story reveals her father’s gentle treatment of all his patients, particularly the children. He is a kind man, who cries when his dental records positively identify a drowned boy, a patient of his. The daughter recognizes his gentleness as they discuss the outcome of the divorce. The father says that he would have fought for custody but didn’t because he knew he would lose. He offers his daughter the choice to stay. She acknowledges that he loves her, but she admits she would be “the only one left for him to love.” Her fear is that she “didn’t love him enough” (p. 22), so she refuses to choose him and prepares to leave. Over the past weeks, she has tried to persuade herself that Sylvia, the dental assistant, will be a good companion for her father, so she “wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving” (p. 28).

“The Next Life” is a father-and-son story with a comic twist. The dutiful son, Lim, has planned an elaborate and proper funeral for his father, who has just died. Lim thinks “his father had been a giant” (p. 40) in his Chinese community, so of course the most elaborate paper replicas of a house, a car, “even a paper TV and VCR” are needed (p. 37) to ceremonially burn at the grave site to honor the deceased. In another tradition of honor, Lim hires Mr. Pang, the creator of the grave goods, to bring his professional mourners to the wake and funeral. The story is framed with a poker game among Pang and his group and Lim. Taking a short break from his losses, Lim strolls to the casket and the table of offerings—ginger fish, brandy, cigarettes—left out for the spirit. Lim smokes a cigarette and watches the smoke “swim upward” and thinks of his father “inhaling in Heaven” (p. 44). He returns to the game and his luck changes. Through the seeming intervention of the father’s ghost, Lim wins all his money back, and the funeral is free. At the graveside, the burning of the grave goods is also a burning of the past, ending the distance between himself and his father.

The brave girl of the title had been celebrating her birthday with an ice-skating party when the blade of an ice skate knocked out her two front teeth. The narrator listens to her father soothe and comfort the brave girl and is “remindedѧof how he had sat down one evening and answered my questions about the divorce” (p. 25). The patient is slightly older than the narrator, and she is wearing lipstick. Noticing the differences between herself and the patient, the

In the story “Small World,” Wilson has returned to his hometown of Boston for a conference, and he encounters an ex-girlfriend, Joyce. The story proceeds with the risk of adultery. Wilson’s wife, who is at home in her third trimester of pregnancy, is expected to call from the West Coast. The adultery isn’t really between Wilson and his old girlfriend but is instead inside Wilson and his ambivalence. His fear of marital failure and his fear of how he will treat his own

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PETER HO DAVIES American girls, every British’s boy fantasy. New York, California—these words in a British pub sound like sex. Let slip words like fall and soccer and have them make fun of you” (p. 75).

child underlie the story’s simple actions. The story opens with the line, “Is it cheating?” (p. 49) Wilson runs through a complex rationale: Is it cheating when “it’s not someone new. It’s someone old. Someone who pre-dates your wife. Someone you’ve cheated on already (so you owe her)” (p. 49). Wilson considers how it is “that moment of guilt, of memory, of comparison” (p. 50). The two of them discuss their breakup and the divorce of Wilson’s parents. He views their meeting as unfinished business, but Joyce challenges him—“You don’t have to compare everything. Your wife, me, our parents. Not everything’s comparable” (p. 65). She demands that he give her a fresh view, an awareness of who she is now and who she was. She won’t allow him to blur the past and present. He isn’t equal to the challenge.

The narrator’s life spins by in a drumbeat of simple sentences that omit the second person pronoun to avoid repetition and to suggest commands. They start soft and easy with “Walk the Freedom Trail” (p. 71) to “Drink a lot” (p. 72) to “Cheat on your wife” (p. 80). At the end, the narrator asks, “You’ve changed, and you wonder, too much or not enough?” (p. 81) As with other stories in the collection, the reader is left wondering about the narrator’s next step, but is drawn into a self-analyzing frame of mind. In “Frogmen,” after a child drowns, the remaining children of the town find an odd way to grieve. They bilk the adults out of presents and toys and puppies, innocently playing on everyone’s guilt. The story hinges on the children’s inability to understand the adults’ terror and pain. The children react and adapt, not understanding words like “vanished” and “cremated.” They pick up on the emotions of the adults, who seem to feel they can buy away their horror when they are buying the children action figures, tennis rackets, and dogs. The children use the adult words “vanished” and “cremated,” but the narrative distance makes it clear that they do not comprehend until the end of the story. The present scam is revealed, and they are spanked and scolded, but the death of their playmate finally becomes real to Johnny, the main character, only at the end of the story as he and the other children line up at the pool for swimming lessons. As Johnny looks at his younger brother and sister with his parents and at the line of his friends on the edge of the pool, he cries, finally understanding what has been lost. “Equal Love” is temptation encountered, encouraged, and then thwarted by unexpected forces of innocence. Two couples, friends from graduate school days, find comfort in the easy familiarity of their friendship on a weekend visit. They catch up on their relative academic careers while Dixon’s twelve-year-old son and his friends’ thirteen-year-old daughter watch TV; their shared history bridges the old jokes to the

The story resonates on a deeper level for Wilson because he connects not only with Joyce, his ex-girlfriend, but also with her father, Mike. Wilson confides in Mike his fears about being a father, whether his love for a child will be superficial, like for a pet. Mike’s calm response, “If only it were that easy” (p. 68), forces Wilson to reconcile how he felt in the past and how he feels about his present. Meeting the two of them again reminds Wilson that he has known and understood love, and he can find it and keep it now. He races back to his hotel to call his wife out on the West Coast. “How to Be an Expatriate” offers a rare and humorous use of second person in this how-to guide to immigration. The specific references add a travelogue texture to the piece, but ultimately the story questions who a person is, rather than how their surroundings shape them. The story is anchored with time markers. “Say it’s only a master’s degree. In American lit. One year” (p. 70). Later in the story the British narrator’s perception of accurate time shifts and he notes, “Lose track of how many months you’ve been in the U.S. Say eighteen months when it’s been two years” (p. 77). His accent makes him popular at graduate school parties. He is delighted with his success until, back in England, he becomes the butt of jokes in the local pub. He laments, “Sit in the pub at home and tell your friends about

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PETER HO DAVIES new temptation of adultery. Much of the story turns on their comfortable easy humor. Who drinks and how much is a matter of an old joke. Dixon’s friend’s wife produces a tampon wrapper to roll the joint she and Dixon will share. But the humor is dry and tinged with disappointment. The narrator says, “I laugh at irony,” to his own image in the bathroom mirror, but he continues “not at the irony but at the emptiness of irony, at the very irony of irony” (p. 99).

Early on, the story establishes that sales and salesmen are never trusted. The salesman observes, “People look at you like you’re a magician if you tell them, you’re a salesman. They think you’re going to sell them something if they’re not careful, like pulling a coin out of their ear” (pp. 108–109). Robson refuses to let his salesmanship slip to trickery; he prides himself on selling when he has persuaded the customers that they need the encyclopedias. Mrs. Kidner buys the encyclopedias for her daughter, establishing comparisons between their children. Robson can’t avoid contrasting the neatness of Mrs. Kidner’s daughter’s clean room and his own son Kevin’s. The story splits between the past story of Robson’s divorce and Mrs. Kidner’s purchase of the encyclopedias. While Robson proudly relates his hard work, his sales prowess, to the reader, he also reveals how he failed to be a real father to Kevin. He candidly tells the reader how he invented a girlfriend so his son and exwife wouldn’t think he was lonely and unhappy.

The narrator must confront his own behavior. At the end of a late night of drinking, smoking, and watching mild pornography on television, he kisses his friend’s wife. Then they part. The next morning he stands at the kitchen sink, “knowing they’d like sex and agonizing about how terrible it would be” (p. 103). After the others of the two family groups scatter to errands and activities, the friend’s wife teases him about “getting old.” Staring at her, he finds “something was happening” (p. 105), and they kiss again. He is working out the logistics of where and how to have illicit sex in his own house and settles on the landing between the bedrooms when he glances out the window and sees his son and his friends’ daughter in an innocent adolescent kiss. The friend’s wife joins him and says, “Oh!” and “Well” and finally “Oh well.” He is reminded of his own maturity. “Dixon felt young—or at least, as he would think of it later, newly, freshly, vibrantly old” (p. 106), and the moment of temptation passes.

It is another son, Mrs. Kidner’s grown son, who ends the charade, when he insists his mother doesn’t want or need the encyclopedias because his sister has been dead for many years. He threatens to embarrass Robson’s employer and the company unless the encyclopedias are returned. Robson has been tricking himself with regard to his son, who detests him. When he reclaims the encyclopedias, Robson tries to connect with Mrs. Kidner. They have shared lies about their children, she pretending her daughter is fine and he pretending to have a place in Kevin’s life. In fact, her daughter is dead and Kevin won’t speak to Robson. He offers this reality to her, telling her about Kevin and saying, “I wanted her to believe me so much” (p. 124). His admission of truth is painful, and he seems desperate for connection with her. Mrs. Kidner rejects him with “More fool you” and shuts her door on him. Ultimately Robson believes what everyone else has said: salesmen are not to be trusted, and he does not trust himself enough to fight to keep his job, so he gives up and accepts early retirement.

The next story in the collection is deceptively simple. The opening line of “Sales” is the beginning and ending, the entire story in a tight knot. In almost a “Death of a Salesman” unmasked boldness, it begin, “My early retirement came about after one of my customers wanted to cancel her order” (p. 107). “Sales” is the story of Mr. Robson, an encyclopedia salesman, and his estranged son, Kevin, and the customer, Mrs. Kidner, a woman who believes that her deceased child is not dead. Robson, as the first-person narrator, knows the entire story, but he seems loath to admit all the details of his life to himself. The reader follows the story, hunting for clues to understand the narrator and to decipher when he is lying and when he is being honest.

“Everything You Can Remember in Thirty Seconds Is Yours to Keep” presents the choices a

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PETER HO DAVIES The narrator finds herself caring for her mother, cleaning up after her bowel and bladder accidents, all the while her mother is caring for the house and the cleaning and the cooking. They work diligently to prepare for the social worker. In a poignant moment that has multiple implications, the narrator literally aches for her baby because his smells are now gone from the clean apartment. Her mother comforts her. A nighttime encounter between them reveals the beauty and horror of the reversal of their roles. In the middle of the night, when neither woman can sleep, the mother stands “at the door, her face dark beneath her white hair, like a negative of herself” (p. 135). They curl up and sleep together.

young woman must make to keep her child, including abandoning first her boyfriend, Bill, and then her mother, who is descending into Alzheimer’s. The story begins, “The court had given me six months to prove I was a responsible adult and a fit mother” (p. 126). The first person narrator cries at the impossibility of demonstrating her mothering skills when the court has taken her child, Luke, away. The comic and slightly pathetic Bill tells her it is “Catch-22,” and the reader is clued that there will be no successful solution. Bill’s stupidity—blowing marijuana smoke into the baby’s face to make him sleep— was the reason she lost custody of Luke. She is nearly overcome with sadness at his loss. She cries and sleeps with her son’s T-shirt to be able to drink in his smell. She decides to recruit help and goes to find her own mother, whom she has not spoken to in nine years.

Over the weeks, the mother’s Alzheimer’s worsens. After three relatively successful visits, the social worker refuses to recommend the baby be returned to the narrator. The social worker argues that the young mother cannot care for both an infant and an ailing adult. The Catch-22 becomes a terrible choice. The young mother counters, “So what you’re saying is it’s okay for me to be a single mom, just not a single daughter?” The social worker announces that the narrator must choose. The narrator drives her mother back to her assisted living facility in Arizona and abandons her. Their final good-bye is bittersweet. The mother says she is proud of her daughter; she doesn’t understand she is being left and doesn’t remember what separated them in the first place. The young woman cries for the loss of the past, for the current loss of her helpmate, and for the love she has received from her mother. She leaves her mother behind, waving out a window she can’t see through.

The casual voice of the young woman plays well with the plot; often she doesn’t understand what is happening around her. When she surprises her mother in Arizona, her mother welcomes her, “although it took her a minute to figure out” (p. 129) who the younger woman is. The narrator had feared that her mother’s anger from the past would erupt, but they laugh and chat with no remorse, no recriminations. The mother says, “Forgive and forget.ѧ That’s my motto.” The narrator is relieved and thinks, “So long as she remembered who I was and that she was supposed to love me” (p. 130). Bill, who has come along on the trip, goes out to sell drugs and is arrested. The narrator doesn’t arrange bail and leaves with her mother, returning to Oregon. On their trip home, she remembers a TV game show, The Generation Game, in which family members competed as teams. The teams were from happy families, fathers and daughters, uncles and nieces. The show would end with a memory test, “the contestants sat in front of a conveyor belt and watched all the prizes slide by” (p. 131). They could keep as many as they could remember from the brief viewing. She laughs with her mother that they are now playing the “Generation Game,” but the reader realizes the mother can’t remember.

The next story’s title, “On the Terraces,” refers to the open seating of a British football or soccer stadium, and it serves as a metaphor for the place where one sibling tries to understand another. In this story a man attends his brother’s final days, as the brother succumbs to AIDS. The story’s first-person narration succeeds because it becomes an exploration of both the man and his perceptions of his sibling. The narrator isn’t sure what he thinks or believes about his brother’s life. The narrator and his mother take turns at the hospital, so the dying man will not be left alone.

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PETER HO DAVIES

The dying brother makes a request that gives the narrator another chance to understand him. His brother wants him to record a football match and bring their mother’s TV and VCR to his hospital room for them to watch it together but requires that the narrator not watch it in advance. If he knows the score of the game, the dying man insists, it will ruin it. As the narrator prepares for the recording and viewing of the game, he considers events from their childhood that reveal to the reader their alienation and particularly the narrator’s inability to understand his brother’s choices. Watching the match, the narrator thinks, “I have no idea why my brother is dying, what he’s dying for” (p. 150).

The story “Cakes of Baby” centers around a Thanksgiving dinner, and it offers the specialties of that holiday, including pies, fights about money, in-laws, and expectations of grandchildren. The story explores what love is and what love is not. When Laura asks her husband Sam how he can stand to be married to her in light of her ungainly family, he quips, “The sex helps” (p. 159). The story uses an omniscient point of view, an excellent choice given the large cast of characters. Laura and Sam drive to her mother’s condo for Thanksgiving dinner. The mother has suffered financial reverses and is in bankruptcy. Laura is middle-class white American, while Sam, a young English professor, is Indian and offers a unique perspective on the rituals of this most American of holidays. The uncle gets slowly drunk; the sister and her boyfriend argue with the aunt; the cousin’s baby son enchants Sam. The story focuses most clearly on Sam, and the usual jokes about dry turkey and too many pies take on a disconcerting feel, adding a richness of texture to the standard tale of holiday debacle. Sam generously offers to his wife that they can help support her bankrupt mother. The story ends on a positive note, with Sam feeling comfortable with the bargain his marriage offers him and open to the possibilities of fatherhood.

After his brother’s death, the narrator attends a football match to see what his brother loved about it. He stands on the terraces, a sea of men standing on the open seating, all cold and damp in February. The stadium’s terraces are being torn down as too dangerous, too likely to encourage riots by the fans. The narrator happens to catch a ball thrown into the crowd. He pauses and then he throws it back, and “it’s caught by one of the gusts of wind trapped in the stadium, and for a moment it hangs in the night, shining in the floodlights.” The crowd cheers and he feels the others watching him. The narrator stands “very still, not looking round while the sensation of striking the ball, the sweetness of the contact, slowly passes” (p. 155). The ball, the crowd, the openness of the terraces offer an explanation of his brother’s life, the acceptance of anonymous contact.

“Today Is Sunday” is another story of generations. A man accompanies his father to visit his senile grandmother. It is a relatively short story, but it conveys connection and disconnection, a lovely window into the sandwich generation where adult children are caught between their own children and the needs of their aging parents. At one point, the grandmother calls the man by his father’s name, making father and son both uncomfortable. The story concludes with the two men discussing smoking habits. Michael Byers observes, “The story feels pleasantly unbuilt—nicely incidental, and memorable not for any ostentatious architecture but for its acuity of observation.” In her New York Times review, Jacqueline Carey writes, “Davies’s attitude is more like awe—a profound respect for the power and vitality of human connections, however complicated.”

The narrator takes the night shift. He buys a couple of different newspapers and observes, “It’sѧstrange to see tomorrow’s news on the front pages so late at night. Events seem to float free, as if they could happen as easily today as tomorrow or the next day” (p. 142). He feels the same way about his brother—he isn’t sure what he thinks about him or his homosexual lifestyle. The mother is outside the conversation; she knits to fill the silence of the hospital room. At one point, she pleads with the narrator, did he know his brother was gay and if so, why didn’t he tell her. The narrator responds, “He hasn’t always been that easy to know, has he?” (p. 148).

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PETER HO DAVIES out of the impending trials of German war criminals. His anger fuels his self-exploration of national and personal identity.

THE WELSH GIRL

Peter Ho Davies’s long-anticipated novel, The Welsh Girl, which was published by Houghton Mifflin in the United States and by Sceptre in England in January 2007, is the story of three individuals passing through Wales late in World War II. They all are fluent in two languages, and all are uneasy in their surroundings. Their ability to understand two languages and two cultures gives them uncomfortable space to explore identity, culture, and ultimately who they are. The three of them, Rotheram, Esther Evans, and Karsten Simmering, are traveling through the novel separately until the German corporal Karsten escapes from a prison camp set up on the outskirts of Esther’s village in northern Wales. The novel opens just before the D-day landing, with Rotheram, a German Jewish émigré, who works in the political intelligence division of the British war effort. He and his commanding officer, Hawkins, use Rotheram’s German to trick prisoners during questioning. Hawkins threatens the prisoners, telling them that Rotheram is “a German Jew, implacable in his desire for revenge” (p. 6). Rotheram denies being Jewish and Hawkins shrugs it off, saying it is just a ruse. Many times in the novel the identity of the main characters is challenged. Rotheram is already in disgrace with his superiors for going too far with another stunt. He was spying on German prisoners by pretending to be a prisoner himself, trying to trick them into revealing information. His masquerade left him beaten by the German prisoners and reassigned to a less risky task. Rotheram thus travels to Wales, where Rudolf Hess is incarcerated in the POW camp and confronts him with a copy of Triumph of the Will. He hopes for an admission of guilt, which will contradict Hess’s claim of insanity and reestablish Rotheram in his commanding officer’s eyes. Rotheram’s next assignment will be to tour other POW camps in Wales checking up on the progress of “denazification and reeducation” (p. 20). Hawkins announces this assignment and adds, “You’ll be missed,” but “it’s just there’s a sense that Jews ought not to be a big part of the process” (p. 20). Rotheram again denies his halfJewish ancestry, bitterly disappointed to be left

The episode with Rudolf Hess creates the historical context for the novel. Jennifer Egan notes in her New York Times Book Review article that “Hess articulates the novel’s central question.” Hess tells Rotheram, “We have something in common, you and I” (p. 227). And then he goes on, “The same dilemma. Are we who we think we are, or who others judge us to be?” Sebastian Harcombe, in his New Statesman review, comments, “It’s an appropriate entrée into a novel whose focus is unstintingly microscopic, whose prevailing preoccupation is the way in which obligations to family, community and country shape one’s sense of identity, honour, destiny and personal purpose.” This interval in history, so distant and yet so familiar, provides a place for the characters to struggle against the way other people define them. The Welsh Girl, according to Liz Hoggard of the Guardian, has contemporary resonance as a post-9/11 novel. She quotes Ho Davies as saying, “You can’t write about prison detention centers and show trials without events in Iraq coming to mind” (p. 4). The second strand of the novel, Esther Evan’s perspective, predominates. Esther is a Welsh girl who finds herself emotionally bound to her land, even though she wishes to escape. Esther works at the Quarryman’s Arms, the pub where the locals, including her father, drink separately from the British broadcasters and soldiers. She is proud to speak English even though it separates her from her nationalistic father; she practices English slang with Colin, a British soldier she begins dating. Esther hopes he will take her back to London with him, allowing her to escape the village, which currently is hosting a corps of “sappers,” road menders and repairmen in uniform, who are renovating an old amusement park for the war effort. The villagers believe it will be a glamorous training camp for “Free French, Poles, even Alpine troops trainingѧfor the invasion of Norway” (p. 30). On the eve of the D-day invasion, on a special outing with Colin, Esther expects a marriage proposal. Instead he rapes her. The word

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PETER HO DAVIES because he believes it will save an underage comrade, who is only a boy. In captivity Karsten, who had been loved and respected by his mates, is now despised as a coward. Even his mother won’t answer his letters once she knows that it is he who surrendered. His English has taken his freedom and his sense of self. He is shipped to a POW camp in Wales, outside Esther’s village. Village boys and refugee British boys taunt the prisoners nightly. Karsten tries to speak with them. He makes them toys, particularly for Jim, an evacuee who stays with Esther and her father. One night Karsten sees Esther and wishes to speak to her, believing she might understand. On all fronts, inside the camp and outside its wire fence, Karsten is rebuffed. He attempts an escape and makes it to the sea, only to be washed ashore at the same place he started from. Sebastian Harcombe sees this failure as an example of “Ho Davies’s evocations of disenchantment and disappointment,” which “underscore his novel’s most touching and luminous moments.” The novel ends quietly. The review in Publishers Weekly observes, “What makes this first novel by an award winning short-storyteller an intriguing read isn’t the plot—which doesn’t quite go anywhere—but the beautifully realized characters, who learn that life is a jumble of difficult compromises best confronted with eyes wide open.” Karsten returns to captivity until the war ends and lingers for only six months in the village. Esther has given birth to a daughter. Rotheram shows propaganda films to the prisoners, talks to Hess one last time, and revisits Esther’s village. Liz Hoggard says that Ho Davies’s writing “celebrates our commonality. In The Welsh Girl, barriers between races keep on crumbling” (pp. 3-4). Rotheram ends the novel with a drink at the Quarryman Arms.

“rape” is an awful curiosity to Esther. As she flees, she decides that when she next sees him, she will pretend she has forgotten her English. The next day she considers the meaning of the word. She doesn’t even know the Welsh word for rape, so she feels she doesn’t know how to tell her father. She understands rape as “a particular form of murder, when a man kills a woman” (p. 85). She is so glad to survive that she “knows she hasn’t been raped” (p. 86). She gropes for the right word and decides it was “a misunderstanding. He meant one thing; she meant another” (p. 86). Language has changed her perception of herself and will change the course of her life. Jennifer Egan praises Ho Davies in her review for his “perceptive authority” in Esther’s viewpoint. Esther will make a compromise to accept this form of murder, to carry her child to term, and pretend to have been in love with another man, Rhys, a neighbor boy who has been lost in the war. Esther lets his mother assume the dead man is the father of her unborn child. With her lie Esther preserves Rhys’s memory, his standing as a hero, and she simultaneously saves her reputation and gains an ally in the village. Much of the novel is about misunderstanding and willing acceptance of human behavior and its errors. In the third strand, Karsten Simmering is an eager young German soldier. He likes the discipline, the order, the physical activity of a soldier’s life. His father died a hero in World War I, and Karsten has spent his life helping his mother run her small mountain pension. He learned English as a boy, and it helped at the pension that he could speak to foreign guests. Egan observes, “Davies’s sympathetic portrayal of Karsten undermines any blanket notion of a German enemy; he’s not anti-Semitic or even especially patriotic—just an eighteen year old fighting for his widowed mother.” Karsten’s fluency in English causes his capture. His squad is pinned down in their bunker and will surely be killed by advancing British troops. A comrade pleads with Karsten to surrender: “You have to tell them. You’re the only one. With your English, You have to tell them we surrender” (p. 59). Karsten agrees, primarily

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF PETER HO DAVIES The Ugliest House in the World. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1997. (Short stories.)

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PETER HO DAVIES Carey, Jacqueline. “Ties That Grind.” New York Times Book Review, March 19, 2000, p. 11. (Review of Equal Love.)

Equal Love. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. (Short stories.) The Welsh Girl. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2007. (Novel.)

Chamberlin, Jeremiah. “Interview with Peter Ho Davies.” Virginia Quarterly Review Online. May 2004 (www. vqronline.org). Curb, Randall. Review of Equal Love. Boston Review 25, no. 1: (February/March 2000). http://www.bostonreview. net/BR25.1/curb.html Egan, Jennifer. “Through the Prison Camp Fence.” New York Times Book Review, February 18, 2007, p. 10. (Review of The Welsh Girl.)

MAJOR PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS “The Ugliest House in the World,” Antioch Review 52, no. 4: 622–637 (fall 1994). “The Ugliest House in the World,” Best American Short Stories 1995 Ed. Jane Smiley. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1995. “Relief,” Paris Review no. 141 Winter 1996: 142–154. “The Silver Screen,” The Best American Short Stories 1996 Ed. John Edgar Wideman. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1996. “Relief,” Prize Stories, the Best of 1998: The O’Henry Awards Ed. Larry Dark. New York: Anchor Books, 1998. “Today is Sunday,” Atlantic Monthly December 1998: 94– 98. “The Hull Case,” Ploughshares (fall 1999): 47–61. “Think of England,” Ploughshares (fall 2000): 47–64. “Think of England,” The Best American Short Stories 2001 Ed. Barbara Kingsolver. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001. “The Next Life,” Harper’s Magazine (January 2001). “The Ends,” Paris Review no. 162 (summer 2002). “The Criminal Mastermind is Confined,” Harper’s Magazine (January 2004): 71–73. “The New Corporal,” Virginia Quarterly Review 80 no. 3: 90–107 (summer 2004).

Fernandez, Jay. Review of The Ugliest House in the World. Washington Post Book World, January 4, 1998, p. X8. George, Ben. “Interview with Peter Ho Davies.” Fugue, no. 27 (summer 2004: http://www.uidaho.edu/fugue/ PeterHoDavis.htm). Harcombe, Sebastian. “Tales in a Minor Key.” New Statesman, May 21, 2007, p. 59. (Review of The Welsh Girl.) Hoggard, Liz. “A Chinese Welshman in the USA” The Observer (May 13, 2007). http://www.books.guardian. com.uk (August 27, 2007). Holcombe, Garan. “Peter Ho Davies: Author Profile.” Contemporary Writers Booktrust of the British Council. 2004. http://www.contemporarywriters.com. Review of The Welsh Girl. Publishers Weekly 253, no. 42:27–28 (October 23, 2006). Schwartz, Brian. “Emotional Expatriates in Peculiar Worlds.” San Francisco Chronicle, March 12, 2000, p. RV4. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/ 2000/03/12/RV72769.DTL (Review of Equal Love).

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Bone, Alison. “Wales in Wartime: Alison Bone Talks to Prize-Winning Short Story Writer Peter Ho Davies about His First Novel.” Bookseller 5262:16 (January 5, 2007). Byers, Michael. Review of Equal Love. Ploughshares 26, no. 1:213 (spring 2000).

Stainton, Leslie. “A Master Shape-Shifter of the Literary World.” Michigan Today 36, no. 3 (fall, 2004). Wood, James. Review of Equal Love. Richmond Review. http://www.richmondreview.co.uk/books/equallove.html.

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT (1961—)

Nancy Bunge as a political operative harshly, believing that the party in general and her leader in particular were exploitative; eventually, she learned that while she gave her life and money to the party, he lived extravagantly on his gold American Express card. Also, while Delahunt acted out of altruism, she believes her participation in the party hardened her. She particularly recalls talking to a lonely young man who had recently attempted suicide and saying nothing compassionate to him; instead, she reprimanded him for bringing shame on the party. At the time, she believed that she lived for the truth; looking back, she sees her life in the party as an exercise in grandiosity.

BORN IN MELBOURNE, Australia on April 12, 1961, Meaghan Delahunt was the oldest of four children born to Cal Delahunt, the secretary of the Australian Wheat Board, and his wife, Betty Delahunt. She began secretly practicing her autograph and cultivating fantasies of becoming a writer at the age of ten, but hid this fundamental yearning behind others, publicly proclaiming that she aspired to become the Flying Nun or a spy. She confesses that still, every week, she imagines other roles she would like to try: photographer, tightrope walker. She has said that she considers herself fortunate because, as an author, she can learn about and imaginatively linger over a multitude of other lives and, thus, realize new dimensions of her own.

The break came when she was assaulted one night on a Sydney street and left for dead. The Party showed no sympathy; urging her to keep working, although she was injured, on tranquilizers, and trying to come to terms with what had happened. This event eventually prompted her to ask the question “What are you doing with your life?” During her time in the SWP Delahunt had continued to write, but mainly for the Party newspaper. When they sent her from Sydney to Perth shortly after the assault, Delahunt bought a notebook to take with her on the bus, intending to, once again, become involved with her own creative writing. Eight months later, depressed and suffering from anorexia, she read Doris Lessing’s account of a young Communist woman leaving the Party in The Golden Notebook, and followed her fictional example.

At the age of twenty, she made a decision that threatened to foreclose the imaginative, intellectual, and emotional expansion that propels her work. After falling in love with a handsome Indian man named Maurice, she moved in with him. He was a member of the Socialist Workers Party, and Delahunt eventually made her own commitment to this Trotskyite movement. She dropped out of an honors program in the arts at the University of Melbourne, declaring the university a bourgeois institution that inhibited free speech, and went where the party needed her: a General Motors factory where she became a car detailer and tried to organize the workers. Life in the Socialist Workers Party left little time for reflection: she had to work a regular shift, attend frequent political meetings, organize for the party, and figure out how to survive on the small salary that remained after she gave 10 percent of her earnings to the Party. She thought she had sacrificed her personal life for a higher cause that would redeem the future. In her essay “On Leaving the Party,” Delahunt judges her life

Delahunt presumably took that notebook with her on the bus to Perth because she hoped to find out what she thought by writing whatever came into her mind. She continues to write to discover what she thinks, feels, and sees. Often her short stories, for instance, come to her in dreams. Not content to rest in her fantasies, the interests and

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT notions that emerge on the page lead her into the world, where she does extensive research. She lets her writing take her where it will, both imaginatively and geographically, and sometimes after as long as ten years, a book or story emerges. Her patient commitment to doing things right helps explain the persistent richness of Delahunt’s work. And surely that she temporarily put her own thinking aside to meet the party’s needs and demands helps explain why she now cherishes, above all, the cultivation and expression of personal thoughts and feelings. Not surprisingly, the journey from party operative to full-time writer took time. After leaving the party, Delahunt opened up her narrowed life. She began by reconnecting with her body and supporting herself as an aerobics instructor. Then, she discovered that although her time in the party had given her few useful contacts, she had acquired valuable skills as an organizer, which she drew upon to work as a program officer at a migrant resource center. While there, she wrote a piece on racism that attracted attention in Australia. In the Courier-Mail, Andrew Theophanous, a federal member of Parliament, cited Delahunt’s study when arguing that Australia’s attitude toward its non-English speaking immigrant populations, particularly its youth, was discriminatory. As a result of this attention she was hired as a Lecturer in Youth Work Studies by the Claremont College of Advanced Education (WACAE). This later became Edith Cowan University. She taught subjects such as gender studies and social change models. She taught at Edith Cowan for three years and then left Western Australia at the end of 1991 to go travelling through Southeast Asia and Europe.

came to understand the importance of accepting and working from imperfect beginnings. The story’s complexity makes it easy to understand why Delahunt could not produce it in one sitting. As it begins, the central character takes a bus to an abortion clinic to terminate her pregnancy. The story’s concerns clearly connect with issues that engaged Delahunt during this period of her life: both her stint as an aerobics instructor and the three years she spent teaching gender studies would have made her, like the central character in this story, acutely aware of her body. As she anticipates her abortion, first on the bus and later in the waiting room, the story’s narrator and protagonist reviews her attitude toward her body, recalling a mother whose disdain for the protagonist’s black underwear, enthusiasm for girdles, and conviction that nursing her children would make her a cow suggest a rejection of the female body. The narrator reports that at the age of thirteen she would pull out her pubic hair while sitting at the table with her mother; she also recalls accusing her mother of making her sexuality an issue when she was thirteen. The narrator herself obviously rejects her own maturation at the age of thirteen, but the reader can see that this aversion and the way she acts on it is probably the result of the teenager having internalized her mother’s own disgust with female body parts and functions. As an adult, the protagonist continues to seek control over her body by halting the development that began with puberty: she runs so intensely that her periods stop, and she acquires a body so lean that she attracts men who prefer other men. Then the protagonist stops running, her period returns, she meets a man who accepts her body, and, as a result, she embraces it as well. These happy events culminate in the pregnancy that she now seeks to abort. Now, she no longer controls her body at all; someone else has taken possession of it, reshaping it from the inside. She has a deeply ambivalent attitude toward the abortion. On one hand, she recalls that shaman women give up their feminine role in order to achieve something higher. On the other hand, she feels that the abortion empties her, and she comforts herself that the aborted fetus has

“BIRTHING”

Delahunt had been drafting fiction for five years without achieving results that satisfied her, but when she composed “Birthing” she believed that she had finally found a method that worked for her. Before writing this story, she had the habit of beginning a piece and then abandoning it when it fell short of perfection. With “Birthing,” she drafted the story eleven times; thus, Delahunt

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT become a spirit child that she sees in the mirror as the story ends. In brief, Delahunt presents an account of an abortion that renders the ambivalence the decision must evoke for all women who make that choice, rendering a complexity incompatible with writing quickly. And the story goes far beyond presenting information about the protagonist’s conflict: Delahunt invites the reader into the protagonist’s life. For instance, while her reflections on her earlier life also distract the protagonist from the difficult task before her, neither she nor the reader forgets that she will eventually have to get off the bus and lose her child. Delahunt manages to simultaneously convey information about the protagonist and give the reader a sense of the desperation and sadness gripping her without ever making it overt. The reader achieves this insight through identification with the protagonist. After the abortion, the narrator says that she loses herself in sadness, but then feels happy about the spiritual child that she hopes to rejoin after death. As irrational as this consolation seems, Delahunt so enmeshes the reader in the narrator’s perspective that the story feels as though it ends happily. This five-page work anticipates the complexity and compassion that characterize the rest of Delahunt’s writing. Unusual imagery often tied to fresh, even odd, insights persistently nourishes the richness of Delahunt’s work. Delahunt herself suggests a connection between the unusual imagery and heightened sense perceptions in her work and her defective hearing. In childhood, Delahunt contracted nerve deafness as the result of an infection and is completely deaf in her left ear. She has spent her life entertaining strange pictures in her mind after mishearing what someone has said to her.

for publication. In 1997, “T-Song” appeared in the Australian literary magazine Westerly. Like “Birthing,” the story convincingly presents a complicated and even hopeful rendition of a seemingly tragic situation. Narrated by a young woman named Kate, the story focuses on the ending of her ten-year relationship with Matt, a former lover dying of AIDS. The title “T-Song” presumably refers to the low T-cell count crucial to diagnosing AIDS. A song that makes both the man and woman smile comes to represent their relationship. The story begins with Kate insisting that Matt listen to the song; as he sits at the radio, listening and laughing, he looks like an angel to Kate. His parents, delighted that their twenty-two-year-old son finally has a girlfriend, also have great hopes for the relationship. Indeed, empathy binds Kate and Matt: they even share the same dreams. But pictures taken of them while in the relationship have a fuzziness suggesting something amiss. And while together, Kate and Matt change in opposite ways: he grows thinner while she gets larger. Eventually, they separate. When Matt becomes so ill he cannot leave his house, Kate visits him. But, later, he recovers enough to visit her in Edinburgh; Matt’s enthusiasm and vitality both please and startle Kate. Presumably buoyed by his survival, Matt even talks playfully about his death, urging Kate to write something for his funeral that includes his winning first place in the Big Boys’ Bake-off. He takes many pictures and Kate notes that they all have a clarity absent from their earlier photographs. The shift from murkiness to lucidity in photographs of them presumably alludes to the fact that as lovers, they aspired to a relationship that would never work; they succeed as friends. This acknowledgment of reality sharpens and deepens their relationship so that when she calls to thank him for the pictures, she glimpses what living with AIDS is like. He asks her to write something about him after his death; she writes his name on wet window glass, and the story ends. Below the ending is a parenthetical note: Delahunt dedicates the story to Steven Pizaro (1961–1996). This story about a failed relation-

“T-SONG”

Delahunt left Western Australia at the end of 1991 and began traveling first through Southeast Asia, then to the UK and Europe. She held various jobs during this period and trained as an English-language teacher. She continued to write short stories but did not send out anything new

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT the bathroom on the only evenings he treated his wife kindly. The narrator concludes that jealousy inspired his father to abuse him because in this house full of women, he was the beautiful one. With the discovery of the bag, he finds the courage to leave home and go to the university, where he graduates at the top of his medical school class and begins an ostensibly normal life, complete with a career in surgery, like his father, and in gynecology. He even marries a not particularly attractive short, heavy woman whose facial hair glistens in the sunlight; she serves as his secretary. Despite his firmly conventional life, small pieces of his earlier life as a transvestite surface: he looks down on female coworkers who do not walk like Greta Garbo, while they, perhaps with justification, regard him as arrogant. And, sometimes, he fantasizes about wearing a G-string and stiletto heals.

ship followed by death is simultaneously one about the lucidity, depth, and even joy that result when two people enjoy a direct and honest connection with each other.

“GRETA GARBO'S FEET”

Delahunt’s story “Greta Garbo’s Feet” also deals with gender issues—in this case, cross-dressing. Once again, Delahunt handles the issue in an unconventional way that exposes its complications. She also treats her subject with great humor, a trait that contributed to the story winning the 1997 HQ/Flamingo short story contest in Australia. The judges reported that even though many of the fifteen hundred stories submitted to the competition were well-written, a lot of authors eliminated themselves by producing depressingly dark work, and the judges found irreverence such as Meaghan Delahunt’s much more appealing. This story reverses the movement of Delahunt’s earlier fiction, since those stories show the positive side of apparently tragic events; “Greta Garbo’s Feet,” by contrast, repeatedly sets out an apparently happy achievement and then exposes the sadness beneath it. For instance, it opens with the male narrator ecstatically flying off a wall in one of this mother’s bright dresses, follows with showing the pleasure he takes in smelling and touching his neighbor’s underpants as they dry on the line, and then describes him in a scene where he is wearing high heels and a blond wig—at this, his father makes a fist, grazes his face, kisses him, and, finally, threatens to kill him if he doesn’t stop behaving so strangely. This threat would seem far from empty to a fourteenyear-old boy who frequently sees his father beat his mother, sometimes by pounding her head on the table. Given these parents, the narrator’s choosing to dress like his mother seems logical. His mother especially admires Greta Garbo’s beauty, so the narrator likes to think he resembles her, especially because, like Garbo, he has long, thin feet. After his father’s death, the narrator discovers chiffon dresses in the black bag that his father took with him for extended amounts of time in

Eventually he becomes so involved with a male-to-female transsexual, who is still in the process of changing into a woman—and who also has feet like Garbo’s—that he often leaves his wife in charge of his medical practice so he can focus on this relationship. After seeing this woman for six months, he brings her a negligee; she delights in the validation of her femininity. But the protagonist undermines her joy by disappearing into the bathroom, putting on a negligee, and declaring himself beautiful. He then puts on a dress and insists that they walk down the street. His new partner, who also walks like Greta Garbo, fears people will take her for a man. But for the protagonist, walking down the street with stubble on his cheeks like his father’s and wearing a dress like his mother’s constitutes his life’s pinnacle—presumably because, for the first time, he presents himself to the world as he truly is. Delahunt’s story, as usual, works on many levels. On one level, it shows a protagonist doomed to play out the confused sexuality that pervaded his home during his childhood; at the same time, however, he feels joy rather than shame when he owns and feeds this need to embrace both genders, because, at last, he functions in the world with authenticity. Meanwhile his partner feels disappointed, because she hoped his attentions would remove all doubt about her

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT femininity. The discovery that the protagonist sees her as a transgendered companion rather than as a desirable woman reinforces the very doubt she works so hard to transcend with her long hair and short dresses. To complicate the gender issues even further, Greta Garbo, the ideal of femininity in this story, walks like a man and claims to have been a boy. In Delahunt’s story, all the characters’ problems derive from attempting to live out fixed gender identities. The real lesson Greta Garbo offers the protagonist is that one achieves contentment by ignoring social categories and embracing fully one’s distinctive way of being. Delahunt here takes on gender issues in a more complex fashion than in earlier work. The stories of the protagonist, his parents, his partner, and Greta Garbo all intertwine in a way that makes it difficult to dismiss the protagonist’s tale as the adventures of one bizarre person. All this interweaving not only complicates the story, but also universalizes it. As usual, Delahunt offers this lesson not overtly but through events and, especially, through striking images—for instance, of the protagonist flying through the air in a swirling white skirt or sitting stunned in his platinum wig and high heels after his father has just kissed and threatened him. These visuals make the story vivid and even attractive to the reader, despite its discomforting subject matter. The tale’s persistent and disarming humor invites engagement with Delahunt’s unconventional take on its controversial topic.

Unfortunately, only boys get trained to do this, but Esmeralda convinces Old Miguel, a former diving champion, to teach her. He does, after warning her about the pain, and she persists. Eventually, she appears in a diving show with her hair cut short, wearing a baggy suit so that she looks like another male diver. Since her instruction is not complete, she must dive from the lowest cliff, but her brother sees her preparing to dive from the highest, a feat so daring that it may well kill her. As the story closes, she prays that she will fly well through the air, because this dive will serve as a model for the rest of her life. Here, Delahunt saves the ambiguity for the ending, where one must cheer this child for her courage and determination; at the same time, the reader shudders to think what her risk-taking will probably cost her. The tale leaves the reader there, in conflict—and, indeed, as long as women endure exclusion, the struggle between transgressing boundaries and submitting to limiting patterns must persist for them.

IN THE BLUE HOUSE

Meaghan Delahunt’s short stories began to connect with and reverberate against one another, convincing her that she was constructing pieces of a novel but giving her no idea how they would fit together. As a result, In the Blue House (2001) took ten years to develop and three and a half years to write. Finally, in a dream, she saw how to shape the novel. She got out of bed and from six a.m. until nine a.m. arranged the writing she had done on her living room floor. Perhaps the fact that Delahunt had settled in Scotland after extensive travel helps explain why the book came together for her: she first moved to Scotland in 1992, lived in Greece from 1995 to 1996, in Australia from 1996 to 1998, and settled in Scotland once more in 1998. The richness of the sections comprising In the Blue House makes it easy to believe that Delahunt composed them individually and had difficulty discerning a clear pattern. The novel’s underlying movement, although subtle, compels the reader who picks up this book to finish all three hundred pages. Delahunt identifies the

“THE GIRL FROM QUEBRADA”

“The Girl from Quebrada” also deals with gender, but it differs from the earlier stories because of its apparent simplicity and directness. The story tells of a young girl named Esmeralda who raises money for her family by begging; when that approach fails, her mother sends her to be sexually abused by a group of men in the Plaza, who then pay. She endures the abuse by pretending that she dives off the Quebrada cliffs into the water. She has spent her childhood watching her brother prepare for this job and assuring him that because of her fearlessness, she could do it better than he.

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT realization that Leon Trotsky’s fictional diary could measure out the sections of the book as crucial to the novel’s structure, for the book focuses on the months before Trotsky’s assassination in Mexico. The “blue house” refers to the home of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, where Trotsky and his wife stayed when they first arrived in Mexico. Delahunt’s novel focuses on a rumored affair between Trotsky and Kahlo, which Trotsky’s grandson assured her never happened when she visited both Kahlo’s and Trotsky’s homes on a research trip to Mexico. Although Trotsky himself stands at the book’s center, the book’s chapters contain not only Trotsky’s journal but also entries revealing the perspectives of a multitude of other people, including a subway builder in Moscow; Joseph Stalin; a Mexican woman who makes and sells Judas figures; and the doctor who pronounces Stalin dead.

simple statements of its themes fail to do it justice. The first section, “Judas at the Casa Azul,” opens with the voice of a subsidiary character in Trotsky’s life: that of Señora Rosita Moreno, who sells fruit along with the papier-mâché Judas figures she makes. Señora Moreno’s comments open and close the book, suggesting that from her peripheral and relatively humble position, she notices important elements passed over by those who play more central roles. In this first entry, dated July 1954, she has just witnessed Frida Kahlo’s cremation, and she reports that Kahlo’s corpse sat up, as if she resisted annihilation even while flames engulfed her body. She also notes that Kahlo’s palm lacked a head line: she was all heart. In the next entry, Jordi Marr, a revolutionary who tried to protect and help Trotsky before his death, validates Señora Moreno’s analysis of Kahlo by recalling that his own affair with Kahlo reawakened his joy for life, forcing him to acknowledge that his political activism left a void within him. As this awareness emerges, Marr finds himself drawn back to the church, leading to his realization that churches and revolutions both offer ideologies that seem to make life meaningful, but while his emotional mother chose the religious solution, his cold father became a Communist.

The novel itself deals with themes central to Delahunt’s life. It suggests that those who threw themselves into Communist revolutionary movements killed off part of their humanity in order to function well in the system. Although the novel focuses on Communists and Delahunt’s own history makes this choice appropriate, the book broadens this message, suggesting that all attempts to shape and dominate nature and other people threaten one’s humanity. It also points out a link between political movements and religion, suggesting that the fervently religious can transpose the passions nurtured in the church to other ideologies; Delahunt suspects she herself may have simply transferred the devotion she invested in the Catholic Church to Communism. The novel also distinguishes these choices in terms of gender; generally, females select religion and males, politics. This book portrays the more feminine and passive religious ideology as healthier than the masculine attempt to reconfigure reality. Delahunt also confesses to a fascination with Frida Kahlo dating back to an 1989 exhibition; she returned to it repeatedly and then wrote a poem about her experience. Finally, however, it must be said that the novel offers so many points of view on so many subjects that all

In a June 1937 entry, Señora Moreno tells of a conversation with Trotsky she tries to explain her art as a way of realizing her identity, and he responds by assuring her that after the revolution, all people will practice art. She replies that the value of making art lies in its distinctness, but he cannot hear her because, she guesses, he has become so used to spewing words and not questioning them that his verbosity has separated him permanently from reality. She reads his palm and sees that he will soon die, but since Señora Moreno has more sensitivity and tact than the distinguished Trotsky, she manages to give him a flattering and reassuring version of what she has seen. So, through Señora Moreno, the reader learns that the central characters in the book’s drama, Frida Kahlo and Leon Trotsky, have opposing temperaments, but both strive to impose themselves and their ideas on others. Señora

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT ship, mourns his childrens’ deaths, and fears the death of his wife far more than his own assassination. In other words, as he nears the end of his life, the personal, not the political, holds Trotsky’s attention and interest.

Moreno has a higher opinion of Kahlo’s husband, Diego Rivera. She talks with gratitude of Rivera’s murals of ordinary people, because he has made them mythic. Moreover, his paintings show that he understands their strong ties to the land. Rivera, the artist, has enough humility to understand, record, and amplify common lives.

The book’s second chapter, “The Logic of Poets,” shifts to Moscow, with alternating excerpts dated 1932 from the viewpoints of Stalin’s wife, Nadezhda Alliluyeva, and of a man named Mikhail Kosarev who works to complete the Moscow Metro. Mikhail’s contributions are titled “The Other Moscow,” so these passages present perspectives on Stalin’s Moscow from both its highest and lowest echelons. Although Stalin’s wife, unlike Mikhail, does not have to grow mushrooms and raise rabbits in order to eat, both suffer from loneliness. Both Nadezhda Alliluyeva and Mikhail feel uncomfortable in their homes. Alliluyeva has grown from a seventeen-year-old daughter of revolutionaries who loved Stalin because he cut V. I. Lenin’s hair into an adult woman who questions what her husband has done to the Soviet Union. Mikhail has made a total commitment to Stalin, but, as a result, he finds it hard to live in close quarters with his sister and mother, who reject Communism in general and Stalin in particular; they continue to embrace the church. Both Stalin’s wife and Mikhail take refuge from their home lives in their work, which they believe helps build a better future. Mikhail revels in the splendor of the subway he constructs, while Nadezhda experiments with plastics she believes can transcend nature. Their loneliness deepens. When friends at the Industrial Academy tell Nadezhda about starvation in the Ukraine, she reports this news to her husband, who proclaims the information false. When her friends disappear, she remembers their names in a desperate attempt to save them from complete oblivion. Mikhail’s best friend Oskar has fallen into disfavor with the authorities by leading a strike. After two years in prison, he hopes to redeem himself by working hard on the Metro. Mikhail avoids Oskar out of fear he will share Oskar’s isolation. While Mikhail has no one, Oskar at least seemingly has his wife—until he returns home to find her in bed with another

After supplying a context that suggests comparisons and conflicts between head and heart, revolution and feeling, Communism and religion, men and women, art and politics, the sections shift to plans to kill Trotsky. One entry introduces Ramón Mercader, the man who will murder Trotsky. Mercader attends Kahlo’s exhibition in Mexico City in January 1940 and finds himself fascinated by her portrait The Two Fridas because he senses a similar split in himself. Mercader, a loyal Stalinist, loves handling guns and watching people die. His mother shares his devotion to Stalin and also shares his frigidity; she can barely wait until the glorious moment when her son makes himself a hero and impresses Stalin by murdering Trotsky. On Easter Day, 1940, Señora Moreno’s husband pressures her to make a Judas figure of Trotsky to blow apart during the Easter festivities. She protests, but finally agrees because Diego’s paintings of miners have helped her understand the bitterness that consumes more and more of her husband’s life as he works in the mines. In a brief section with an omniscient narrator, we get confirmation of Señora Moreno’s suspicions that Trotsky has a weak hold on reality; he finds the sounds of exploding Judas figures quaint, while his wife dreams that Stalin succeeds in killing her husband. In another Easter section, Jordi despairs of protecting Trotsky, who takes unnecessary risks and whose shining presence makes it impossible to hide him. Then the novel shifts to Moscow, where Joseph Stalin seeks Trotsky’s death. The chapter concludes with Trotsky’s diary entry for March 1940. He begins by dismissing Stalin’s unimaginative and small mind, but he quickly shifts to the importance of relationships with others. While enduring the discomforts of old age, Trotsky does not worry about his legacy nearly as much as he yearns for a close friend-

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT would resurface; Trotsky recalls the pleasure of making up stories about their significance.

man. Oskar kills himself in a gorgeous new public bathroom, leaving Mikhail alone and guiltracked.

After the favorable characterization of Trotsky in “The Logic of Poets,” the next chapter, “The Memory Stone,” offers another angle on Trotsky by presenting episodes from his past, his personal memory stone. This chapter alternates between sections told from the perspectives of Trotsky’s father and of Trotsky himself, all of them focusing on Trotsky’s development as a revolutionary. Delahunt emphasizes the family connection and Trotsky’s different ‘selves’—the personal life that he has suppressed by adopting his revolutionary persona—by putting the family name at the beginning of the journal entries and the name Trotsky in parenthesis.

Nadezhda softens her solitude by reading the poetry of Vladimir Mayakovsky, who is the central figure in another section as he contemplates killing himself (on April 14, 1930) because he too feels no place exists for him in Soviet society; he had hoped to help the revolution, but he has learned that such involvement would require submitting to a bureaucracy antithetical to art. As he considers killing himself, he recalls the suicide note of another poet, Sergei Esenin, in 1925. Mayakovsky never suspected he would identify with Esenin, who longed for a pastoral past while Mayakovsky wanted to help build a new order. Although Nadezhda mollifies her isolation by reading Mayakovsky’s poetry, this does not suffice for her either: she kills herself. Mikhail alone survives, comforting himself with unlikely fantasies of one day making enough money to afford a family. Thus, this section suggests that the human need for self-realization, self-expression, and connections that grow from and reinforce one’s distinct identity persist no matter how ruthless the demands to conform. The June 1940 entry in Trotsky’s diary begins by declaring that he values the emotional connection he feels with Jordi as a result of their shared love of working with machines. This leads him to recall the time he spent with the machine workers in his father’s employ who, like the farmers in the Ukraine and like Mikhail, struggled to get enough to eat. He claims that his political education started when a bureaucrat bribed by his father proclaimed that the workers’ blindness resulted not from the inadequate food his father provided them, but from their excessive intake of vodka. The chapter emphasizes Trotsky’s early empathy with the workers’ struggle and the beginnings of his political education. A key symbol of Trotsky’s sympathy both with the workers and with art is his nostalgic recollection of the “memory stone” that one of this father’s workers, Nikolai Pavlovich, inherited from an lithographer uncle. The limestone absorbed ink from things drawn on it, and despite being rubbed clean between projects, old lines

The chapter opens with Trotsky’s father explaining his son to a companion as they flee to Odessa after being driven off their land during the Russian Civil War. He explains how after he sent his son to school in Odessa, the glasses his son acquired seem to change the way he viewed the world: he became alienated from the rhythms of nature and the land. The son has no idea, therefore, what his father and all others who must give up their land endure. He also wonders aloud what a son meticulous about his appearance would think of a father hobbling along in a pair of too-tight shoes. He recalls wanting to embrace his son when visiting him in prison but then realizing that this impulse has come too late. An entry from Tolstoy’s point of view reveals that when his father visited his prison, he would not have welcomed this embrace, for Trotsky saw his father as something of an embarrassment—an illiterate peasant farmer. The father continues toward Odessa with the workers who first inspired his son’s political activism; finally, the journey wears them out and they begin to die, primarily of typhus. The father alone survives. While his father struggles to stay alive, Trotsky travels comfortably on what he considers a Spartan train with simple leather couches. He sustains his power by terrorizing others, seeing his brutality as evidence that he has transcended not only his peasant roots but also the intellectual stage of his life that followed. To Trotsky, a war-

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT incompatible with the delusions about his invincibility that he has cultivated since childhood. He fires physicians or sends them to jail, accusing them of participating in a Jewish American plot. He tears up trees, which offend him with their immortality, desperately attempting to complete his project of conquering nature. An entry that takes place in the seminary Stalin attended to please his mother in 1898 interrupts the episodes about his deteriorating health long enough to explain that the brutality, perversity, and fear pervading the seminary took care of any confidence in religious faith that Stalin may have brought to the institution with him. Instead of religious teachings, he focuses on the ideas of Charles Darwin, determined to make himself into one of the “fittest” and avoid getting swept aside by history. The entries return to Moscow in 1953 as Stalin attempts to evade death. As he dies, he remembers with pleasure making his underlings, all dressed in the kinds of beautiful leather boots his shoemaker father aspired to make for a prince, move faster and faster to the music coming from a gramophone he controls. Although he congratulates himself on having gone beyond his parents, Stalin obsesses about the need for the people around him to walk loudly enough for him to hear them approaching, a standard his father also embraced. The next brief entry shows Kahlo mourning Stalin’s death. And the concluding entry, written in August 1940, just after an attempt on Trotsky’s life, makes him a relatively sympathetic figure. While Stalin futilely strives for invulnerability, Trotsky’s brush with death turns him toward his wife; he cherishes her ability to help him notice the richness of ordinary events. But Trotsky also still cares for Frida, who, unlike his wife, would never make him the center of her life. In other words, Trotsky has a milder version of the need to control that underlies Stalin’s brutality. He enjoys his wife not for herself, but for what she contributes to his life. He also credits her for sustaining his relationship with his children. The concluding chapter, “Journey to Mictlan,” opens with the Pravda announcement of Trotsky’s death on August 24, 1940. The first

rior like himself deserves the beautiful leather suit he wears. Father and son meet in 1921 after the civil war. The son celebrates the triumph of his political movement. When the father points out that it destroyed him, the son retorts that the father could afford to lose much. The father notes his son’s shining boots, recalling that no one on the steppe ever wore such clean and glowing boots; to Trotsky’s father, the son who sees himself championing the workers of the world has no idea what work involves. In the concluding diary entry for July 1940, Trotsky reviews an earlier writing of his own where he spoke of transcending discomfort by losing oneself in principle; he admits that he does not find that solution easy now that he has lost so many people close to him. Instead, he struggles with insomnia and yearns for Frida Kahlo, convinced that his attraction to her could even drown out his concern for Stalin. But he concludes by repeating that he is not like Stalin and that events at Kronstadt, a battle where he ordered his troops to fire on Russian sailors who were asking for democratic reforms, did not make him like Stalin because the people his troops shot were not truly loyal. So, while the reader will have concluded the second chapter convinced that Trotsky has more kindness and insight than Stalin, the third chapter portrays Trotsky as engaged in a Stalinesque enterprise that destroys the people he claims to save, even while he denies the reality of his cruelty as passionately as does Stalin. The first entry of the next chapter, “Koba Learns to Ride,” takes place in 1889. It shows Stalin as a child riding the shoulders of someone named Sergei and finding the experience of looking down on everyone else exhilarating. From this powerful position, he names himself “Koba,” a mythic Georgian outlaw who could conquer all. The child Stalin finds it thrilling to see a cloth dealer killed, especially since it makes it possible for him to steal the canvas his shoemaker father needs and give the money he would have spent on it to his mother, so she can pay the rent. The next entry takes place in Moscow during 1952 when Stalin’s health deteriorates, a circumstance

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT sions about how Trotsky’s affair with Kahlo changed their relationship. Trotsky begins by saying that he must struggle to labor on Stalin’s biography because his heart has become too insistent to ignore. But when his thoughts return to Frida, he realizes that he does not yearn for her so much as he misses feeling intense desire. After their affair ended, he still had his wife, but a void remained because he could only recall desire, not experience it. In her entry, Natalia draws the same conclusion, adding that after Trotsky’s involvement with Frida passed, their marriage deepened. In 1954, Jordi reveals that his own affair with Frida awakened his feeling life; he responded by marrying and becoming close to his wife. Señora Morena closes the book by affirming once more that Trotsky’s warriorlike death will surely take him to the Southern Paradise where he will turn into a butterfly or a hummingbird and return.

entry, from Señora Moreno in 1954, after the death of Kahlo, explains that the journey to Mictlan is the final journey one takes after death. During this trip, the deceased wear masks that represent their ideal faces. The manner of one’s death determines one’s destination. Señora Moreno declares that Trotsky undoubtedly traveled to the “Southern Paradise, the House of the Sun,” because he was a warrior. Senora Moreno places Frida Kahlo in the Eastern Paradise because of her love of the rain and her willingness to go with the flow of her own life. Señora Moreno’s declaration that Trotsky and Kahlo enjoy different fates in the afterworld introduces a chapter that discusses Trotsky’s death and various reactions to it, focusing on what attracted Kahlo and Trotsky to each other as well as what pulled them apart. In Natalia’s entry dated September 1940, she misses Trotsky because he was the focus of her life and she enjoyed pointing out small things to him that he would otherwise overlook. She also confirms Señora Moreno’s analysis of Trotsky as a warrior by pointing out that, for him, the revolution came first. She knew of his attraction to Frida, and during the time he separated from her, she comforted herself with poetry written by Mayakovsky, the same poet whose work Stalin’s wife turned to when she felt isolated. Natalia feels that after Trotsky returned to her, he treated other people with greater kindness but always remained primarily a revolutionary. Jordi’s entry confirms that Natalia took care of the daily obligations, freeing Trotsky to reflect. Mecader’s entry in 1940, just before he kills Trotsky with a pickax, also shows the importance of the revolution to Trotsky: Mecader won Trotsky’s confidence by presenting himself as amenable to political persuasion.

The beautiful imagery associated with Trotsky at the end of the novel seems a bit paradoxical, since Stalin also spent his life fighting. Trotsky lacks the complete selfabsorption and rigidity of Stalin. Trotsky feels and cherishes human sentiments, but his wife, Natalia, has to mediate them for him. She calls his attention to natural objects and connects him to his own children. Also, while Stalin wants to destroy nature, Trotsky raises rabbits in Mexico. Frida’s devastation when Stalin dies makes sense since she, too, worships power and sought a connection with Trotsky to dominate his wife. From the perspective of Señora Moreno, which frames In the Blue House, Frida lacked Trotsky’s nobility. As in Delahunt’s earlier short stories, finally, the message of In the Blue House resists easy statement. Presenting so many angles on the novel’s events complicates the reader’s conclusions about all the characters except the consistently brutal Stalin. Moreover, the novel’s rich, persistent imagery conveys much that resists straightforward statement. This helps explain why Delahunt’s agent at the time let the manuscript sit uncirculated for months and declared it “too literary and experimental for a first novel.” Delahunt responded by parting company with

The entry for August 22, 1940, presents a police interrogation of Kahlo, along with her inner thoughts. She declares that Trotsky’s rigidity made him unappealing to her, but she liked the idea of controlling not only him but also his wife, by seducing him. She saw this as a way to avenge Rivera’s unfaithfulness with her sister. Sections for first Trotsky and then Natalia for August 1940 show that they have reached the same conclu-

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT was able to stay with his family there. Bhopal also plays a prominent role in The Red Book.

that agency and sending it out herself. Critics loved it; the book collected the Saltire Society Scottish First Book of the Year prize, a Scottish Arts Council Book of the Year award, a nomination for the Orange Prize, and a regional Commonwealth Prize.

THE RED BOOK

The Red Book is a photograph album; its preface suggests that as one looks through collections of photographs, stories emerge. Each section in The Red Book begins by describing a photograph, usually of the character whose perspective will dominate the following section. Delahunt follows the same general organizing principle of In the Blue House in that each section of The Red Book collects entries from the perspectives of different characters. However, this novel focuses on only three people whose lives intertwine, none of them historical personages. As a result, at first glance, The Red Book appears a more traditional novel than In the Blue House since it has a much more limited cast of characters and a relatively linear narrative sequence. Meaghan Delahunt has said that she suspects that she started settling in from a lifetime on the road when she and her partner, Francis Cassidy, moved back to Edinburgh. And, similarly, The Red Book has a stronger center than In the Blue House. However, in a sense, it has more complexity than In the Blue House, where the philosophic issues appeared in relatively overt form; in The Red Book, Delahunt completely embodies such issues in the novel’s events and characters. In the Blue House hovers quite explicitly over issues of control and desire, while The Red Book presents an apparently simple series of occurrences, but an undertow of meaning draws the reader in without our necessarily consciously realizing the larger significance of the book’s plot and characters. The first chapter, “Delhi,” introduces the novel’s three central characters. The book’s main character is Francoise, an Australian photographer who comes to Delhi for a show of Raghu Rai’s photographs and then plans to work on a project in Bhopal. Francoise shares not only Delahunt’s nationality but also her working methods. For instance, Francoise at first wanders Delhi allowing her eyes to adjust to this new visual environment. Later, she travels the city with a camera, taking shots almost randomly. Like

Since she regards writing primarily as a selfeducating process, Delahunt doubted all this attention would make her self-conscious enough to slow down the production of her second book. But, for whatever reason, her next novel, The Red Book (2008), took her eight years to write. She began in 1999 with three images: India, the color red, and a Buddhist monk. For years she wrote what she thought was a book about a dying Buddhist monk, inspired, in part, by her interest in Buddhism. It happened that as she lost herself in the perspective of someone facing death, many people close to her died, including her father. In November 2003 she published an essay in the weekly Scotland on Sunday called “My Father, William Blake, and a Buddhist Monk United in Songs of Experience,” pointing out striking similarities between the passing of the monk she had imagined and her father. Her more recent short stories also seem studies in grieving. “To the Monument of Shah Jahan” presents a wife sorrowing for herself as she endures a suffocating marriage; in “The Mani,” a man mourns his mother’s death; in “To the Island,” a woman laments for her dead husband; and in “The Grip,” a man intends to grieve for his deceased father but winds up enjoying himself instead. In September 2005, Delahunt decided that a woman photographer provided a more appropriate focus for her new novel. In 2000, she had a fellowship to Sanskriti Kendra in New Delhi, and there she met a number of fascinating women photographers; she told Nancy Bunge in an unpublished interview that she regrets not realizing the true center of her book until it was too late to ask them questions. Before she left for India, she had a dream about Bhopal with the image of a dead child from a famous photograph taken by the Indian photographer Raghu Rai after the Bhopal gas disaster in 1984. While in India, she wanted to visit Bhopal. The first person she met at Sanskriti came from Bhopal, and Delahunt

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT the activities at a Buddhist monastery, a monk offers to teach him to meditate in exchange for English lessons. That monk is Lama Shastri, who comments that people want to lose fear or anger, but never desire—and certainly Arkay’s commitment to fulfilling his desire for drink is destroying his life. The Scot finds meditating healing and meeting the Dalai Lama magical, so he commits to Buddhism. Through Lama Shastri, Arkay meets Naga, who has become a Buddhist monk. Thus, the first chapter presents two Westerners who have followed their impulses; they lead Francoise into art and Arkay into drink. Naga recognizes Arkay’s problem and nudges him toward a solution, a role he prepared for by anticipating others’ needs in the Singh household. Once again, Delahunt’s work evades simple judgments: trusting one’s impulses can lead to salvation or destruction, and although Naga endured harsh treatment from an unsympathetic master, what he learned from it allows him to save Arkay. In the next chapter, “Early Prints,” Delahunt reveals the earlier lives of her three major characters. Francoise’s father died during her childhood, leaving her in the custody of a mother who yearned for a normal life. Her child’s displays of creativity annoyed her. Francoise, like her author, enjoys studying objects from various angles and watching the shifting sunlight reveal new dimensions of them. Perhaps because her curiosity depresses her mother, Francoise begins to suffer from crying jags, a propensity Delahunt shares. The school recommends a psychologist who cures Francoise by inviting her to use her imagination by describing the objects she sees in ink blots and telling stories. Her grandfather also encourages her artistic inclinations, presenting her with her first camera. After she leaves home, Francoise works menial jobs and, at night, focuses on what she considers her real life: she goes to art galleries to refine the ways she looks at art and produces work of her own. But then, as happened to Delahunt, a man beats her for no apparent reason. And like Delahunt, this attack makes her question her life and conclude that she must change it. She decides to make a full commitment to art and attend art school. Although she produces a

Delahunt, she gives herself over to the process, not forcing anything, and waiting for a pattern to emerge. Because of her visual sensitivity, colors almost overwhelm Francoise; they have so much impact on her that she associates them with sounds. Because Delahunt lost all hearing in her left ear at the age of three, she too has a sharp visual awareness that reveals itself in her work’s imagery. All of Francoise’s photographs, like components of Delahunt’s fiction, seem fragmented, so she posts them and waits for a pattern to emerge. And Francoise maintains that despite her open-ended method, a good photograph has a sense of inevitability. Delahunt also refuses to force her fiction toward an order; instead, she waits, patiently, for it to grow into one. Delahunt and Francoise share the faith that if they trust their impulses and their art, something rich will develop. Francoise’s faith in her perceptions contrasts with the values of Surjit Singh, the man of the house where she stays in Delhi: he believes in the rightness of conventional social structures. In his youth, he enjoyed palatial surroundings and still has servants whom he views and treats with contempt. He does not see Bhopal as a tragedy since most who died there practiced Islam and reproduced too frequently for his taste. His wife, Aruna, talks of one servant who saved them from a rabid mob, but he refuses to accept this explanation, saying that his wife’s family saved them. The narrative then turns to the servant, a young man named Naga. It shows the hard conditions of his service in the Singh household, where he sleeps on a floor rug. He does not complain. Instead, he focuses on anticipating others’ needs, especially those of the many foreign visitors to the house. He becomes angry when a visitor to the house ridicules his devotion to the Dalai Lama, but he quickly faults himself for allowing anger to control him. Arkay, the third major character, then appears. A hard-drinking Scot who also once stayed with the Singh family, he believes that he can change his life in India, so he travels to the countryside, where he persistently drinks himself into oblivion. When he finds himself drawn to and charmed by

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT coise, no grandfathers or psychologists ever gave him permission. Naga, a Tibetan refugee, spent his youth in Nepal, where he worked as a porter for Western mountain climbers. The Westerners ignore the pain and discomfort of their porters and then sidestep guilt by insisting that climbing mountains comes easily to those who live in Nepal—but by the time Naga quits and heads toward Delhi, he has lost toes and the cold has left permanent purple marks on his face. In Delhi, he saves money for his family in Bhopal; when he hears about the gas disaster there, he heads home in the middle of the night. He explains that his birth name is Sonam, and his ordination name is Nagarjuna, but he only uses Naga because he doesn’t fully feel worthy of it yet: he still gets angry and feels that he has many internal obstacles to overcome.

variety of visual media, she finds herself drawn to photography. She first realized its power when her grandfather showed her the same picture of the child at Bhopal that Delahunt dreamed about before traveling to India. Francoise decides that photographing well in black-and-white poses more problems than doing so in color, but she welcomes difficulty—as does her author. Again, like Delahunt, her early work wins a large award that leads to a fellowship in India. There, she plans a project testifying to the horrors of Bhopal. When her mother dies, she discovers sketches, signed by her mother, hidden away. Rather than feeling a sense of identification with her mother, Francoise defiantly resolves not to replicate her mother’s defeat. And then, like Delahunt, she dreams of Bhopal. Arkay grew up Catholic in a predominantly Protestant Scottish village; consequently, he was frequently beaten and emerged from one fight with a broken eardrum, making it difficult for him to hear with his left ear, a challenge his creator shares. People in his town drink heavily, and Arkay joins them. At seventeen, he emigrates to Australia, where he raises money with various scams. He then ships out and works hard until his ship docks at Istanbul and a Turk almost successfully cheats him. He decides to jump ship and heads to a small Turkish town named Didim, where he enjoys watching a man named Irfan carve onyx. Irfan strives only to do a good job; Arkay not only comes to understand the pleasures of such a life, he likes becoming part of Irfan’s family. But he can’t resist cheating a German tourist. His behavior disgusts Irfan, who assures Arkay that he could be a good man if he wanted. A trip home for his father’s funeral casts some light on Arkay’s need to defeat other men, even when doing so ruins his own life. He recalls his father jokingly encouraging him to raise his shirt and amuse guests by displaying bruises left by his father. He also remembers a local man named Dan Tierney repeatedly leaning into him when he was a boy. Arkay’s drinking shows he cannot value himself; his con artistry reveals he does not value others. Although he recognizes art-making as a way out of this destructive life, he cannot grasp it, perhaps because, unlike Fran-

The next section, “Bhopal,” brings the three major characters together. Francoise goes to Bhopal to begin her residency, and in the process of collecting disturbing information about the late warning of the gas leak given by Union Carbide, about the illnesses that continue to afflict the people because of the leak, and about the failure to punish those responsible, she meets a monk named Naga. He explains how he came to Bhopal to help his family after the gas disaster, but only his sister Dawa, now struggling with a terminal illness, survives. Some months after his arrival, the exhausted Naga collapses at the Sanchi Monastary and has a vision in which the child pictured in the Rai photograph spoke. After monks take him in and teach him to read and write, he decides to become part of their order. He tells Francoise that her work is her practice, since like one meditating, she accepts whatever comes and stays with it. Naga takes Francoise to meet and photograph his dying sister; later, he invites her to his sister’s funeral, where she meets a monk named Tenzin Dorje, Arkay’s ordination name. After his sister’s funeral, Naga must decide whether to feel the sadness and then move onto compassion or nourish his anger about the death and destruction the gas leak caused; he chooses the second option and continues his work collecting evidence

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT ing the relationship. He also sees that although the peaceful, meditative path he followed in the monastery relieved his need for drink, it left him ignorant about intimacy.

against Union Carbide. In this way, the stories of the three central characters come to intertwine, and in “Bhopal,” the photographs of each individual that used to appear at the start of separate sections now reflect the India that they share. In the next section, “Rajasthan,” Francoise and Arkay meet on a bus to Jaipar and travel around India together. Arkay has taken a sabbatical from the monastery after his mother’s funeral in Scotland, where he attempted to cure his emptiness and loneliness with drink. When he committed himself to Buddhism, he gave up alcohol. After the monks sent him to Kerala to dry out, he moved into a monastery, thinking he could readily adopt a monk’s life, but after two months, pain and difficulty surfaced and he had trouble meditating. Also, he felt that the tasks he had to perform took away from his meditation because he did not yet understand that all activity contributes to a practice. But, eventually, he had settled into a peaceful life with meditation at its center. The emotions his trip to Scotland evoked have disrupted his apparently serene life. As they travel, he and Francoise find themselves both drawn to each other and reluctant to become involved. Arkay tells Francoise about a 2001 trip to Varanasi with Naga when he gave himself happily to the flow of life and enjoyed the ride, but felt bereft when he later learned that the Lama Shastri, whose mere presence drew him into Buddhism, had died. When Arkay confesses that he feels lonely without his teacher, she reaches out to him, saying he doesn’t have to be alone; they become lovers. Sometimes their relationship goes smoothly and sometimes Arkay turns into a disgusting drunk and pushes Francoise away. Arkay cannot trust the relationship, because when he feels happy, he remembers evenings when he returned to his home in Scotland after a good day and waited for his father to arrive home and ruin it. When he drinks, he dreams of men from Scotland chasing him. His relationship with Francoise reawakens his emotional life, much of it unpleasant. After a few months, Fran leaves to save herself, and Arkay realizes that her capacity for giving made her the woman for him, but his inability to give back prevented him from protect-

At the end of the novel, in the section called “Return,” all the major characters return to the house where each stayed on arriving in Delhi, changed by the events transpiring in the interim. Francoise is pregnant with Arkay’s child and worries that since she must nourish her creativity so intensely, a child will drain the resources she needs to do her work. Arkay attempts to return to the monastery and stop drinking, but he learns that his drinking has destroyed his liver, so he sets out to find Francoise and Lama Shastri, whom he dreams has a child and changes genders. He gets to Delhi, but winds up dying in the tent of Lakhsmi, a hijra, or member of the third gender, usually a man who dresses like a woman. Called by Lakhsmi, Naga takes Francoise to the tent and they return Arkay to the Singh house— where the novel and their stories began—with the blessing of Surjit, the man of the house, who, despite his snobbery, defers to his good heart. Following Arkay’s death, Naga achieves compassion for the executive who ran Union Carbide at the time of the Bhopal disaster and burns his documents. Francoise, now acutely aware of every child she sees, returns to her work in Bhopal and nourishes the acceptance central to it. She pins up her photographs and waits for a pattern to emerge; she waits until it feels right to grieve Arkay’s death, and she waits for her child to arrive. While In the Blue House ends with unresolved struggle, The Red Book concludes with a closure achieved not by the events but by the characters’ willingness to let them happen. In the Blue House vividly portrays the torment that results from the struggle between desire and power. Since all the major characters in that book, aside from Trotsky’s wife, Natalia, strive to leave their marks on the world, it appropriately hovers over history and politics and renders its reality with vivid, sometimes violent, imagery. The major characters in The Red Book strive for and often achieve acceptance of pain, complication, and change as well as compassion for others. So

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MEAGHAN DELAHUNT it makes sense that this book includes often lovely but generally quieter imagery than that of In the Blue House, and it affords easier access to and stronger empathy for its characters. That the plot and characters of The Red Book weave together so smoothly contributes to the novel’s harmonious feel. One can only guess why Delahunt gives the characters her own traits: Francoise her working methods, Naga her social indignation as well as her compassion, and Arkay a defective left ear; but presumably, these identifications enhance her ability to enter into the character’s lives and take readers with her. Delahunt told Nancy Bunge in an unpublished interview that she wasn’t ready to write the book about the dying monk she started, but she hopes to acquire the requisite knowledge to finish it in the future. That may be her next book, or something entirely different may draw her. Whatever she writes, like Francoise, Delahunt will bring patience and authenticity to the task. When she began teaching creative writing at St. Andrews University in 2004, she worried that it would interfere with her own work. But she believes her job nourishes rather than obstructs her writing, in part because she finds it inspiring to accompany her students on the long journey from frustration to satisfaction with a manuscript; it reconfirms her faith in the process, again and again.

“Greta Garbo’s Feet.” HQ Magazine (March–April 1998): 118–121. “In the Blue House at Coyoacán.” Heat 9: 6–16 (1998). “The Girl from Quesbrada.” In Shorts 3: The Macallan/ Sunday on Scotland Short Story Collection, edited by Ali Smith, 63–72. Edinburgh: Polygon, 2000. “The Grip.” The Book of St. Andrews: An Anthology. Robert Crawford, ed. Edinburgh: Polygon, 2005. Pp.105-119. “The Mani.” 2007. Available at the Scottish Arts Council website, www.sac.org.uk. “To the Monument of Shah Jahan.” 2007. Available at the Meaghan Delahunt page of the Bloomsbury Publishing Web site, www.bloomsbury.com/authors. “Ten Things You Should Know.” Edinburgh Review, January 2008. “Train Notes” (with Kristy Gunn). Cleave: New Writing from Women in Scotland. Two Ravens Press, 2008.

UNCOLLECTED ESSAYS “The Last Man Standing.” Spectrum, May 6, 2001, p. 21. Also available at the Meaghan Delahunt page of the Bloomsbury Publishing Web site, www.bloomsbury.com/ authors. “Ozzies Make a Big Hop.” Sunday Times (London), January 26, 2003, p. 4. “Sexual Politics.” Scotland on Sunday, March 9, 2003, p. 11. “Wish You Were Here.” Scotland on Sunday, May 17, 2003, p. 10. “Flying Nun.” Brick Magazine, no. 71: 85 (summer 2003). “My Father, William Blake, and a Buddhist Monk United in Songs of Experience.” Scotland on Sunday, November 23, 2003. “‘There Is No Running Away in Here.’” Scotland on Sunday, February 22, 2004. “The Book That Changed My Life.” Scotland on Sunday, November 20, 2004. “On Leaving the Party.” Freedom Spring: Ten Years On: A Celebration and Commemoration of Ten Years of Freedom in South Africa, edited by Suhayl Saadi and Catherine McInerney, 69–73. Glasgow: Waverly Books, 2005.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF MEAGHAN DELAHUNT NOVELS In the Blue House. London: Bloomsbury, 2001. Reprinted in the United States as In the Casa Azul. New York: St. Martin’s, 2002. The Red Book. London: Granta, 2008.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Atkinson, Frances. “In the Red House.” The Age (Melbourne, Australia), July 14, 2001, p. 7. McGlone, Jackie. “No More Heroes.” Scotland on Sunday. March 18, 2001, p. 9. Mehta, Riju. “Liberal Rage but Where Is the Insider’s Insight.” India Today, 23 December 2002, p. 69. Wallace, Gavin. An Extract from Meaghan Delahunt’s In the Blue House with an Enthusiast’s View. Edinburgh: Scottish Book Trust, 2003.

UNCOLLECTED SHORT FICTION “Birthing.” Body Lines: A Women’s Anthology, edited by Jillian Bartlett and Cathi Joseph, 97–102. Sydney: Women’s Redress Press, 1991. Reprinted in Harpies & Quines (October–November 1993): 37–39. “T-Song.” Westerly no. 3 (1997): 89–97.

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GREG DELANTY (1958—)

Thomas O’Grady to find an audience in publications such as the Irish Times, Irish Press, Cork Examiner, Poetry Ireland, Salmon, Raven Introductions 4, and Hard Lines. He also contributed time and energy to civic and political groups and such causes as the Simon Community (an organization that assists the homeless) and the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. Coming to America in 1986 to accept the Allan Dowling Poetry Fellowship, he secured a one-year writing residency at the University of Vermont in Burlington. Parlaying that appointment into a teaching position at Saint Michael’s College in nearby Colchester, he decided to settle in Vermont, where he became a tenured faculty member in the English Department of Saint Michael’s. An American citizen since 1994, Delanty ran as a Green Party candidate in the Vermont state elections in 2004. He married Patricia Ferreira in 1988; they and their son, Daniel, settled in Burlington with a summer home in Derrynane, County Kerry.

RECOGNIZED DISTINCTIVELY EARLY in his career as the final entry in the original three-volume Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing (1991)—a chronological compilation representing ten centuries of Irish literary achievement—Greg Delanty has distinguished himself among the poets of his generation by making his mark as much on the American as on the Irish side of the Atlantic Ocean. Born Daniel John Gregory Delanty in Cork City on 19 July 1958, the elder of two sons of Daniel Delanty, a typesetter with the Eagle Printing Company, and Eileen O’Sullivan, a homemaker, the poet followed a conventional educational path through schools run by the Presentation Sisters (two years) and then the Presentation Brothers before entering University College Cork (UCC), from which he received his degree in English and History in 1980 and a Higher Diploma in Education in 1982. While at university, he committed himself to writing poetry, and some of his earliest work was published in the Quarryman, the UCC literary journal, which at one point he also edited. As reflected in Jumping Off Shadows (1995), an anthology of poems written by fellow graduates and coedited by Delanty and the Irishlanguage poet Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, UCC was an incubator of poetic talent particularly during the quarter-century between 1960 and 1985. Dedicated to influential and supportive professors and poets including Séan Lucy, John Montague, Séan ó Riada, Séan ó Ríordáin, and Séan ó Tuama, this anthology helps to locate Delanty geographically, temporally, socially, and culturally within the broader Irish poetic tradition.

HOME FROM HOME

Before moving permanently to America, Delanty published Cast in the Fire (1986), a volume of poems that established his commitment to traditional lyric poetry. Like much of his later work, the poems here tend to be shorter rather than longer, to be both precise and evocative in their use of language, to be observant of fixed forms (especially the sonnet), and to be a reflection on or a refraction of the poet’s personal experience or personal observation. While this volume has no single overarching theme, the poems incline toward the spirit expressed in “Out of the Ordinary,” in which Delanty implies that his subject matter is not the transcendent but the commonplace: “heaven has descended to you and

After university Delanty taught at Cork Vocational and Educational College; for several years he also worked odd jobs—barman, lifeguard, Christmas postman—that allowed him flexible time to write poems. His writing began

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GREG DELANTY slow / airs of the wind”—“one minute sean-nós melancholy, the next jigging & reeling / like Irish character itself”—Delanty presents an apt image for the distinctive inflection of his own poetic voice:

me, / Enthralled here today, ambling along Union Quay” (p. 20). A number of the poems probe areas of personal disquiet and discomfort that might otherwise remain unacknowledged and unexplored, and Delanty likewise implies, in “Below ‘The Devil’s Punchbowl,’ ” that the writing of poems compares to the taboo “thrill” of drinking from “a pagan place” like the pool below a scenic waterfall near Killarney in County Kerry: the poet ignores “the perpetual shhhѧ / Of the fall with its white finger to its lips” (p. 33). Thus several of the poems, such as “Thrust & Parry,” engage with a troubled romantic relationship: “You’re sure you heard something break. Something snap. / Deep within her. Like a twig split in two / And cast in the fire” (p. 17). Others deal with the death of his father, a theme that will emerge as a preoccupation in later volumes. A typical poem from this first volume, “Tie,” uses the conceit of a necktie borrowed from his father to underscore the father’s absence. A loosely rhymed sonnet, the poem closes with the poet recognizing “that you can never give your father / Back his black tie, though you’ll find him everywhere” (p. 38). In a sense, Cast in the Fire represented Delanty’s ticket to America, as its promise in manuscript earned the poet the Allan Dowling Poetry Fellowship, a $20,000 stipend that he had to come to the United States to claim. Once he established himself stateside, he landed a contract with Louisiana State University Press for the publication of Southward (1992). While reprinting (and in some cases revising) a number of the poems that appeared in Cast in the Fire, this second volume gives them a new context and a new resonance as it also expands the range and the reach of Delanty’s poetic vision. One dimension of the context is established in the book’s proem, “The Fuchsia Blaze.” In effect a declaration of poetic intention, this poem links the fuchsia, a colorfully flowering shrub imported into the south of Ireland from South America by colonizing English gardeners, with the colorful dialect—“a wild English / that is still Irish”— spoken in Delanty’s native southwestern corner of the country. Describing these blooming plants that “wildfired the land” as “blown by the fast &

my fuchsia verse struggling to escape the English garden & flourish in a wilder landscape. (p. vii)

The volume’s title hinted at how his work differed intrinsically from that of the Northern Irish poets, among them Seamus Heaney, Michael Longley, Ciaran Carson, and Paul Muldoon, who were making news through their artistic engagement with the political and civil unrest in their native province. Delanty began to make a name for himself as a writer rooted at the southern tip of the island but ready to branch out as a poet of transatlantic consequence. Mostly elegiac lyrics working variations on the loss of his father, the first dozen poems of Southward include several from Cast in the Fire. Among the new poems, “The Master Printer” is especially compelling for the poet’s re-creation of the texture of his childhood through wellremembered details: penny candies known as Bull’s Eyes, the names of classmates Adolina Davy and Lily Walsh, the sensation of his father “giving me a crossbar to school.” The third stanza details the cruelty of his teacher Brother Dermot, then Delanty turns the poem masterfully and triumphantly in the fourth and final stanza as he elevates his father far beyond the ministry of fear that the poet associates with his Presentation Brothers schooling: Did that brother harm you too by continually summoning you in to declare that I, your son, was a bit slow? He did not know, blind behind a righteous frown, that you had the master printer’s skill of being able to read backwards & upside down. (p. 6)

“The Rising” likewise remembers a Presentation Brother quick to use the cane on any boy refusing to accept that “Ireland was a queen”: “It was

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GREG DELANTY worth 3 on each hand for raising our arms / out of devilment & declaring it was just land” (p. 15).

Much of the latter half of Southward, including a fine four-sonnet sequence titled “Myths,” involves poems of lost or unrequited love. But these segue into a series of poems reflecting on a new chapter in the poet’s life: his marriage in 1988 to Patricia Ferreira, an American woman he met in Vermont. “You’re blooming around every corner,” he writes in “Walking Home” (p. 38), comparing her radiance to the fuchsia and the montbretia blossoming along byroads in County Cork. “Patti,” as Delanty refers to her in later volumes, will continue to figure prominently in his poems and in his life as an Irish émigré.

Not surprisingly, such memories of boyhood are succeeded by evocations—made up of equal parts nostalgia and ambivalence—of Cork City by the adult Delanty who has emigrated to America. An expression of longing for the narrow streets and the familiar landmarks of home, “Home from Home” is also an applied example of the poet’s linguistically rich “fuchsia verse” as he imagines introducing a visitor to the wonders of the city, including the talk and the repartee found in pubs—“the rapid slagging and knawvshawling that are / loaded with words you’ll find in no dictionary” (p. 16). In “Cork’s Gold Vessel,” which acknowledges the economic hardships faced by all classes in the city in the late 1980s, long before Ireland’s later boom known as the Celtic Tiger, the nostalgia is definitely muted. Citing the legend of “King Corc’s magical realm” shimmering below the surface of the “putrefied, slug-slithering” River Lee which bisects the city, Delanty ends the poem on a bleak note: “When exiled Corkonians return they break the spell; / diving in they flounder in dark waters once more” (pp. 17–18).

COMING TO AMERICA

In American Wake (1995), Delanty’s focus is anything but domestic as he writes almost exclusively from the perspective of the latter-day Irishman transplanted, not altogether unhappily but not altogether comfortably either, in America. Its title refers to a painfully familiar phenomenon of nineteenth- and earlier-twentieth-century Ireland—an emotion-laced gathering of family and friends on the eve of departure for America of community members unlikely ever to return to their native soil—and the book has a mostly somber and sober tone. This is established in the proem, “The Fifth Province,” whose title alludes to the notion that Ireland, divided geographically into four ancient provinces—Ulster, Munster, Leinster, and Connacht—has an indeterminate fifth province as well. Partly historical (the Irish word for province is cúige, which means “a fifth”) and partly mythological, this elusive physical place becomes in Delanty’s poetic imagination the metaphysical state of displacement: “It is this island where all exiles naturally land” (p. 3). Divided into four parts, American Wake mostly works variations on the theme of exile, although the first poem of part 1, “After Viewing The Bowling Match at Castlemary, Cloyne 1847,” prompted by a painting by Delanty’s fellow Cork native Daniel MacDonald (1821–1853), has a somewhat wider resonance. Depicting the ancient Irish sport of road bowls, a game in which two players compete to see who can take the fewest throws to project a 28-ounce iron ball along a

While not an overtly “political” poet, Delanty nonetheless does reflect on certain social and political issues in Southward, dedicating poems to the Simon Community and to the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. In “Aisling” he engages ironically with the convention of the dream vision popular among eighteenth-century Irish-language poets, who depicted Ireland as a beautiful young woman bringing a message of hope to restless rebels. In “Nathair”—the Irish word for “serpent”—a visit to bucolic Gouganebarra in west County Cork, an area spotted with roadside shrines commemorating the rebel heroes of Ireland’s earlier “Troubles” (the period 1919–1923), reminds him of the story of St. Finbarre banishing a serpent from Ireland. Thinking of the contemporary “troubled North,” he writes: “we couldn’t help praying / that the serpent looming / beneath the surface of our times / be faced & banished again” (pp. 24–25).

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GREG DELANTY three-mile stretch of winding road, the painting captures a seemingly carefree Ireland. The work was painted in 1842 but is cast by Delanty in the year known as “Black 47,” the darkest year of An Gorta Mór—the “Great Hunger,” precipitated by potato blight, that decimated Ireland in the 1840s. MacDonald’s work captures Ireland on the brink of catastrophe: at the very verge of the double upheaval that Delanty phrases as “famine & exile darkening the land.” The rest is history; but writing in America in the mid-1990s, Delanty recognizes ominously that just as the painter’s framed-in brushstrokes inevitably fail to cover the full canvas of history, so may contemporary Americans remain oblivious to “whatever lurks in our background.” A wide-reaching poem, spanning both a century-and-a-half and worlds an ocean apart, it is also stylistically a signature piece for Delanty. Employing a “nonce” stanza of seven lines rhyming (or slant-rhyming) abcbcaa and indenting lines 2 and 3 and doubleindenting lines 5 and 6, Delanty reworks the scene of MacDonald’s painting in a form just slightly off kilter and just slightly off key—in other words, in a form just right for treating the disconcerting implications of its seemingly benign subject matter, a social diversion as ordinary as “baseballing” in the American context:

Delanty complains: “though we know full well we are no / Holy Family, we’re still turned away / to settle in the unfamiliar, cold hay” (p. 12). But part 1 also includes “The Fat Yank’s Lament,” a nicely turned sonnet in which the poet humorously imagines himself returning to Ireland as a well-fed American visitor only to suffer the scrutiny of friends and relatives: “Now I’m even considering daily jogs, / concerned not so much for my unhealthy state, / but the scales of your eyes reading my weight” (p. 11). A loose sequence of seven sonnets set in New York City, which had been Delanty’s gateway to America in 1986, part 2 of American Wake captures some of the poet’s ambivalence toward life in his adopted country. In “On the Renovation of Ellis Island,” Delanty worries that the freshly painted walls of the museum and interpretive center could be whitewashing history, sanitizing the painful past of immigrants of every social class and every national background who passed through the great hall in search of a better life that in many instances eluded them. That skepticism is matched by his description in “Backfire” of Fourth of July fireworks over Manhattan that becomes a critique of American militarism: “One blossoms into a weeping willow & hangs / above skyscrapers rising like tombstones” (p. 26). Yet in “Searching for a Gift,” he does experience “in the sudden luckybag way things happen / in Manhattan” an unexpected uplift when “a baglady with a face as wrinkled / as the shawlie fruitseller at Tralee Market / hands me something I’d like to give you: / a bunch of Derrynane blue hydrangea” (p. 28).

It’s not just to witness such shenanigans for themselves, but to be relieved from whatever lurks in our background, just as the picture’s crowd is freed of famine & exile darkening the land, waiting to see where the bowl spins off, a planet out of orbit, and who wins.

Part 3, a series of short occasional lyrics, gives way to a more substantial poem, “The Splinters,” comprising part 4. Using the conceit of dozing on the rocks of Skellig Michael, an ancient and long-abandoned island monastic settlement off Ireland’s southwest coast, Delanty projects briefly a dreamy encounter with his late father and then more elaborately a set of imagined encounters with a number of mostly Irish and mostly literary forebears, ranging from the mythical poet Amergin (who dates obscurely to the sixteenth century B.C.) to Northern Irish poet Louis MacNeice (who died in 1963). Other

(p. 7)

Despite Delanty’s promise, in “The Heritage Centre, Cobh 1993,” to “keep doomsaying theatrics to myself” (p. 8), the other poems in part 1 of the volume tend toward the darker side. In “To President Mary Robinson” the poet even lashes out at the popular leader who put a light in the window of the president’s mansion as a symbolic “welcome home” to far-flung Irish emigrants; writing still in the years before the great boom of the later 1990s that transformed Ireland’s economy into that of a first-world country,

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GREG DELANTY personages include Cú Chulainn and the Old Woman of Beare, figures from Irish mythology and folklore respectively; Edmund Spenser, the renowned British poet notorious for his anti-Irish sentiments and for his oversight of military violence against the native Irish during his long tenure in Ireland in various political postings in the late sixteenth century; the Irish-language poets Aogán ó Rathaille, Eoghan Rua ó Súilleabháin, Eibhlín Dubh Ní Chonaill, and Tomás Rua ó Súilleabháin, whose writings span the period from the late seventeenth century to the middle of the nineteenth century; the twentieth-century British-born translator and scholar Robin Flower; and the twentieth-century Irish poets Austin Clarke and Patrick Kavanagh. Generally reminiscent of Seamus Heaney’s encounters with various revenants in his landmark “Station Island” sequence published in 1985, Delanty’s poem yet operates neither as Heaney’s pilgrimage of conscience nor even, despite naming names, as a litany of influences per se. Rather, the figures with whom he engages might be best interpreted as having simply licensed him or affirmed him in one way or another in his long-standing and ongoing commitment to writing poetry. The advice proffered by Austin Clarke, for example, that Delanty write sonnets against the grain of Spenser’s model—“fashion them with your own hammer / in the Gaelic manner, muffling rhyme” (p. 55)—appears to have been Delanty’s practice from very early in his career. In an interview with Paul McLoughlin published in Poetry Ireland Review in 2007, however, Delanty clarifies the Spenser reference in particular:

buying our clothes—we are trapped and can never quite break free. The sonnet form is therefore a statement of implied complicity which is mostly concealed within the poem’s construct as it is mostly concealed within the construct of our lives. (p. 29)

Three years after the appearance of American Wake, Delanty published The Hellbox (1998), a volume of poems that continues to explore exile as a theme—but with a difference. As he explained in an interview with Michael Coffey on the Publishers Weekly Web site in 2006, this book is centered around “the typesetting world of my father and the male world.” In an interview conducted by Catherine Phil MacCarthy and published in PN Review in 2007, he recalled further that this volume was prompted by “a Proustian moment” when he stepped into a printer’s shop “and was brought back to the composing room on the top story of the Eagle Printing Company”: It was in the mid-1990s when all the postmodern talk was still going strong. I had been envious of the literal-turning-to-metaphorical rural worlds of the likes of Patrick Kavanagh and Seamus Heaney. I felt my middle-class background in the city was an impoverished poetic world. It never occurred to me how the compositor world could open up from the literal to the metaphorical in so many different ways. (pp. 45–46)

Dividing the volume into a multipoem first section, “The Composing Room,” and a second section made up of one long poem, “The Hellbox,” the poet draws subject, metaphor, and motif from his father’s trade as a compositor with the Eagle Printing Company to produce a wide thematic arc. Referencing, as he acknowledges in a note at the beginning of the book, a seventeenth-century publication by Joseph Moxon titled Mechanick Exercises on the Whole Art of Printing, Delanty makes full imaginative use of the conventional terminology of the craft as well as the slang and the lingo particular to his father’s workplace in the heart of Cork City. Appropriately, The Hellbox opens with a series of poems representing an almost literal attempt to resurrect through words the place and the time of the poet’s father and his cronies both

Many of my political poems are written in the sonnet form, and sonnets were introduced into English by, among others, Spenser and Raleigh. They both spent a lot of time in Munster. They committed heinous acts in that region, including killing women and children. My sonnets are an appropriate appropriation of the form, working out of the British tradition as well as the Irish—and other traditions. Since the sonnet goes back to thirteenth-century Italy, and it is the most common form used in every period up to the present time, I have the form represent Western tradition and complicity within that tradition. There’s complicity built into most everything we do in the West, whether we’re revving our cars, collecting our children on the bus,

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GREG DELANTY sion,” “The Bent Font,” and “The Printer’s Devil” (like another poem, “The Mirror,” printed in the mirror-image font that typesetters have to master), Delanty muses variously on what he refers to in “White Spirits” as the “ink-black darkness” of some “composers” (p. 15). The effects of pettiness and cliquishness emerge in a poem like “Modern Times,” in which, longing to believe in the efficacy of words alone, he laments: “But I’ve lost my quoin’s key / and all my shaken words fall uneven” (p. 19).

at work and after hours in their local pub. Addressing the sudden death of his father, “The Compositor” establishes right away the poignancy of the poet’s focus, as, italicizing the terms and phrases used by printers—including the number “30” at the bottom of a page signifying “the end”—Delanty writes of “how I discovered where widows & orphans / and out of sorts came from the day my father / unnoticed and unexpectedly set 30 // on the bottom of his compositor’s page” (p. 3). The next several poems record Delanty’s willful and wistful memories of his father. In “The Cure,” the poet admits to a drinking spree in which his identity blurs into that of his late father, whom he addresses: “I refused to quit the bar and leave you alone / or leave myself alone or whoever we were” (p. 5). For Delanty, this capacity of poetry to revisit the past—to bring his father back to life, in a sense—equates his enterprise of working with words as a poet with that of the typesetters bent over their wordcentered tasks: “I set them up in another city, another country,” he writes in “The Composing Room,” picturing them “still composingѧ // on some floor / of some building that is eternally busy / inside me even when I’ve forgotten // that I’ve forgotten them.” Ultimately, this poem becomes both a parable—the at times fierce competition for critical recognition among Irish poets is readily recognizable in Delanty’s reference to “fellow composers who are perpetually ready / to knock the words of others”—and a prayer, an invocation to those “Old Shades” (his father and his coworkers) to grant him “the skill” to pursue his own art of poetry, his own “Mysterious Craft” (as the printer’s trade is sometimes known), with the honesty and the integrity of the literal typesetters who have gone before him (pp. 7–10).

Typically, however, Delanty does maintain his faith in words, and following the insertion into an otherwise blank page of a printer’s spacer known as a dingbat—*—he resolves in “The Dingbat’s Song” to “set myself in this new world” (p. 25) and proceeds to do so by engaging in “Ligature” with the father of modern American poetry, Walt Whitman. Visiting the office of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, the newspaper where Whitman worked briefly as editor and where he apparently later personally assisted in setting the type for the first edition of Leaves of Grass (1855), Delanty sees that the ultimate metaphor emerging from his engagement with the world and the art of printers is that of “the hellbox”—the bin into which typesetters once threw defective or worn-out type. Projecting America as “the composing room,” Delanty observes how the type of Whitman’s day has been “cast aside, / melted down and recast in the likes of us, / each life set in its unique and sometimes fitting / fonts and distributed or flung in / the hellbox, turning up again diffused in others” (p. 26). The next poem, “The Broken Type,” speaks to this emphatically as, employing a motley mix of fonts, the poet wishes “we could design a font” made up of irregular typefaces to do justice to all those people—including the bag lady cursing the world and the AIDS victim begging for spare change—“discarded” by the society that he has become a part of (p. 27).

But Delanty has not finished with his parable involving the hellish circle of Irish poets that he left behind physically when he moved to America: by the evidence of about a half-dozen poems treating themes of backbiting and infighting and concomitant poetic self-doubt, he continues to feel drawn into its vortex. Sometimes obliquely, sometimes directly, sometimes humorously, sometimes not, in poems like “Bad Impres-

This poems leads to “The Lost Way,” a much longer musing recalling a wide-ranging conversation on a wintry journey from Montreal to Vermont with a fellow Cork native. Addressing his friend in the poem, Delanty reconstructs their side-by-side talk, which includes reflections on

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GREG DELANTY cal Irish place known as “Tir na nOg”): he seems truly ready to see what the new world has in store for him.

linguistic variables like Corkonians’ difficulty pronouncing th sounds, their preference for ye over you, and their liberal insertion of like into sentences. The talk also includes memories in common regarding religious retreats, sweetshops, and “the holy terrors of our childhoods”—a host of brutal schoolteachers “all too ready to root out the dodos, amádans, / goms, slow ones, with endless spelling tests / and the Tuiseal ginideach [genitive case] of Irish grammar” (p. 30). Ultimately, however, remembering how they spoke of all this while driving through snow, the poet shares with his friend “a sort of epiphany”—a recognition of how “The snow fell in the silence that poetry / falls with as it drops a beneficence of / white calmness around us in the darkness” (pp. 31–32). Perhaps glancing toward that famous reflection in W. H. Auden’s winter-shrouded elegy “In Memory of W. B. Yeats”—“poetry makes nothing happen: it survives / In the valley of its making”—Delanty’s appreciation of poetry’s quiet capacity for lending equanimity to a life in flux culminates in an engaging image of a father and son stopping their pickup truck to make snow angels by the side of the road. Wistfully, his sensibilities heightened by talk-induced nostalgia, he sees in their splayed-out forms the figures of Daedalus and Icarus, sees them “making a myth of that myth” of futile flight as he imagines those legendary characters “finally copping that their escape plan is for the birds / and never again wanting to leave the blessèd ground” (p. 32).

Yet in “The Hellbox,” the single long poem comprising the second part of the book, he works one more revisiting variation on his established themes. By his own account, the very form of this poem emblematizes his increasing Americanization: “Look, / even me own poems are getting blasted bigger. / I’m cross-fertilizing my regular, leprechaun-small strain with the crazy American variant” (p. 41). From the discursive, long-lined perspective that he adopts here, Delanty first waxes one more time on a theme introduced in Southward and developed in American Wake— the displacement he had begun to feel at home in Cork before he left for America: “And then there was the city itself changing / so hell for leather, even if it was for the better, / that some of us felt oddly abandoned” (p. 37). A mix of nostalgia, bitterness, and ambivalence, his musings in this regard lead to the admission that the ultimate reason he left Ireland may have been the failed romantic relationship that informs some of the poems in his first volume, Cast in the Fire; perhaps revising history, he even admits that “like any true troubadourѧ / I was sniffing out unrequited, gone with the wind love poems” (p. 39). Admitting also his occasional longing for certain aspects of Cork and environs—specific people, the easy sociability of the natives, the familiar landscape, “the refuge / of a real pub and a proper pint of porter”—he yet mutes that nostalgia by recalling the “Children of Lir,” who in Irish mythology were transformed into swans and sent into 900 years of exile by their jealous stepmother (p. 40). Thus, glancing back to “The Fifth Province,” the opening poem of American Wake, he comes to see himself first as the explorer Roald Amundsen “at the poetry Pole of the province / where all emigrants naturally land” and then as ill-fated Robert Scott, “lost and laden down with experiments, / settling into the tent that last Antarctic night / with his crew, always one mangy mile from home” (p. 41).

However, realizing the futility of nostalgia, Delanty closes the first section of The Hellbox with “We Will Not Play the Harp Backward Now, No,” a poem rejecting trite sentimental longing for “the old country”—for “a harp / pipe, porter and colleen Tir na nOg”—and instead embracing the notion that in America “many of us / learned the trick / of turning ourselves into ourselves,” a transformation that “the all-seeing Irish / small town, blinking evil eyes” never would have permitted (p. 34). Dismayed in “The Lost Way” that his identity had shifted from that of an emigrant to that of an immigrant (pp. 28–29), Delanty seems now to have moved beyond his land of youth (the literal translation of the mythi-

Clearly Delanty feels disillusioned at this point in his career, to the degree that he begins to reject his own work: “But to hell with all that

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GREG DELANTY American waking, that bull, / that myth-making crap” (p. 41). He even rejects the very poem he is speaking from as “the most laughable, spoilt job ever to be set down,” hoping “that it will be killed before it’s read” and bitterly lumping it and all poetry together with the work of two nineteenth-century composers of notoriously inferior doggerel verse: the Scotsman William McGonagall and the Scottish-born Canadian Jim McIntyre, whose best-known poem, “Ode on the Mammoth Cheese Weighing Over 7,000 Pounds,” Delanty quotes from (p. 41). He also quotes sardonically from Richard Adler and Jerry Ross’s song “You Gotta Have Heart,” from the 1955 Broadway musical Damn Yankees. Clearly the poem earns the gloss that Delanty provided Catherine Phil MacCarthy in his 2007 interview in PN Review: “This poem couldѧbe seen to be influenced by the seventeenth-century Irish crosántacht poem which Dáibhí ó Bruadair brought to its fullest, which is an irreverent, clownish, bawdy, nightmarish, rambunctious, disassociative, practically stream-of-consciousness type of verse/prose poem” (p. 21). But then two more quotations from poems of a higher caliber—“The Journey” by the contemporary Irish poet Eavan Boland and “Dolphin” by the twentieth-century American master Robert Lowell—seem to restore Delanty’s own poetic equilibrium, and “The Hellbox” concludes with four orderly stanzas in which the poet, alluding to a character in Michael Ondaatje’s novel In the Skin of a Lion who had fantastical dreams, declares his desire “to be poetry’s / Temelcoff”: “More than anything I want my utterance to become the stuff / of such dreams, while remaining always human, open, up front.” Remembering a hopeful conversation with a fellow poet, Delanty ends the poem and the volume believing that poetry can, perhaps and after all, “Blow us all out of the water” (pp. 45–46).

ers Weekly, he explains that in this instance, in contrast with “the male world” of The Hellbox, he focuses on “the sewing world of my mother, wife and the female.” But the fabric of the volume is also defined by another thread running pretty much from start to finish—the visit to India and Sri Lanka that Delanty made with his wife in 1998. The volume opens, however, with a different exotic reach: the Hawaiian island of Molokai, where a Belgian priest, Father Damien, ministered to victims of leprosy in the late nineteenth century. Recollecting in “The Scalding” how, like many Irish Catholic children, he felt inspired by the lives of saints such as Francis of Assisi and Francis Xavier, Delanty admits to a special boyhood attraction to that “exile / among exiles,” Father Damien. Recalling a sermon at his Presentation Brothers school in which a visiting missionary described how Father Damien discovered that he had contracted the dread skin disease of leprosy only when he spilled scalding hot water on himself and felt no pain, Delanty recalls also the burden of guilt imposed by the sermon: “the bacilli of complicity carried in our food and clothes, / in hidden seams of our varied regular lives.” Now identifying more with “Damo’s crotchety attendant” than with the holy man himself, Delanty yet “never quite shook off that sermon,” and “The Scalding” seems to extend the promise, or the hope, that his poems will help to compensate for certain transgressions that emerge vaguely later in the book (pp. 9–10). Ostensibly a poem of tribute, “To My Mother, Eileen” hints further in that regard in equating the threading of a needle with the art of poetry. Remembering performing that domestic task for his mother when his brother was a newborn, Delanty allows the infant’s playpen to become the future instrument of writing: “He’s in the pen. / I raise the needle to the light and lick the thread / to stiffen the limp words” (p. 11). So established, this metaphor of the pen as needle allows the poet to begin his stitching in earnest, and he proceeds to put his words to the work of mending a variety of personal and social tears in the fabric of life. In “Little India,” for example, he probes his conscience after a fluster-

DOMESTIC AFFAIRS

As in American Wake and The Hellbox, the poems in Delanty’s next volume, The Blind Stitch (2001), revolve around several related themes and motifs. In his online interview with Publish-

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GREG DELANTY words can hurt as well as heal. Thus in “Pathetic Fallacy” he finds comfort, though perhaps cold comfort, in watching how “Maruti,” the son of the Hindu god of wind, “opens a space” for his wife walking away from him while “The wind and trees susurrus shhh” (pp. 25–26). As in his previous volumes, in The Blind Stitch, Delanty works multiple variations on his central themes. So in “The Palindrome Stitch” he again values quiet—this time the quiet of togetherness with his wife as she sews a hem and he drafts a poem (p. 28). In “The Gecko and Vasco da Gama,” a rare prose poem, he reflects on “How odd we are to each other, and after all these years”; then looking across the Arabian Sea, he imagines the town lights that he sees are “the portholes of a great ship” discharging its sailors to shore leaves with their wives and families and “aloneness”: “We’ll stop here a while,” he promises his wife (p. 29). Another poem inspired by his visit to India, “The Bindi Mirror” muses on the small forehead stickers worn by married women and often discarded around mirror edges at the end of the night: “Could you have slipped them off like wedding rings / in hotels on our side of the faithless globe?” (p. 38). Tellingly, this poem appears to speak to another, “The Family Man and the Rake,” in which the speakerpoet describes himself as “like a character in a movie with a doppelgänger carrying on with some looker”: “On the dash home he runs a red light and wonders / if it’s an omen, slipping eternity back on his finger” (p. 34).

ing encounter with a leprous child with “stumped hands.” Repelled by this victim who “can’t even raise / a few rupees sewing for chainstores on our side of the globe,” he uses the rhetorical form of an unrhymed sonnet to acknowledge just the sort of complicity that the missionary priest in “The Scalding” had observed: “it’s true I’m the stumped / angrezi [foreigner] who cast the sorry note and forgot you” (p. 18). “The Emerald Isle, Sri Lanka” resonates with a different sort of sociopolitical implication. Hearing the folk belief that anyone who touches the tongue of a monitor lizard will be gifted with eloquence, he recognizes in the civil war on the island nation of Sri Lanka, a former British colony, a disquieting parallel with the uncivil unrest between Catholic Nationalists and Protestant Unionists in Northern Ireland. Praying that “the Tamils and / Sinhalese would risk talk, dumb and green as it sounds,” he imagines hopefully that once “they’ve touched the flickering, forked tongue, / this chevron of evil / would fan out into a spreading sign of peace” (p. 19). The majority of poems informed by the stitching metaphor—by Delanty’s belief in the mending and the healing capacity of words— involve an apparent episode of marital discord between the poet and his wife. “I’m in trouble deep,” he admits in “Prayer to Saint Blaise”: “middle age” trouble exacerbated by his having “lingered too long in the underworld of the poetry circle, another jostling jongleur jockeying to sup / from the blood of fame.” Traveling with his wife in India, he promises himself that just as Buddhist monks pray to “the molar of Buddha,” he will upon his return to the Western world pray to Blaise, the patron saint of throat illnesses, that his poet’s “voice box not fail” to make amends (pp. 31–32). Mostly set in India, many of these poems yet register the poet’s distinctively Irish sensibility in the fashion of “Ululu,” first through its title—the Irish word for a howling lament— and then through the description of a monkey’s wailing shriek as a “banshee sound,” a reference to the bean síde, a female spirit in Irish folklore whose mournful cry announces an imminent death. Describing “our latest tempest” as a “crossfire of words” (p. 20), the poet realizes that

Whether by virtue of the poems or by some other corrective agent, Delanty gains perspective on marriage in the course of The Blind Stitch. In “The Nuptial Fish” even a minnow, with its “greater body” essentially “camouflaged” below the self-evident dorsal fin, becomes an emblem of his discovery that there may be more to one’s marriage partner than literally meets the eye (p. 33). This theme gets echoed in “Heron and Li Po on the Blackwater,” which exposes as “an illusion” the notion of “the perfect woman” (p. 43). Similarly, “Raising a Glass” (p. 36) and “The Husband’s Aubade” (p. 37) emerge from the newfound equanimity expressed in the volume’s title poem, in which the relaxed form of an unrhymed

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GREG DELANTY completes, with The Hellbox and The Blind Stitch, “a kind of trilogy: male, female, child.” He sets the tone in the opening poem, “The Alien,” in which he addresses, in language at once familiar and strange, the person of his unborn son, known only by murky ultrasound images: “Our alien who art in the heavens, / our Martian, our little green manѧ” (p. 9). In poem after poem, he tries to find the words to express the mystery and the wonder—the excitement mixed with uncertainty, even trepidation—that he feels in regard to his soon-to-be estate of parenthood. Thus in “Sonogram” his son is a “mite” and a “newly found mummy in a crypt,” his mother’s womb “your birth box” (p. 13); in “The Expected” he is addressed as “our chum,” as “Chitmouse,” and as “a stór,” the Irish phrase for “darling” (p. 17); in “The Sea Horse Family,” the poet imagining himself the male of that species bearing the burden of pregnancy, the child is “our hippocampus, our capall mara, our shy sea pony / our question-mark” (p. 21); in “The Shutterbug” he is “our snowdrop” (p. 23); in “Snow and Wind Canticle to an Unborn Child” he is “Our plump snowman” (p. 25); in “The Foetal Monitor Day” he is “our star, train, love wave, treasure & pony” (p. 28); and in the volume’s title poem he is “Our little lambkin, waxwing, lucklingѧ” and, finally, “our dear humacorn” (pp. 40–41). The most extravagant comparison of all, however, may be the one in “A Circus” describing him, at the moment of his birth, as a human cannonball: “Your grey jump suit was smeared with bloody gauze / as you landed in the hand-net of nurse and doctor; / the whole show agape in the pause before applause” (p. 45).

sonnet becomes the domestic interior where both the poet and his wife are sewing: “But as we sew, love is / in the mending, and though nothing’s said, we feel it / in a lightness of mood, our ease, our blind stitch” (p. 50). While the volume concludes with “Leper’s Walk,” another complaint about pettiness among Irish poets, it also includes a trio of poems— each one dedicated by Delanty to poetic friends— that both express and display an abiding faith in words and in poetry. In “The Malayalam Box,” Delanty sees in one of the major languages spoken in southern India an analogue for his own poetry, as he shares with his friends how “local bards explain / Malayalam is a box of various petals: lotus, frangipani, / cosmosѧhow any movement alters the words; how I shake / these petals for you now out of my own Malayalam box” (p. 24). A comic treatment of a small kitchen fire sparked by a visit to Delanty’s home in Vermont by an Irish-language poet, “The Speakeasy Oath” reads just like such a box of words: “A chara [Irish for friend], / you yammered in between guffaws that it was a sign, a thumbs-up from the muses, / after our night before’s oath to set the poetry world on fire” (p. 44). In “Tagging the Stealer” Delanty gets caught up in the colorful lingo of baseball, the great American pastime: “If we’re lucky, the slugger hits a daisy cutter / with a choke-up or connects with a Baltimore chop / and a ball hawk catches a can of corn / with a basket catch and the ball rounds the horn.” But what impresses him most, and inspires him as poet, is the sign language used between a catcher and a pitcher that leads to a successful pickoff of a base-stealer: “Jesus, give each of us just once / a poem the equal of that unknown man’s talking hand” (p. 46).

For all its wit, at some point even a most indulgent reader might find such word-searching largely an exercise in self-amusement on the poet’s part were it not that most of these poems also carry genuine thematic weight. Even the opening poem, which playfully compares the ultrasound image of his unborn son to an alien from outer space, concludes with a promise from firsttime parents worried about the troubled planet they are about to welcome their child into: “we’d put away / our ray guns, missiles, attitude and share / our world with you, little big head, if

In this respect, in his ongoing fixation with words, the next volume published by Delanty, The Ship of Birth (2003), has his poetic signature written all over it. A gathering of forty-five poems centered mostly on the imminent birth and then the early infancy of his son, Daniel, these poems reveal Delanty once again working variations both thematic and stylistic. In fact, focused on what he refers to in his interview with Michael Coffey as “the world of the child,” this volume

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GREG DELANTY natural world around him may be heightened by the changes in his domestic sphere. Of the miscellaneous poems that register variously his engagement with birds and clouds and changing weather, the most remarkable may be “The Great Ship,” which compares the onset of winter—“the old sudden sharp / iceberg cold of New England”—with the sinking of the Titanic. Describing how “the ice / has gashed a gaping hole / in the hull of Indian Summer,” the poet imagines the “Crickets, cicadas, grasshoppers and frogs” as “the quartet that comes out on deck and plays away / as the great ship goes down.” From the vantage point of “our own deck’s lifeboat”— literally the back deck of his home in Burlington, Vermont—Delanty brings together the literal and the metaphorical in utterly gratifying fashion as the poem concludes with an allusion to the hymn reportedly played by the ship’s orchestra as the iceberg-punctured Titanic sank in the North Atlantic: “Play on / brave, noble souls. Play on. Nearer, my God / to thee. Nearer to thee” (p. 19). A poem like this reflects how, even as his volumes American Wake, The Hellbox, The Blind Stitch, and The Ship of Birth each has a definite thematic core (“a predominant subject matter” as he put it in his interview with Catherine Phil MacCarthy), Greg Delanty has yet maintained his gift for the freestanding lyric that established his reputation in his first two volumes, Cast in the Fire and Southward.

only you stay” (p. 9). A related anxiety emerges in “Apology to Crickets,” in which the poet frets about “news of another war” (p. 18). Moreover, in the American edition of the volume, published in 2007, Delanty adds as an epigraph warning words from an engraving on the floor of the American Museum of Natural History: “Right now we are in the midst of the sixth extinction, this time caused solely by humanity’s transformation of the ecological landscape” (p. vii). But the element that lends the greatest gravity to the volume is the decline and the death from cancer of the poet’s mother. The arc of that loss in his life intersecting poignantly with that of the felicitous arrival of his son, Delanty writes matter-of-factly in “To My Mother”: “Not till your grandchild was a month old, / not wanting to spoil his entry into the fold, / did you tell us the cancer’d got you buttonholed, / casual, as if it was just a troublesome guest” (p. 46). Indeed, his mother’s selflessness and stoicism provide a subtly muted counterpoint to the cacophonous confusion of new parenthood experienced by the poet and his wife. In “The Green Room,” for example, he sees his mother’s chemo treatment as preparing her “to go back out and face the next act” (p. 52), and in “Chemotherapy” he sees her draw strength from “a fresh drip bag / bulging like a strongman’s flexed biceps” (p. 53). In contrast, Delanty and his wife are still learning “The Language of Crying,” as he titles a rare villanelle (p. 49), or are learning to navigate in “The Road Hazard” the nighttime “highways / and byways” streaming “with a steady dream / of rookie parents whispering” as they try to drive their colicky infants to sleep (p. 50). The single poem that best integrates these themes of life and death may be “The Wave,” in which, seeing “A boat shouldered like a coffin” out toward the sea, the poet imagines his mother metaphorically bobbing like a boat and imagines himself helping to launch her beyond this life, even as his young son has just learned how to wave: “He’ll never remember you. / Look Ma, my hand. You’ll be out of sight soon” (p. 58). But not every poem in The Ship of Birth speaks directly to those intersecting arcs of death and birth, though Delanty’s alertness even to the

FOUND IN TRANSLATION

Self-evidently a prolific poet in his own right, producing four full-length, well-received volumes of poems in the mere eight years between 1995 and 2003, Delanty has also undertaken several other kinds of literary projects, including coediting with Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill Jumping Off Shadows (1995), the anthology of poets educated at University College Cork, and coediting with Robert Welch New and Selected Poems of Patrick Galvin (1996). He has also taken upon himself several interesting translation projects that reflect further on his transatlantic identity. The earliest of these translation enterprises is a pair of plays commissioned for the Penn Greek

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GREG DELANTY all” (p. 24), his representation of this character resonates with, arguably, the central theme of his poetry. He explains in his Translator’s Preface to Euripides’ play: “In my version, to suggest that the slave is an outsider or foreigner, I have made him Irish and the kind of person who, because he is from the country, would be called a ‘culchee,’ a ‘mucker,’ or what Americans call a ‘hick.’ ” Pitching his language “in the demotic speech of my own city, Cork,” Delanty admits: “As I worked on translating this play, my feelings were such that I often felt somewhat like that slave, who, in the dialect of Cork, does his best to explain the action” (p. 310). While hardly comparable to the representation of HibernoEnglish dialect by such masters of the Irish stage as John Millington Synge and Sean O’Casey, the words that Delanty puts in the mouth of the Phrygian Slave certainly present a radical contrast to the speeches delivered in conventional modern American English by the rest of the characters:

Drama Series, edited by David R. Slavitt and Palmer Bovie. Providing readers and audiences with an updated version of classics of Greek drama that yet register their original resonance and relevance, his takes on Aristophanes’ The Suits (1999) and Euripedes’ Orestes (1999) also illuminate Delanty both as poet and as citizen. In particular, The Suits affords him the opportunity to engage in some political name-calling (as it were). This begins with his modification of the play’s usual title, The Knights, to reflect the dress code of contemporary political power brokers, and continues with Delanty allowing that “an American director today could change the names of the demagogic tanner and sausage seller who vie for power throughout the play from Paphlagon and Agoracritus to Paphragon and Agoraclintonus,” hinting at U.S. presidents Reagan and Clinton. He even speculates that the original target of Aristophanes’ bitter satire, the fifthcentury B.C. Athenian demagogue Cleon, might have enjoyed seeing himself attacked on stage “in the same way Ronald Reagan or Bill Clinton enjoys the mockery of the likes of Johnny Carson or Jay Leno” (pp. 4–5). Clearly this is consistent with his assertion, in his interview with Paul McLoughlin in Poetry Ireland Review, that “One major preoccupation in my work, and perhaps the most important, is the complicity in our lives” (p. 29). Thus Delanty does not absolve “the People,” represented in the play by “the bumbling, vain, stupid, lazy, and extremely malleable figure of Demos” (p. 3): as he makes clear, “the People” vote for such officials, even if they do so believing (wrongly) that they as the electorate are in ultimate control. Mostly translated into modern American prose, with selected speeches by the chorus and by other characters during moments of heightened drama presented in heroic couplets (loose iambic pentameter full-rhymed aabbcc and so on), The Suits carries very little of the verbal inflection of Delanty the Irish poet. Nor does his version of Orestes, except in the intriguing character of the Phrygian Slave. Likewise consistent with an observation in his interview in Poetry Ireland Review that “we are all emigrant/immigrants in one way or another, all trying to find home, it is a metaphor for us

Let me tell ye de whole story. Gutty boys came into de palace. One was de son of General Agamemnon, de udder was his pal Pylades who is a right bad drop, trouble, a tarry-boy if ever I saw one. He’s a kind of Odysseus: a chancer, a cheater, dough loyal to his comrades and good to have on your side in a scrap. I hope dat sneak will be ruined for all his behind de scenes trickery. (p. 377)

Conceivably, Delanty would feel closer to home translating the work of the contemporary Greek poet Kyriakos Charalambides (born in Cyprus in 1940) as part of a series commissioned by the Munster Literature Centre in conjunction with Cork City’s designation as the European Capital of Culture for 2005. But Selected Poems of Kyriakos Charalambides only occasionally rings with Delanty’s voice. Though a bit muted, his vernacular phrasing can be heard in “The Death of Alexander the Great.” It also sounds in some of the diction of “Each Time There’s an Injustice on Earth”—in “rumpus,” “hullabaloo,” “ruckus,” and “fellas” (p. 12). Mostly, however, perhaps a reflection of mismatched poetic sensibilities disallowing the verbal play and wit that characterizes Delanty’s best work, these translations feel more perfunctory than inspired.

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GREG DELANTY Not so his engagement with the work of the Irish-language poet Séan ó Ríordáin (1916– 1977). Born in rural County Cork, ó Ríordáin emerged in the 1950s as a major figure in the Irish poetic landscape. Affiliated with University College Cork in the last decade of his life, he obviously shares some literal common ground with Delanty. While Delanty admits that his “Irish is not adequate” to the whole task at hand in Selected Poems of Séan ó Ríordáin (2007) and that he thus relied on poet Liam ó Muirthile to lay the foundation for his translations (p. xiii), he clearly manages to find some literary common ground as well. This is manifest in the authority with which he translates the feline wordplay of “Catchollú” as “Catalogy”: “She is her own catechism, / a cathedral full of herself, / stretching her whole body, / categorizing herself with pride” (p. 62). He is also equal to the paradox of “Solas”/“Light,” a subtle musing on poetry and mortality: “When my light is extinguished, / I’ll leave behind a world in shape, / but leave it in a state of darkness” (p. 74). But perhaps the best gauge of Delanty’s readiness for this ambitious enterprise is found in “Frozen,” his translation of one of ó Ríordáin’s best-known poems, “Reo.” An altogether sobering piece of writing, the poem first recounts how the poet mistook a dead bird for “A handkerchief hung from a bush”: “It wasn’t a live cloth slipped my grasp, / but a thing that died last night on a branch.” Not only replicating Irish-language syntax in the final line, but also daring a pun on “correlative” and “relative” in bringing such a dark poem to a powerful close, this poem speaks persuasively to how closely Delanty’s poetic sensibility appears to match ó Ríordáin’s: “There I was, wracking my brain / till its correlative dawned on me: / that time I kissed a relative / and she stretched in her coffin, petrified” (p. 47).

purportedly excerpted from The Greek Anthology, Book XVII: This is a poem from my next book The Greek Anthology, Book XVII, which began accidentally while I was translating some of the actual Greek Anthology [a collection of early Greek poems, mostly epigrams, spanning almost two millennia]. As you know there are only sixteen books. I’ve made up characters like Gregory of Corkus, Rakius, Adriennos and Honestmedon. It gives me a chance to enter zones within myself that I can’t seem to when I’m writing out of my Greg Delanty self—to write satire, political poems, or poems of an overt sexual nature and so on. (p. 23)

If that poem points the direction that Delanty’s work will go next, it also offers an apt entry into the general body of work that it prefaces—overall an accounting of “the group Homo sapiens /ѧ/ bearing mayhem on the one hand and marvels / on the other, as is the way of any regular band of gods” (p. xiii). Quite literally, this poem takes Delanty’s readers all the way back to a poem (now slightly revised) from his first volume—to how in “Out of the Ordinary” “heaven / Has descended to the ordinary / As we saunter along Union Quay” (p. 4). But it also takes readers forward to the new poems, mostly short lyrics, which bring the Collected Poems to a close. Several of these are further poignant engagements with his mother’s final months and days, including “The Last Coiffeur,” in which the poet is called upon by the mortician to set his mother’s wig just right on her head (p. 220). Others revisit earlier themes as well. “In Times of War,” for example, inspired by the poet reading poems about birds by William Butler Yeats and Patrick Kavanagh—“my two poets I steer by”—closes with a rhetorical question about the ultimate cost of war: “but what of the mother stooped over her child, / the wild pen over the limp cygnet, the pen defiled?” (p. 223). Invoking a colorful yet insidiously invasive weed, “Loosestrife” reads as a less overt musing, a parable even, on the destructive and self-destructive impulses that humans mask with illusions or delusions of righteousness: “You’ll overtake the earth and destroy even yourself. / Ah, our loosestrife, purple plague, beautiful us” (p. 225). That may

CONCLUSION

In his interview with Paul McLoughlin published in Poetry Ireland Review in 2006, Greg Delanty gives the background of the epigraph to his Collected Poems—a poem titled “News in Flight” attributed to one “Gregory of Corkus” and

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GREG DELANTY be the very emblem of “mayhem” and “marvels” described in the book’s epigraph. But “News in Flight” finds its true down-toearth companion bookend in “Aceldama,” the new poem that concludes this almost comprehensive gathering of Delanty’s work. (“Aceldama” is also the title of the book’s entire last section.) Recalling how a promising childhood outing to the beach with his parents and his younger brother turned dark when they passed Carr’s Hill, Cork City’s graveyard for indigents, the poet associates that burial place with the potter’s field purchased with Judas’ cast-down coins of betrayal in the Gospel of Matthew: “The crepuscular loneliness of the field / shrouded our bright time. Our world, / the city below, shimmered like the silver pieces / scattered on the dark floor of the temple” (p. 234). This is where Delanty leaves his readers after twenty years: contemplating at once the dark side of brightness and the bright side of darkness—mayhem and marvels, indeed. While some commentators raised an eyebrow at the publication of a “collected” volume by a poet not yet fifty years old (Paul Muldoon is the only obvious Irish point of comparison—his Poems 1968–1998 appeared in 2001, the year he turned fifty), Delanty remains nonplussed. Quoted in a review of the book[0092]s launch, Delanty explains how his publishers countered his proposal for just a “selected” volume, and although he originally opposed the idea, he is now very happy with it.

Striped Ink. Minneapolis: Traffic Street Press, 2000. (Limited edition.) The Fifth Province. Minneapolis: Traffic Street Press, 2000. (Limited edition.) The Blind Stitch. Oxford Poets Series. Manchester: Carcanet Press Limited, 2001; Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2002. The Ship of Birth. Oxford Poets Series. Manchester: Carcanet Press Limited, 2003; U.S. edition, rev. and exp., Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2007. Collected Poems, 1986–2006. Oxford Poets Series. Manchester, U.K: Carcanet Press Limited, 2006.

TRANSLATIONS Orestes. In Euripides, 4. Penn Greek Drama Series. Edited by David R. Slavitt and Palmer Bovie. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999. The Suits. In Aristophanes, 3. Penn Greek Drama Series. Edited by David R. Slavitt and Palmer Bovie. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999. Selected Poems of Kyriakos Charalambides. Cork, Ireland: Southword Editions, 2005. Selected Poems Of Séan ó Ríordáin in Translation. Dublin: New Island, 2007.

EDITED VOLUMES Jumping Off Shadows: Selected Contemporary Irish Poets. With Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill. Cork, Ireland: Cork University Press, 1995. New and Selected Poems of Patrick Galvin. With Robert Welch. Cork, Ireland: Cork University Press, 1996.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Brouwer, Joel. Review of Southward. Harvard Review 5:205–206 (fall 1993). Howard, Ben. “Mysterious Crafts: The Figure of Printing in the Poems of Greg Delanty.” New Hibernia Review 6, no. 1:130–137 (spring 2002).

Selected Bibliography

Lavery, Brian. “Still Making a Stanza Against the Bad Guys.” Sunday Times, March 12, 2006, pp. 18–19. (Review of Collected Poems, 1986–2006.)

WORKS OF GREG DELANTY

McNamee, Joe. “Delanty Goes Back to the Beginning.” Irish Examiner (Cork), March 3, 2006, p. 10. Morgan, Jack. “His Own Man.” Irish Literary Supplement 16, no. 2:10–11 (fall 1997). (Review of American Wake.)

POETRY Cast in the Fire. Portlaoise, Ireland: Dolmen Press, 1986. Southward. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992; Dublin: Dedalus, 1992. American Wake. Belfast, Northern Ireland: Blackstaff Press, 1995. The Hellbox. Oxford Poets Series. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Mulkerns, Helena. “A Tale of Two Poets: Ireland’s Greg Delanty and Eamonn Wall Have Found Their Poetic Muse in America.” Irish Echo, March 13–19, 1996, pp. 36–37. O’Grady, Thomas. “South by Southwest.” Irish Literary Supplement 13, no. 2:22 (fall 1994). (Review of Southward.)

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GREG DELANTY INTERVIEWS

———. “Road Bowling with Greg Delanty.” Boston Irish Reporter 17, no. 1:20 (January 2006). ———.“Home Sickness: Going into Exile with Greg Delanty and Dermot Bolger,” The Recorder: The Journal of the American Irish Historical Society, vol. 19, no. 2 and vol. 20, no. 1: 80–90 (summer 2007). Redshaw, Thomas Dillon. “The View from the Outside.” Irish Times, April 1, 2006, p. 10. (Review of Collected Poems, 1986–2006.) Reeve, F. D. Review of The Blind Stitch. Poetry, August 2002. Tillinghast, Richard. “The Way of Swan and Crow.” Poetry Ireland Review 88:85–88 (2006). (Review of Collected Poems, 1986–2006.) Tobin, Daniel. “World Music.” Agenda 42, no. 2:48–54 (autumn 2006). (Review of Collected Poems, 1986– 2006.) Wall, Eamonn. Review of Southward. Éire-Ireland 29, no. 3:183–186 (fall 1994).

Coffey, Michael. “Three Answers: Greg Delanty.” PW Daily—Publishers Weekly (http://www.publishersweekly. com), April 24, 2006. MacCarthy, Catherine Phil. “In Conversation with Greg Delanty.” PN Review 53, no. 4:45–47 (March–April 2007). McEneaney, Kevin. “Whatever You Say, Say Everything.” Irish Literary Supplement 18, no. 1:19 (spring 1999). McLoughlin, Paul. “An Interview with Greg Delanty.” Poetry Ireland Review 90:23–29 (2007).

FEATURE FILM American Wake. Directed by Maureen Foley. Hazelwood Films, 2004. (The films borrows its title from Greg Delanty’s volume of the same name and includes three poems as part of the screenplay.)

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IAN FLEMING (1908—1964)

Charles Robert Baker IAN LANCASTER FLEMING could trace his ancestry to fourteenth-century immigrants from Flanders. The Flemings were for the most part weavers and farmers who, by the nineteenth century, had settled in the Highlands of Scotland. Fleming’s great-great-grandfather, John Fleming, made an attempt to better his family’s lot by founding a lint mill, but the failure of that enterprise plunged them into extreme poverty and dangerous living conditions. Five of John Fleming’s seven children died in childhood. The survivors apparently learned some hard life lessons and went on to distinguish themselves: the elder, John, eventually attained knighthood, and the younger, Robert, amassed considerable wealth through shrewd investments in the growing railroad industries in America, Cuba, Mexico, and Guatemala. Robert Fleming and Company, a British asset-management company and merchant bank, was established in 1908 and operated out of its original location in the City of London until 2000, when it was sold to the Chase Manhattan Corporation.

proper monument to his success and social standing.

Robert Fleming wed Kate Hindmarsh in 1881, and the couple produced four children: Valentine (born in 1883), Dorothy (1885), Kathleen (1887), and Philip (1889). Even though he had bought a large house in the Mayfair district of London, Robert’s socially ambitious wife prevailed upon him to accept the fact that a place in the city was not enough; the family must have a country place as well. In keeping with the expectations of class-conscious Edwardian society, and to placate his wife, the multimillionaire Scotsman purchased a large piece of property in South Oxfordshire near Henley-onThames, razed its small William and Mary–style mansion, Joyce Grove, and instructed his architects to erect a dwelling that would serve as a

Robert and Kate’s two sons, Valentine and Philip, were duly sent to Eton and then Oxford for the rigorous education in academics and social refinement that was required to produce proper, upper-class English gentlemen. Valentine excelled at everything he chose to take on; he was handsome, popular, and athletic. And when he left Oxford in 1905 with a degree in history he took up his place in his father’s business. Less than a year later, Valentine met and married the young, lovely, and high-spirited Evelyn Beatrice Ste. Croix Rose. Eve, as she was called, brought no small amount of distinction to the Fleming family; both her grandfathers had been knighted for their services to their country: Sir Philip Rose was legal advisor to Prime Minister Benjamin

Andrew Lycett describes the new Joyce Grove in his 1995 biography of Ian Fleming as being “a massive, red brick palazzo with vaguely Gothic pretensions. It came complete with fortyfour bedrooms, a dozen bathrooms, and a plaque on the front wall affirming the family motto, ‘Let the deed shaw.’ The world in general declared the new Joyce Grove a monstrosity” (p. 3). Indeed, so striking was the appearance of the edifice that it earned this description in the opening chapter of John Pearson’s The Life of Ian Fleming (1966): “There are ugly houses and ugly houses, but this one is a monster, an architectural tyrannosaurus which has blundered into these Oxfordshire beechwoods from another age and somehow become preserved, dead but completely intact.” (p. 1). Nevertheless, Joyce Grove served its dual purposes of exhibiting extreme wealth and providing a large, comfortable, and, by the standards of the day, modern place to raise a family and entertain friends.

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IAN FLEMING With her husband away in France, the duties of raising the children fell to Ian Fleming’s mother. Her top priority was to find a suitable boarding school for the two elder boys, and after visiting several she chose Durnford School near Swanage on the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset. And it was there that Ian and Peter were deposited in the autumn of 1916. The school had been founded in 1893 by Tom Pellatt, a rotund, fun-loving man who allowed his pupils an amount of personal freedom that was unique compared to other preparatory schools in England at that time. Pellatt, or “TP,” as he encouraged parents and pupils alike to call him, excavated a large freshwater pool on the school’s grounds where, in fine weather, he and his charges would swim naked and enjoy imaginative games. Andrew Lycett, in his biography of Fleming, includes this from Pellatt’s 1936 memoir, Boys in the Making: “Our policy was not to suppress anything in a child, i.e., if there was a kink in the boy’s nature, let it appear, and then you could see what it was and possibly cope with it” (p. 9). But TP’s hands-off approach led to unmerciful bullying of the younger boys by the upperclassmen, and letters home from the two Fleming boys are replete with complaints that they suffered ill treatment.

Disraeli, and Sir Richard Quain was one of the finest surgeons in London. Indeed, Quain was the editor of the Dictionary of Medicine (1882), which became the bible of medical practitioners in the United Kingdom, and he was frequently called upon to attend to the health of Queen Victoria.

EARLY LIFE AND EDUCATION

Robert Fleming settled one quarter of a million pounds sterling upon Valentine and Eve when they married in 1906. The couple used a portion of his generosity to purchase their own, smaller, version of Joyce Grove—Braziers Park in Oxfordshire—and to lease a home in Mayfair—Pitt House—close to that of their benefactor. Their first two sons were born in Mayfair: Peter on May 31, 1907, and Ian on May 28, 1908. Ian’s middle name, Lancaster, paid homage to John of Gaunt (1340–1399), first Duke of Lancaster, of whom Eve claimed to be a descendant. The early years of the twentieth century were a time of social and economic unrest in the United Kingdom, and it was decided that it might prove beneficial to the Fleming family business to have Valentine oppose the region’s liberal member of Parliament, Philip Morell. The election of 1910 sent Valentine into national politics as the Conservative MP for the Henley Division of South Oxfordshire, joining his friend and fellow officer in the Queen’s Own Oxfordshire Hussars, Winston Churchill, who had recently been promoted to home secretary. Valentine was an active member whose speeches addressed such issues as the bicameral system of government, water supply and postal facilities in Oxfordshire, and the importance of National Service. Two more sons were born into this atmosphere of privilege and patriotism: Richard (1911) and Michael (1913). This idyllic setting of home and family, the pleasures of summer vacations to the beaches of Salcombe on the coast of Dorset with a large extended family, the sense of a bright and carefree future, came under increasing threat as the war in Europe escalated. And when duty called in August 1914, Major Valentine Fleming went to war.

The Dickensian discomforts of the eighteenth-century Jacobean manor that housed the school (there were no proper toilets), the homesickness of young boys who suddenly found themselves in physical and emotional circumstances hitherto unimagined, and the severity of class work were somewhat alleviated by TP’s wife, Ellinor. On Sunday evenings before dinner, Ellinor Pellatt would invite the students to her parlor, where she would read popular adventure stories aloud. Here Fleming followed the adventures of H. C. McNeile’s tenacious Bulldog Drummond, Sax Rohmer’s evil genius Dr. Fu Manchu, and John Buchan’s valiant Richard Hannay, among others. Ellinor Pellatt also presented Fleming with his first set of golf clubs (paid for by Eve Fleming), and his lifelong enjoyment of the game began on the school’s golf course, which TP had designed and planted. Fleming received gifts and letters from his mother, kept up a correspondence with his father, and looked

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IAN FLEMING forward to the occasional visits from and holidays with his father (as a member of Parliament, Valentine Fleming was given leave to return to England and attend debates at Westminster during the war). Although it was apparent that Fleming would not be the scholar his older brother was showing signs of becoming, he excelled at sports and gained popularity among his fellows. Just at the point it appeared Fleming was adjusting to his new life, news arrived in May 1917 that changed his life forever. His father was dead.

Valentine Fleming left behind considerable wealth and a curious will, signed and dated August 7, 1914, just before he shipped off to the war in France, outlining how it was to be managed. In effect, his widow inherited everything except for a large trust fund set apart for the equal benefit of the four sons. The will stipulated that the trustees of the fund were to pay Eve the income from the fund for as long as she lived and remained a widow; if she ever chose to remarry, her income would be set at three thousand pounds a year. Although it was a considerable sum, three thousand pounds was a fraction of what she would have if she stayed single. The arrangement gave Eve complete financial control over her sons; they were to do as she thought best or risk being disinherited. Although Eve never remarried, she enjoyed numerous love affairs; most notably in 1923 when she threw off her widow’s weeds and began a tempestuous relationship with the leading painter of the time, Augustus John. Eve was determined to have a child by John, going so far as to kidnap an infant born to one of his models after her pleas to adopt the baby were rejected. John put an end to their relationship, but Eve would not have it. She pursued him to Berlin in the spring of 1925 and returned to London pregnant. Hoping to hide her condition, she went on a lengthy cruise in the summer and returned home in December 1925 with a baby she claimed to have adopted. She named the girl Amaryllis.

Valentine Fleming’s squadron had been ordered to advance to an exposed area opposite the German’s vast Hindenburg Line in northeastern France. In the early morning hours of May 20, Fleming was hit by a shell during a heavy enemy bombardment and was killed instantly. There was an immediate outpouring of praise and appreciation of the major’s courage and character from politicians, soldiers who had served under him, fellow officers, business colleagues, and friends. Winston Churchill wrote an appreciation of Major Fleming that was published on page 8 of the May 23, 1917, issue of the Times of London. remembering his friend as “a man of thoughtful and tolerant opinions,” who had a “lovable and charming personality,” and who went about his responsibilities to his district in Parliament with “a total absence of class prejudice.” The government awarded Major Fleming the Distinguished Service Order posthumously. Ian Fleming, at the age of eight, lost his beloved father and in his place had to contend with the ghost of a larger-than-life, nationally recognized war hero; a paragon of all things manly and virtuous; a daunting role model. The widowed Eve lost no time in using their father’s memory as a psychological weapon when she needed to control her sons’ behavior, instructing them to end their bedtime prayers with a plea that God help them grow up to be just like their father. She went so far as to claim Major Fleming’s spirit visited her at night with specific instructions or warnings to be passed on to the boys. Wherever Ian lived for the rest of his life, he displayed a signed copy of Churchill’s appreciation.

Meanwhile, after five years at Durnford, where academics were not considered of primary importance, Ian Fleming was unprepared for the intellectual demands of his next school, Eton, which he entered in the autumn term of 1921. Peter Fleming, who had come to Eton in the previous year, was proving to be an outstanding scholar. Ian, however, sought recognition through cultivating a Byronic pose: paying close attention to his appearance, wearing heavily scented hair oil, scoffing at school rules, excelling in individual feats of physical prowess, and seducing the local girls. His athletic abilities in track and field events were such that Eton awarded Fleming the title “Victor Ludorum,” champion of the games, in 1925 and 1926. Despite a warming

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IAN FLEMING for her to let her other gentleman down, so Fleming made good on his threat. A few days afterward, while staying with his mother in her London home, he discovered that his dalliance with a club hostess in Soho had given him a dose of gonorrhea. Eve booked her son into a nursing home to receive treatment and set about to decide what to do next with her seriously self-destructive son. At first she requested that Fleming be allowed a term’s sick leave from Sandhurst. Leave was granted, but after discussions with Fleming, Eve decided it would be best if her son gave up the military college altogether; his official record reads that his letter of resignation was accepted on September 1, 1927. Eve also decided that perhaps it was Peggy Barnard who was responsible for Fleming’s behavior and prevailed upon her son to put an end to the relationship. The nineteen-year-old Fleming had so exasperated and enraged his mother that she was for a time seriously considering shipping him off to Australia, but she relented and instead sent him back to Austria for a one-year course of study under the direction of the Forbes Dennises.

interest in literature, Fleming displayed little interest in his studies; Peter however was well on his way to gaining admission to Oxford, seemingly without much effort. Eve decided it was time to act; she had Ian removed from his academic classes and enrolled him in Eton’s Army Class Division with the hope he would, under the tutelage of Colonel William Trevor, be able to pass the entrance exam that would qualify him for admission into the Royal Military College at Sandhurst. Fleming did well on the exam, ranking eleventh out of one hundred and twenty. In the summer before he was sent off to Sandhurst, his mother enrolled him for two months at an experimental school in Kitzbühel, Austria, to encourage her directionless son to find himself. Ernan and Phyllis Forbes Dennis founded their school, the Tennerhof, with the intention of helping troubled young men through the application of psychological theories of Alfred Adler (1870–1937). When Fleming arrived in the summer of 1926 he had had enough of classrooms and examinations, and he spent his time at the school as if he were on holiday: mountain climbing, swimming, enjoying Kitzbühel’s cafés and enchanting young women. But this summer idyll came to an abrupt end when Fleming entered Sandhurst on September 3, 1926, to begin the eighteen-month training course for officers.

Ian Fleming arrived in Kitzbühel in late September 1927, humiliated that he had disgraced his family, dejected because of his seeming inability to succeed at anything other than sports, and once again filled with anger toward his mother. The most recent cause of this anger was her insistence that he again break off—or at least put aside for a while—a romantic attachment; this time with Deirdre Hart-Davies, a girl who loved reading and who inspired Fleming to compose verses to her. The confused young man who came again to the Tennerhof presented the Forbes Dennises with quite a challenge: how to awaken a love of learning and how to direct that learning to a realizable goal in a boy who was becoming increasingly overshadowed by his academically brilliant older brother. Something in the school’s approach to the Fleming dilemma worked; the ambivalent student from Durnford and Eton suddenly became fascinated by all areas of scholarship. In addition to instruction in the areas of literature, languages, psychology, philosophy, history, science, and mathematics, Fleming was encouraged to express himself in

As usual, Fleming excelled in the physical aspects of training, but he bristled at the discipline and flouted the rules. What galled the young gentleman cadet the most were the rules concerning curfew. Fleming had fallen in love with Peggy Barnard and contrived to spend every moment he could with her. This desire often caused him to scramble over the school’s walls in the predawn hours, hung over, disheveled, and frantic to pull himself together in time for the morning inspection. Fleming’s feelings for Peggy were serious enough for him to visit her parents in London and to take her to meet his mother. A misunderstanding regarding a previous commitment caused Fleming to quarrel with Peggy and threaten that if she did not change her plans he would find himself another woman with whom to spend the evening. She said it would not be right

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IAN FLEMING hopes that her son would redeem himself and enter a respectable profession, asked Forbes Dennis if he thought a career in the diplomatic service might be worth investigating. Forbes Dennis, a former British diplomat, thought it was a brilliant idea and began grooming the young Ian Fleming for that possibility. When Fleming came to London for a visit in late spring of 1928, his mother arranged for him to appear before the Foreign Office Selection Board for their determination of his suitability. The board found the same combination of promise and problem that Forbes Dennis had enumerated but overall thought Fleming to be just the sort of young man who could well serve the Foreign Office. With that encouragement, Fleming threw himself into a course of study that would prepare him for the service’s written examination, which he would be required to take between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-five. Forbes Dennis strongly recommended that Fleming, who had already shown that learning foreign languages came easily for him, should immerse himself in the cultures and suggested he enroll as an external student at Munich University.

the written word by Mrs. Forbes Dennis, who, as Phyllis Bottome, was a successful novelist and short story writer and, later, was a biographer of Adler. Like Ellinor Pellatt at Durnford, Phyllis Forbes Dennis would gather her pupils together on winter evenings to tell them a story, but the story was her own imaginative creation and she called upon the boys to embellish it. Fleming, who was in the process of reinventing himself, cast off the persona of the gentleman cadet and, donning his previous posture of a tragic romantic, joined in the sessions enthusiastically. All that remains of his creative writing efforts at this time, however, are a few poems written to Deidre HartDavies and a sad tale titled “A Poor Man Escapes” that tells of an old widower on Christmas Day in Vienna. Fleming’s second sojourn at Kitzbühel was not all books and lessons. His love of outdoor challenges was as avid as ever, and he took every opportunity to enjoy mountain climbing, skiing, tennis, swimming, and camping. In addition, Fleming made the most of the relatively uninhibited sexuality of the Austrian girls who were easily and eagerly charmed by the tall, handsome Englishman. His budding self-confidence made his friendships with other young men much more relaxed, and he enjoyed joining his fellows on Alpine hikes, staying overnight in mountaineer huts and descending into town the next morning for his favorite breakfast: hot coffee and scrambled eggs.

Fleming went to Munich in the fall of 1928 and established himself as a paying guest in the home of an aristocratic family, the Mirbachs, who were impressed by the young Englishman’s ability to speak German so well. It was at this time that Fleming also began a study of Russian. Although Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Party was creating turbulence throughout the country, Fleming’s life carried on as it had in Kitzbühel; he made new friends and conquered new girls and applied himself to his studies when the mood struck him. There was one attempt to help resolve some of Fleming’s problems through psychoanalysis, but, although he agreed to attend a session arranged by Forbes Dennis with one of Adler’s followers, Dr. Seif, once there he refused to say one word and Seif finally gave up trying to get through to him.

After six months of observing Ian Fleming’s physical, intellectual, and psychological development, Ernan Forbes Dennis sent a progress report to Eve Fleming in February of 1928. Forbes Dennis commented favorably on the young man’s intelligence, imaginative self-expression, love of books, and desire to acquire knowledge; he went on to describe Fleming as virile, ambitious, generous, and kindhearted. However, the old problem of self-discipline remained. Fleming had not yet found stability and direction; he had lofty ambitions but had no idea how to achieve them. Forbes Dennis wrote that he felt sure Fleming would grow out of his adolescent fear of authority and develop a realistic philosophy of life for himself. Eve, who in spite of everything still had

After a year in Munich, Fleming returned to Kitzbühel to confer with Forbes Dennis about what he should do next. Forbes Dennis recommended a year in Geneva to improve Fleming’s growing mastery of French and to continue to

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IAN FLEMING through Percy Muir in London, and dabbling in collecting modern art—particularly prints by Pablo Picasso—Fleming spent the idyllic summer of 1931 studying for the Foreign Office examination. Feeling fully prepared for the ordeal, Fleming returned to London to sit for the ten-day exam. That year there were sixty-two candidates, some of whom were top scholars from Oxford and Cambridge, competing for three positions within the Foreign Office. Four weeks afterward, more disappointment, disgrace, and anger descended upon Fleming when the exam results arrived at his mother’s home; although Fleming had passed, he ranked twenty-fifth, and his mother’s dreams of him becoming a diplomat were shattered. Eve was quick to blame the distracting influence of Monique for Fleming’s lackluster performance, and she set upon a vicious campaign to separate the couple. It took two years, but Fleming eventually bowed to his mother’s will and her financial control, breaking off his relationship with Monique in April 1933. The effect of his mother’s domination was profound, and it lasted the rest of Fleming’s life. According to Pearson, Fleming told his friend Ralph Arnold, “I’m going to be quite bloodyminded about women from now on. I’m just going to take what I want without any scruples at all” (pp. 49–50).

build upon his rudimentary Russian. In the autumn of 1929, Fleming enrolled in courses at Geneva University that Forbes Dennis thought best for a budding diplomat. But during a stay in London the previous summer, Fleming met two men who were to become his lifelong friends: William Plomer and Percy Muir. Plomer, five years Fleming’s senior, was a poet, short story writer, and novelist whose 1925 novel, Turbott Wolfe, had gained Fleming’s admiration so much that he sent the author a fan letter praising his work. Fleming invited Plomer to a party at his mother’s house in Cheyne Walk, and a good relationship was formed that would prove beneficial to Fleming decades later. During the same summer holiday, during a walk along Bond Street, Fleming was drawn in by a display in a bookshop window announcing a new volume of poetry by D. H. Lawrence. Inside the shop Fleming was introduced to the world of book collecting by the famed bookseller and bibliographer Percy Muir. So enthralled was Fleming that he invited Muir to lunch and met with him again later the same evening to talk about the economics of first editions and other aspects of collecting. When Fleming left for Geneva, he took with him a large number of selections from Muir’s shop and a promise from the knowledgeable bibliophile that he would send Fleming copies of anything that he thought might be of interest to the young collector. Geneva proved to be another playground for the reluctant student, who much preferred speeding through the city and countryside in his black Buick sports car, climbing mountains, playing golf, and, of course, enjoying the café life and making more sexual conquests. And once again, Fleming fell in love—this time with a lovely young woman he met at a ball, Monique Panchaud de Bottomes. The Panchauds approved of the dashing, romantic Englishman and treated him as one of the family, and Fleming quickly made himself at home in the Panchaud chateau near Coppet, Switzerland. When he was not whiling away the time picnicking in the hills with Monique, reading the Maigret thrillers by Georges Simenon, swimming in the mornings, joining friends at cafés in the afternoons, amassing books

JOURNALIST, BANKER, STOCKBROKER, SPY

After the disappointing exam, Fleming’s mother immediately put her social standing and influence to work to find a suitable career for her directionless son, and in October 1931 he was hired by the international news service Reuters. After spending most of his time covering rather commonplace events, Fleming, who knew Russian, was chosen by Reuters to cover the trial of six British engineers who faced charges of espionage in Moscow. The experience gave Fleming a firsthand knowledge of the Soviet justice system as it operated under the control of Joseph Stalin. Reuters hired Fleming at a starting salary of £150 and raised it to £300 after two years. When Fleming returned from his Moscow assignment,

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IAN FLEMING Away from his mother at last, Fleming became a restless hedonist in determined pursuit of pleasure without consequences; women were good for the release of tension and a buffer against boredom, and nothing more.

the head of Reuters, Sir Roderick Jones, offered him the position of assistant to the bureau chief in Shanghai at a salary of £800. Even though this offer would have allowed Fleming to move out of his mother’s house and away from her watchful eye, Fleming refused it and resigned from Reuters. To Sir Roderick, he complained that the money was not enough to support the sort of life to which he aspired; but the truth of the matter is that Fleming’s hopes of benefiting from the will of his aged and ailing grandfather were disappointed when the eighty-eight-year-old banker died in July 1933 and it was discovered that his will provided nothing for the family of his son Val—Fleming found himself needing a more remunerative position simply to preserve the life to which he had become accustomed. Eve took charge again and secured a position for her son within the merchant banking firm of Cull and Co. Although the income he received from Cull was not enough to liberate Fleming from his mother’s home and control, the two years he spent there did give him enough good experience to move upward in the business world of London; in June of 1935 Fleming joined the stockbrokerage of Rowe and Pittman as a junior partner.

Fleming’s passionate pursuit of money and women was briefly interrupted in March 1939 when he was asked by the Foreign Office to accompany a British trade delegation to Moscow. It was felt that his previous encounter with the Russian government and people, his knowledge of their language, and his proven abilities as a journalist for Reuters would make Fleming the perfect person to pose as a correspondent for the Times while in truth his assignment was to evaluate the military strength and morale of a nation that might be a helpful British ally in the war that was about to erupt at any moment. Fleming spent five days in Moscow and filed his report with the Foreign Office; that report is remarkable for what came to be called “the Fleming flair.” Although the report was not a complete and misleading fabrication on his part, Fleming did not hesitate to use his imagination when solid facts were sketchy. Two months later Fleming, who had returned with gusto to his life as a playboy stockbroker, was invited to join Rear Admiral John Godfrey for lunch in the grill at the Carlton Hotel. Godfrey, who had recently been appointed director of Naval Intelligence, was pulling together a staff, and Fleming had been brought to his attention as a promising candidate for the position of his personal assistant. Fleming was agreeable to the idea, and it was arranged that he could spend half days away from Rowe and Pittman to learn the workings of naval intelligence. So quick and precise was his grasp of the operation that Fleming was made a lieutenant in the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve in July 1939. Godfrey never once regretted his choice; indeed, the thirty-one-year-old Fleming had so impressed the director that he was soon in a powerful position within the growing war machinery. Godfrey even went so far as to make sure nothing was withheld from his personal assistant, feeling it important that there should be one other person within the organization who

With a good steady income Fleming was able to purchase his first home: an old Baptist chapel that over the years had been converted to a school, a nightclub, a furniture store, and finally into a private home. Soon, 22A Ebury Street had become the central meeting place for a group of young men Fleming named “Le Cercle gastronomique et des jeux de hasard,” which, roughly translated, meant “The fine dining and games of chance club.” Despite the high promise of the group’s name, “fine dining” at Fleming’s rarely rose above his favorite dish from his Kitzbühel days, scrambled eggs, and the “games of chance” were primarily bridge and golf. When apart from the lads, Fleming proved to be a ruthless womanizer, managing several sexual relationships at once, very often with the girlfriends and wives of his friends, with an occasional girl picked up at a nightclub for the sake of variety. His affairs never lasted very long; when it seemed the woman of the moment was becoming a bit too attached to him, Fleming would break it off.

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IAN FLEMING Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and others, Donovan returned to Washington to report to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Roosevelt proved to be very generous, providing Britain with much-needed military aid and agreeing to the establishment of a secret service organization headed by Donovan, whom he appointed major general. It was left to Fleming to draw up the charter of what was to become the Office of Strategic Services; this he did quite efficiently over a two-day stay in Donovan’s home. So pleased was Donovan with Fleming’s work that he presented him with a .38 Colt Police Positive revolver inscribed “For Special Services.”

had full knowledge of all operations should something happen to incapacitate the director. This created an imbalance between Lieutenant Fleming’s rank and the power he held, and Godfrey was quick to remedy that by seeing to it that Fleming was promoted to commander a few days after Germany invaded Poland in September 1939. The promotion made it easier for Fleming to serve as a liaison between the many branches of the war department and attend meetings in place of the director, but it increased the jealousy of those who felt that his rise was due to his social connections rather than his abilities. Although he greatly resented being called a “chocolate sailor” (an unflattering reference to a figure used in a popular advertisement of the time) by members of Le Cercle, Fleming was pleased that after so many years of trial and error he had finally found the perfect arena in which to make the best use of his character and talents.

During his stay in New York, Fleming observed firsthand how Stephenson’s organization operated. It was discovered that coded radio messages were being transmitted from the offices of the Japanese counsel-general in Rockefeller Center. Stephenson’s agents managed to make a duplicate key to the office door, entered the office at three in the morning, cracked the safe of the Japanese cipher officer, confiscated the codebooks, microfilmed them at another location, and put everything back in perfect order in just over one hour. Fleming was impressed. He was even more impressed when Stephenson invited him to tour his training facilities near Toronto. Stephenson wanted to be sure that the new agency that was being created by Donovan and Fleming had men who were experts in all aspects of espionage, sabotage, and subversion, so he searched the world to find the best practitioners and brought them to his school as instructors. Fleming requested that he be allowed to stay a few days and be put through the course. At the end of his visit, Fleming, whom Stephenson considered one his best pupils, had an outstanding knowledge of and experience in, among other things, armed and unarmed combat, safecracking, code breaking, the use of explosive devices, underwater sabotage, and a full range of weapons. There was, however, one training assignment that he could not complete. Stephenson created a situation to serve as a final exam: the trainee was told that an enemy agent had been discovered in a nearby hotel and that he was to go and kill the man. The “enemy agent” was actually a member of

The trust Godfrey placed in Fleming imposed restraints on the young man’s active participation in subversive operations; Godfrey would no more send Fleming into situations where there was risk of capture and the revelation of secrets under torture than he would send himself. Fleming was too valuable to lose; therefore he spent most of the war years deskbound in London, reluctantly resigning himself to be a man of active imagination rather than a man of heroic and dangerous adventure. But on June 1, 1941, Fleming accompanied Godfrey to the United States on a mission of vital importance. Britain was suffering major losses in the shipping lanes of the North Atlantic and desired better intelligence sharing from the neutral, unsympathetic, and suspicious American government. J. Edgar Hoover rebuffed the idea, but Godfrey and Fleming found an ally in William Stephenson, a millionaire Canadian who headed an organization of British intelligence networks throughout North and South America. Stephenson too saw the need to establish a cooperative network between the United States and Britain, and the man he had been grooming to head such an organization, the American lawyer William Donovan, was sent to England to assess the situation. After being received and fully briefed by King George VI,

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IAN FLEMING who was working in one of Stephenson’s organizations, and travel with Bryce to Kingston, Jamaica, for a conference concerning the problem of German U-boat activity in the Caribbean. Although the weather in Kingston was dreadful during his stay, Fleming knew he had found his personal paradise. Indeed, so strong was his initial impression that he commissioned Bryce, who had a home on the island, to find a suitable location for Fleming to build a place of his own. Bryce found a piece of property with a private beach for sale at Oracabessa Bay, and Fleming purchased it for £2,000; on a subsequent visit he paid a contractor another £2,000 to build a home, which he named “Goldeneye.” When Fleming was demobilized on November 10, 1945, he, like so many others at war’s end, struggled with what to do next. After the power and freedom and sense of genuine accomplishment he had enjoyed, at least during the Godfrey years, Fleming knew that a return to Rowe and Pittman and his old Le Cercle crowd at his home on Ebury Street (which, in any event, had been destroyed during the Blitz) would be a bad choice. After reviewing his options, Fleming accepted an offer from an old friend with whom he had often dined, played bridge, and yachted before the war, Lord Kemsley. Kemsley owned a syndicate of local and provincial newspapers and was looking into the idea of forming a foreign news service. Fleming agreed to create and manage the service, at a salary of £5,000 plus ex− penses, with the condition he be allowed two months paid leave during January and February in order to enjoy the otherworldliness of Goldeneye. Although the salary was the most he had ever made in civilian life and should have been enough to guarantee a stylish if not extravagant life, he ran through it quickly, wanted more, and often borrowed from his mother; it must have been humiliating for a man who had enjoyed such power and prestige during the war years.

Stephenson’s staff who had a remarkable ability to dodge bullets, but the trainee did not know this. Fleming was given a fully loaded .38 revolver and the address of the hotel, but when he arrived at the enemy agent’s door he faltered and left the building; he could not bring himself to kill a man in cold blood. Fleming returned to his office in London and his two main responsibilities: the coordination of Operation Golden Eye (a plan of sabotage and communication maintenance should Germany march into Spain) and the creation of a special force named Thirty Assault Unit. Although some plans to confuse, disrupt, and defeat the Germans that Fleming put forth were clearly harebrained— such as his plan to freeze clouds, secure them to the coasts of England, and erect antiaircraft guns upon them—Thirty Assault Unit proved not only workable but also successful. The unit was patterned on that run by the German commando mastermind Otto Skorzeny. Fleming referred to his agents as his “Red Indians,” and it was their mission to accompany the first assault troops into enemy-held positions and to locate and seize all items of intelligence material, maps, codebooks, and other secret communications and documents. As the unit’s successes mounted, and they fell under the influence of the less-disciplined members of the United States Marines, the unit took on an attitude of independence that annoyed and frustrated Fleming; he found himself having to give them severe reminders that he was in charge and that he would not allow any freelancing on their part. But suddenly Fleming found that the independence he enjoyed serving under Godfrey was over. In November 1944, and with no official reason given, Godfrey was removed as director of Naval Intelligence and posted to Bombay as flag officer to the Royal Indian Navy. Godfrey’s replacement, Commodore E. G. N. Rushbrooke, was a different sort of man, and Fleming’s power and influence diminished rapidly—so much so that it gave him a grim picture of what his life would be like if he chose to stay on after the war. He began to look for an alternative. Fleming was sent to Washington in November 1944 to meet with his lifelong friend Ivar Bryce,

GOLDENEYE, MARRIAGE, AND THE BIRTH OF AN ICON

Fleming traveled to Jamaica in January 1946 to supervise the construction of his home away from

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IAN FLEMING had had enough. He issued an ultimatum: Ann must stop seeing Fleming. But it was too late; Ann was deeply in love, and she persuaded Fleming that, despite his worries over his health and his lack of wealth and title, theirs could be a happy and fulfilling marriage. Fleming succumbed; the divorce settlement (£100,000 to Ann) was agreed upon; and Fleming, accompanied by Ann, left for Jamaica in January 1952 to await the official decree. To pass the tedious time, Ann filled canvases with paintings of Jamaican flowers, while Fleming, at Ann’s urging, sat down at his typewriter to write what he had told friends and family for years he wanted to write: the spy story to end all spy stories. Ann was four months pregnant when she and Fleming were married on March 24, 1952, at three o’clock in the afternoon in the magistrate’s office in Port Maria, Jamaica. Noël Coward and his friend and biographer, Cole Lesley, stood as witnesses. There followed several days of celebration as the couple traveled to Nassau, New York, and finally London. Among the items in Fleming’s luggage was his first draft of the novel Casino Royale (1953).

home, Goldeneye. Jamaica was fast becoming the favorite destination of many war-weary Britons who sought escape from the postwar grimness of their country. One such visitor was Ann Charteris, whom Fleming had met in 1934. Ann Charteris was born into a wealthy Scottish family in 1913; she married Shane, Lord O’Neill in 1932. When her husband was killed in action in Italy in 1944, Lady O’Neill was torn between two men with whom she had conducted sexual affairs: one was Fleming, who had added her to his long list of conquests in 1939; the other was Esmond, Lord Rothermere. Although she preferred Fleming and had proposed that they should marry, he stood by his declaration that he would be “quite bloody-minded about women” and did not accept. Lady O’Neill became Lady Rothermere in 1945; but despite the rebuff he had given her, she maintained her passionate relationship with Fleming. Goldeneye was a rather Spartan, concrete edifice with unreliable plumbing and uncomfortable furnishings; nevertheless, it attracted such notables as Cecil Beaton, Noël Coward, and others whom Fleming had met in London who came to bask in the golden sun, swim in the deep blue waters, and explore the coral reef with snorkel, mask, and fins. The busy underwater life Fleming encountered at Goldeneye fascinated him, and he spent long days among the numerous varieties of exotic fish and plant life, sometimes spearing a lobster for dinner. Ann came to see the finished house in January 1948; she was enchanted by it and by the surrounding flora and fauna. The man Fleming became when he was away from London society also enchanted her. For his part, Fleming, who was beginning to suffer chest pains, began to soften to the idea of slowing down a bit and enjoying the company of one woman.

THE BOND NOVELS

Fleming was unsure of the literary merit of his novel; indeed it would be several months before he let anyone read the manuscript. It was May 1952 before he coyly admitted over lunch with his old friend William Plomer, who worked for the publishing house of Jonathan Cape, that he had written a novel. Plomer expressed great interest in reading Fleming’s work, but it was another two months before the reluctant new author sent it to him with protestations that the work was probably rubbish, that he had only used half his brainpower when writing it; he asked that Plomer not mention the work to anyone else. Plomer liked the novel enough to send it on to another reader at Cape, Daniel George. George shared Plomer’s opinion, and the work was presented to Cape’s founder. Jonathan Cape was not impressed, and it took the persuasive powers of Fleming’s brother Peter, whose popular travel book Brazilian Adventure had been published by

In March 1948, Ann announced to Fleming that she was pregnant and the child was his. In August, Ann began having contractions and was rushed to hospital where the baby was delivered by cesarean section but died within hours. After a brief convalescence, Ann returned to her affair with Fleming in so open and brazen a fashion that finally the absurdly patient Lord Rothermere

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IAN FLEMING soap, Floris bath salts and perfumes, Hoffritz safety razors, MacLean’s toothpaste, Pinaud Elixir shampoo, Cresta Blanca vermouth, and many others. Fleming does slip up sometimes, as when he states in From Russia with Love (1957) that Bond “hated Virginia tobacco” (p. 226) but has him smoking Chesterfields, an American brand, in Live and Let Die (1954). One could reasonably suspect that such obvious “product placement” was intended to reap Fleming significant appreciation from the manufacturers, but Lycett reports a response from Fleming to someone at Floris, who had sent a thank-you present to Fleming in 1958 for mentioning one of the company’s bath products in Dr. No (1958): “My books are spattered with branded products of one sort or another as I think it is stupid to invent bogus names for products which are household words, and you may be interested to know that this is the first time that a name-firm has had the kindly thought of acknowledging the published tribute” (p. 333). Fleming’s first Bond novel is Casino Royale; in it Bond, because of his toughness and skill at card games, is asked by M, the head of the British Secret Service, to become a player at a private high-stakes baccarat game to be held at the Casino Royale in Royale-les-Eaux on the northern coast of France. Bond’s assignment is to bankrupt a powerful Russian agent, known as Le Chiffre, who has arranged the game to replenish agency money he has squandered in failed personal business deals. There are two other nations interested in seeing the agent’s downfall, and they send representatives to the casino to aid Bond; they are René Mathis of the Deuxième Bureau and Felix Leiter of the Central Intelligence Agency. Leiter agrees to have a drink with Bond in the casino’s bar and introduces himself. It is here, in the seventh chapter as the men exchange names, that one of the most famous lines in literature and cinema is first spoken: “Mine’s Bond, James Bond” (p. 52).

Cape in 1933, to get Casino Royale accepted for publication. The spy story was quite a departure for the publishing house that listed Ernest Hemingway, T. E. Lawrence, Radclyffe Hall, and Samuel Butler among its authors, but the departure was ultimately a lucrative one—at the time of Fleming’s death in 1964, the Bond novels, all of which were published by Cape, accounted for most of Cape’s profit margin. On April 13, 1953, British readers got their first glimpse of a man who was to become one of the most famous fictional characters ever created: James Bond. The ordinariness of the name is deliberate; Fleming wanted his secret agent to be a gray, shadowy character. It is paradoxical that one of the most recognizable names in British literature was borrowed from an American: the famed ornithologist James Bond, whose book Birds of the West Indies (1936) Fleming, a keen birdwatcher, had at Goldeneye. Fleming’s Bond is a civil servant, a government employee who draws a government paycheck like so many others of his countrymen; what makes Bond extraordinary is that he is frequently called upon to save his countrymen and the world from the nefarious schemes of madmen, criminal masterminds, and Soviet espionage agents. Bond is an agent in the international arm of the British Secret Service, and his identification number, 007, indicates that he has met the requirement to be issued a license to kill at his discretion. He has a flat on King’s Road in Chelsea and is looked after by his Scottish housekeeper, May, who, when Bond is at home, starts his mornings with his favorite breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast with jam, and black coffee. Bond has a strong aversion to that most English beverage, tea: “I don’t drink tea. I hate it. It’s mud,” he says in the 1959 Bond adventure, Goldfinger (p. 45), and in Thunderball (1961) we are told that “Bond loathed and despised tea, that flat, soft, time-wasting opium of the masses” (p. 32). Bond is meticulous about minute details of his personal habits and preferences, and Fleming loads the novels with an array of name brands that meet Bond’s demanding standards: Ronson lighters for his special-blend Morland cigarettes, Sea Island cotton shirts and trousers, Guerlain

Much to his disgust, Bond is paired with a woman from the British Secret Service, Agent 3030, Vesper Lynd, and Fleming gives us what will become Bond’s standard attitude toward women throughout the novels: “Women were for

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IAN FLEMING recreation. On a job, they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them” (p. 32).

alive, saying he had not been given orders concerning him. Before he goes, however, he carves a Cyrillic character on the back of Bond’s right hand with the tip of a stiletto; the mark identifies Bond as an enemy spy.

Bond’s cover as the son of a wealthy plantation owner from Jamaica is blown early on, and there is a botched attempt on his life. He does well at baccarat, but he proves no match for Le Chiffre and loses his bankroll. Leiter, however, advances the money Bond needs to stay in the game. Ultimately, Le Chiffre is defeated, and he abruptly leaves the table as Bond and Vesper go to their hotel dining room to celebrate. Vesper is given a note signed by Mathis asking her to join him for a moment in the hotel’s entrance hall. While she is gone, Bond suspects there is something wrong and rushes out of the hotel to see Vesper being pushed into a Citroën and driven away into the night. He dashes to his Bentley and gives chase, but the Citroën’s trunk has ejected a carpet of steel spikes on a bend in the road. Bond sees them too late, his car crashes, and his unconscious body is thrown in beside Vesper in the Citroën’s backseat. They arrive at Le Chiffre’s seaside villa at dawn, and Bond is stripped naked, then tied to a cane chair whose wicker seat has been cut away. Le Chiffre proceeds to try to extract the whereabouts of Bond’s winnings by means of torture: slamming Bond’s testicles with a carpet beater. Bond uses all his mental and physical strength to withstand the incredible pain; Le Chiffre realizes he will not get the man to talk and grabs a knife to castrate him and leave him to bleed to death. But just at that moment there are noises from the part of the villa where Vesper is being held by Le Chiffre’s two henchmen; before Le Chiffre can decide what to do about it, the door bursts open and a man with a pistol orders him to drop the knife. The man says one other word to explain who he is: SMERSH. Le Chiffre and Bond both know that SMERSH is the most feared branch of the Russian secret service; it is the duty of its members to eliminate treacherous spies and double agents. The man says that he has killed the two henchmen, then proceeds to shoot Le Chiffre right between the eyes; Bond he leaves

When Bond regains consciousness two days later, he is in a nursing home in Royale being cared for by two nurses sent over from headquarters in London. Mathis visits and tells Bond how his service managed to track Bond and Vesper to Le Chiffre’s villa. Bond surprises Mathis with the announcement that none of that matters because he has decided to resign from the service. There follows an interesting discussion between the two men on the nature of good and evil and the question of who is the villain and who is the hero. Mathis tries to convince Bond of the rightness of their cause; he advises Bond to see evil for what it is and, with M’s help, destroy it: “Surround yourself with human beings, my dear James. They are easier to fight for than principles. But don’t let me down and become human yourself. We would lose such a wonderful machine” (p. 164). But when Mathis leaves, Bond is unconvinced and uncertain about his future. After three weeks in the nursing home, Bond leaves with Vesper, who has been nearby during his recovery. She takes him to a romantic little inn by the seashore and ministers to his needs as he continues his convalescence. Suddenly, Bond, the ultimate misogynist, realizes he is in love with Vesper and decides to ask her to marry him. But Vesper has been acting strangely since she caught sight of a man who wears a black eye patch. Bond tries to dismiss her fears of this man, but Vesper soon reaches a state of near hysteria. Bond demands to know why the innocent-looking middle-aged man is of such concern to his beloved. After a night of passionate love, Bond gets his answer early the next morning when the inn’s owner, bursting into Bond’s room with a letter, awakens him. He tells Bond he must come quickly; there has been an accident in Vesper’s room. Bond rushes in and finds Vesper’s lifeless body and an empty bottle of sleeping pills. The letter explains it all: Vesper confesses not only her love for Bond but also the fact that she was coerced into becoming a double agent for the

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IAN FLEMING Sales of Casino Royale were modest, and it passed almost unnoticed by reviewers in Britain and the United States. But Hollywood found the story compelling, and CBS Productions paid Fleming $1,000 for the rights to adapt the novel into a one-hour television show. On October 21, 1954, the American Barry Nelson became the first actor to portray Bond on the screen, but he was an Americanized version of Fleming’s quintessential Englishman. Nelson’s Bond was Jimmy Bond, Agent “Card Sense” of Combined Intelligence. There is no evidence that Fleming objected to the changes. Indeed, Fleming had tried to gain favor with Americans by going so far as to put this thought into the mind of his British secret service agent, “that good Americans were fine people and that most of them seemed to come from Texas” (p. 55).

Russian Ministry of Internal Affairs. She was ordered to report on Bond’s mission and gather information regarding his organization. But after the ordeal at La Chiffre’s villa (she was not hurt because she was one of them), she found she had fallen in love with Bond and refused to cooperate, hoping to escape with her love and start a new life. The arrival of the man with the black eye patch made her realize that escape from SMERSH is impossible. Rather than risk Bond being killed in SMERSH’s determination to assassinate her, she has chosen to take her own life. Bond has lost his love, but he has gained a purpose; he will leave off “gallivanting around the world—playing Red Indians” (p. 212). From now on it will be his quest to destroy the machine that destroyed Vesper. Bond’s grim determination is voiced in a telephone call he makes to his liaison officer in London: “This is 007 speaking. This is an open line. It’s an emergency. Can you hear me? Pass this on at once. 3030 was a double, working for Redland. Yes, dammit, I said ‘was.’ The bitch is dead now” (p. 213). From this point onward, Bond does not, except during very rare moments of intense boredom, question the nature of good and evil as he had with Mathis; he has become the “wonderful machine.” With a few exceptions, Casino Royale set the pattern that Fleming was to follow in all his Bond novels: Bond accepts a dangerous assignment from M; Bond confronts an exotic villain, a personification of evil, greed, and madness; Bond falls for the charms of an equally exotic woman or women; Bond is discovered and captured; Bond endures unimaginable torture; Bond escapes; Bond destroys the villain and his scheme; Bond spends a period of recovery with the exotic woman. The creation of further Bond novels also occurred at a self-imposed pace that Fleming followed from 1952 until his death in 1964: Fleming would gather useful information through his position on the newspaper syndicate, make copious notes on his travels, and pick the brains of friends and experts in various fields during the months from March through December, then he would return to Goldeneye and write from January through February.

It was perhaps with a thought to increase American interest in Bond that Fleming set a major portion of his next novel in New York City, including Harlem, and in St. Petersburg, Florida. In addition, Bond’s CIA counterpart, Felix Leiter, a Texan, plays a prominent role. The novel, Live and Let Die, begins with Bond arriving in New York’s Idlewild Airport, where he is treated like royalty by government officials, then chauffeured to the best hotel the city has to offer. A reader may safely assume that this is exactly the sort of reception that Fleming had hoped his novels would receive in America. Again, sales, though satisfying for the publisher, were not good enough for Fleming, who was determined to make his fortune from Bond. Bond is uninterested in the assignment: to destroy a smuggling ring that is bringing gold coins from a sunken pirate ship in the Caribbean into America—until he is told that the mastermind behind the operation, a Haitian known as Mr. Big, is an agent of SMERSH and the gold is being used to finance that organization’s spy network in the United States. Here is Bond’s opportunity to exact his revenge on those who tortured him and caused the death of the woman he loved. After enduring unimaginable physical pain, Bond emerges triumphant—and not by the intervention of another, as in Casino Royale, but by his own extraordinary abilities. In this case,

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IAN FLEMING Bond manages to secure a limpet mine to the hull of Mr. Big’s ship and blows the gangster and his henchmen to their deaths in shark-infested waters. (Attaching a limpet mine to the hull of a ship was one of the training missions Fleming successfully executed under the direction of Stephenson in 1941.) In the end, Bond spends a period of recovery in an isolated beach house in Jamaica, tended by his next desirable woman, Solitaire. Vesper Lynd is only a faint memory. Fleming hoped to break into motion pictures with his next story, Moonraker, and it was originally written as a screenplay. Nothing came of that plan, and the novel version was published in 1955. Here, the millionaire Sir Hugo Drax is thought by the British government and its people to be a heroic benefactor of their country because of his involvement in a missile project designed to protect the British Isles from European enemies. But M is suspicious of the man’s true character because he cheats at cards. Bond is sent to infiltrate the project and finds that Drax is a madman, a former Nazi who intends to get his revenge by dropping a missile into the heart of London. The story is unique to the Bond collection in two ways: it is the only one that is set entirely in England, and Bond does not “get the girl,” who is in this case a Special Branch agent named Gala Brand.

larger-than-life villain. The Spang brothers, Jack and Seriffimo, are American gangsters who head an organization called the Spangled Mob, which is apolitical and operates for its own gain. Fixing horse races and smuggling diamonds is quite tame compared to dropping a bomb on London or illegal activities that swell the coffers of those who pose a serious threat to world peace. Even the femme fatale is disappointing; Tiffany Case comes across as common and coarse. Nevertheless, Bond falls in love with her, and they live together for a short while, but in the next novel, she is gone and forgotten. In September 1955, Fleming traveled to Turkey with the assistant commissioner of Scotland Yard, Sir Ronald Howe, to attend an INTERPOL conference. The experiences of that trip—the passionate people he met, the violent street riots he observed, the long train trip on the Simplon-Orient Express, even the novel he read on the flight from London (Eric Ambler’s 1944 thriller The Mask of Dimitrios)—found their way into what might be considered the best of the Bond novels, From Russia with Love, in 1957. The plot is rather absurd, but by this time Bond fans were more than willing to ignore unlikely and unreasonable situations in order to enjoy the overall thrill of the adventure. SMERSH, after suffering humiliating reversals in international espionage, decides to regain its credibility by causing a public scandal from which the British Secret Service will never fully recover. Their agent, the lovely and desirable Tatiana Romanov, has been trained by the viciously evil Colonel Rosa Klebb to pose as a defector who will turn over the highly prized Spektor code machine to the British government but only if she is brought out of Russia by the man of her dreams, James Bond. M takes the bait, and soon Bond is flying to Istanbul on the same aircraft that had transported his creator (and reading the same Ambler novel). The action in Turkey is fast and furious, but Bond and Tatiana manage to survive and as they board the Simplon-Orient Express to Paris they believe their troubles are over. In fact, they are just beginning. They have acted precisely the way the mastermind of the plot, Soviet chess master Kronsteen, had pre-

He looked up. She was standing a few feet away from him. He noticed she was wearing a black beret at a rakish angle and that she looked exciting and mysterious like someone you see driving by abroad, alone in an open car, someone unattainable and more desirable than anyone you have ever known. Someone who is on her way to make love to somebody else. Someone who is not for you. (p. 245)

Brand has come to tell Bond that she is to be married tomorrow. Diamonds Are Forever, published in 1956, begins two months after Bond and Gala went their separate ways. Bond, who is fully recovered physically and emotionally, is assigned to go undercover as a petty crook and infiltrate a gang of diamond smugglers. The story rambles and is ultimately disappointing, since it lacks what readers of the Bond novels have come to expect: a

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IAN FLEMING The year 1961 was another high-water mark for Fleming and Bond. From Russia with Love was named as one of President John F. Kennedy’s ten favorite books in an article published in the March 17, 1961, issue of Life magazine. Still hoping to bring his increasingly popular creation to the motion-picture screen, Fleming sold the movie rights to all the Bond novels (except Casino Royale, the film rights to which had already been sold) to Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, whose company, Eon Productions, would thereafter produce all the “official” James Bond movies beginning in 1962 with Dr. No. The CBS production of Casino Royale, the 1967 spoof of the same novel, and the 1983 movie Never Say Never Again are considered “unofficial” since they were not produced by Eon. Dr. No starred the Scottish actor Sean Connery as Bond. Connery was not Fleming’s first choice to play his secret agent—he would have chosen David Niven for the part, but he was eventually convinced that a relatively unknown actor would be better suited for the part. Connery starred in six of the “official” Bond films and in Never Say Never Again, and many purists consider him to be the best of the six actors who have played the role. The other five men who have played Bond are George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, and Daniel Craig. The twenty-one Eon Bond films that had been produced as of 2007 (two more films were in production for release: Quantum of Solace in 2008 and another, as yet untitled, in 2010) did much to soften the more disagreeable, by current standards, aspects of the novels. Fleming’s Bond is blatantly sexist, racist, xenophobic, and homophobic; the movie Bond is much more palatable to modern sensibilities, although he firmly maintains his penchant for outrageous philandering. Two films, Never Say Never Again (1983) and Casino Royale (2006), went so far as to cast African Americans—Bernie Casey and Jeffrey Wright, respectively—as Bond’s close friend and ally, Felix Leiter; five films—Goldeneye (1995), Tomorrow Never Dies (1997), The World Is Not Enough (1999), Die Another Day (2002), and Casino Royale (2006) cast Dame Judi Dench as Bond’s boss, M. And as the viewing public became more health conscious, Bond’s

dicted and are now facing death in the form of one of Fleming’s most psychopathic villains, Red Grant. But Grant’s megalomania proves his undoing. Instead of simply eliminating his two targets, he taunts Bond by revealing SMERSH’s plan: Bond and Tatiana had been filmed as they made passionate love in Bond’s hotel room in Istanbul; Grant was to kill the couple on the train, plant the incriminating photos, and arrange the bodies to look as if Bond killed Tatiana and then himself. This bit of boasting gives Bond the opportunity he needs, and Grant is killed. All that remains is for Bond to hand over Titania and the Spektor to authorities in Paris and capture Grant’s contact waiting in the Ritz Hotel. Bond enters the contact’s room but finds only a small, hunched woman busily knitting. After a brief exchange, Bond recognizes the little woman as Rosa Klebb, and a fierce battle ensues that involves poisoned needles and a bullet-firing telephone. René Mathis and his men come to Bond’s aid, and Klebb is subdued; but as she is being led away she kicks Bond’s right calf. Mathis finds the feeble assault on Bond amusing, but Bond slowly realizes that a blade protruding from the toe of Klebb’s boot has poisoned him. The novel ends with Bond crashing to the floor. Readers were left to wonder if Fleming had decided to kill off his creation as Arthur Conan Doyle had tried to do in 1893, when he sent his fictional detective Sherlock Holmes over the Reichenbach Falls in a death grip with his arch enemy, Professor Moriarty. The wait was not long; Bond was resurrected in 1958 in Dr. No, but neither that novel nor the other Bond books that followed lived up to the standard set in From Russia with Love. Meanwhile, however, 1957 had been a very good year for Fleming and Bond: Dr. No was a critical and commercial success; Fleming’s series of articles written for the London Sunday Times on the work of the International Diamond Security Organization were complied and published as The Diamond Smugglers; and, after some hesitation, Fleming signed an agreement with the London Daily Express that allowed the newspaper to publish a comic strip version of the Bond novels for £1500 each.

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IAN FLEMING indulgences were moderated over the years to the point that in Casino Royale (2006) Bond’s drinking is minimal and he does not smoke. Fleming attended the premiere of Dr. No in 1962 with a curious detachment; it seemed to him that his creation had taken on a life of its own and his participation in its care and feeding was only minimally necessary. His health was bad and his spirits were low, although he had seen his earnings increase tenfold between 1960 and 1964. He was dissatisfied with the books he had written since From Russia with Love despite the fact that they sold well and his book sales had netted him over £250,000. It is easy to detect Fleming’s lack of interest in the final novels; they tend to be repetitious, implausible, and often rather silly. Goldfinger (1959) would have us believe that a criminal mastermind would hire on the very man he knows is out to destroy him; Thunderball (1961), a novelization of a screenplay written by Fleming, in collaboration with screenwriters Kevin McClory and Jack Wittingham, includes a six-page monologue in which Domino Vitali rhapsodizes over her fantasies involving a man pictured on a pack of cigarettes; The Spy Who Loved Me (1962) is told in the third person by Vivienne Michel, who recalls her rescue from certain death by a man (Bond) who just happened to have a flat tire while driving past the motel Vivienne is temporarily managing; On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1963) has Bond, the ultimate misogynist, married to the love of his life only to see her killed as the happy couple drive away from the wedding ceremony; You Only Live Twice (1964) presents a ghoulish theme park on a Japanese island that caters to those wishing to commit suicide; and in The Man with the Golden Gun (1965), Bond is hired as a personal assistant to the criminal mastermind, as in Goldfinger, but passes up several opportunities to eliminate him because he believes his conscience would bother him. Fleming’s two collections of short stories—For Your Eyes Only in 1960 and Octopussy, and The Living Daylights, published posthumously in 1966—are really nothing more than inflated outlines of plots for a possible television series, but Cape accepted them as substitutes for the annual Bond novels nonetheless. Fleming was clearly losing interest

in Bond by the end of the 1950s, but he never gave up trying to achieve more fame and an increased fortune. He attended the premiere of From Russia with Love in 1963, and that same year he published Thrilling Cities, a collection of travel pieces he had written for the London Sunday Times. Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang, a bedtime story Fleming invented for his son Caspar, was published in 1964. His book sales had reached 30 million; there were 148 licenses granted for the manufacture of Bond-related goods; the first two Bond films had proved very successful, and a third, Goldfinger, was soon to be released; he had gained such frenetic popularity that Ann began calling him “ThunderBeatle”—but Fleming craved more. The heraldic motto attached to the Bond family crest in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was equally appropriate for Fleming: “The World Is Not Enough” (p. 59). BOND AFTER FLEMING

Fleming’s health had begun to decline shortly after he left the navy in 1946. For the next eighteen years he suffered from a wide variety of ailments: tapeworm, appendicitis, chest and neck pains, heart disease, kidney stones, sciatica, bronchitis, and angina. He consulted experts regarding these conditions but consistently ignored their recommendations, continuing to smoke dozens of cigarettes and drink an excessive amount of alcohol every day until a fatal heart attack stopped him on August 11, 1964. He was rushed to the hospital in Canterbury, but nothing could be done; he died early the next morning, on Caspar’s twelfth birthday. Three days later, Fleming was buried in a country churchyard near his home in Sevenhampton; his tragically self-destructive son, Caspar, joined his father there in 1975 having committed suicide by drug overdose, and Ann was laid to rest with them in 1981 after losing her battle with cancer. But James Bond survived and is still thriving. Two Bond books by Fleming were published posthumously: The Man with the Golden Gun and Octopussy, but the publication company that Fleming had bought in 1952, Gildrose Productions Limited, wanted, over the strong objections of Ann Fleming, to continue the Bond series by

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IAN FLEMING using the talents of Kingsley Amis. Amis’s Bond novel, Colonel Sun, written under the pseudonym of Robert Markham, was published in 1968. There were no further additions to the series until after Ann Fleming’s death, when Licence Renewed by John Gardner was published in 1981. Gardner went on to write thirteen more very successful Bond novels, and in 1996 the job was given to Raymond Benson, who wrote six more. There are numerous novelizations of the films, a popular series of prequels called Young Bond, and even a series written by Samantha Weinberg purporting to be the diaries of M’s secretary, Miss Moneypenny. And in 2007, Ian Fleming Publications, formerly Gildrose, announced that Sebastian Faulks would write a Bond novel titled Devil May Care to be published on May 28, 2008, the centenary of Fleming’s birth. On January 8, 2008, the Royal Mail commemorated Fleming’s centennial by issuing a set of postage stamps that feature the covers of four editions of six Bond novels: Casino Royale, Dr. No, Goldfinger, Diamonds Are Forever, For Your Eyes Only, and From Russia with Love. James Bond is so thoroughly a part of Western culture—with the ever-growing canon of novels, the motion pictures, the comic books and graphic novels, the computer games, the toys and model cars, the search for the definitive “James Bond style” in men’s magazines—that it seems unlikely that the phenomenon that grew from one man’s attempt to kill some time in Jamaica while awaiting for his lover’s divorce to become final will ever disappear and be forgotten. James Bond will live for as long as people seek ways to help them escape for a while from an uncertain world into a world where good and evil are clearly defined and where good is ultimately triumphant.

Live and Let Die. London: Cape, 1954; New York: Macmillan, 1955. Moonraker. London: Cape, 1955. Republished as Too Hot to Handle. New York: Macmillan, 1955. Diamonds Are Forever. London: Cape, 1956; New York: Macmillan, 1956. From Russia with Love. London: Cape, 1957; New York: Macmillan, 1957. Dr. No. London: Cape, 1958. Republished as Doctor No. New York: Macmillan, 1958. Goldfinger. London: Cape, 1959; New York: Macmillan, 1959. For Your Eyes Only: Five Secret Occasions in the Life of James Bond. London: Cape, 1960. Republished as For Your Eyes Only: Five Secret Exploits of James Bond. New York: Viking, 1960. Thunderball. London: Cape, 1961; New York: Viking, 1961. The Spy Who Loved Me. London: Cape, 1962; New York: Viking, 1962. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. London: Cape, 1963; New York: New American Library, 1963. You Only Live Twice. London: Cape, 1964; New York: New American Library, 1964. Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. London: Cape, 1964–1965 (in 3 vols.); New York: Random House, 1964 (in 1 vol.). The Man with the Golden Gun. London: Cape, 1965; New York: New American Library, 1965. Octopussy, and The Living Daylights. London: Cape, 1966. Republished as Octopussy. New York: New American Library, 1966.

NONFICTION The Diamond Smugglers. London: Cape, 1957; New York: Macmillan, 1958. Thrilling Cities. London: Cape, 1963; New York: New American Library, 1964.

PAPERS The papers of Ian Fleming are housed in the Lilly Library, Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Amis, Kingsley. The James Bond Dossier. London: Cape, 1965; New York: New American Library, 1965. Barnes, Alan, and Marcus Hearn. Kiss Kiss Bang! Bang! The Unoffıcial James Bond Film Companion. London: Batsford, 1997. Bennett, Tony, and Janet Woollacott. Bond and Beyond: The Political Career of a Popular Hero. London: Macmillan Education, 1987. Bryce, Ivar. You Only Live Once: Memories of Ian Fleming. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1975.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF IAN FLEMING FICTION Casino Royale. London: Cape, 1953; New York: Macmillan, 1954. Republished as You Asked for It. New York: Popular Library, 1955.

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IAN FLEMING Lipp, Deobrah. The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book. New York: Sterling and Ross, 2006. Lycett, Andrew. Ian Fleming. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1995. McCormick, Donald. 17F: The Life of Ian Fleming. London: Peter Owen, 1993. Pearson, John. The Life of Ian Fleming. London: Cape, 1966; New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966. Pfeiffer, Lee, and Dave Worrall. The Essential Bond: The Authorized Guide to the World of 007. New York: HarperCollins, 2002.

Chapman, James. License to Thrill: A Cultural History of the James Bond Films. New York: Columbia University Press, 2001. Comentale, Edward P., Stephen Watt, and Skip Willman, eds. Ian Fleming and James Bond: The Cultural Politics of 007. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005. Cork, John, and Bruce Scivally. James Bond. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2002. Fleming, Ann. The Letters of Ann Fleming. Edited by Mark Amory. London: Collins, 1985. Gresh, Lois H., and Robert Weinberg. The Science of James Bond: From Bullets to Bowler Hats to Boat Jumps, the Real Technology behind 007’s Fabulous Films. Hoboken, N.J.: Wiley, 2006. Griswold, John. Ian Fleming’s James Bond: Annotations and Chronologies for Ian Fleming’s Bond Stories. Bloomington, Ind.: AuthorHouse, 2006. “Interview: Ian Fleming,” Playboy (December 1964): pp. 97–106. Lindner, Christopher, ed. The James Bond Phenomenon: A Critical Reader. Manchester, U.K.: University of Manchester Press, 2003.

Rosenberg, Bruce A. and Ann Harleman Stewart. Ian Fleming. Boston: Twayne, 1989. Tanner, William. The Book of Bond; or, Every Man His Own 007. London: Cape, 1965; New York: Viking, 1965. Winder, Simon. The Man Who Saved Britain: A Personal Journey into the Disturbing World of James Bond. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006. Zeiger, Henry A. Ian Fleming: The Spy Who Came In with the Gold. New York: Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1965.

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON (1901—1935)

Les Wilkinson LEWIS GRASSIC Gibbon was the pen name of James Leslie Mitchell, who produced a substantial body of writing under his own name apart from that written pseudonymously; the output of each persona is substantially different in tone and content, however. Although certain preoccupations are common to his writing both as Mitchell and as Gibbon, this study will concentrate on exploring the works written under his pen name. The exception to this focus will be an examination of the 1933 novel Spartacus, his best-known work written as James Leslie Mitchell, upon which the widely distributed 1959 film starring Kirk Douglas was based.

erished tenant farmer, James Mitchell, who had been born in a neighboring parish. His mother was Lellias Grassic Gibbon, from whom he was later to adopt his pen name. “I like to remember that I am of peasant rearing and of peasant stock” he was to write in his essay “The Land.” (Reprinted in the 2001 Gibbon anthology Smeddum, p. 83.) At the age of eight, his family moved to a farm near Drumlith in the Howe of the Mearns, an area south of Aberdeen. His early education took place at Arbuthnott School, where his schoolmaster, Alexander Grey, was to become a lifelong friend. Grey had the foresight to preserve Mitchell’s school exercise books, and the work they contain shows budding promise: some essays, such as “The Autobiography of a River,” show an outstanding manipulation of language for a thirteen-year-old boy despite their conventional schoolroom subject matter, but even at this early age, it is when he is writing about the countryside around him that his writing comes alive; for example, when describing the scene he can see from the schoolroom window “past the dark clump of trees, to where lie the various fields, moors and hills belonging to the farms of Kirkton, Pitcarles and Allardice” (A Scots Hairst, p. 175).

Gibbon’s power and popularity as writer depend on a relatively small body of work: the three novels (in 1932, 1933, and 1934) that make up A Scots Quair (published as a single volume in 1946) and a group of essays and five short stories that appeared in Scottish Scene (1934), a publication in which he collaborated with Hugh MacDiarmid. Nevertheless, his influence on the development of the renaissance in Scottish literature that took place in the 1920s and 1930s was profound and arguably continued well beyond that period. Upon Gibbon’s death in 1935, MacDiarmid wrote to his widow, Rhea, that it was “a serious blow to Scottish LiteratureѧHe has won a definite place in the History of Scottish Literature. His Scots Quair has a permanent value which will preserve his memory.” (The Letters of Hugh MacDiarmid, pp. 559–560.)

He continued his education at Mackie Academy in Stonehaven but in 1917, at the age of sixteen he left because of differences with the school authorities to become a cub reporter on the Aberdeen Journal, thereby alienating himself from his father, who expected him to work on the land like generations of his family before him. His experience of life in Aberdeen—a city built of “one of the most enduring and indestructible and appalling building materials in use on our planet: grey granite”—is described in his essay of that name in Scottish Scene (reprinted in

LIFE

James Leslie Mitchell was born on February 13, 1901, on the croft of Hillhead of Segget in Auchterless, Aberdeenshire, the son of an impov-

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON the 2001 Gibbon anthology, Smeddum, p. 111). His essay on Glasgow in Scottish Scene describes in moving detail “the life that festers in the courts and wynds and alleys of Camlachie, Goven, the Gorbals” (Smeddum, p. 98) (all notorious slums in the 1920s) and gives some indication of why he was so strongly attracted to the ideas of leftwing politics and of the Communist Party: he become a founding member in 1917 of the Aberdeen Soviet, formed in solidarity with the Russian Revolution. Here he welcomed Karl Marx’s daughter, Eleanor, who had come to speak to the Trades Council. He moved to Glasgow to begin writing for the Farmers’ Weekly but was sacked after a short period for making fraudulent expenses claims (perhaps to fund donations to the British Socialist Party).

WRITING AS JAMES LESLIE MITCHELL

One of Mitchell’s earliest publications, Hanno (1928), is of interest to a study of his writing because it explores a lifelong belief that suffuses his work—the anthropological theory of diffusionism, which held that primitive man, far from living a life of savagery and deprivation, existed in a golden age. As he explains (writing as Gibbon) in his essay “Religion”: “Man in a Primitive condition is not Man Savage.” (Smeddum, p. 152.) This golden age, however, gradually disappeared with the coming of civilization and the development of religion. A later work, The Conquest of the Maya (1934), written under his own name, develops his anthropological interest even further in a scholarly and academic way. Mitchell’s first novel to be published was Stained Radiance in 1930, which to some extent anticipates the background he was to explore more fully as his alter ego, Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Other Mitchell novels include The Thirteenth Disciple (1931), which contains some strongly autobiographical elements; Three Go Back (1932); The Lost Trumpet (1932); Image and Superscription (1933); and Gay Hunter (1934), a story of time travel. His most important novel under his own name, however, was Spartacus.

Finding himself blacklisted by newspapers in the west of Scotland, and unable to find a job elsewhere, he joined the army—not out of patriotism or a sense of duty, but principally to secure a bed and three square meals a day. His four years in the Royal Army Service Corps allowed him to travel widely, particularly in the Middle East, and led to some fine travel writing under his own name, besides inspiring his first short stories. On leaving the army in 1923, he was unable to settle back into civilian life in Scotland, so he joined the Royal Air Force and served until 1929. On his discharge, he settled in Welwyn Garden City to become a full-time writer, an interest that had grown in the later years of his RAF service. He had married Rebecca (“Rhea”) Middleton in 1925; she had been brought up on a neighboring farm in the Mearns. At first, he struggled to make ends meet, until his work was spotted by the English novelist H. G. Wells, who subsequently helped him to establish himself as a writer for magazines. In the years between 1929 and his early death from peritonitis at the age of thirty-four in 1935, James Leslie Mitchell produced eleven novels, two books of short stories, and three anthropological studies, besides a number of essays, under both his own name and his pseudonym. He also left a number of outlines for future literary projects: it is a phenomenal literary output in such a short time.

This novel alone would ensure Mitchell a lasting literary reputation. Published in 1933, in the middle of the sequence of novels that make up A Scots Quair, it deals with many of the concerns of the Scottish trilogy, although it approaches them in a different context and in a different way. In his introduction to a 1966 edition of the novel, the Scottish poet Edwin Morgan identifies Gibbon’s “deepest feelings, ideas and obsessions” (p. vii) in this remarkable novel. The importance of Spartacus, the historical figure, to Mitchell is evident elsewhere in his writing, primarily in a poem addressed to him, recognizing him as a clear light emanating from the “darkling heavens of misty time” bringing to our modern age the roar of his troops as they went into battle, celebrating a hero who gave the world “the lordship of the slave.” (Collected in Smeddum, pp. 185–186.)

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON when he takes the Lex from the chest in which it has traveled (almost like the Ark of the Covenant) to read it, but falls asleep. On awakening, he “smiles wryly” (p. 207) at the thought that it could ever have been realized. Like Mitchell the novelist, he wonders about the golden age, “men hunting and living untrammelled and free, ere Chronos spun the wheels of Time” (p. 186) but in his heart he knows that mankind will never achieve that peace until the differentiation between slave and master is unknown— something that will never happen: he knows that the slaves he leads will be no better masters than those they go to defeat. Twice in the novel, Kleon is asked whether there were slaves in Plato’s Republic: his answer, that there were, shows that all societies, no matter how ideal in their conception, are doomed; his sense of the futility of their campaign is apparent after their retreat from Rome when he is seized by “bitter despair, that [men] would cower in acquiescence to the lash and mutilation till the world ended, power and freedom put by as dreams, together with the dream of the Golden Age of which Hiketas had sung” (p. 161). Above all, he shares with the narrative voice of A Scots Quair a sense of the insignificance of man’s behavior in the face of the history of the planet on which we live, the “little earth that knew them not” (p. 138); the sense that all men are locked in a struggle with the natural elements and the forces of history that is part of the human condition, a part of the absurdity of existence in which he and all mankind have no choice but to take part.

The novel is of course based on historical fact: in 73 B.C.E., a revolt broke out at a gladiator school in Capua, organized and led by a Thracian gladiator, Spartacus, who then went on to display outstanding qualities of leadership after he had attracted the dispossessed and disenchanted from across southern Italy to his side. For two years, he kept the forces of the Roman Republic at bay by guerrilla tactics and by moving around the mountains of southern Italy, at one stage even having Rome at his mercy. Eventually, however, he was cornered and killed in battle—by Crassus in 71 B.C.E. in Apulia. As a result, seven thousand of his followers were then crucified along the length of the Appian Way as a warning to other would-be rebels, a horrific fate described at the climax of Mitchell’s novel. Indeed, one of the novel’s strengths is its depiction of the barbarity of the supposedly “civilized” Roman masters, whose depravity is contrasted with the violence of the slave army, violence that arises out of cold necessity rather than sadistic pleasure. Spartacus is not without faults: a problem arises out of its structure, which begins and ends seeing events from the point of view of Kleon, a eunuch slave of Athenian descent who opens the novel by murdering his master when he hears of the Spartacist revolt and ends it on a cross on the Appian Way. The single viewpoint, however, is not adequate for dealing with the epic scope of events portrayed, and so another narrative voice, that of a dispassionate narrator, is used in order to incorporate the range and scope that the novel requires. The tone of the narrator, however, is consistent with that of Kleon.

Kleon is the novel’s most fully realized character: many other of the rebel leaders are sketchily drawn and characterized by mannerisms, such as Gershom, the Hebrew general, who repeatedly “combs his curled beard” (p. 59 et passim). We are given brief biographies of the Roman generals who are sent out to defeat Spartacus before all but the last, Crassus, is humiliated or killed. In particular, the character of Spartacus himself is difficult for the reader to define, as he is seen for the most part from the outside, through the eyes and experience of others. His decisions and reactions are often unexplained, and he remains an enigma to us.

Kleon’s outlook and view of history are clear from the outset: early in the novel, he proclaims that “there are no godsѧbut Time and Fate”—a view with which Mitchell would concur (p. 18). An idealist, Kleon travels throughout the novel with a copy of Plato’s Republic, stolen from his murdered master, hidden in his tunic; he is the architect and creator of the Lex Servorum, the code of the society that the slaves intend to establish when they come into their kingdom. And yet he knows that the ideal state described in both works will never come about: toward the end of the novel, there is a poignant moment

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON There is no doubt about his heroic grandeur, however, and his ability to inspire his followers through his “bright, cold purpose” (p. 60), without hate or anger, a characteristic he will share with Ewan Tavendale in Gibbon’s 1934 novel, Grey Granite. Central to his heroism is his identification with his followers: he feels “as though the life of their bodies was a part of his, he the Giver of Life to this multitude that had risen around himѧbone of their bone, flesh of their flesh” (pp. 140–141). Although his generals might question his plans, he realizes in the final stages of the novel that his identification with the slave host he leads is reciprocated and that he is “a voice for the many, the Voice of the voiceless” (p. 217 ).

The first essay, “The Antique Scene,” gives a potted history of Scotland in which Gibbon’s diffusionist views are clear. For him, history is a process of degeneration rather than progress: the original inhabitants of Scotland, Golden Age hunters, were “nakedѧcourageous, happy, kindly” (Smeddum, p. 5) until religion and social organization, imported from Mediterranean cultures by successive invaders, destroyed this state of innocence. Gibbon’s thesis is that the peasant people of Scotland have been subjected to succeeding conquering peoples but have not been integrated into any of these ruling castes: the peasant would see a new master installed “in the broch, at the keep at, later, the castle” (Smeddum, p. 9) but would turn back to “the essentials of his existence” labor on the land in foul Scottish weather, seeing the succession of rulers as something of less immediate concern than the necessity to grub a living from the land. Scotland owes its woes to this foreign aristocracy at every turn: the only indigenous Scot to emerge as a national leader, William Wallace, at the head of a truly popular Army of the Commons of Scotland, advocating freedom as a natural birthright (characteristics he shares with the eponymous hero of Spartacus), was betrayed to Edward I of England by the poison of aristocratic intrigue. Scotland is now in a state of barbarism, which is not a stage on the way to a full and complete civilization: it is a state of degeneration, which should be obvious to anyone who has considered the effects of the Industrial Revolution upon the working classes.

The ending of the novel is to some extent ambiguous: amid the horror of the mass crucifixion on the Appian Way, we focus in on Kleon in the last moments before death, when he becomes aware of a great cross in the sky above him with a figure that is crowned with thorns, behind whom he is aware of an equally great figure of a gladiator, sword in hand: “And he saw that these two were one, and the world was theirs.” The vision of Christ and Spartacus together inheriting “the shining earth” (p. 236) suggests that the sacrifice of both is complementary and necessary: change cannot come merely through compassion but will necessarily be achieved by violence also.

SCOTTISH SCENE: THE ESSAYS

The essay “Glasgow”—a city he describes as “the vomit of cataleptic commercialism” (Smeddum, p. 97) makes clear his revulsion at what the forces of “progress” have meant for the inhabitants of this city. He draws attention to the beauty of Loch Lomond, only a few miles from the slums of the Gorbals, and wonders how men could allow themselves to become enslaved to an existence so obscene and foul as this, pointing out that life for modern slum-dwellers is far inferior to that endured by the primitive tribes who first inhabited here, whose hardships of hunger and weather were “clean” compared to the deprivations of modern city life. Yet, by the

Mitchell wrote a good deal less under his pseudonym, but it is his output as Lewis Grassic Gibbon that is the primary focus of this essay. Before turning to his novels, we will consider the essays and short stories that he published in Scottish Scene. The collection’s seven essays, written in English rather than Scots, shed a good degree of light on Gibbon’s outlook. The style tends to be polemic and ready to court controversy should it come along, as the brief preface makes clear; in this, perhaps, the influence of MacDiarmid, his collaborator, is evident.

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON fact that they are all writing in a foreign language; in effect, they are translating Scots emotion and sensibility into an English that may be correct— indeed, impeccably so—but that at its heart is not English. Moreover, Scots writers are constrained to write in English because Scots has been reduced to the language of “bed and board and street and ploughѧfor the genteel only to be quoted in vocal inverted commas” (p. 126). Gibbon quotes and concurs with the British writer Eric Linklater’s view that Scots is “inadequate to deal with the finer shades of emotion” (p. 126).

same token, Gibbon does not look back with misty-eyed sentiment to the “rich agricultural life” of the previous century as an ideal to be reborn: in “The Land,” he points out that the peasant’s lot in the nineteenth century was one of hard labor, not one to be remembered fondly. He is glad that at last the “strange whirlimagig of generations that enslaved the Scots peasantry for centuries is broken” (Smeddum, p. 92) “The Land” also shows Gibbon’s ambivalent attitude toward the landscape, which was to provide the inspiration of his best writing. Aware of its beauty, which he never romanticizes, and seeing the changing of the seasons with a poet’s eye, he is also aware of the land’s indifference to the men who live and work on it. Gibbon is not interested in “landscape,” rejecting explicitly the scenic Scotland of “lilting tourist names” (p. 82), but rather in the land only in its relationship to the men who work it: mankind is to be remembered in the history of the universe (if at all) as “the men who conquered the land” (p. 96). Although his novel will celebrate the landscape of the Mearns and demonstrate an acute awareness of it, Gibbon here confesses to a vagueness about natural history: his real interest is in men and women—those engaged in the contemporary hard-won battle against the land as well as those who first came to this landscape from elsewhere in Europe at the dawn of prehistory, those early farmers who caught his imagination as a boy. In a sense, he is aware even as he writes that the land as he and generations before him knew it is already lost; changes in farming practices are already obliterating the landscape of his childhood as woods are felled and fields amalgamated in pursuit of greater profit.

The next essay maintains the polemic stance, offering a hostile analysis of the political career of Ramsay MacDonald, the first British Labour Prime Minister—“the Wrecker” (as he is designated in the essay’s subtitle). He cites as MacDonald’s primary failure, as a man and a politician, his inability to reach behind words to thought: the same dislocation of word and thought that condemns Scottish writing to failure is ultimately responsible for the political failure of the Labour movement in the 1930s. For MacDonald, too, English “remains a foreign language” (p. 140); he may be adept at arranging sentences into a genteel fashion on a super abacus of language, but real meaning evades him. His writing and oratory are all surface effect, dependent on a “rigid adjectival conventionality” (p. 138)—the kind of writing to win the approval of a schoolmaster but inadequate for the purpose of meaningful political thought. Although Gibbon accepts that unlike many socialists who acquiesced to rationalizations about World War I, MacDonald stood firm against it, he nevertheless “quite failed to penetrate behind words to that vile reality that the War was” (p. 146). The final essay in Scottish Scene, “Religion,” tackles its subject from the diffusionist point of view: “Primitive Men,” who are to be distinguished from “Savages,” knew no religion. Gibbon believes that “man is naturally irreligious” (p. 152) and that religion is merely a social construct to control a population and bring an element of cohesion to societies. He is particularly bitter about the way religion developed in Scotland, seeing the Presbyterianism that held the country in its grip for three centuries between

Following on from the elegiac tone of “The Land,” belligerence returns in “Literary Lights,” an essay on the state of contemporary Scottish literature, which develops from the premise that, since there are “hardly more than two poets andѧno novelist at all” (p. 129) contributing to Scottish literary output in the twentieth century, its condition is dire. Gibbon discounts Scottish writers who choose to write in English as “incurably second rate” and “incurably behind the times” (p. 126 ). The problem lies for him in the

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON Louis Stevenson (1850–1894) had written short stories in a dense Scots prose, but neither had attempted to use Scots for a full-length novel. Gibbon explains that his technique in establishing an appropriate register in Scots is “to mould the English Language to the rhythms and cadences of Scots spoken speech, and inject into the English vocabulary such minimum number of words from Braid Scots as that remodelling requires” (Smeddum, p. 135) We can see this technique carried into practice in the story “Greenden”: the narrative voice is colloquial and recognizably Scots. It has no individual perspective on the story that it tells and indeed the recurrence of phrases such as “Folk laughed when they heardѧ” “Folk saidѧ” or “Folk wonderedѧ” all tend to suggest an anonymous community voice telling the story: one ready to see the shortcomings of others and ready to comment on them, so not entirely objective, but perhaps also ready to see faults in everyone equally.

the time of the Scottish Reformation leader John Knox and the early twentieth century as a “cultural aberration” (p. 154), a perversion of ideas set out in the Bible (itself largely a construct of Middle Eastern tribes living a nomadic life millennia ago) that brought fear and repression to Scottish people, tyrannized over by ministers and elders of the Church of Scotland for generations. In particular, he resents the sexual repression that Calvinism brought with it, recognizing that this has had a lasting effect on the Scottish psyche, whereas other aspects of doctrinal rigidity have relaxed to the extent that sermons delivered to churchgoers in the 1930s are sufficiently wide in doctrine and opinion to embrace both communism and fascism in their extremes. The fact is, in Gibbon’s view, that contemporary congregations listen to sermons with “placid benignity” (p. 159) and see their messages as irrelevant to their day-to-day life; they are something “good” in an undefined and unthinking way. Gibbon is not blind to the fact that religion has brought very real comfort to many, but he anticipates that as society develops religion will atrophy, to be replaced by nothing. Religion will pass without the need for anything to replace it, and since “benevolence is as natural to Natural Man as hunger” (p. 166), the world will be no worse a place.

Four of the stories explore the life of farmworkers at the turn of the century in the land of Gibbon’s childhood and are set with geographical accuracy in the Mearns. Interestingly, the story with an urban setting, “Forsaken,” is located in an undefined city: the urban environment is interchangeable, but rural settings are local and precise. Landscape is important as a background, but in the foreground we are always aware of men and women working; for example, in “Clay,” Gibbon describes “the cling of the clay and pull side by side down the long swede rows” as Rob and his daughter Rachel pull turnips form the ground, “the rain in a drifting seep from the hills, below them the Howe in its garment of mist” (pp. 71–72). If the stories are loosely bound thematically by their depiction of farming life, there is also a similarity of tone, as each has an almost biblical resonance. They are like parables, or small allegories. “Forsaken” deals with Christ returning to earth after the crucifixion to 1920s urban Scotland; “Greenden” centers on a hymn; “Sim” has a verse from Ecclesiastes as its epigraph; and “Clay” echoes God’s words to Adam (“Dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return”) in its closing

SCOTTISH SCENE: THE STORIES

Arguably of greater importance and interest from a literary point of view than the essays in Scottish Scene are the five short stories contained in this collection, which are written in the fluent Scots prose that Gibbon had developed in his writing of A Scots Quair, and that gives his imaginative writing its distinctive and unique voice. As we have seen, he discusses in “Literary Lights” the perceived inadequacy of Scots as a literary medium, and indeed in prose literature he had few antecedents for writing in Scots. Scots appeared in inverted commas in the novels of Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832) and James Hogg (1770–1835), often in sustained passages, but the narrative voice of the novelist was invariably English and educated. Both Scott and Robert

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON control the lives of weaker men and women. Meg is an imposing woman: running images in the story compare her to a “roan mare” (pp. 35–36 et passim), and we frequently encounter her as a physical presence battling against the wind “like a hail of knives from the hills” (p. 35) or plowing her man’s fields, “the wind in her hair and the sea beyond” (p. 36). After their father’s death, she brings up her nine children forcefully, defending them against their employers when they are reprimanded (on some occasions, rightfully) and forcing them into marriage to ensure the stability of their adult lives. Only one daughter, Kathie, is treated differently: when she announces her intention to leave home, her mother accepts it without question. The same natural imagery that applies to Meg applies to her daughter, who looks “light and free as a swallow herself” (p. 41). Her life is disreputable: she becomes a bank manager’s mistress, works as a stewardess on ocean liners, and finally becomes a grocer’s assistant in Stonehaven. She is courted by John Robb, who invites her to Canada as his wife, but although she intends to go with him, she refuses to marry him before they leave, something that offends her now respectably married siblings. The climax of the story highlights the blinkered nature of their perceptions of morality as well as their hypocrisy as Meg reveals that she never married their father, being unable to make up her mind about him. Her children are mortified, but she identifies in herself and in Kathie the characteristic of smeddum, a quality that Gibbon clearly admires in the makeup of folk of his native land.

stages: “All life is but clay that awoke and strove to return to its mother’s breast” (p. 80). “Greenden” presents us with both of Gibbon’s antithetical responses to the land: in it, working the land promotes health and strength, but it also suffocates the spirit, a theme worked out almost allegorically by the tale of George Simpson, a consumptive Glaswegian, brought out to the fields of the Mearns from the city to save his health by his wife, who is inspired by the words of the hymn “There is a green hill far away ѧ” Typically, the folk of the locality cannot understand why she should respond to hymn (of all things) in such a way—“folk with sense knew that hymns were just things you sang, douce, and then you forgot the damn things” (p. 27). The “folk” of the story expect hard farm work to kill the sickly city dweller, but instead it cures him: he grows healthy and recovers, broadening out to farm his land effectively and profitably. He takes to walking over to a nearby farm in the evening, ostensibly to visit the farmer, but it is clear his is attracted to his neighbor’s daughter, and he becomes progressively integrated into the community. His wife, meanwhile, becomes increasingly isolated, and as he regains health and strength, she becomes thinner and steadily more imbalanced. The narrative voice is hostile to her as an outsider; the only person who shows any degree of sympathy is Webster, the grocer. When she commits suicide because her last glimpse of the distant Grampians is blotted out by the rising roof of the neighbor’s barn, it is Webster who brings Simpson to find his wife hanging from the rafters. The hymn has come true: Ellen gives her life for George, who will marry his neighbor’s daughter and live a healthy life in the environment to which men rightly belong.

Another, less attractive, trait that defines men of the Mearns is explored in “Sim” and “Clay”: the way in which men can become obsessed with the land they work, to the exclusion of all else. Sim Wilson is not a sympathetic figure: he has the ability to win prizes at school and to work hard, but he is naturally lazy and motivated only by immediate gain. He works hard to build up a farm, however, first for his wife and then for the sake of his daughters, whose future obsesses him. His intention to give his firstborn, Katie, an education to turn her into a lady is thwarted when it becomes evident even to him that she is “backward” and will never progress beyond a

Through the story of Meg Menzies, Gibbon illustrates exactly the characteristics of the quality described in its title, “Smeddum.” The word can be glossed as “strength of character, spirit,” but the story suggests it is much more: rather, it is the quality that allows a person to live an authentic life, divorced from the pressures of public opinion and public morality (of the kind inherited from centuries of Calvinism) that

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON ously to secure a better, more secure lifestyle, and Christ is aware in “Saul” of a man facing fear and pain without hope. At the end of the story, he leaves the family, muttering “something or other about the Sabbath” (p. 57), which brings us back to the story’s epigraph—“Eloi! Eloi! lama sabachthani?”—Christ’s words on the cross when he feels that God has forsaken him. In industrial twentieth-century Scotland, Christ is faced with indisputable proof that God has indeed done so.

mental age of three. Of course, the “folk” in the background of the story who provide the narrative voice give a “snicker” at this, enjoying Sim’s discomfiture. His hopes for his second daughter are shattered when she returns home pregnant and unmarried. Noticeable in the story, however, is Sim’s realization that life is to be taken “for the riddle it was, not as a race to be run with a prize at the end” (p. 67). Rob Galt, the main character of “Clay,” is likewise obsessed by the land, preoccupied by its needs even as he is driven to his wife’s funeral. His daughter has dreams of escaping the land (like Chris Guthrie, the central character of A Scots Quair) by going to college; these dreams are thwarted by her father’s intentions that she should inherit and work his farm. While breaking in a difficult piece of moorland in a storm, the father uncovers the burial chamber of a Bronze Age man who had farmed the land centuries earlier; his wonder and admiration astound him. When he dies as a result of pneumonia brought on by being out in the storm, his daughter decides to bury him on the moor in the ancient burial chamber: historically, the farm will have come full circle, and significantly, she will leave the land. The age of the farmer is over; she realizes at the end of the story that “no other would come to tend the ill rigs in the north wind’s blow” (p. 81).

A SCOTS QUAIR

In his preface to his 1816 novel The Antiquary, Walter Scott stated that his intention in the first three Waverley novels was “to illustrate the manners of Scotland at three different periods. Waverley embraced the age of our fathers, Guy Mannering that of our own youth, and The Antiquary refers to the last ten years of the eighteenth century.” Gibbon’s purpose in his trilogy is much the same, if a little more compact: Sunset Song (1932) covers the years 1911–1919; Cloud Howe (1933) deals with the 1920s; and Grey Granite with the 1930s, perhaps beyond its date of publication (1934) if Chris Guthrie’s age (specifically mentioned in the opening paragraphs) is anything to go by. Additionally, the first two novels deal with defining moments of their decade, Sunset Song culminating in the bloodshed of World War I and Cloud Howe in the General Strike of 1926. Grey Granite lacks such a focus, although it clearly anticipates the fight against fascism with which the decade will end. The social environment of each novel is also different: Sunset Song is set in the rural community of Kinraddie, hardly a village, but rather a collection of farms; Cloud Howe moves to the fictional small town of Segget, while Grey Granite is set in the urban environment of Duncairn. The titles hint symbolically at each novel’s principal focus: Sunset Song deals with the end of the peasant life; in Cloud Howe, the clouds represent the dreams that Robert Colquohoun follows; Grey Granite becomes the symbol of the hardness that enters Ewan’s soul as he embraces communism.

“Forsaken,” the only story in the collection set in a city, imagines Christ returned to Earth in one of the “loops of time” that preoccupied Gibbon’s contemporary, the English author J. B. Priestley. Christ is brought into the household of a Communist activist, where he recognizes in those around him people he knew in Palestine two millennia earlier: the father, Peter, is reminiscent of his disciple; a son, the secretary of a Communist cell, of the apostle Paul. He eats a meal of smokies and bannocks (bread and fishes), and a younger son asks for help with carpentry. There is some talk of religion, but his hosts assure him that Christ is irrelevant to modern life: “Never mind about Jesus, he’s been long dead” (p. 54). Significantly, the figure parallel to Mary Magdalene, the reformed prostitute, does not turn aside from her intention of behaving promiscu-

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON John and his son, Will. With her father’s encouragement, Chris is set on the path of education and escape from rural drudgery, until her mother’s suicide means that she will have to stay at home to run the house for her father. Tensions in the household increase; Will leaves with his love, now his wife, for a new life in Argentina, a circumstance that appears to precipitate a paralyzing stroke in his father. Chris, who has meanwhile fallen in love with the foreman of a neighboring farm, Ewan Tavendale, looks after her father until his death. After the funeral, Chris learns that she is the sole beneficiary of his will, which enables her to decide (like Thomas Hardy’s Bathsheba Everdene) to continue to farm Blawearie, a course highly unusual for a woman at that time. Attending to her horses with Ewan during a thunderstorm, the couple realize their desire for one another but delay its consummation until their wedding, which local gossip sees as following on inordinately soon after her father’s funeral. A son is born; at around the same time, news of the outbreak of war reaches Kinraddie but seems of little consequence to the new family. Social pressure, however, leads Ewan to enlist in the North Highlanders, and he returns home after training as a coarsened and abusive drunkard. Chris is alienated from him but is nevertheless devastated when a telegram arrives telling of his death in action. She later learns from Chae Strachan, a neighbor turned soldier, that Ewan was in fact shot as a deserter: Chae had spent the night before his execution with him, when Ewan revealed that he deserted his post in a vain attempt to get back to Chris and be reconciled to her. The novel ends with the unveiling of a war memorial at the Standing Stones engraved with the names of the four men of the parish who have died. Chris is soon to marry the new minister of the parish.

SUNSET SONG

Sunset Song is undoubtedly the most popular of Gibbon’s works and is widely viewed as his most successful. Its strength comes from a number of sources: Chris Guthrie, its heroine, is a fully realized character whose development from girl to woman is sympathetically delineated; she is also perceptive and intelligent as the consciousness through which we experience the novel. Another major strength is the way in which it depicts farming life. Like Thomas Hardy, Gibbon is familiar with every detail of the agricultural cycle and integrates this carefully and fully into the events he describes. In particular, he avoids both the extremes of sentimentality typical of such popular novels as Ian Maclaren’s Beside the Bonny Brier Bush (1894) or J. M. Barrie’s A Window in Thrums (1889) and the bitterness of George Douglas’s The House with the Green Shutters (1901), itself written in reaction to the sugary idealization of rural life in these earlier. The structure of Sunset Song is similar to the other novels in the trilogy, in that it is built of four sections, each of which begin and end with Chris Guthrie by the Standing Stones, a prehistoric monument that stands by the loch on raised moorland on the farm of Blawearie and that has symbolic importance in the novel. The section titles (“Ploughing,” Drilling,” “Seed-time,” “Harvest”) do not stand for the agricultural seasons they describe but, rather, refer symbolically to Chris’s development. These sections are seen though her eyes, although the prelude and epilude, both titled “The Unfurrowed Field,” are seen from the point of view of a communal narrative voice. The novel deals with the tragedy of the two men in her life, her father and her husband, and is unified by her consciousness. The novel begins with a history of Kinraddie since Norman times and then describes in turn the inhabitants of all the farms in the parish, who will have greater or lesser roles to play as the narrative develops. The farm of Blawearie is untenanted, but that will change with the arrival of John Guthrie and his family from Aberdeenshire. There are tensions in the family, between husband and wife, exacerbated by her pregnancy and the birth of twins, and between

To gain a clear view of the novel’s themes, it is useful to work backward from its final scene, when Robert Colquohoun preaches his sermon at the dedication of the war memorial: the relevance of the title is emphasized when he says that those present are standing “in the sunset of an age and an epoch” (A Scots Quair, p. 192); they are recognizing not only the deaths of the parishio-

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON “the land was forever” (p. 97). At the end of the novel, the land that sustained man in a meaningful relationship with the planet has disappeared, and with it has disappeared the hope of a fulfilled life.

ners of Kinraddie, but also the death of “a thing older than themselves” (p. 193), the peasant way of life. Robert asserts that Old Scotland has died with them and that henceforth Scots as a language will be alien to them. The elegiac tone is underscored by the Highlander playing “The Flowers of the Forest,” the ancient bagpipe lament for the fallen at the Battle of Flodden (1513), the music emphasized for the reader by being printed in the text. Structurally, this lament represents a recurring theme in the novel: its first appearance is when Chris is moved by its sadness as a schoolgirl and writes an essay on its themes; it is “heard” a second time when Chris unexpectedly chooses to sing it at her wedding when called upon for a song.

With all its shortcomings, and despite the cynicism of the inhabitants of Kinraddie (as characterized by the narrative voice) and their gossipy readiness to believe the worst of one another, the community depicted in the novel does represent one in which men and women live in harmony and mutual support. As with Hardy, this community is portrayed without sentimentality and its customs are acutely observed and celebrated. In Chae Strachan and Long Rob of the Mill we see two characters who stand out from the crowd and who have the respect of their neighbors, albeit grudgingly on occasion. In opinions, they stand as opposites: Chae is a socialist and a Christian whose religious faith lives through his experiences of war; Rob is an individualist, a political skeptic, and an atheist. Chae believes that mechanization will bring in a new age of ease for the worker—“The machine’s the best friend of man, or it would be so in a socialist state” (p. 123); Rob loves his horses and the traditional ways. Chae is willing to volunteer to fight in the Great War, believing it will bring a better world; Rob is a conscientious objector who suffers imprisonment for his beliefs, who nevertheless ends by volunteering to serve, since “all the world had gone daft and he might as well go with the rest” (p. 176). Despite their differences, they play fiddle and accordion in symbolically perfect harmony for the dance on the day of Chris’s wedding; equally significantly, they both die in the mud of Flanders, emphasizing the human cost of the war.

The loss of Old Scotland and the peasant life runs throughout the novel. The tensions between the old ways and the new are almost personified by John Guthrie and his son, Will; only reluctantly does John buy an old reaper to bring in the harvest, and he refuses to buy a binder, much to his son’s scorn. Indeed, Guthrie believes that one day the scythe will come back into its own, and he refuses to accept any methods other than the traditional in farming. In this he is unlike Chae Strachan, who, like Will, puts his faith in machinery—but Chae’s optimism in the future of mechanized farming is shown to be empty toward the end of the novel, when he returns on leave from the army to find that the trees that have sheltered his farm for generations have been felled by the trustees of the estate to provide wood for airplanes to help the war effort, and he realizes that consequently his farm will be ruined. The title of the epilude, “The Unfurrowed Field,” although it is the same as the prelude, now has a sinister ring: fields now lie unfurrowed not because they are awaiting the plow but because they will never be plowed again: fields that once waved with corn are now grassland and given over to sheep. Not only is the old way of life gone but also the landscape that sustained it. Earlier in the novel, Chris had remembered a Greek phrase from her school days: ␲␣␯␶␣ ␳⑀␫: Nothing endures. Paradoxically, she feels that although all things will pass (she has a strong sense of history and the changes it has brought),

We see the community observing its customs: when Chae and Rob come to first-foot at Blawearie, they bring a rare scene of good humor in the depiction of John Guthrie, together with a scene of comic drunkenness. This is contrasted with the role they play in Guthrie’s funeral, where the observance of the rituals involved—the taking of a dram before the service, the carrying of the coffin—help to sustain Chris and ultimately bring

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON The moral bankruptcy of the Kirk (the Church of Scotland) is also represented by the minister of Kinraddie, the Reverend Gibbon, who is described as a bull in the running imagery of the novel. His hypocrisy is clear throughout, particularly in terms of sex, as when he is discovered at Chris’s wedding in a compromising situation with a maid from a neighboring farm. He is shown to be a warmonger, inciting the men of the parish to volunteer; but rather than engage himself in active service, he becomes a chaplain. After the war, having impressed a group of Americans in Edinburgh with his chaplain’s uniform, he goes off to be minister of a church in New York, never to be seen in Kinraddie again. This is in marked contrast to his successor, Robert Colquohoun, who had been a plain soldier on active service—and who, we are to learn in the novel’s sequel, suffered a gas attack in the trenches. In an apparently inconsequential but nevertheless thematically important dialogue, Chris and Will come to the conclusion that the Scots have never believed in God, like other nations: for them, the kirk (the church) has just been a place to “collect and argueѧand criticise God” (p. 165).

her to a realization of her love for her father, despite his harsh treatment of her and his unbending ways. When Chae Strachan’s barn catches fire, the whole of the community rallies round to help: significantly, it is the gentlemanly Ellison who comes to bring order to the fight against the flames, bringing ropes and pails and organizing the efforts of others, something that the rest of the villagers had not expected. Personal differences disappear in the face of adversity, and individual acts of bravery are made on behalf of others. It is perhaps the scene of Chris and Ewan’s wedding that shows us the peasant community at its best. Their relationship is not idealized, and their fiery tempers suggest that had Ewan outlived the war their marriage would not have been a quiet one, but the day of their wedding is a traditional celebration of the values at the heart of their way of life. Food is plain, unpretentious, and plentiful; drink is consumed with relish; dancing is energetic and vigorous. The advice Chris is given is heartfelt, and the songs that enliven the proceedings emphasize the sense of tradition that will be lost at the end of the novel. Another aspect of “Old Scotland” that is disappearing at the 1910s is its attitude toward religion—no bad thing in Gibbon’s view. John Guthrie represents the old-fashioned, authoritarian Calvinistic belief in an Old Testament theology, sternly disciplinarian and laden with guilt and punishment. Early in the novel, he thrashes his son mercilessly for calling a new horse Jehovah, simply because he liked the sound of the word, without realizing it was God’s name. More importantly his sexual guilt and shame are a major factor in precipitating his wife’s suicide. He has no way of sublimating or controlling his powerful sexual urges, resulting in a pregnancy that produces twins, something Guthrie sees as God’s will but that reduces his wife to despair. This confusion between his sexual guilt and strong physical urges is apparent before his death when, even though he is paralyzed and bedridden, he asserts that it is Chris’s duty to respond to his sexual demands: “You’re my flesh and blood, I can do with you what I will, come to me, Chris, do you hear?” (p. 89).

Chris’s religious skepticism shows a move away from her father’s values, as does her attitude toward sex. The novel deals sensitively with her own sexual awakening, from her early surprise that her mother’s pregnancy results from what a bull does to a cow and her revulsion at the smell of the doctor’s hands after the birth of her twin brothers. On a number of occasions, she stands naked in front of a mirror and inspects her body with pride; she recognizes her strong sexual feelings for Ewan but persuades him that they should show restraint until their wedding; when the marriage is consummated, it is with tenderness and love. Chris rejects Ewan’s drunken advances when he returns from leave, willing to defend herself with a kitchen knife if need be; yet she does have the sexual confidence—the smeddum—to instigate lovemaking with Long Rob before his departure to the war, “never to see him again” (p. 176), in defiance of conventional morality.

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON family is sheltering in a pigsty. Robert goes out in foul weather to call a doctor, who arrives too late to save the baby, but as a result of his exposure Robert falls ill, and his lungs, damaged in the war, collapse. Despite Chris’s pleas, he preaches his last sermon and dies in his pulpit. Whereas the words of his sermon that conclude Sunset Song looked back to the end of an age, now they look forward to a world in which there is no hope at all, “except for a stark, sure creed that will cut like a knifeѧthrough the doubt and disease” (p. 350). That world will be explored in the final novel of the trilogy.

CLOUD HOWE

The structure of the second novel in the trilogy echoes that of Sunset Song: after a short history of Segget, the imaginary small town in which the novel is set, each section begins and ends with Chris looking down from the Kaimes, a fortification from the times of King Kenneth (c. 840– 853), onto the town beneath. Unlike the Standing Stones of Sunset Song, the Kaimes represents a different period of history, that of conflict and oppression of the poor by their masters. The title of each section is the name of a cloud formation that is linked to the mood of narrative; the optimism of the first section is mirrored in the formation of the light cirrus clouds that herald fair spring weather, whereas the fatal dénouement at the end is titled “Nimbus.”

In this novel, the background becomes more important than Chris, although she continues to develop as a character. She has moved from the peasant life to that of the middle class, a role in which she does not always find herself comfortable. Her relationship with Robert is explored as it develops from their initial love to their ultimate estrangement; although warm, it shares none of the passion that characterized her marriage to Ewan. Increasingly, her love focuses on her son. She is also conscious of herself aging: no longer a young girl, she repeats the inspection of her naked body from Sunset Song and is aware of the physical changes in herself. Central to her development is her awareness of the ephemeral nature of the political and religious ideas Robert so passionately believes in, which she associates with the clouds that drift across the landscape of the Mearns, and provide the central symbol of the novel. Nor can she share her husband’s belief in God; she remembers her conversation with Will in the earlier novel, when they both felt an inability to believe in religion, which they feel to be fundamentally Scottish. (This view is shared by her son, who early in life comes to feel that God is “not worth bothering about. He can’t make any difference to the world—or I think He should have made it by now” [p. 295]). As a result, Chris becomes increasingly detached, turning back into herself as the novel progresses; she continues to feel that “nothing endures,” and, detached from the land, she no longer has a sense of its permanence to sustain her. She relies on herself.

At the start of the novel, Chris has married Robert Colquohoun, the minister of Kinraddie who is subsequently appointed to the kirk of Segget. In many ways, Chris moves from the center of the stage in this novel, which is more about the hopes of her husband to create a better world through urging his congregation to address the social ills of the town, particularly the abject poverty of the spinners who live in the slums of the Old Town. When this meets with inertia, he gradually turns to socialism. Ewan, Chris’s son from her first marriage, meanwhile grows up and becomes engrossed with prehistory, scouring the local landscape to find flint tools left by its first inhabitants. In one significant moment, Chris walks into his room to find him naked, holding one of his ax heads, and she identifies him with a hunter, “strayed and lost from the Golden Age” (p. 285). Chris becomes pregnant; as the General Strike approaches, the novel moves to its climax, when she discovers that some Segget workers plan to blow up a railway bridge, and she goes out in a storm to stop them. As a result, she gives birth prematurely to a child who only survives for hours; she and Robert become increasingly estranged. Robert turns to mysticism and has visions of Christ. In the aftermath of the strike, the mill fails (largely through the mismanagement of its aristocratic owner) and the conditions of the poor worsen, until the baby of one of the evicted workers has its thumb eaten by a rat while the

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON Central to the novel is the depiction of Segget, a community divided between the old and the new town—respectability and poverty, in which divisions cannot be put aside as they were in Kinraddie in times of crisis. In Segget, the narrative voice is more bitter and less willing to see any good in others, its snobbery more acute and its hypocrisy more evident. As the community is bigger, so is Gibbon’s canvas, and the nature of the characterization he employs changes too, as so many characters cannot be wholly known. Instead, they are defined by anecdote or even caricature; in a manner reminiscent of Charles Dickens, individuals are recognized by one trait, or even one phrase. Ag Moultrie is known as the Roarer and Greeter, since her reaction to every situation is to “roar and greet” (p. 229, et passim); Old Leslie, the smith, tells tales that include the phrase “When I was a loon up in Garvock” as inevitably as Barkiss “is willin’” in Dickens’ David Copperfield (1850). The village policeman, “Feet” Leslie, is a figure of fun who will become something more sinister in the final novel of the trilogy. The spinners are indistinguishable one from another, apart from the Cronin family. Some characters crudely portray historical or political types, such as the irresponsible aristocrat, Mowat, self-indulgent and believing in fascism, or the equally selfish Jock Cronin, who, once he finds a secure job with the union away from Segget, is seduced into the middle-class way of life and betrays his roots and his fellow workers. Apart from the Colquohoun family, the only other characters to achieve a roundness and individuality are Else, the maid, and Ake Ogilvie, the village joiner, whose defiance of public opinion and refusal to conform give him a role similar to that of Long Rob of the Mill in the previous novel.

Duncairn is far from the idyll of either Kinraddie or Segget, with its yellow fog leaving an acrid taste in her throat: the iron handrail that she holds is slimy, “like a famished snake” (p. 357). Indeed, much of the imagery surrounding a description of Chris waking to her morning routine early in the novel recalls that of the third of T. S. Eliot’s Preludes (1917): she is aware of her weariness as she “throws the blankets off the bed” (p. 362) and aware of the naked soles of her feet; she cannot hear the cheep of the birds. Chris has left bourgeois ease behind her and now lives the life of the urban working class. After Robert’s death, Chris sells her possessions and moves into partnership with Ma Gleghorn, who runs a lodging house in Duncairn. The lodgers are a social cross section: an old maid, a student, two journalists, a typist, and a shop assistant, together with Feet Leslie, the Segget bobbie newly promoted to sergeant. Together they form one of the choruses that passes comment on the events of the novel. Ewan decides to give up his education and get a job; he becomes an apprentice at Gowan and Gloags, an engineering works. He maintains his detachment from politics and the lives of others until two factors intervene: he witnesses Feet the policeman needlessly and violently crack the head of a demonstrator with his truncheon, and he meet a fellow lodger, Ellen Johns, who discusses her socialist ideals with him. Typically, his strong individualism leads him to reject other left-wing groups and he forms his own idealistic Youth League, which organizes successful social events. Ewan proves to be a good orator, and when he discovers Gowans and Gloags is manufacturing casing for gas shells, he organizes a strike. During a picket, a blackleg (scab) is drowned after being thrown into the dock and the police are attacked with pepper. Wrongfully arrested, Ewan is found with pepper in his pocket and is severely beaten in the police station, Sim Leslie playing a major part in this assault. He is eventually released, partly through the efforts of Jim Trease, a Communist with whom Ewan becomes increasingly associated. It is clear that Ellen is in love with Ewan, and to “cure” him from his experience in prison, she takes him away into the country, where they

GREY GRANITE

Like the earlier novels in the Scots Quair trilogy, Grey Granite is divided into four sections and begins with Chris standing on Windmill Brae, looking down over the fictional city of Duncairn, self-consciously considering her habit of finding a place wherever she lives to stand and reflect on the previous months. She is now thirty-eight, and

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON Calvinism of his grandfather but by his sense of historical inevitability.

become lovers. Ewan is blacklisted and cannot find employment in Duncairn; eventually he becomes a laborer in a granite works. Meanwhile, Chris’s partner, Ma Cleghorn, dies, and she accepts a proposal of marriage from Ake Ogilvie, a joiner who first appears in Cloud Howe, who has become a lodger in her house. From the outset, Chris has had misgivings about this marriage, but she accepts him when she discovers that he has been instrumental in securing Ewan’s release from prison. The marriage is not successful, and before long Ake leaves to set up a new life in Saskatchewan. On a further visit to the country, Ellen suggests to Ewan that they marry; she has acquiesced to the school board’s demands that she discontinue her political activity. This leads to her abrupt and somewhat callous rejection by Ewan. The novel ends with Chris and Ewan going their separate ways, both alone: Ewan to organize a hunger march to London, where he will remain as a political activist, Chris to return to the farm where she was born. Her final scene of reflection is ambiguous: as she sits looking over her farm, reflecting on her life and her sense that change is the only constant in life, the rain begins to fall, “falling all that night while she sat there, presently feeling no longer the touch of the rain of hearing the sound of the lapwings going by” (p. 496). Grey Granite is compressed in its time scheme: the events of the novel occur in little over a year since Robert’s death. It is the bleakest of the three novels, with Ewan’s strong awareness of the threat of imminent war and the possibility of the success of fascism as a political system.

Ewan’s development from an independent young man who has a strong sense of his individual identity (“I’m neither you nor my father,” he tells his mother; “I’m myself” [p. 375]) to political activist is at the heart of this book. Initially, he is distant from the “keelies” with whom he works, and left cold by Ellen’s socialism, but after seeing the striker assaulted by the police, he goes to the city museum, where he experiences, to his surprise, a kind of epiphany that leads him to identify with all those (from Spartacus onward) tortured and oppressed throughout history. Gradually, he realizes he is part of the historical process rather than an observer of it, a change that is intensified by his beating by the police. He sees that “history is our master, and not the servant we supposed” (p. 473); as a consequence he becomes harder and loses his humanity. He has learned the “soap box trick” of pretending to be all things to all men and is prepared to sacrifice truth for political purpose when he circulates the rumor that the explosion at the engineering works was a government plan to test the efficiency of the poison gas shells being produced there (p. 489). More important, he has lost all value for human contact, rejecting Ellen heartlessly, and he readily leaves Chris behind when he heads for London, unlike earlier in the novel, when he had followed her from Segget to Duncairn and sacrificed his university education to do so. Even his friendship with the Communist leader Jim Trease lacks warmth: when they part they shake hands, Ewan reflecting that although they like each other well, they are nothing to each other, “soldiers who met for a moment at night under the walls of a town yet unstormed” (p. 493).

The major theme of the novel might be best explored though considering Ewan’s final words to his mother, that life is a fight that they will perhaps never finish—“the fight in the end between FREEDOM and GOD” (p. 495). This enigmatic phrase may be explained in many ways (and perhaps its imprecision at this crucial point is one of the novel’s weaknesses). Ewan seems to be drawing a distinction between Chris’s life, which she lives wholly independently and without reference to the world around her, whereas his life is determined—not by the

This leaves us with the strong impression that Ewan is like the character of Paul whom Christ encounters in the short story “Forsaken” and who leads him to feel that God has forsaken both him and humanity. In many ways, he is a lonely figure at the end of the novel, very much a dreamer like Robert Colquohoun. Although for selfish reasons she may not be ready to commit to the political cause as Ewan does—feeling that

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LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON she would like to enjoy some of the good things life has to offer rather than take up the class struggle—Ellen Johns remains a more sympathetic character and perhaps one in tune with Chris’s philosophy, stated earlier in the novel, that life was “a dreich, daft journey that lead nowhitherѧbut that THAT didn’t much matter— daft the journey, but the journeying good” (p. 386). At the end of the novel Chris has returned to the land, sleeping once again in the bedroom where she was born, confirmed in her belief that change was the one thing that ruled the world, “stayed by none of the dreams of men, love, hate compassion, anger or pity” (p. 496).

Cloud Howe, and Grey Granite. Second impression (reset) 1950. Page references in the text are to this edition.

WORKS

BY

JAMES LESLIE MITCHELL

Hanno. London: Kegan, Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1928. Stained Radiance. London: Jarrolds, 1930. The Thirteenth Disciple. London: Jarrolds, 1931. The Calends of Cairo. London: Jarrolds, 1931. Three Go Back. London: Jarrolds, 1932. The Lost Trumpet. London: Jarrolds, 1932. Persian Dawns, Egyptian Nights. London: Jarrolds, 1932. Image and Superscription. London: Jarrolds, 1933. Spartacus. London: Jarrolds, 1933. The Conquest of the Maya. London: Jarrolds, 1934. Gay Hunter. London: Heinemann, 1934. Nine Against the Unknown. London: Jarrolds, 1934.

Gibbon was a writer who would doubtless have gone on to produce more substantial novels had his life not been cut short. At the time of his death he was working on The Speak of the Mearns (brought to publication in 1982), a novel that had returned to the landscape of his short stories and Sunset Song, dealing with rural life in the late nineteenth century and seen through the eyes of five-year-old Keith Stratoun. Its lyrical and descriptive language equals and indeed in some ways surpasses that of his earlier work, and even in its rudimentary stage shows the promise that, had he not died, the best was yet to come.

SELECTED MODERN EDITIONS A Scots Hairst. Edited and introduced by Ian S. Munro. London: Hutchinson, 1967. Sunset Song. London: Longman, 1971. Sunset Song. London: Pan Books, 1973. Cloud Howe. London: Pan Books, 1973. Grey Granite. London: Pan Books, 1973. A Scots Quair. London: Pan Books, 1982. The Speak of the Mearns. Edited by Ian Campbell. Edinburgh: Ramsey Head Press, 1982. A Scots Quair. Harmondsworth, U.K.: Penguin, 1985. Spartacus. With an introduction by Edwin Morgan. Edinburgh: B&W Publishing, 1996. Smeddum: A Lewis Grassic Gibbon Anthology. Edited and introduced by Valentina Bold. Edinburgh: Canongate, 2001. (Pages references to essays and stories from Scottish Scene are to this edition.)


CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL PRIMARY WORKS WORKS

BY

Campbell, Ian. Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1985. Gifford, Douglas: Neil M. Gunn and Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1983. Munro, Ian S. Leslie Mitchell: Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1966. Young, Douglas. Sunset Song. Glasgow: Scottish Academic Press, 1986. Scotnotes Series, no. 1.

LEWIS GRASSIC GIBBON

Sunset Song. London: Jarrolds, 1932. Cloud Howe. London: Jarrolds, 1933. Grey Granite. London: Jarrolds, 1934. Niger: The Life of Mungo Park. Edinburgh: Porpoise Press, 1934. Scottish Scene; or, The Intelligent Man’s Guide to Albyn. With Hugh MacDiarmid. London: Jarrolds, 1934. A Scots Quair. London: Jarrolds, 1946. Collects Sunset Song,

WORKS CITED Ed. Alan Bold: The Letters of Hugh MacDiarmid. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1984.

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SUSAN HILL (1942—)

Abby Mims either broken or full of dysfunction, often featuring protagonists who are loners or somehow estranged from the world they live in. Hill is uncannily able to embody an array of themes and tones in these works, not to mention characters as varied as a bullied child and bereaved ghosts and who are often reflected in the natural world around them. In a 2003 interview in the Guardian, she commented,

SUSAN HILL IS not easy author to categorize: she has moved from one genre to the next in her career, producing everything from literary fiction to hard-boiled detective novels. A prolific writer, Hill has produced sixteen novels, along with several short story collections, books for children, radio plays, and two works of autobiography. Given the breadth and depth of her range, Hill has never been a stranger to two tools essential to a writer, those of reinvention and imagination. However, after nearly forty years in England’s literary scene, she has remained much less known than such peers as Anita Brookner and Beryl Bainbridge, perhaps owing to her unwillingness to be classified in any rote manner. Her success came early. She published her first novel, The Enclosure, in 1961, at the age of nineteen This debut left her the darling of critics and readers alike, but, as Hill later recounted, after writing her second, Do Me a Favour (1963), she floundered for a few years until she was able to find her voice. And find it she did, going on to produce some of her most celebrated work in a six-year period and collecting three literary prizes before the age of thirty. It would appear that at this time Hill would have had all the components of a literary life that most writers only dream of—good reviews, a willing publisher, and a seemingly inexhaustible writing ability. One would assume that most writers with this kind of success would simply have kept on, but Hill surprised both critics and fans when she chose a different route, declaring a self-imposed “retirement” in 1975.

I think I’m always looking at the same mental issues. Edna O’Brien says all we ever write about is love and death, but I think there is also good and evil, and I write about all four, and it is always interesting. I certainly keep writing about the same characters: the evil one, the misfit, the powerless one, the coward. The power struggle between the powerful and the powerless. I just write them in different ways. (Freeman, 2003)

She also does not shy away from the unpleasant and the unspeakable, and it has been said that her plot lines could be taken from some of today’s more shocking headlines. It has also been pointed out that the darkness and focus on death in her work seems a reflection of events in her own life, including the sudden death of a fiancé, the loss of her second child, and traumatic events in her childhood. This is nowhere more evident than in two of her critically acclaimed works: the novel I’m the King of the Castle (1970), a story of inept adults and misunderstood children, which leads to the suicide of Hill’s eleven-year-old protagonist; or in the novella “The Albatross” (1971), the tale of a mentally challenged son killing his oppressive mother and then dumping her body into the swirling sea. In a less skilled writer’s hands, these stories would be simply an exploitation of human suffering, something to be displayed and mocked rather than delicately and intimately explored. Critics

Her celebrated work of the 1960s and early 1970s has certain recurrent metaphors, themes, and characters. In these novels and stories she generally concerns herself with wealthy families of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries who are

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SUSAN HILL in trying her hand at various genres continued with works including two collections of short stories, Listening to the Orchestra (1997) and the well-reviewed The Boy Who Taught the Beekeeper to Read (2003). She seems to have reinvented herself once again in 2004, with the first part of a crime fiction trilogy, The Various Haunts of Men. Two subsequent installments, The Pure in Heart (2005) and The Risk of Darkness (2006), completed the series.

have often noted Hill’s ability to reveal the conscious and unconscious workings of the mind while resisting any urge to psychoanalyze her characters or give direct reasons for their behaviors. In this way she is also able to explore loss, grief, and loneliness in the most precise and insightful ways. The restraint of her prose and narrative style has also been lauded, particularly in terms of sexuality. Two of her novels feature close, sometimes obsessive relationships between men: Strange Meeting (1971) is the story of a friendship between English soldiers in World War II, and The Bird of Night (1972) chronicles the tortured liaison of a poet and his caretaker. In neither work is there any hint of sexual innuendo, which some have called her effective use of an “innocent eye,” although others have complained that her restraint in this arena promotes a somewhat idealized, “sepia-toned” version of men in the throes of war in Strange Meeting and unsatisfactory character motivation in The Bird of Night. But one cannot ignore the accomplishment of a female writer who at a very young age could credibly write about war without turning to sentimental or gruesome extremes, while also chronicling the convincingly complex thirty-year friendship between two men, one of them mentally ill.

BIOGRAPHY

Susan Hill was born on 5 February 1942 in the seaside town of Scarborough, on the east coast of England. It is a place she describes as elegant and full of society manners, with the backdrop of the bracing ocean air in the background, yet somewhat past the height of its glory days. The setting greatly influenced her early writing; she has often made the comment that place has much impact on a person and therefore, character. In her 1989 memoir Family, she writes, “Wherever you grow up, your whole imagination becomes bound up in the landscape. I have always believed strongly in the influences of places upon people, and how those places help to make them who they are” (p. 14). Hill was the only child of Doris, a dressmaker, and Ray Hill, a dressmaker and a member of the Royal Air Force, who married in 1941. Her parents were not especially compatible, and Hill has commented that her mother married in haste after the loss of her first love. Oddly, Hill would have much the same experience thirty years later but would instead follow it with a successful marriage. Doris had left her family early and struck out on her own, determined to have a career and be independent, something quite unusual for a woman of her generation. She established herself as seamstress in Edinburgh, where she met and fell in love with an officer from the Polish army. She was willing to give up everything to leave Great Britain and follow him to Poland, but permission from his superiors was needed for him to marry anyone, particularly a foreigner. His request was denied and he returned to Poland; Hill’s mother never heard from him

In more recent years, critical reception to Hill has cooled, in part because she has taken several departures from the more literary tomes of her early work. In 1983 she published The Woman in Black, which harkened back to the traditional English ghost story. Its success relaunched her writing career while showcasing her ability to create and sustain suspense via a quick-paced plot with surprising agility. Hill has a particular talent for storytelling, evident here in what one Guardian reviewer called “a rattlingly good yarn.” In addition, The Woman in Black was adapted into a stage production in 1987; in 1989 it moved to London’s West End, where it was still famously playing almost two decades later. She completed another gothic mystery and several novels in the 1990s, some of which revisited the themes of previous works, including Air and Angels (1991), Mrs. de Winter (1993), and The Service of Clouds (1997). Hill’s interest

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SUSAN HILL of literature the press made it out to be. It was instead more about the dilemmas Hill herself would come to wrestle with later in life, in terms of the choices a woman must make when pursuing a career and trying to balance it with family. Hill’s heroine in The Enclosure does not succeed, disappointing her husband by becoming more devoted to her writing than to him.

again. Heartbroken and bitter, she vowed to go out and marry the next man who showed any interest in her. That man would be Susan’s father, Ray Hill. Susan would be their only child, the product of a life-threatening, late-in-life birth for the times, given that Doris was thirty-five years old when Susan was born. Her birth was a traumatic one: thirty-six hours of labor, with her mother nearly dying in the process. The damage was severe enough that Doris was left with physical problems and the warning that having another child would kill her. Susan Hill says she was “raised on the horror of my mother’s labor and delivery,” a story heard so many times it became a permanent part of her, “lurking like some dreadful animal, ready to pounce” (Family, p. 25).

It was during her years in London at King’s College that she was fully exposed to city life, and she didn’t find it to her liking. After graduating in 1963 and publishing another novel (this one much less successful than the first), she returned to Coventry. Depressed and anxious, she began working as a literary critic for the Coventry Evening Telegraph and other periodicals, all the while wanting to write, but remaining unable to. Hill has commented that she had not yet found her voice during this time and was also consumed by an emotionally tormented relationship. Yet after a move to the spa town of Lemington, near Stratford upon Avon, she managed to find her literary voice. Writing about this time in Family, she recalls, “I began to write as I had known somehow that I could. Between 1968 and 1974— when I look back, I am astonished at how short a time it actually was—I wrote six novels, two collections of short stories and half a dozen fulllength radio plays” (p. 31). Two novels produced during this time, I’m the King of the Castle (1970) and The Bird of the Night (1972) were met with critical acclaim, winning her the Somerset Maugham Award and Whitbread Novel Award respectively. Although she says she was creatively satisfied during this period, after turning thirty in 1972 she realized she deeply wanted a husband and children, something she was loath to admit to anyone at the time. That same year, the man she had been involved with for the past eight years died suddenly of a heart attack. Deeply depressed, she was nevertheless able to channel her grief into producing her last book of this intensely creative period, In the Springtime of the Year (1974). It is this book that marks the beginning of her personal healing from the loss she had suffered and enabled her to move forward in her life.

These experiences led Hill to retreat into books in her early childhood, spending much of it reading and writing voraciously, in part to create the kind of companionship she did not feel at home. She consumed Hardy, Dickens, and the Brontës, and all of them, particularly Dickens, provided her with early inspiration. Hill attended school in Scarborough and Coventry, where the family moved in 1958. She says that while she did not enjoy schoolwork more than any of her classmates, she was always writing stories, poems, and plays; she often comments that she never wanted to be anything but a writer. And a writer she would be, prodigiously finishing her first novel while still in her teens and seeing it published just after her arrival at King’s College, London, to study English. She tells of writing a well-known novelist at the time, Pamela Hansford Johnson, to ask for advice about writing, and was told that “a real writer writes,” so Hill followed suit, then sent her novel to Hanford Johnson upon completion. The Enclosure is a story of a middle-aged theatrical couple that was picked up by Hutchinson Publishers after Hanford Johnson referred it to them. The book was a sensation and a success, partly due to the author’s age and the subject matter she chose to write about. The tabloids heralded, “Schoolgirl writes sex novel!” which was not entirely the case. Surely, Hill had chosen material that was not expected of her, in terms of writing about a troubled marriage, but it was not the racy piece

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SUSAN HILL However, shortly after the publication of this novel, she announced her retirement from writing, and indeed, although she continued sporadically to write articles, reviews, and radio plays, it would be nearly a decade before she produced another work of fiction. At least part of the reason for this was a major change in her personal life. In an attempt to start anew after her personal losses, she had moved from Leamington to Stratford on Avon, and in the process of bidding on a house met Stanley Wells, a well-respected Shakespeare scholar, whom she married in 1975. Hill had her first child, Jessica, in 1977 and a second child, Imogen, in 1984. Tragically, Imogen died at five weeks old, devastating Hill and her family. Hill struggled with depression and grief during this period, yet still desired another child. She eventually overcame the legacy of her own birth and the dramatic events surrounding her second daughter’s death by having her third daughter, Clemency, in 1985. She writes in detail about this journey through loss and grief while exploring the ramifications of her own childhood in Family. Living in the English countryside, Hill focused on her children while continuing to produce radio plays, writing a lighthearted column for Country Life, and penning several children’s books.

EARLY FICTION

Hill has often said she would rather forget her two earliest novels, The Enclosure (1961) and Do Me a Favour (1963), yet it is here we can see the basis for many of the themes that she has addressed throughout her fiction career—passion, loss, fear, suffering. It is easy to understand why an author might rather leave behind a story written and published before she is out of her teens, as Hill did with The Enclosure, despite the amount of fanfare and critical attention the book received. This attention was especially owing to the fact that Hill chose as her subject a middleaged couple’s troubled marriage, something she knew little about as a teenager. As to why she would choose a fairly foreign subject, Hill has stated that it was her way of working out what adult life might be like, her way of “playing” at being a grown-up. Interestingly, all the books Hill penned before age thirty wrestle with regret for lost youthful opportunities and stale marriages, dealing almost exclusively with the ennui and troubles of middle-aged or older characters. This can be seen in Do Me a Favour, which explores repressive marriages, including mental devastation and suicide, and in her next novel, Gentlemen and Ladies (1968), which deals with a trio of Chekhovian sisters who are slowly dying together in the English countryside. She continued to write novels to greater and greater acclaim in these early years, including A Change for the Better (1969), a bleak portrait of life at an English seaside resort concerning one woman in particular, who is so oppressed and limited by her mother that she cannot help but inflict the same suffocation upon her son. The novel was applauded as being a “rueful comedy of manners” and was also named book of the year in a Daily Telegraph survey. Hill also produced two collections of stories in the first ten years of her career, The Albatross, and Other Stories (1971), for which she won the 1972 John Llewelyn Rhys Memorial Prize, and A Bit of Singing and Dancing (1973). Both collections revisit her earlier themes of tragic inevitability and lost hope, while often examining the lives of outsiders and misfits. “The Albatross,” the title novella, is a particularly grim depiction of the deterioration of a claustro-

Despite her fan base and a steady production of articles and other nonfiction works, including The Magic Apple Tree (1982), Hill would wait until 1983 to publish her next novel, The Woman in Black. It is a dark pastiche about the ghost of a woman who seeks revenge for the death of her child; some draw parallels to the loss of Hill’s own daughter in its imaginings. Whatever Hill’s motivations, the book announced the end of her retirement from writing fiction and the beginning of her exploration of an entirely different literary genre. She went on to publish several more novels in a variety of genres throughout the 1980s and 1990s, while also founding a now-defunct literary magazine and, later, an independent publishing press, Long Barn Books. The short novel The Man in the Picture: A Ghost Story, was published in 2007, leaving it safe to say it doesn’t appear Hill will “retire” again anytime soon.

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SUSAN HILL the two boys closer; it only serves as a catalyst for Hooper to prey on Kingshaw’s weaknesses.

phobic mother-son relationship. The son has various mental problems, and his childhood is full of grotesque incidents, compounded by the burden of his suffocating, wheelchair-bound mother. Hill leads us through the story with grace and compassion, leaving the reader with an understanding of the son that allows us to justify the extreme and brutal actions he eventually takes. In terms of Hill’s characters, it can also be said that she tends to divide them into two categories: those who are loving and lovable, possessing empathy and a concern for the world that exists beyond themselves, and those who are unlovable, cruel, and either spiritually or physically dying on some level. With this structure in mind, the reader can see how Hill uses this division in all of her major works to explore what the critic Kenneth Muir, discussing Charles Dickens, described as an “appreciation of the eccentric, a pointed compassion for the old, the lonely and the persecuted, as well as an obsession with violence.”

Kingshaw tries many times to get his mother’s attention, attempting to make her see that something is very wrong with the house and the family within it. He is virtually ignored. As a mother, Helena Kingshaw is one of the most incompetent parents portrayed in Hill’s fiction. She is so concerned with monetary matters and her attempts to secure a romantic position with Edmund’s father that she simply refuses to acknowledge what is happening between the two boys, writing it off as petty jealousy and typical adolescent behavior. Despite feigning concern and shock as Charles reports Edmund’s slights toward him, she remains impenetrable and unavailable to her son, unresponsive to any need to take action on his behalf. Her own needs and desires for financial security and perhaps for love ironically help lead to his eventual suicide. Hill captures the height of Helena’s empty gestures toward Charles, as, upon seeing him drowned, she immediately moves to comfort Edmund, telling him it is all right, that he mustn’t look, for it would be too traumatic for him.

I’M THE KING OF THE CASTLE

Hill forces us to confront senseless violence in one of her most critically acclaimed novels, I’m the King of the Castle (1970). Frequently compared to Lord of the Flies, the novel pits two eleven-year-old boys against one another. Charles Kingshaw, Hill’s protagonist, comes to know his evil antagonist, Edmund Hooper, by way of his widowed mother’s job as a housekeeper. The mother and son move into the family property of the Hoopers, a disquietingly large and empty Victorian home called Waring. Hooper immediately views Kingshaw as an intruder and an interloper, yet Kingshaw does nothing to fuel this conflict. On the contrary, he hates the house, fears it even, finding it full of emptiness and death, secret corners, and the mysterious Red Room. He does not know exactly what he fears, but he is astute enough to sense that Hooper identifies more with the house than he does with his father, perhaps a by-product of the fact that it is all he has left of his mother, who died six years prior. Both children have suffered the death of one parent, yet this commonality does nothing to draw

Perhaps Hill’s most fascinating turn in this novel is her handling of the character of Edmund Hooper. Although the reader is made aware that Hooper’s childhood has been less than idyllic, despite his having the kind of money and security that the Kingshaws only dream of, Hill resists the urge to pin down or explain Hooper’s behavior. She does not provide the blueprints that might create a psychopath, although as the reader moves through the text, it becomes clear that this is exactly what Hooper is. It is not so much in the way he tortures Kingshaw; it is in the way he has no response to Kingshaw’s gestures of kindness in the face of his own evil. He has no empathy for those around him: what they do or don’t do is of no consequence; he will continue on his path regardless, solely focused on reaching his goals. The reader cannot know if Hooper means specifically for Kingshaw to die, only that he is immensely satisfied when this is the outcome. He has won: his rival is gone and he now has a new mother, not to mention the full

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SUSAN HILL compromise himself in the ways the adults around him have. Hill leaves him no choice in this scenario: his strong moral convictions lead him to defend himself in the only way he can, by taking his own life.

attention of both parents. He is, to be sure, “the king of the castle.” Hill is often concerned with the ways in which children are not really heard or understood, and indeed, both of these parents spend much of the novel telling their sons what the boys think and feel. Mr. Hooper is not necessarily a better parent than Mrs. Kingshaw, as neither of them truly knows their sons, but there is a sense that he realizes his shortcomings in a way that she does not. He ruminates on his inability to parent by blaming his dead wife for not leaving behind some kind of manual with which to help him deal with his son; he has been left helpless without her. Mrs. Kingshaw, in turn, continues to, in a sense, “play the role” of a mother, while trying shift into the role of mistress Waring. Hill demonstrates this by saddling Mrs. Kingshaw with a peculiar tic, wherein she often refers to herself in the third person. This tic also serves to widen the gap between children and adults in the novel; she mainly employs this way of speaking when addressing the boys, serving only to further the inevitability of the novel’s conclusion. In the end, however, it is the world outside of Waring, the menacing Hang Woods, where Kingshaw meets his demise. Hill often uses setting and the natural world as additional characters in her work, and these types of images haunt Kingshaw throughout the narrative, from imagining a threatening crow at the foot of his bed in his early days at Waring to his first glimpse of Hooper’s sadistic ways in the dark woods. It is no accident, then, that Kingshaw chooses to drown himself in the little pond just beyond Waring, the only place he felt safe once Hooper entered his life. “I did not want to come here,” says a note passed to Hooper by Kingshaw in the opening of the novel. Ultimately, I’m the King of the Castle is a story of good versus evil taken to its most dramatic and terrible end, as Kingshaw drowns himself out of his desperation to escape Hooper’s emotional torture. Kingshaw may be the ultimate example of Hill’s focus on misfits and loners— although morally good (he never lashes out at Hooper when he sees at opportunity) he is perhaps too good, because he is unwilling to

STRANGE MEETING

A year after the appearance of I’m the King of the Castle, Hill published a much different novel, Strange Meeting (1971). Here she is again interested in the relationship between two males, but this time the two are soldiers in World War I and are aligned with rather than pitted against one another. It would seem a rather obscure topic for a female writer of that time to address, but Hill has noted that her obsession with the war began in her childhood, having always been aware that her great-uncle, a “golden boy” in the family, had died at age nineteen in the trenches. Her obsession was refueled in 1961 after viewing a performance of Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem. Britten was a personal friend of Hill’s, and she has said that his music shaped much of the work she produced in her early career. After hearing this composition, Hill said she knew she would write about the Great War, although nine years would pass before she did so. It is first necessary to look at this work in context, in terms of the time period when it was written. In the early 1970s, there were few books on the First World War and none penned by women. As a result, Hill was very concerned about accuracy and authenticity, and to this end she researched the war for the better part of a year before writing a word of the novel, reading everything from letters to official histories. She also relied on a military historian to fact-check the manuscript before it went to print. Her efforts were rewarded: Hill managed to create a setting and story that is a flawless amalgamation of the sources she studied, without a trace of direct appropriation. Although Strange Meeting is a story about war, its core concern is a tale of love and trust between two men, with war serving as a catalyst to their close friendship. From the first pages it is obvious how different the two men are, which is

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SUSAN HILL liard in an interview, Hill commented, “I still feel very sympathetic to somebody who finds this inability to communicate emotion, and it’s luck, isn’t it, whether or not some people are unfrozen or not? Some people have gone through their lives never having had the luck of that encounter” (Noakes and Reynolds, p. 29).

perhaps why Hill chose to borrow her title from a Wilfred Owen poem and have their contrasts echo those of the German and English soldiers who meet after death in Owen’s piece. While these two men, John Hilliard and David Barton, are both Englishmen, the main contrast between them is obvious, and one we have seen before in Hill’s work: the contrast between those who can love others and those who find love difficult or impossible. Hilliard is from a reserved yet wellrespected family, but his upbringing lacked warmth and love, leaving him unavailable to real human connection. Barton, the younger of the two, is Hilliard’s direct opposite, raised in a loving family, able to love and in turn be loved by others. The men come together in a subtle and delicate manner, with much going unsaid. An initial recognition of their differences is recounted in a conversation a few days into their friendship.

The “luck of that encounter” is what Hill is dedicated to exploring in Strange Meeting as Hilliard and Barton become closer to one another, up until and perhaps past Barton’s death. Barton is a romantic figure in the novel, perhaps the most idealized in Hill’s fiction. He embodies all things good, he is composed and sensitive, and he attempts to keep the horrors of what he witnessed in the French trenches at bay by reading Henry James and listening to classical music on a gramophone. These systems erode gradually as the war continues, and Barton is forced to take in the bloated, black corpses all around him, leading him to question what purpose art and the humanities have if this is what men are made to do to one another.

“No, I didn’t want to come out here at all, I was in a blue funk. ѧI couldn’t slip through the net. So I suppose I’d better make the most of it,” said Barton. “Do you always tell people everything you’re feeling?”

Barton’s despair is redeemed by Hilliard after Barton’s death, as Hilliard takes on nearly all of Barton’s attributes and habits, along with his inspirations and his relationship with family. He simply steps in and fills the role of Barton in the world once Barton has gone missing, doing such things as purchasing the works of James and E. M. Forster and maintaining a correspondence with Barton’s family. The transformation carries on as he emerges from a trench after a night of battle, having dreamt of swimming with his sister. In the dream, she morphs into Barton, who has come to tell Hilliard that everything is all right. The final scene of the book leaves the reader with this sense as well, with Hilliard looking ahead, up into the sky. It seems that Hilliard’s frozen emotions have been completely thawed, leaving him able to move forward in life in a much more open and loving way than previously. While it may be that Hilliard cannot look back toward his painful past, the novel also implies that he has created a future for himself through his friendship with Barton. And perhaps that is Hill’s point: to leave readers with some kind of hope and human comfort in the face of war.

Barton looked round at him in surprise. “Generally. If I want to. If they want to hear.” He paused and then laughed. “Good Lord, we’re not at school now, are we?” Hilliard did not reply. (p. 52)

Along with pointed dialogue, Hill invokes nature to offer insight into her characters. Hilliard, for example, dreams of horses against a frozen landscape during wartime, although off in the distance the landscape he imagines gives way to soft sand and a beach. Hill uses this as a way of expressing his longing to move from the paralyzing coldness of his world to the warmth of understanding and love, but as yet he has no idea how to do so. Indeed, he seems an eternally lonely figure, painfully unable to connect. “It was like being under water or some mild anesthetic, everything around Hilliard and within him was remote, people moved and parted and reformed in bright, regular patterns like fragments in a kaleidoscope” (p. 31). Discussing Hil-

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SUSAN HILL seemingly insurmountable isolation. It is obvious Croft has none of this type of support from his family, and perhaps from no one else but Lawson. This alienation is revealed through a scene at an asylum late in the novel, when Croft’s father comes to visit. He is seething with denial and deeply ashamed, first and foremost admonishing Lawson for not putting the poet in a hospital more hidden from the public eye. He then goes on to declare in nearly the same breath that there is no history of mental illness in the Croft family and that he wishes his son were dead as opposed to living this way.

THE BIRD OF NIGHT

Hill again concerns herself with male friendship and loss in The Bird of Night (1972). It is the story of Francis Croft, reputedly one of the greatest poets of his age, who has suffered from bouts of insanity. The story of his life is relayed to us by Harvey Lawson, the man who took care of Croft selflessly for the better part of twenty years, following him from Dorset to Venice to California and finally to a bird sanctuary in Germany. The book was well received, earning Hill a Whitbread Award and Booker Prize nomination. The Times Literary Supplement noted that despite writing about two men without including sex, politics, or much that is particularly topical, Hill demonstrates her ability to tackle “possibly the most risky and unlikely material open to a woman novelist.” The Bird of Night is also Hill’s most difficult novel in terms of structure and narration, given the constant shifts in time between Lawson’s present-time narration and the interwoven excerpts from Croft’s journal, not to mention the chronicling of Croft’s deteriorating mental state over time. The novel has been termed “virtually plotless” given this structure and the fact that it is written in retrospect, nearly three decades after its subject has passed away. In addition, we do not see any of the “great” poet’s works in their entirety (Hill knows this would have been too risky a proposition, given the high literary reputation she has afforded Croft), but given that Lawson himself is also a writer, Hill is able to adopt a more literary style of narration than in her previous works. Despite a challenging overlay, Hill’s themes reappear as these two men are presented in stark contrast to one another: Lawson is a selfless caretaker who gives up his life to be in the company of Croft, while Croft is directed entirely inward, consumed by a loneliness that drives him to the point of taking his own life. As in Strange Meeting, the novel is animated by Hill’s belief in the power of one human’s compassion and love for another as life-changing; one cannot read The Bird of Night without understanding that Lawson’s presence in Croft’s life provides some comfort and relief from his

We eventually come to learn that Lawson has written the book in response to the young scholars and poets who have clamored for years for some kind of definitive manuscript on Croft’s life and work. Lawson contritely says that there are no papers for him to publish (Lawson himself ceremonially burned all these documents after Croft’s death) and that he will say little about the great poet in this volume; the book will merely be an attempt to put down his ruminations about a friendship that remains the only important relationship of his life. This selfless tact seems not entirely altruistic, for there are implications that Lawson was deeply jealous of Croft’s throng of fans and admirers. While there is no hint of any kind of physical relationship between the men, they seem to have possessed one another in various ways both during life and after death. In producing this work, Lawson perhaps completes this circle of possession, putting on the page only what he wants us to see about Croft, which is in no way the entire story. Lawson tells us as much in the last few pages of his memoir, noting that he has focused only on ten years of the men’s twenty-year friendship, leaving out details of such things as attempted murders, chronic remorse, and aborted suicide attempts. As in her previous books, Hill does not psychoanalyze her characters in this novel, giving the reader little explanation for why Croft is driven mad or why Lawson subjected himself to such a heart-wrenchingly painful existence with Croft for so many years. What is evident, however, is the recognition of one’s self in another, as seen in Lawson’s musings about why

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SUSAN HILL at the novel’s opening, the food she eats tasting rotten of decay. Yet a change is foretold as, during the first cold snap of winter, Ruth takes account of the frozen earth and the frost on her vegetables but notes to herself that, just as winter has come, so will the spring. And in the spring, after a long year of mourning, it seems as though Ruth’s resurrection has begun. Her epiphany occurs when she visits the cemetery. She is visiting Ben’s grave when she sees a group of children enter the cemetery and bury a small animal near the elm where Ben died. The children are all dressed in white, and as Ruth observes them from behind a tree she sees them build a cross out of twigs and watches as their leader (the sister of the man who brought Ruth the news of Ben’s death) bows toward the grave before they trail out of the cemetery together. In the moments after they leave, it seems that Ruth is being “brought back to life” from her grief as she feels the sun on her face and, for a moment, happiness.

he would choose to give up his life to take care of someone so mentally ill. He states simply that because he had seen the poet’s despair and shared it, he felt he must stay with him.

IN THE SPRINGTIME OF THE YEAR

Hill’s sixth novel, In the Springtime of the Year (1974) is considered by many to be her most accomplished work. Favorable reviews pointed to Hill’s ability to focus on the inner lives of isolated characters, her lack of sentimentality, and her skill in producing moments of genuine emotion and vision. Detractors of the book noted a certain kind of simplemindedness, lack of vulgarity, and at times too literate inner consciousness of the characters. What cannot be argued is Hill’s ability to test the inner strength of her characters time and again as they come up against death. In the Springtime of the Year is no exception, as it details the story of nineteen-yearold Ruth Bryce, who loses her husband, Ben, in a timber accident shortly after they are married. The narrative structure is simpler than some Hill has employed, and her choice of simple biblical names (Ruth, Ben, and Jo) points to the novel’s religious underpinnings. This novel can be read as a testament to faith and as a parable about finding meaning in life. As Ruth goes through the stages of her grief and pain, the novel illuminates some of the ways in which moving through grief can leave people with a better understanding of themselves and those around them. Part of the way Hill accomplishes this is by having Ruth face her grief at nearly every turn, forcing her to confront it and accept the inevitable instead of retreating into isolation. At the opening of the novel, Ruth is afraid, bitter, and desperate, feeling that she is “absolutely alone” and that the world has wronged her through some inevitable and hostile force. The more she isolates herself in grief, the more desperate she becomes. Hill then has her move slowly out into the world and bit by bit, gain back her will to live. Finding meaning in this senseless accident is what plagues Ruth, and the natural world around her reflects her feelings; the countryside is oppressively quiet and empty

As she slowly recovers, Ruth is able to reach out to others despite her grief, particularly to Jo, her fourteen-year-old brother-in-law, and to an unmarried woman who is carrying an unwanted child. Through these interactions, she gains enough strength to accept the inevitable, even if she cannot find a reason for her husband’s death. She learns as well that although the journey through grief is one taken entirely alone, it is only through others that we are able to rejoin the world around us. These realizations echo a moment during Ben’s service, when Ruth is reading from the Book of Revelation. She is struck by the feeling of light within her and suddenly feels faint, not with sadness, but with joy in knowing that “love is stronger than death.” Some reviewers have called this novel more of a fable about resurrection than a novel about particular characters, an effect that may come from how close the work is to Hill’s own life. Hill admits it is her most personal and autobiographical novel, as she herself was only thirty when her fiancé died suddenly of a heart attack. In her memoir Family she describes her emotional state after his death as “a dark, dark place, a terrible limbo in which I spent three years. ѧ[It]

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HILL’S SECOND LIFE

woman in black, with sunken eyes and thin skin stretched over her prominent cheekbones. This is Hill’s ghost, the lost and bitter soul of Jennet Humfrye, Alice Drablow’s sister, who is seeking to avenge the death of her child. From various sources, Kipps learns that Humfrye gave birth to a child but was unable to care for it. Drablow and her husband adopted the boy and brought him to live with them at Eel Marsh House, insisting that the child should never know his true identity. Humfrye often tried to contact the child, and eventually was allowed to be his nursemaid. One day, a cart carrying the boy lost control and sank in the marshes, killing all aboard while Humfrye looked on from the window of Eel Marsh House. After her death, she returned to haunt the house and the town with a vengeful malevolence, as the woman in black. According to local lore, all who glimpsed her would be subjected to her vengeance and the death of a child was soon to follow.

It is said that there are rarely second acts in life; creating them in the literary world is nearly as difficult. Hill achieved just that with the publication of The Woman in Black (1983), while simultaneously establishing herself in a new genre, that of mystery fiction. This novel is one of her best known, inspired by Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw as well as several other versions of the classic English ghost story. Hill researched the genre meticulously, focusing on setting in particular and the type of English landscape she finds both beautiful and sinister, that of wet moors and misty marshes. She has said that she wrote the book almost as an exercise to see if she could rework these classic structures into her own tale of the supernatural. The book is told through the perspective of Arthur Kipps, an elderly man who, while sharing ghost stories with his grandchildren on Christmas Eve, is reminded of a job he had taken as a young solicitor. He is too disturbed by the memory to speak of it, and instead writes it down, perhaps to exorcise it from his mind. The tale brings the reader to the strange town of Crythin Gifford, and to the funeral of Mrs. Alice Drablow, the estate Kipps is representing. In the cemetery he sees a mysterious mourner, a slightly menacing

As the story unfolds, with hints and gradual revelations, Kipps re-creates his own understanding of what will happen to him now that he has laid eyes on the ghost. Each visit to Eel Marsh House is more chilling than the next for Kipps, and he eventually stumbles on an attic room, which contains a perfectly preserved nursery. Comparisons between the house of Mrs. Drablow and that of Miss Havisham in Dickens’ Great Expectations add to the gothic atmosphere of Hill’s novel and alert the reader to the themes of thwarted expectations, lies, and artifice. The novel ends as Kipps’s affairs with the Drablow estate are settled, and he returns to London, settling down soon after with his wife and child. Years later, he sees the ghost again while at a fair; his wife and child are having a carriage ride. Kipps is forced to watch as the woman in black steps out in front of the horse pulling the carriage and startles it so that it gallops away, killing the child and fatally injuring Kipps’s wife. The tale has come full circle, and the woman in black has had her vengeance. While The Woman in Black is clearly a traditional ghost story, it grapples with serious issues. Hill’s moral here seems to be that at some point grief and blame must come to an end, for those who cannot let

taught me my first lessons in loss, and grief and guilt, and in the end too, about resurrection” (p. 33). She indicates that finishing the novel a year after his death was an intense experience that allowed her to exorcise his ghost and begin healing. Ironically, In the Springtime of the Year also marked the end of Hill’s most productive period of writing, as she declared her retirement from producing fiction shortly thereafter. Her motives were complex, and many speculate her decision grew out of life changes, including her newfound happiness as a wife and mother, combined perhaps with some concern that she would be unable to re-create the success of her early career. Whatever Hill’s specific reasons, her fans would have to wait nearly a decade for her next novel, and few would have expected that it would reinvent Hill’s career entirely.

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and that those who become interested in his stories are doomed to be haunted by his victims. When the teenage boy is revealed to be one such victim, Monmouth aborts his search for more information and saves himself from the hauntings. Hill’s thirteenth novel, Mrs. de Winter (1993), is commercially her most successful, yet critically her most derided. The novel is a sequel to Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca (1938), a wildly successful novel that in 1940 was made into a movie directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Rebecca’s narrative takes the form of a flashback, as told by an unnamed heroine who is married to one Maxim de Winter. The couple is now living in Europe, traveling from hotel to hotel while harboring memories of a beautiful home called Manderley. In the course of her reflections, we come to find out that Manderley was destroyed by fire, after circumstances surrounding the death of her husband’s first wife, Rebecca, came to light. It is further revealed that despite its beauty, Manderley is haunted by the memory and the narrator’s jealousy of the incomparably beautiful and brilliant Rebecca. The narrator is nearly driven to suicide by the idea of Rebecca, and is even urged toward this end by the sinister housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers. After this incident, the narrator learns that Rebecca did not die by accident but by her husband’s hands, yet she does not choose to leave him. The novel concludes as the couple flee their devastated life and home, toward a life that will be structured around avoiding memories of the past.

Hill took a brief departure from the realm of gothic mystery in 1991, with the publication of Air and Angels. Noted for its highly stylized poetic effects, the novel details the quiet life of a middle-aged Cambridge University tutor, Thomas Cavendish, in the years before World War I. Celibate and lonely, he has used birding and his teaching to fill his life, but this changes dramatically when he sees a young student from India. His life is tragically altered by his passion for her but at the same time assumes a beauty and joy he never imagined. Hill’s next novel, The Mist in the Mirror (1992) returns to the realm of suspense and mystery. It is set in the twisted streets of London and its distant northern villages, with an oldfashioned nineteenth-century tone that recalls a Dickensian style. Critics were less enthusiastic about this novel than The Woman in Black, and many commented that despite the proper elements of suspense and Victorian pastiche setting, much of the main character’s motivation goes unexplored or unexplained, leaving the denouement of the book somewhat unsatisfying. The Mist in the Mirror is also a “story within a story” in the tradition of Henry James, as the narrator encounters a man named James Monmouth, who turns over three large notebooks of his memoir to him, detailing in part what awaited him in England after traveling abroad for more than twenty years. The novel essentially details Monmouth’s struggle to rid himself of a family curse and a haunting that has followed them for generations. His memoir recounts that he arrived back in his homeland to research a famous traveler whose route he has been following for years, Conrad Vane. As he begins to retrace Vane’s steps, he is confronted with warnings and signs of menace, partly in the form of a troubled and pleading teenage boy who trails him on his journey. Eventually it is revealed that Vane’s and Monmouth’s bloodlines have crossed in previous generations; it is also disclosed that Vane has been involved in much cruelty and evil in his life

Du Maurier’s fans had clamored unsuccessfully for her to write a sequel to Rebecca, and after her death in 1989, the du Maurier estate contacted Hill about writing one. It is not surprising that Hill would choose to do so, considering that Rebecca embodies the genre of gothic mystery that interested Hill during this time. In Mrs. de Winter, Hill picks up the story twelve years after Rebecca has ended, with the narrator returning to England with her husband, Maxim, to attend the funeral of his sister. Hill orchestrates a reunion of the cast of characters from Rebecca, including an elderly Mrs. Danvers, across several countries, which forces the couple’s repressed

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SUSAN HILL mon Serrailler mysteries, The Various Haunts of Men (2004), an investigation into the death of a middle-aged spinster, a reviewer for the Guardian wrote, “In the past, [in Hill’s work] the cruel, the macabre and the melodramatic have always been balanced and countered by the lives in which they found expression,ѧ[yet here it is] frustrating that someone as skilled and as otherwise daring as she should have chosen to circle endlessly within these boundaries” (29 May 2004). Hill herself is keenly aware of these criticisms, and when asked in interviews to explain the reasoning behind her choice, she has not hesitated to respond, and pointedly so. She says first and foremost that she has never liked to repeat herself or stand still, and this current departure allows her to write about the contemporary world in a way she was not able to before. She also invokes Graham Greene at times, pointing out that he divided his work into two categories, fiction and entertainment. Hill explains that she is no different, appreciating both her more literary works and her crime novels. This is not to say that no critics have responded positively to this shift; some have declared that her return to the old-fashioned murder mystery provides both comfort and satisfaction for her faithful readers. She has gone on to publish two more books in this series, The Pure in Heart (2005) and The Risk of Darkness (2006) as well as another foray into the world of ghosts, The Man in the Picture (2007).

past to the surface. The resolution of the novel comes through a series of tragedies that imply that the ghost of Rebecca will always be with the de Winters; Hill seems to imply that Maxim finally “pays” for his first wife’s death when the narrator realizes they will never be free of her. Critics note that despite Hill’s allegiance to du Maurier’s tone and the spirit of her narrator, she does little more in the sequel than reintroduce the themes and motifs of the original, as opposed to expanding on them. Hill has also been criticized for her decisions regarding the character of Rebecca, characterizing her as an evil woman who deserved to die. Overall, given the nature of the novel’s climax, many feel the sequel was too great a departure from du Maurier’s original intentions, as Hill retools a story about jealousy into one focused on guilt. Hill returned to short stories with her next venture, Listening to the Orchestra (1997). The collection is concerned with internally directed protagonists who are subsequently challenged by other characters who seem to possess insights the protagonists do not. She does not steer entirely toward the menacing in these exposures, however; what is glimpsed is melancholy at best. The same can be said for the novel that followed, The Service of Clouds (1997), a story of people in isolation or solitude, who experience life and the joy of those around them in brief moments, if at all.

HILL’S THIRD LIFE

With the exception of the well-received collection The Boy Who Taught the Beekeeper to Read (2003), noted for its searingly accurate portrayal of the relationships between adults and children, Hill’s most recent works have taken her into yet another genre, that of detective crime fiction. Much has been made of this shift in her work, and critics have not been reluctant to question her choices or voice their disdain for what she has chosen to publish. Much the same reaction occurred when she moved from literary fiction to works like The Woman in Black, yet this critical reception has been somewhat harsher. For instance, in describing the first of her trilogy of Si-

CONCLUSION

However periodically Susan Hill falls in and out of favor with critics, it is clear that her work over four decades has captured the mind of the public. Her writing has attracted a large fan base, one that she keeps in touch with on her Web site and by teaching classes. She appears to welcome discourse with those who read her work and those who review it, often responding to reader questions and unfavorable reviews in posts on her site. Her success or failure as a “literary” writer remains entirely subjective, and best left to debate in critical circles. What one cannot argue is her

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contribution to the British literary landscape, and her nearly seamless ability to reinvent herself. Hill quickly grows impatient with those who criticize her choice to work in a variety of genres, and she refuses to apologize for craving multiplicity in the work she produces, stating that it simply reflects the changing interests and experiences of her life, however implausibly diverse. As Eric Anderson, a family friend and provost of Eton College, told the Guardian in 2003: “There are three Susan Hills. There’s the one who writes the serious and important works such as I’m the King of the Castle and Strange Meeting; there’s the one who writes the novels of entertainment, such as the mysteries like The Mist in the Mirror; and then there is the one who writes the chatty columns in Country Life.” She has also been called a chameleon and a master of voice, possessing the ability either to include herself in her writing or to remove herself entirely, in precise and tightly skilled ways.

WORKS OF SUSAN HILL NOVELS The Enclosure. London: Hutchinson, 1961. Do Me a Favour. London: Hutchinson, 1963. Gentleman and Ladies. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1968; London: Penguin, 1970. A Change for the Better. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1969; London: Penguin, 1971. I’m the King of the Castle. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1970; London: Penguin, 1972. Strange Meeting. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1971; London: Penguin, 1973. The Bird of Night. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1972; London: Penguin, 1973. The Custodian. London: Covent Garden Press, 1972. (Chapbook.) In the Springtime of the Year. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1973; London: Penguin, 1974. The Woman in Black. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1983: Boston: Godine, 1986. Air and Angels. London: Sinclair-Stevenson, 1991; London: Mandarin, 1993; London: Vintage, 1999. The Mist in the Mirror: A Ghost Story. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1992; London: Mandarin, 1993; London: Vintage 1999. Mrs. de Winter. London: Sinclair-Stevenson, 1993; New York: Morrow, 1993; Vintage, 1999. The Service of Clouds. London: Chatto & Windus, 1997; London: Vintage, 1999. The Various Haunts of Men. London: Chatto & Windus, 2004. The Pure in Heart. London: Chatto & Windus, 2005. The Risk of Darkness. London: Chatto & Windus, 2006. The Man in the Picture. London: Profile, 2007.

Dichotomies aside, Hill maintains that she is always teaching some kind of moral lesson in her work, that nothing she writes is without thought and purpose. This is evident from her earliest novels, where she shows how love can transform human beings while malice and evil, however unintentional, can destroy them. Some have said that her novels are a paradox in the sense that for the most part they are straightforward and deceptively easy to read, while at the same time tackling complex and universal issues. Indeed, the philosophical leanings of her work have become more apparent over time, including her questioning of the definition of madness and the importance of some degree of independence between family members and between lovers, along with meditations on the many permutations of love. If her literary past is any indication, there is no doubt Hill will continue to explore these questions, as well as surprise and delight readers who enjoy a variety of genres. As her longtime friend William Trevor put it in the Guardian, “She is passionate about communicating, and she is willing to take risks within genres to do so. She won’t be pigeonholed—pigeonholes are for the birds.”

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS The Albatross, and Other Stories. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1970; London: Penguin, 1972. A Bit of Singing and Dancing. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1973; London: Penguin, 1974. Listening to the Orchestra. Gloucestershire: Long Barn Books, 1997. The Boy Who Taught the Beekeeper to Read. London: Chatto & Windus, 2003.

PLAYS The Cold Country and Other Plays for Radio. (Includes The End of Summer, Lizard in the Grass, Consider the Lilies, Strip Jack Naked.) London, BBC Publications, 1975.

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On the Face of It. In Act 1. Edited by David Self and Ray Speakman. London: Hutchinson, 1979. (Broadcast 1975.) Chances. (Broadcast 1981; produced London, 1983.) The Ramshackle Company. (For children; produced London, 1981.)

EDITED VOLUMES The Distracted Preacher and Other Stories, by Thomas Hardy. London: Penguin, 1979. New Stories 5. With Isabel Quigley. London: Hutchinson, 1980. Ghost Stories. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1983. People: Essays and Poems. London: Chatto & Windus, 1983. The Parchment Moon: An Anthology of Modern Women’s Short Stories. London: Michael Joseph, 1990; as The Penguin Book of Modern Women’s Short Stories, London: Penguin, 1991. The Walker Book of Ghost Stories. London: Walker Books, 1990; as The Random House Book of Ghost Stories, New York: Random House, 1991. The Penguin Book of Contemporary Women’s Short Stories. London: Penguin 1995.

CHILDREN’S BOOKS One Night at a Time. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1984; as Go Away, Bad Dreams!, New York: Random House, 1985. Mother’s Magic. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1986. Can It Be True? A Christmas Story. Illustrated by Angela Barrett. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1987; New York: Viking Kestrel, 1988. Lanterns Across the Snow. London: Joseph, 1987; New York: Potter, 1988. Susie’s Shoes. Illustrated by Priscilla Lamont. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1989. I Won’t Go There Again. London: Walker Books, 1990. Septimus Honeydew. Illustrated by Carol Thompson. London: Walker Books, 1990. Stories from Codling Village. Illustrated by Caroline Crosland. London: Walker Books, 1990. The Glass Angels. London: Walker Books, 1991; Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick Press, 1992. A Very Special Birthday. London: Walker Books, 1992. Beware, Beware. Illustrated by Angela Barrett. London: Walker Books, 1993; Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick Press; 1993. King of Kings. Illustrated by John Lawrence. Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick, 1993; London: Walker Books, 1994. White Christmas. London: Walker Books, 1993; Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick Press, 1994. The Christmas Collection: An Anthology. Illustrated by John Lawrence. London: Walker Books, 1994; Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick Press, 1994.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Hofer, Ernest H. “Enclosed Structures, Disclosed Lives: The Fictions of Susan Hill.” In Contemporary British Women Writers, Narrative Strategies. Edited by Robert E. Hosmer Jr., New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993. Pp. 128⫺150. Ireland, K. R. “Rite at the Center: Narrative Duplication in Susan Hill’s In the Springtime of the Year.” Journal of Narrative Technique 13, no. 3:172–180 (fall 1983). Jackson, Rosemary. “Cold Enclosures: The Fiction of Susan Hill.” In Twentieth-Century Women Novelists. Edited by Thomas F. Staley. New York: Barnes and Noble, 1982. Pp. 81–103. Muir, Kenneth. “Susan Hill’s Fiction.” In The Uses of Fiction: Essays on the Modern Novel in Honour of Arnold Kettle. Edited by Douglas Jefferson and Graham Martin. Milton Keynes, England: Open University Press, 1982. Pp. 273–285. Reed, Mary Jane. “Recommended: Susan Hill.” English Journal (April 1983): pp. 75–76. Reynolds, Margaret, and Jonathan Noakes. Susan Hill: The Essential Guide to Contemporary Literature. London: Vintage Living Texts, 2003. Schubert, Maria. “Susan Hill: Focusing on Outsiders and Losers.” In English Language and Literature: Positions & Dispositions. Edited by James Hogg, Karl Hubmayber, and Dorothea Steiner. Salzburg: University of Salzburg Press, 1990. Pp. 91–101.

NONFICTION The Magic Apple Tree: A Country Year. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1982; New York, Holt Rinehart, 1983. Through the Kitchen Window. Illustrated by Angela Barrett. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1984. Through the Garden Gate. Illustrated by Angela Barrett. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1986. The Lighting of the Lamps. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1987. Shakespeare Country. Photographs by Rob Talbot and Robin Whiteman. London: Michael Joseph, 1987. The Spirit of the Cotswolds. Photographs by Nick Meers. London: Michael Joseph, 1988. Family. London: Michael Joseph, 1989; New York: Viking, 1990.

INTERVIEW Freeman, Hadley. “Cotswald Chameleon.” Guardian (books. guardian.co.uk), 2003.

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KATHLEEN JAMIE (1962—)

J. C. Bittenbender BORN IN RENFREWSHIRE, Scotland, on 13 May 1962, Kathleen Jamie grew up in Currie, Midlothian, near Edinburgh. In 1981 she won an E. C. Gregory Award for her poetry. The following year, while studying philosophy at Edinburgh University, she published her first pamphlet of poems, titled Black Spiders. A prolific publisher of poetry, travel narratives, and radio scripts, she has won a number of the most prestigious literary prizes in the United Kingdom. In 1999 she became a lecturer in creative writing at the University of St. Andrews, in Fife, Scotland. In addition to Black Spiders, her collections of poetry include A Flame in Your Heart (1986; with Andrew Greig), The Way We Live (1987), The Queen of Sheba (1994), Jizzen (1999), Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead: Poems, 1980–1994 (2002), The Tree House (2004), and Waterlight: Selected Poems (2007). Jamie has also published travel narratives such as The Golden Peak: Travels in North Pakistan (1992; republished as Among Muslims in 2002) and The Autonomous Region: Poems and Photographs from Tibet (1993; with Sean Mayne Smith). She also published a critically acclaimed book of reflections titled Findings in 2005.

sense of history by re-creating a seemingly mundane moment from the past and infusing it with a sense of the present. The poem is constructed in three sections that seem to reflect three shifts in time. In the first section the reader could be witnessing a scene from the present: He looked up to the convent she’d gone to. She answered no questions but he knew by the way she’d turned away that morning. He felt like swimming to the caves. (p. 9)

After these lines the scenario changes to one from the past as the nuns in the convent witness the approach of Turkish ships: The nuns have retreated. The eldest still peals the bell in glee, although no-one comes from the ruins. All their praying was done when they first saw the ships and the Turks’ swords reflecting the sun. (p. 9)

Such shifts in time perspective are a hallmark of Jamie, and she handles the scene here as a vision of the past that seems to come upon one of two lovers who are visiting a ruined convent. The final section of the poem returns the lovers to the present moment where the “He” of the poem is seen “brushing salt / from the hair of his nipples” and the “She” imagines tickling his nipples with her mouth, “black spiders on her lips” (p. 9). What at first appear to be disconnected incidents in time are brought together through a natural imagery. Themes of love and violence in different times and places are suggested in the juxtaposition of images such as those of the tickled nipples and the “cleft skulls / severed and bleached” of the Turks’ victims from an earlier period.

BLACK SPIDERS

In 1982 Jamie won a Scottish Arts Council Book Award for her pamphlet Black Spiders, which sports an illustration on the cover by the artist Wassily Kandinsky. The poems in this collection reflect themes and concerns that Jamie develops in later volumes. Her interest in carefully creating reflective, imaginative landscapes where memory and place intersect can be detected in a number of poems such as the title poem, “Black Spiders.” Here Jamie provides the reader with a

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KATHLEEN JAMIE In the following poem, “Women in Jerusalem,” Jamie exhibits her continuing interest in investigating manifestations of the exotic in the everyday world. This is also a poem that highlights Jamie’s fascination with engaging poetically with her travels to areas of the Middle East and Asia. The scene of the poem is a marketplace in Jerusalem where the speaker carries on conversations with a variety of Arabs, but particularly women. Here a feminist theme comes to bear on the poem as the speaker is “purdahd” for her protection in a world in which women are denigrated by men. The final lines of the poem exhibit a recurrent motif in Jamie’s poems: the threat of silencing:

Here the text of the landscape becomes something to be deciphered and decoded, and the causeway is much like a passage of safe travel as well as an interpretative link. The connection with writing becomes more apparent in the next stanza: Come and scratch your feet on sharper, more explosive shells. Draw your own blood for a farther view, a place to lay bare among ruins. The choice will return in time. (p. 26)

The blood from the feet that have been scratched on the shells becomes an ink that can be read across the passage of time. Jamie is well known for inspirational lines like these that invoke nature and reveal how it reflects the human condition. The final stanza emphasizes how objects and images from the natural world serve as markers of a language that is too often interpreted by the human world only through type and the written word:

In the room were foul and ancient abaheys, we hooped them round and laughed at ourselves. They blacked out the sound of our voices and hid our bodies from sight. (p. 11)

Here the clothing becomes a metaphor for how women are often treated, especially in cultures dominated by men. The erasure or subjugation of women or other groups (national or otherwise), whether through the limitations of fashion or the denial of a voice, is a theme treated elsewhere by Jamie. Other poems in the collection that deal with Middle Eastern locales include “Abir” and “Storm in Istanbul.” These poems also contend with issues of feminism, language, and faith/ faithlessness. As in “Black Spiders,” poems such as “Cramond Island” and “The Guisers” offer the reader questions regarding acts of interrogation that occur in the everyday world but which often require visions of a particular past. In “Cramond Island” there is an element of the metapoetic in which Jamie interfuses reading and writing as metaphors for life. Narrative and poetic journeys become emblematic of the life journey:

Back in the study they stare to sea, and heal, marking pages with salt and sand shaken from windblown hair. (p. 26)

In “The Guisers,” the speaker evokes images of epiphany and enlightenment to suggest the art of interrogation. “Urchins of uncertain parentage / wander with only leering lamps / to light their masks” (p. 27). The reader is reminded of Seamus Heaney’s “The Haw Lantern” and its engagement with the art/act of scrutiny and interpretation. Here the urchins wear masks (guisers) and “we only half know them / as illfed and ignored as is healthy” (p. 27). The persistent sense of the unknown quality of the world that surrounds us and the susceptibility to misreading is evident in lines like these. Perhaps as well the poem is about the necessity of mythmaking and fable as the guises/urchins “demand / all the fruit we can give them” (p. 27). Misreading and the fabrication of fable is as necessary as the constant interrogation and interpretation of myth.

Most who choose the causeway cross for a handful of years turning back before the tide cuts them off. They take up books behind these windbreakers we weave around us. (p. 26)

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KATHLEEN JAMIE a member of the audience in the circus tent and a witness to the couple alone at night. In the final lines, the art of spectating and how it involves interpretation are brought to bear on “staged” spectacles as well as those of everyday life that are acted out in a similar fashion. As the couple performs above the visible circus crowd the two of them fumble, and their seeming act of slapstick draws questions from the crowd below: “The audience wonder: is it part of the show / this embarrassing wobbling, / this vain desperation to clutch?” (p. 29). The reader recognizes the fumbling and wobbling as a part of Coco and Estelle’s life together offstage as well, and the acts of carnival become the acts of existing in the everyday world, a world fraught with uncertainty and imprecision. Here as well Jamie exhibits her own high-wire expertise at representing tensions that fruitfully combine opposites. The very title “Permanent Cabaret” suggests an oxymoron between the fixedness of permanence and the openness and fluidity of cabaret. The “vain desperation to clutch” of the final line suggests a tension between movement and stasis, freedom and security.

A final theme of Black Spiders that will find expression in later works is that of the spectator who views a particular scenario. Two poems that exemplify this theme are “After Seeing Actors Rehearsing in the Cimetière du Père Lachaise” and “Permanent Cabaret.” There is a dramatic flair to these poems, but beyond that is the image of the audience and the art of spectating. In “After Seeingѧ” the speaker states: The players act the lives of figments, unaware that their audience watch and pass on. (p. 16)

The image of the audience watching and passing on then becomes equated with the vision of a cat that views the lives of people in a city who are very much like the actors on a stage: Cities are like that. People may moulder next door or below. Their parlours fall to soft rags with the nightly shudder of curtains. Cats squat. They guard their plots with claws like they did all through life knowing or noting it all.

A FLAME IN YOUR HEART

Jamie has collaborated with other writers on a number of books, and the first volume to represent such a team effort was A Flame in Your Heart (1986), which she wrote with the poet, mountaineer, freelance writer, and fellow Scot Andrew Greig. The back cover of the volume states the premise: “Set in the almost mythical summer of 1940, A Flame in Your Heart tells the story of the all-too-brief love of a Spitfire pilot and his girl.” The poem sequence is constructed in five parts with a concluding poem, “War Widow.” The voices of the text alternate between the Spitfire pilot, Len, and his lover, Katie, the predominating voice being that of Katie. Although there is no explanation, one assumes that Jamie wrote the Katie poems and Greig those of Len. An epigraph opens the book with lines from a popular song of the early World War II years:

(p. 16)

The cats become voyeurs whose vision also demands that they confront accepted notions of how people act (their plots) and come to terms with what they find that defies expectations. This is the job of the audience, which must also interpret the plot on the stage and decide what to accept or reject from the message of the play. By the end of the poem, “The cats have licked their paws of it” (p. 16). In “Permanent Cabaret,” the final poem in the collection, the audience considers two highwire artists who also have some clownish elements to them. There is a carnivalesque feel to the poem that reminds one of Edwin Morgan’s “Cinquevalli” and its playful treatment of a clown whose actions defy a variety of forms of authority. In “Permanent Cabaret” the reader sees Coco and Estelle, a circus couple, acting on the wire and at night contemplating the future. The reader is both

‘I don’t want to set The world on fire,

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KATHLEEN JAMIE Len at the opening of the next poem in the sequence:

I just want to start A flame in your heart.’

What then follows before the poetic voices begin to alternate is a brief poem offered by an omniscient narrator that sets the scene of Spitfire pilots nervously scrambling into action above the fields of England in 1940:

Not what you’d imagine, not posh, not Educated, bit silly, asks all the questions. No moustache, more’s the pity. Not brave, I don’t think. Said next to nothing about flying (shame!) but left the glamour to the loud-mouth yank (Canadian actually) who dribbled over Rosieѧ

They share cigarettes, and talk for an hour by the Dispersal Hut, then one by one take off and climb above the clouds, where it is always blue, burning and burning at that summer’s end.

(p. 16)

But Katie does find Len to be a sweet man, and their romance blossoms as they continue their relationship. As the sequence continues in part 1, the voices of Katie and Len seem to merge at points as they begin to identify themselves in terms of the other: “Your letter came this morning, ages late. / It says ‘I am’, ‘we are’” (p. 20). The voices also offer peaceful observations on the growth of love in a time of war. These meditations/reflections at times seem to nod toward the Keatsian lines of the World War I poets. Len’s lines relating his experiences in the heat of battle are dislocated and fraught with tension and fear:

(p. 10)

Len’s voice is then introduced and his first words remind the reader of Thomas Hardy’s prophetic voice in “Channel Firing,” warning of the onslaught of the First World War: “Then we heard the guns around Gravesend / as they hit the dock, broke off the match / to step outside and see the show” (p. 13). The interspersed voices of Len and Katie serve as both reflective meditations of what they are thinking at the time as well as, at times, honest love letters to one another written in the style of a diarist. Len’s first reflections are how he met Katie in a pub while he was in the midst of a darts game with his fellow pilots. He describes his first look at her:

Sunlight splitting white beams through trees like at the pictures angled down from projector to forest-floor screen I walked right into it clatter and flash I jerked aside (black and white crosses sun in my eyes—two magpies) hawthorn hogweed nettles sharp reek in the whitebeam each leafѧ

How light a girl is when you dance, how far removed from a machine! She’s way out of my class: left University to nurse; better spoken, smart as paint, pretty as a—excuse me while I gibber! (p. 13)

(p. 21)

As the sequence progresses, there are frequent references to flames, fire, light, and enlightenment as well as the heat of passion.

In part 2 the lovers are separated by the obstacles of war, and they write to each other of their experiences and what they are feeling for one another. Len continues fighting in the skies while Katie goes about her business as a nurse tending to wounded soldiers. Both voices engage in a sympathetic imagining of the situation the other must be in. As the sequence proceeds, more frequent italicized interjections by the omniscient voice offer commentary on the particular situation of Katie and Len and also gradually seem to prophesy an impending tragedy. The lovers are reunited when Len is on leave, and a number of poems express the happiness of their time

And when she turned to me again I seemed to see what she’d say next, what I’d say, how it would all turn out, as though a searchlight had just leapt forward in the dark, and we had always known its mark. (p. 15)

This beautiful epiphanic moment on Len’s part at the conclusion of his first poem is then compromised somewhat by Katie’s initial reaction to

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KATHLEEN JAMIE together as well as fear of the day when Len must return to the skies. Two of the most poignant passages in this section occur at the end, the first when Katie must confront Len’s imminent departure:

In the final full section of the sequence the lines suggest that perhaps the lovers have been reunited again, although it seems as if their meditations may also be memories of their last time together. Throughout the preceding sections of the poem there is a sense of increasing closeness between the consciousness of Katie and Len as well as a heightened sensory perception. Len captures this best in the following lines: “My hand on her breathing ribs. The fragility” (p. 68). The two become one as they experience the world through memories of sensory awareness that they now share, even though apart. It is at this moment that the omniscient speaker enters to announce Len’s death:

He is 25, it is the last day of his leave, and my whole world rests gently against him. His arm will tingle when he wakes! Keep peace, keep still as the wallpaper birds while the living take up their songs. (p. 35)

On the following page, Len, returned to the sky, thinks of Katie as he also thinks of the madness of war: “As we climb I think of you sleeping. / What use is thought? It can’t touch” (p. 36). There is a notion too of the unnatural quality of war that seems not in keeping with the “rightness” of things:

You never see them coming two stray shells one entering the groin one spraying the gut it is not as bad as you had imagined it is no worse than being born it is nearly over when you grasp it’s begunѧ

How come the sun keeps rising through slaughter? Goes to show we’re not much, just as well. If the world were batted round by us it would bounce like a ping-pong ball between Heaven and Hell, till it was cracked as we are—

(p. 70)

The final poem in the sequence is the only one with a title, “War Widow,” and is reprinted from Jamie’s Black Spiders pamphlet. Here the voice of a war widow explains the photo she keeps by her bed, which seems to feature both herself and her dead lover. The final lines recall the process of memory that has been active throughout the previous sequence of exchanges between Katie and Len:

(p. 36)

In part 3, images of sexuality are joined with those of warfare. The passion of the lovers is reflected in their memories of the times they have spent together and how they intermingle with the war-related events that unfold in front of them. In one of Katie’s poems it becomes evident that she is pregnant and is filled with both joy and fear:

My stocking seams aren’t quite so straight. My uniform’s returned. You wear yours somewhere, caught in a snapshot while you slept.

You ought to know: I’m very late, and sway between a silly pride, a need: to grow large and round as if by magic, as if I knew I contained the world and was besotted. Then fearѧ

(p. 73)

Similar to the way that Len was caught unexpectedly by death, his memory for Katie is now a snapshot that includes all of the moments of sensory awareness that were shared between the two and recounted for the reader throughout the sequence. The sequence represents a wonderful narrative poem in which voices fluctuate not only between speakers but within the changing perspectives of the individual characters as well. This quality of creating a persona, or character,

(p. 47)

Part 4 features a scene in which Katie experiences the conflict firsthand as the pub she is in is hit by a bomb and she recounts the shattering aftermath in lines that increasingly become fragmented, much like Len’s lines when he is engaged with the enemy.

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KATHLEEN JAMIE the poem that belies any one identification with a particular geographical/national landscape. Here, Jamie, as with many contemporary Scottish poets, finds fertile ground in the notion that poetry (or any other form of writing for that matter) need not overtly be identified with the political entity of Scotland in order to make commentary on issues that affect the country. The international scope of a poem like “Clearances” allows for a dialogic relationship between Scotland and other parts of the world that also have their own clearances. Also, on a more psychological level, the clearances of the poem may very well be linked to understandings of the self and a landscape of the heart and mind that undergoes similar forms of dislocation and resettlement. This aspect of the poem becomes realized toward the end when the speaker identifies a commonality with the notion of “clearances” that transcends time and place:

is one that Jamie exercises in different ways in much of her work; whether through imagining a historical figure at a particular moment in time or in creating a character who undergoes a wide range of experiences to be shared with a reader. A Flame in Your Heart was later made into a radio production that was broadcast on BBC Radio 4.

THE WAY WE LIVE

In 1987 Jamie published her first full-length book of poetry, The Way We Live. This achievement was partly funded by a Writer’s Bursary granted to Jamie by the Scottish Arts Council in 1985. The volume represents a range of poems that serve to illustrate the wide scope of Jamie’s interests. Here the reader will find travel poems, such as in the wonderful long sequence titled “Karakoram Highway,” love poems, and poems that seem drawn from Scottish landscapes and contexts, as well as Jamie’s signature voices that bring a sense of history and the present together. Here as well are reproduced poems from Black Spiders along with a wealth of new material. In the first of the volume’s three sections, the opening poem, “Clearances,” summons up images of the Highland Clearances of the midnineteenth century, in which large numbers of Scottish crofters were displaced by wealthy landowners wishing to convert the land to areas for sheep grazing. Many of these evicted Scots found themselves cast into the difficult world of the mid-century industrial British city while others emigrated to other parts of the world. The event had great historical and socioeconomic importance to Scotland and lives on in the Scottish psyche as evidence of class and perhaps even nationalistic injustice because wealthy landowners often had political ties with England. In Jamie’s poem, however, the landscape is only tangentially Scottish. The “clearances” discussed in this poem might only be connected loosely to some sort of Scottish past. Here the “grass bends and nods, like Mandarins,” and “moorland birds” are juxtaposed with images of a moon that “imagines things— / a desert dusk, with itself as scimitarѧ” (p. 11). There is an exotic quality to

As the wind keeps up, closer than I’ve heard my name inѧhow long? and the dark coheres; an old idea returns again, the prodigal friend: of leaving: for Szechwan, or Persia. (p. 11)

Here the urge for travel seems to infect the speaker, and the places that beckon are not the same as the ones that served as places of exile for earlier populations that were driven from the land. The lure of the exotic has a certain hold on the speaker, who is drawn once more to places of otherness, perhaps locations in which one might gain a greater understanding of self. Jamie’s ability to join the local and the universal can be detected in a number of other poems in the collection. In “Bosegran” a specific place is alluded to, while the description of it contains language indicative of a much larger geography: “In the water of the cove, with its plates / of green weed fixed and shifting like continents, / is some irritation—an object discarded from a boatѧ” (p. 12). Here the cove represents a particular location while containing the “shifting continents” of seaweed. In these lines too is the nature of the fixed in tension with movement. The poem continues with an environmental as well as political message as the speaker

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KATHLEEN JAMIE The middle section of the book, “Karakoram Highway,” represents a sequence of poems dealing with the poet/speaker’s experience of a journey to Northern Pakistan (an experience that Jamie more fully describes in prose in Among Muslims). Here Jamie presents a fine example of her poetic travelogue voice as she recounts the expectations and reality of encountering another culture. The first poem relates the landing of the plane and the vision of the country below as the plane descends: “Wheels have engaged, scorched on the runway / So it’s going to be hot, is it? All coming true” (p. 25). Then the poems move to descriptions of bus rides into the mountains and the people that the speaker meets along the way: “I have seen the devil; he was baking chapatti / in an all night roadhouse on the Karakoram Highway” (p. 26). Some of the most rewarding poems in this section are those that focus on cultural exchanges or highlight the fragility of connections that link peoples from different parts of the world. Here as well Jamie draws attention to the way in which the landscape (natural or man-made) serves as a text to be read:

describes the plight of a seal: “Alone in all the world one is playing. / A seal, fluid and dark, has the plastic colonised, / round her like a jacket” (p. 12). Entangled in the plastic, the seal is constrained in much the same way as people who have been colonized and contained in a political context. Tension is seen between the playfulness of the seal and the nature of her containment. In “God Almighty the First Garden Made,” the speaker is God with a local accent. He speaks to a female auditor who has asked him a particular question: “How did I get where I am today?” (p. 52), to which God answers with a variety of examples of how he has experimented with flora and fauna to create a multifaceted world. He ends with the following: “I’m getting on. I’ll be calling it a day soon, / and handing over to me son. I just fidget / with hedgerows now, do a small line in peas” (p. 52). Here is a God who is salt of the earth, and Jamie gives voice to the wisdom of the seasoned local whose influence has universal power. Likewise in the title poem of the collection, “The Way We Live,” Jamie pays tribute to the way in which the ordinary and accidental events of the everyday world have much larger implications and should be celebrated:

At the sharp end of the gorge; the bridge. Like a single written word on vast and rumpled parchment. Bridge. The statement of man in landscape.

Pass the tambourine, let me bash out praises to the Lord God of movement, to Absolute non-friction, flight, and the scarey side: death by avalanche, birth by failed contraception. Of chicken tandoori and reggae, loud, from tenements, commitment, driving fast and unswerving friendshipѧ

And how they guard it. Drifts of people in either bank like brackets, knowing it can crash to the river in a mangled scribble and be erased. They write it up again, single syllable of construction shouted over the canyon.

(p. 54)

Much like Gerard Manley Hopkins’s verse celebrating the imperfect in nature (and God’s splendor that allows for the imperfection), Jamie here explores the joyful nature of a world that is full of both objects and movement that share a significant role in human experience. The poem runs the gamut in exploring ranges of human emotion, sensory perception, and geographical and temporal relationships. By the end the interconnectedness of all becomes the overriding theme: “To the way it fits, the way it is, the way it seems / to be: let me bash out praises—pass the tambourine” (p. 54).

(p. 29)

This tendency to see signs in the surrounding world can be detected in other poems of Jamie’s where the script of nature leads the reader to a more intense understanding of self. The reader/ traveler in “Karakoram Highway” journeys as well to a place of enlightenment and profound philosophical self-knowledge. The poems in the sequence increasingly come to represent a spiritual/emotional journey on the part of the speaker: “Emotion is human, the foothills

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KATHLEEN JAMIE who may be a figure from Jamie family history or simply a created character employed as a way of imagining and inhabiting a past. In “Aunt Janet’s Museum,” the speaker waits for a door to open to the “museum,” and in “Havers,” the reader is treated to a character, who seems very much like Janet, who has created her own mythology: “She once went to Girvan on horseback / it’s said. Wind from the hillsides / through her hair and its mane, sheep / on the roadside. Haversѧ” (p. 45). In “Aunt Janet’s Armistice,” the reader is transported back to the end of a war (World War II?) and given a sense of the experience of Janet and others at that time. Another engagement with the war occurs in the poem that follows, “Matthew’s War,” where characters contend with events (and gossip) surrounding a particular incident involving a German pilot who “baled out over Irvine” (p. 47). Here, as with the reference to Girvan in the previous poem, the reader is made aware of the intersection of history with a particular geography. One of the final poems is the beautiful “Orkney Haiku”:

brown, / the valley floor very low. We haven’t slept” (p. 31). In this poem the line “emotion is human” recurs as a mantra as the traveler proceeds by bus deep into the mountains of Pakistan: White, not frightening: emotion is human, is returned to the human along with your life. A slight clash of terror, you lower your eyes. The sun reflected from glass, more fearsome than glass in itself. (p. 31)

The journey becomes one of revelation, and the reflecting glass, as in Philip Larkin’s “High Windows,” serves as not only a mirror offering a vision into one’s identity but also a vehicle offering a glimpse of an unmediated truth. At the end of the day, and toward the end of the sequence, the speaker comments again on the ability to see and how it can be enhanced in this world that is foreign yet familiar: “The palm of a crystalgazer’s hand / night lifts away, things become defined: / this is our world for a time, these its colours” (p. 36). The final poem is somewhat cryptic, as the speaker, with “fingernails bleeding / from clinging to wood” (p. 38), shares a moment of what seems to be shared fear with one of the guides. It is unclear whether these lines suggest an accident on the journey or one final, intense moment of contact between two cultures. In addition to offering the reader a fine example of Jamie’s ability to share travel experiences poetically, “Karakoram Highway” serves as an avenue connecting the first section of the volume to the third, which contains more of the “character” poems that investigate a variety of personas in order to capture a sense of lived history. The poem “Jane” takes its cue from an epigraph: “—heard over P.A. at Heathrow”: “’Would Miss Jane Eyre please report to Airport Information. Miss Jane Eyre, please’” (p. 43). What follows is a poem that traces the man looking for Miss Eyre (Rochester?) among the crowds of the airport: “A dark / hooded bird of prey, he sifts, sifts / the dress of all the nations / for a frock in English grey” (p. 43). A number of poems that follow this engage with “Aunt Janet,”

Waves wash in, out, in, menhirs incline to each other: farmers grumbling. A lift from a lobster fisherman! with red hands. Driving slowly up and down farm tracks, life on the sea bed. (p. 48)

In this third section the reader is exposed to much more of a local, Scottish atmosphere than elsewhere in The Way We Live, and the organization of the volume seems to reflect a movement from the philosophical to the foreign to the familiar. However, as the text proceeds, the lines between these categories clearly disappear, and the reader is aware of the interdependence of these ways of living and seeing.

THE QUEEN OF SHEBA

Poems that take Scotland and/or the Scottish landscape as their theme are found readily in Jamie’s next collection, The Queen of Sheba (1994). This is one of her richest collections, and

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KATHLEEN JAMIE Jamie was awarded the Somerset Maugham Award (1995) and the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize (1996) and was short-listed for the T. S. Eliot Prize (1995) and the Mail on Sunday/John Llewellyn Rhys Prize (1995) for the volume. In this collection Jamie weaves poems on a variety of themes about the natural world of Scotland with those that include the creation of personas, mostly involving women. The title poem, “The Queen of Sheba,” starts off the volume and emphasizes the importance of Scotland to the collection right from the start:

and men. By the end of the poem the speaker and other women in Scotland have joined a chorus of support for the queen and what she might represent to them: ѧwe want to help her ask some Difficult Questions she’s shouting for our wisest man to test her mettle: Scour Scotland for a Solomon! (p. 11)

Scotland, you have invoked her name just once too often in your Presbyterian living rooms. She’s heard, yea even unto heathenish Arabia your vixen’s bark of poverty, come down the family like a lang neb, a thrawn streak, a wally dug you never liked but can’t get shot of.

The historical and biblical accounts of the queen become conflated yet ultimately rejected as the Scottish women who join with her anticipate a response to their cry for freedom: Sure enough: from the back of the crowd Someone growls: Whae do you think y’ur?

(p. 9)

Scotland, personified as a woman, becomes inextricably linked not only with a sense of the foreign but also with the “Queen of Sheba,” a woman with magical and hypnotic powers. As the poem progresses, the queen visits Scotland and slowly becomes one with the country. The poem highlights Jamie’s ability to write verse in Scots as well as to engage with humor as she presents the queen’s triumphant tour of the northern country:

and a thousand laughing girls and she draw our hot breath and shout: THE QUEEN OF SHEBA! (p. 11)

This poem and its position at the start of the volume announce a more directly feminist slant to Jamie’s poetry than appeared in earlier works, and other poems in the collection seem to confirm this movement. However, the volume is much more varied and multiform, dealing with a number of significant ways to read and reread the experience of Scotland and being Scottish. What marks the volume most is its ability to bring together the local and the exotic in imaginative ways. The experiences of Edinburgh neighborhoods are brought into contact with a sense of the foreign in poems such as “Mother-May-I,” “Child with Pillar Box and Bin Bags,” and “Fountain,” a poem that joins images of a fountain in a suburban shopping mall with those of a fountain in ancient Greece. There are personal poems in this collection as well, where Jamie appears to be resuscitating memories from her own past as a girl growing up in Scotland.

She’s had enough. She’s come. Whit, tae this dump? Yes! She rides first camel of a swaying caravan from her desert sands to the peat and bracken of the Pentland hills across the fit-ba pitch to the thin mirage of the swings and chute; scattered with glass. (p. 9)

The reader of the poem witnesses the queen as she visits not the major Scottish tourist attractions but the everyday worlds of girls and women who seem otherwise stuck in a country where their gender identity is determined by tradition

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KATHLEEN JAMIE they often are tied to gender identity are false, inadequate, and often debilitating ways to perceive personal and national/cultural/social identities:

She records incidents from the past and lends a voice of a girl/woman encountering a world fraught with different identities and ways of referencing experience. Here as well are love poems such as “China for Lovers,” “Perfect Day,” and “All Washed Up.” In addition to making a more concentrated effort to employ Scots and exhibiting a strengthened feminist approach, The Queen of Sheba adds a rewarding contribution to the modern/ postmodern Scottish gothic literature in poems such as “Bairns of Suzie: A Hex,” and “Wee Wifey.” The exotic imagery of “The Queen of Sheba” joins with the modern female Scottish psyche in “Bairns of Suzie,” where the speaker offers a collective female identity that bewitches the reader:

Do we save this toolbox, these old-fashioned views addressed, after all, to Mr. and Mrs. Scotland? Should we reach and take them? And then? Forget them, till that person enters our silent house, begins to open to the light our kitchen drawers, and performs for us this perfunctory rite: the sweeping up, the turning out. (p. 37)

Politics and language join forces to comment on Scottish identity in the wonderfully playful poem “Arraheids,” in which the speaker cautions the visitor to Scotland’s antiquities that they may be getting the story (read “history”) wrong:

Have you not seen us, the Bairns of Suzie under the pylons of Ormiston Brae running easy with foxes and dogs, high on the green hill, high in the luke-warm mother’s glance of midwinter sun?

See thon raws of flint arraheids in oor gret museums o antiquities awful grand in Embro— Dae’ye near’n daur wunner at wur histrie? Weel then, Bewaur! The museums of Scotland are wrang. They urnae arraheids but a show o grannies’ tonguesѧ

(p. 25)

By the end of the poem the bairns of Suzie confront an authority that often comes in the shape of men but also suggests an authority steeped in the traditions of a country bound by outdated laws and outmoded ways of perceiving itself. The playful yet sinister quality of the voice and the theme reminds the reader of Jamie’s ability to carnivalize experience through the creation of a variety of voices that often find themselves contesting the status quo. The poem “Wee Wifey” seems to challenge the labels that have traditionally been affixed to women by men in Scotland. The speaker, a man, has “a demon and her name is / WEE WIFEY” (p. 30) that he caught “in a demon trap—the household of my skull” (p. 30). This line emphasizes the way in which men create the identities of women in a country that can often be patriarchal or has been known to be so in the past. Additionally powerful in this regard is “Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead,” a poem that focuses on the way in which traditional notions of what it means to be Scottish and how

(p. 40)

Here the “dialect” stands in stark contrast to the supposed authority of the museum that usually stands for truth; this is history that conveys a fuller understanding of a people and their past. It is as if the arrowheads, as tongues, represent a language that is languishing from disuse not only in the museums but also in the mouths of the people who have lost touch with the knowledge of how their language (now abandoned in favor of English) plays a significant role in making them Scottish. In “The Republic of Fife,” a politics of inclusion seems to be enunciated in the notion that we are all citizens of the same earth: “All birds will be citizens: banners / of starlings; Jacobin crowsѧ” (p. 50). The poem moves the reader from the local to the universal as the speaker, standing on a mountain, looks out to “Europe, Africa, the Forth and Tay bridges” (p. 51) and links them

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KATHLEEN JAMIE together in one encompassing image that defies the segregating politics of difference.

Wire twists lik archaic script roon a gate. The barbs sign tae the wind as though it was deef. The word whustles ower high for ma senses. Awa.

Jamie’s theme of travel/journeying is sometimes revealed in poems that examine birds and flight. (This interest will later be seen in her prose meditations on a variety of birds in Findings). Sometimes the birds serve to illustrate a philosophy of flight that Jamie may be offering as a metaphor for the journeys of the soul or spirit. At other times these musings reflect on the way that birds offer humans an opportunity to see how the world is a text that can be read by way of a multitude of signs that surround us in nature. In “The Ice Queen of Ararat,” the speaker sees her collection of “findings” as a puzzle to be deciphered:

(p. 64)

Here the reader senses a connectedness of communication that links the objects of the world that surrounds us. Signs are all around us to be read, not just in the standard and accepted modes of writing that are confined to pen, ink, and paper. The poem ultimately leaves the reader with a sense of silence as one often necessary way of articulating in a world that frequently seeks to suppress voices: Whit dae birds write on the dusk? A word niver spoken or read. The skeins turn hame, on the wind’s dumb moan, a soun, maybe human, bereft.

My museum of birds’ bones, my cold display of butterflies, my glacier; you came roped together in a signature I couldn’t read, stare your snowblind eyes to the shredded clouds, the spire where wingless creatures huddled, jumped.

(p. 64)

The sad silence and potential power of the unread word described in these last lines of the volume offer the reader a moment for reflection on the rich variety of poems The Queen of Sheba has provided.

(p. 61)

These artifacts seem dead, but yet suggest the freedom and interpretive possibility of flight, whereas in “Skeins o Geese,” the concluding poem in the collection, the living birds become writers in the sky and offer particular messages of connection that are to be read by a variety of readers:

THE AUTONOMOUS REGION

The theme of travel is again addressed by Jamie, but in a more specifically geographical context, in The Autonomous Region: Poems and Photographs from Tibet (1993). In this collection, Jamie’s poems about Tibet are interspersed with Sean Mayne Smith’s photographs of the country and its people. The book is a result of a trip that the poet and the photographer took together just prior to the events of Tiananmen Square in 1989. Here the photographs and verse often highlight the oppressiveness to be found in Tibet, the socalled autonomous region that in actuality is ruthlessly controlled by China. In her introduction Jamie explains the nature of the two prominent figures who populate her poems in this volume:

Skeins o geese write a word across the sky. A word struck lik a gong afore I wis born. The sky moves like cattle, lowin. (p. 64)

The word “skein” suggests a pattern of geese that needs to be unraveled in order to be understood, and so the geese stand for script itself. Yet the geese are active in the process of writing a message that may be related to their own particular attitude toward flight and what it may suggest to others who feel bound to one inflexible way of viewing the world. The poem goes on to chart the other ways in which the surrounding world offers codes to be read:

On the journey across China I “met” two historical characters. One was Fa-hsien, a Chinese Buddhist

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KATHLEEN JAMIE Elsewhere Jamie employs Scots language to bring a sense of universality to the experience of travel and enlightenment. The final lines of the concluding poem, “Xiahe,” read:

monk of the 4th century A.D. Fa-hsien spent 14 years on the road, travelling through China, Afghanistan, and India in his search for holy scriptures. ѧThe other character was equally real. In 640 A.D., the Princess Wen Cheng, plus a considerable entourage, travelled from Beijing to Lhasa as the bride of the king of Tibet. Far from seeking knowledge, she was bringing it with her.

the herd cries a wheen wirds o Tibetan sang,

(p. 6)

an A’m waukenet, on a suddenty mindit: A’m far fae hame, I hae crossed China.

Jamie links these two figures poetically throughout the rest of the book. She begins with Fahsien:

(p. 78)

O a great downward lurch of the heart, as though he dreamily stepped off an unexpected kerb; Fa-hsien in the city. He says: ‘Need all situations be resolvable/resolved?’ or ‘Is there a high pass over the mountains?’ and hopes/hopes notѧ

JIZZEN

Jamie’s next volume of poetry, Jizzen, appeared in 1999. This volume won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Award and was short-listed for the T. S. Eliot Prize. Dedicated to her husband (love-poet, carpenter) and children, the poems in this collection are intimate examinations of birth, memory, and journeys of the soul. As the back cover of the book states, Jizzen is “old Scots for childbed,” and Jamie uses childbed as a metaphor for new experience and discovery. The first poem, “Crossing the Loch,” acts as a memory poem about the speaker’s nighttime journey in a rowboat crossing a loch. The trip is marked by both beauty and a sense of danger until “we shipped oars and jumped, / to draw the boat safe, high at the cottage shore” (p. 2). The journey of life, or even the journey that will be the experience of reading the poems in the collection, may be fraught with danger and beauty, but also with rich possibility. Jamie seems to be suggesting that experience of the volume will take the reader on such a voyage. A number of poems once again exhibit Jamie’s ability to fuse a sense of an imagined past with present circumstances. In “The Graduates,” a very modern speaker confronts images of emigration that she has not experienced herself:

(p. 13)

The wisdom of Fa-hsien is dispersed through the rest of a sequence that culminates with the appearance of Princess Wen Cheng Breaks the SunMoon Mirror, a symbol which, as Jamie explains in her introduction, is “like the yin-yang, is suggestive of harmony and balance” (p. 6). Shorter poems become woven in the course of the work like a tapestry, complemented by Smith’s photographs of the Tibetan peoples and landscape. Along the way it is as if the two journeys of Fahsien and Princess Wen Cheng join forces in a similar fashion to the poetic/photographic journey. In one of the most beautiful poems, “The Panchen Lama Rides from Lhasa to Kumbum,” the speaker paints a breathtaking image of the land and its people: Now the sky is saddled with stars, a saddle of stars thrown over the hills’ back; night is a horse leaping the mountains, night is a nomad shifted by morning, the Panchen Lama rides hard out of Lhasa low and clung to the horse’s mane, clings to the mane strung like a comet, and clear of the darkened back-streets chants to the ready ear, pale as a conch shell the thousandth tantra’s thousandth cycle, and horse and Lama quit their earthly forms.

I remember no ship slipping from the dock, no cluster of hurt, proud family waving till they were wee as china milkmaids on a mantelpieceѧ (p. 62)

(p. 3)

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KATHLEEN JAMIE These images of travel from previous generations are then met with the speaker’s own sense of having undergone a journey of equally trying difficulty as she foresees the disclosure of her educational credentials to her children later in life:

water / invisible till reached for, / when reached for, touched” (p. 44). Other poems that deal with memory include “Bonaly,” “The Black and White Minstrel Show,” and “Song of Sunday.” These poems are primarily memories from the speaker’s youthful days in school and in family situations. Other poems, such as “Hackit,” “Pioneers,” and “Suitcases,” focus on the experience of emigration to Canada. Here the poet often employs photographs and other memorabilia as vehicles with which to enter an imagined past. In “Suitcases” the speaker links a sense of displacement with a lost language:

And my bright monoglot bairns will discover, misplaced among the bookshelves, proof, rolled in a red tube: my degrees, a furled sail, my visa. (p. 4)

Memory as a journey is a theme that often occurs in Jamie’s verse and forms the commanding message in “Forget It” in which the speaker confronts one standard and possibly stale interpretation of history and offers the possibility of having memories of an imagined past: “So how come / we remember the years / before we were born?” (p. 5). Highlighted in the poem is our ability to enter the imaginary space of a past that we have not actually lived, one which has perhaps been suggested by the stories of others and by the narratives that history provides for us. Eventually there is a psychological explanation for such journeys that takes the form of a question as well:

Sometimes all you can take is what you can carry when you run: a photo, some clothes, and the useless dead-weight of your mother tongue. (p. 35)

A significant proportion of poems in this collection engage with the theme of birth and gestation that the title suggests. Among these are “Ultrasound,” a sequence dedicated to Jamie’s son; “The Tay Moses”; and “St. Bride’s,” dedicated to her daughter. “Ultrasound” is a beautiful series of love poems that trace the speaker-mother’s pregnancy, childbirth, and early days with her child. In the first poem, “Ultrasound,” the speaker conjures the image of the X-ray that allows her to see (and hear) the unborn. Here and in the succeeding poems in the sequence (“Solstice,” “Thaw,” “February,” “Bairnsang,” “Sea Urchin,” and “Prayer”) the speaker addresses her son in a welcoming and protective tone that also acknowledges the deep connection this birth has to the natural order of things: “To whom do I talk, an unborn thou, / sleeping in a bone creel” (p. 12). Equating the womb with a bone creel is an example of Jamie’s profound ability to see nature and what it means to be human in a unique manner. In “Bairnsang,” the speaker uses playful Scots language to address her son and link him to the landscape of Scotland and to particular locales:

ѧHow come you don’t know that stories are balm, ease their own pain, contain a beginning, a middle— and ours is a long driech now-demolished street. Forget it! (p. 7)

The reality of the neighborhood in which the speaker lives and from which she takes her memories becomes more important than the often dry and lifeless histories that she must absorb in school. Another beautiful “imagined” journey occurs in “The Well at the Broch of Gurness,” where the speaker conjures a woman from the Neolithic past of Orkney’s Broch of Gurness. As the woman makes her way to the “well,” the speaker joins the quest of her ghost with that of the reader who seeks “the same replenishing

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KATHLEEN JAMIE The collection does offer poems reminiscent of Jamie’s playful side, such as “The Bogey Wife,” which is similar to “The Queen of Sheba” in its supernatural, carnivalesque feel. The Bogey Wife of the title is both comic and sinister in her search for young bairns to steal from mothers (and seems based in part on Scottish folk tales with similar themes):

Wee toshie man, gean tree and rowan gif ye could staun yer feet wad lichtsome tread granite an saun, but ye cannae yet staun sae maun courie tae ma airm an greetna, girna, Gretna green. (p. 15)

Finally, in the concluding poem of the sequence, “Prayer,” the voice of the mother is protective and full of love as she speaks to the father and offers a prayer for the future:

She can smell babies, will push between laundry hung to dry arms, strong as plum-boughs twisting into fruit,

Our baby’s heart, on the sixteen-week scan was a fluttering bird, held in cupped hands.

and the old wives run her out of town, some banging pot-lids as other shout This is private property! Ye’ve nae right!

I thought of St. Kevin, hands opened in prayer and a bird of the hedgerow nesting there,

(p. 10)

Another poem, “Lucky Bag,” represents a wonderful sound romp through images of Scotland represented in a language that is playful Scots with variants of English dialect added to it. The resulting tone is lighthearted yet celebratory:

and how he’d borne it, until the young had flown —and I prayed: this new heart must outlive my own. (p. 18)

In this poem, the bird imagery is used to engage with a sense of vibrant yet contained life and the comfort of the nurturing nest. The theme of birth is reiterated in “St. Bride’s,” a lovely poem dedicated to the poet’s daughter, which links the workaday world of women with the act of childbirth. Here too appears the “jizzen/childbed” of the collection’s title:

Tattie scones, St. Andra’s banes, a rod-and-crescent Pictish stane, a field o whaups, organic neeps, a poke o Brattisani’s chips; a clootie well, computer bits, an elder o the wee free Kirkѧ (p. 42)

In the final poem of the collection, “Meadowsweet,” Jamie imagines the buried Gaelic women poets of the past who, like their modern counterparts, fight against an imposed silence. Here, like Seamus Heaney’s bog victims, the woman poet who has been interred facedown emerges victorious from the ground ready to be heard. The “summer seeds” show the poet “how to dig herself out— // to surface and greet them, / mouth young, and full again / of dirt, and spit, and poetry” (p. 49). The carefully constructed collection that began with the memory of a journey across time and space here concludes with another form of time/space travel that points to the viability of speech and the need to fight against a censoring silence.

So this is women’s work: folding and unfolding, be it linen or a selkieskin tucked behind a rock. Consider the hare in jizzen: her leverets’ ears flat as the mizzen of a ship entering a bottle. (p. 45)

Jamie draws together images from the natural world of womb and childbirth with those of the external world of nature (the rabbit warren) and links them as well with those of man-made restriction (the bottled ship). This poetic weaving of seemingly disparate images displays Jamie’s gift for offering the reader unique observations of different worlds of experience connecting in unforeseen ways.

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KATHLEEN JAMIE as though journeying in a blue boat, gilded in mussel shell with, slung from its mast, a lantern like our old idea of the soul

SELECTED POEMS AND THE TREE HOUSE

In 2002 Jamie published Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead: Poems, 1980–1994, selected by Lilias Fraser. Here a healthy selection of poems from Black Spiders, A Flame in Your Heart, The Way We Live, The Autonomous Region, and The Queen of Sheba can be found. The volume was shortlisted for the Griffen Poetry Prize in Canada (2003) and offers the reader the fullest opportunity to sample a wide range of the themes that have formed the foundation for Jamie’s poetic and prose work over the years. The selections also point the way toward Jamie’s increasingly evident vision of the interconnectedness of the natural and the human, a focus of her next collection of new poetry, The Tree House (2004). In this volume Jamie displays more of her drive as a poet-naturalist who wishes to offer insights as to how nature continually offers life lessons for human observation. The book received the 2004 Forward Prize for Best Poetry Collection of the Year, a Scottish Arts Council Book of the Year Award in 2005 and was a Poetry Book Society choice. Additionally, the volume was short-listed for the T. S. Eliot Prize in 2004.

(p. 19)

The significance of the world of flora and fauna and of nature as a sign-making phenomenon can be seen later in the collection where the titles of poems bear the names of specific animals or plants. Jamie studies each of these in detail and offers meditative observations on how we can read into our own selves and souls from the text richly offered by the outside world. In “Pipistrelles,” the bats inhabit an almost sacred nest among Douglas firs, and the speaker sees in the delicate web a larger message: “The world’s mind is such interstices; / cells charging with light of day— / is that what they were telling us?” (p. 30). In “Water Lilies,” the floating flowers become a vision of “almost heart shapes / almost upturned hands” (p. 34). There is supplication and celebration in the visions that Jamie offers of the inherence of the natural world in the human. In the title poem, “The Tree House,” Jamie writes of a “complicity” that exists between the human and the “external” natural world that is figured in the poem by the elements of the tree in which the speaker takes refuge. She notes how the “wooden chamber” offers not so much a vista of the outside world that can be seen from the branch but rather a more poignant internal vision of how lives are lived in a constant state of contingency and chance.

From early on in the collection Jamie draws parallels between the natural world and the space that humans inhabit that often depend upon a sense of structure for articulation. In poems such as “The Swallows’ Nest,” “The Bower,” “Swallows,” and “The Blue Boat,” Jamie draws together the domiciles and inhabited spaces of the human and natural worlds. In “The Swallows’ Nest,” the ramshackle nature of what seems to be a barn is compared with a swallow’s nest: “a home- /made bracket of spittle / and earth” (p. 16). In “Swallows,” the speaker imagines her heart as a house where swallows cavort in a flight of freedom and possibility: “I wish my whole battened / heart were a property / like this, with swallows / in every roomѧ” (p. 18). Connections between the process of life and the cyclical nature of existence are most clearly articulated in poems such as “The Blue Boat,” where the vessel of the title takes on cosmic proportions:

In 2007 Jamie published a second book of selected poems titled Waterlight: Selected Poems, which offers her work to a larger American audience. In addition to her individual collections, Jamie’s poetry has been well represented in a number of anthologies, literary journals, and other publications such as the Penguin Modern Poets series, the Times Literary Supplement, London Review of Books, New Scottish Writing, and Poetry magazine (to name just a few). These publications have brought her to the attention of readers throughout the United Kingdom and North America and have helped to solidify her growing reputation as an important writer.

How late the daylight edges toward the northern light

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KATHLEEN JAMIE Rendered in poetic prose, Jamie’s observations of Pakistan and the rich variety of life there confirms her ability to draw connections between the intimate internal journeys of the soul and those external travels that often lead us to unforeseen destinations within the self. Among Muslims records Jamie’s journey not only to Pakistan but also to self-revelation and personal enlightenment.

PROSE WORKS

In addition to her volumes of poetry, Jamie has written a number of travelogues and collections of meditations that further reflect her interest in nature and the observable world. In 1992 Jamie published The Golden Peak: Travels in North Pakistan (short-listed for the Thomas Cook Travel Book Award). This book was based on a trip Jamie made by herself to China and Northern Pakistan in the early 1990s, and it was reissued with a new introduction and epilogue in 2002 as Among Muslims: Everyday Life on the Frontiers of Pakistan. The revised book begins with Jamie at home in Fife, Scotland, where she encounters a group of Pakistani men who are traveling across Scotland on a “Peace Walk.” She helps them find lodging for the night and the meeting rekindles memories of her travels in Northern Pakistan recounted in The Golden Peak. The visit of the Pakistani men coincides with a phone call from the publisher of The Golden Peak who is interested in a new edition of the book that will address the changing nature of Pakistan in a post–9/11 world. In the epilogue to Among Muslims, Jamie shares her experiences of returning to the places that she had presented to readers in the earlier edition. Not simply a travelogue, the book contains Jamie’s reflections on her own Scottishness and how that is defined and redefined in the light of another culture. Along with considerations of Pakistani culture and the religious dimensions of the Muslim world that include specifically female-oriented concepts such as purdah, Jamie looks at how the land and the people inform one another. She offers rich, poetic descriptions of the mountainous terrain of Northern Pakistan, while also recognizing how often language fails at achieving such accuracy of description:

A collection of observations from nature, albeit closer to “home,” Findings (2005) was shortlisted for the Ondaatje Prize (2006) and the Scottish Arts Council Book of the Year Award (2006). Here Jamie carefully records her experiences with the natural world of Scotland, from the Orkney Islands to her own backyard in Fife, and the book confirms her ability to write with a keen eye that sees poetically into the landscape that surrounds her. Separated into eleven chapters (with a beautiful black-and-white photograph accompanying each chapter), Findings begins with a journey Jamie takes to the Orkney Islands to witness the winter solstice at Maes Howe, a Neolithic tomb where “for the few days around the winter solstice a beam of the setting sun shines along the passage, and onto the tomb’s back wall” (p. 13). However, Jamie’s visit is part of a larger philosophical journey as she investigates the way in which darkness as a metaphor has robbed “the dark” of a certain vitality. Here she explores the beauty and mystery of the dark with a poetic voice that in every line and passage carefully records the natural world, from the birds on the cliffs to the sounds of the wind and the waves crashing against the rocky island coasts. The drawing together of natural observations with larger interrogations of the self becomes the dynamic of the volume, including profoundly moving scenes that show Jamie’s interest in birdwatching (from peregrines and ospreys near her house to the near-extinct corncrake on the island of Coll in the Hebrides). She also offers some urban observations of Edinburgh that range from the Surgeons’ Hall (a museum of anatomy at the Royal College of Surgeons) to the often neglected skyline of the city as viewed from Calton Hill. The chapter that bears the title of the volume,

I realized I was feeling trapped by the Natural Beauty. Unless you manage to climb to a summit, you can go a long time without seeing far long vistas. ѧI felt a perverse longing for the desert. I wanted to see the sea, the long, low hills of home. I wanted a sense of ancientness, emptiness, mourning. Water-light. But you can’t describe the Himalayan mountains; all you can do is pour adjectives and superlatives like libations at their feet. (p. 111)

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KATHLEEN JAMIE “Findings,” offers descriptions of natural objects “found” on the beaches and sand dunes of the Hebridean islands: a gannet’s skull that the author wishes to have mounted, a dead whale, bits and pieces of an old airplane. Jamie’s poetic descriptions of these objects and others consistently reveal the way in which the world offers rich materials for contemplation that are closer to us than we might think. Here she describes a find from a trip to Ireland: “Once, on a flawless beach in Donegal, I found five silver fishes, freshly abandoned by a wave, glittering and bright as knives presented in a canteen” (p. 51). Perhaps one of the most profound chapters in Findings is titled “Sabbath.” Here the author travels to the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, almost as a form of escape:

be a minute’s silence for them?” A minute’s silence for each, and the world would be hushed forever. Perhaps, though, if we join up all these minutes we are beginning secularly to observe, we could string them together in a new kind of Sabbath, where there are no men in black blighting our lives with their notions of sin, no chaining up the children’s swings for the Lord’s day. I mean a contemplative time, a time reserved to reflect. Perhaps we would feel less imperilled. (pp. 177–178)

The chapter ends with a meditation on the theme of journeying, a theme that often concerns Jamie as she negotiates the world poetically and in prose. The possibilities afforded by “travel,” whether it is to somewhere “remote,” the end of one’s backyard, or a state of mind, is emphasized in this passage, toward the end of the volume, about gathered “found” observations:

I made notes, but the reason I’d come to the end of the road to walk along the cliffs is because language fails me there. If we work always in words, sometimes we need to recuperate in a place where language doesn’t join up, where we’re thrown back on a few elementary nouns. Sea. Bird. Sky.

At the end of the road there is a burial ground, enclosed in a stone wall. But we know that. There are other roads, which may end variously. There might be a five-bar gate, with a hand-painted sign opening onto common grazing. It may end at a wellknown beauty spot. Possibly, a pick-up truck is waiting, or even a bridge to nowhere, or an oldfolk’s home with tartan carpets, or a strange wild building on top of a sea stack, demitting stone by stone into the waves far below. The road may end in Sabbath silence and wind, or nothing at all.

(p. 164)

On Lewis, as in much of the Outer Hebrides, the Sabbath is a day of silent reverence and there are laws that prevent picnicking and other forms of social activity on the Lord’s day. This Calvinistic severity is highlighted in Jamie’s piece as she walks along the remote cliffs and reflects on the painful process of deciding to move her grandmother into a home with assisted living. In conjunction with this, Jamie considers the Scots word demit, which means “to relinquish.” This word becomes a driving metaphor for her examination of the natural world on Lewis and takes on larger significance as the concept of “letting go” that is so much a part of what it means to live in an ever-changing world where the future is uncertain. Jamie recounts the memory of an anniversary of September 11th when a minute’s silence was to be observed. In doing so she offers the possibility for a new definition of “Sabbath”:

(p. 181)

Jamie’s writing continues to bring together diverse themes and genres in a highly original way. Her poetic voice subtly inhabits her acute observations from the natural world that feature so largely in her prose works and travel pieces. Similarly, the reader of her poetry embarks on an inward journey of the soul and the imagination. Jamie offers a vital voice that exposes poetic landscapes not confined by temporal, geographic, or national boundaries. The visions offered by her verse and prose are representative of what she calls (in “Findings”) “listen[ing] to the world” (p. 54). She offers rich, intra-sensory experiences that show readers how to cultivate an awareness of listening in order to appreciate the sounds and meaning-filled silences of the natural world.

“Minute’s silence!” a friend had snarled. “Did they not know, the silence-keepers, how many children had died even that morning in Angola, in Sudan, just because they had no clean water? Was there to

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KATHLEEN JAMIE


Contemporary Scottish Women Writers. Edited by Aileen Christianson and Allison Lumsden. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2000. Pp. 27–40. Broom, Sarah. “‘Widdershins Round the Kirk-Yaird’: Gender, Sexuality, and Nation: Eavan Boland, Gillian Clarke, Kathleen Jamie, David Kinloch.” In her Contemporary British and Irish Poetry: An Introduction. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006.

WORKS OF KATHLEEN JAMIE POETRY Black Spiders. Edinburgh: Salamander Press, 1982. A Flame in Your Heart. With Andrew Greig. Northumberland, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 1986. The Way We Live. Newcastle upon Tyne, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 1987. The Autonomous Region: Poems and Photographs from Tibet. With Sean Mayne Smith. Newcastle upon Tyne, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 1993. The Queen of Sheba. Newcastle upon Tyne, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 1994. Penguin Modern Poets, Volume 9. With John Burnside and Robert Crawford. London: Penguin, 1996. Jizzen. London: Picador, 1999. Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead: Poems, 1980–1994. Selected by Lilias Fraser. Northumberland, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 2002. The Tree House. London: Picador, 2004. Waterlight: Selected Poems. Saint Paul, Minn.: Graywolf Press, 2007.

“Kathleen Jamie.” The Poetry Archive (http://www. poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive), 2005. (Profile.) Kossick, Kaye. “Roaring Girls, Bogie Wives, and the Queen of Sheba: Dissidence, Desire and Dreamwork in the Poetry of Kathleen Jamie.” Studies in Scottish Literature 32:195–212 (2001). McMillan, Dorothy. “Here and There: The Poetry of Kathleen Jamie.” Etudes Ecossaises 4:123–134 (1997). Monnickendam, Andrew. “Changing Places with What Goes Before: The Poetry of Kathleen Jamie.” Revista Canaria de Estudios Ingleses 41:77–86 (November 2000). Scott, Kirsty. “In the Nature of Things.” Guardian (http:// books.guardian.co.uk/poetry/features/ 0,12887,1508838,00.html), June 18, 2005. Smith, Alison. “Four Success Stories.” Chapman: Scotland’s Quality Literary Magazine 74–75:177–192 (autumn/ winter, 1993). (Article on four Scottish women writers.) Smith, Jules. “Kathleen Jamie.” British Council on the Arts: Contemporary Writers (http://www.contemporarywriters. com).

PROSE

Whyte, Christopher. “The 1990s (Robert Crawford, Kathleen Jamie, Carol Ann Duffy, Aonghas MacNeacail).” In his Modern Scottish Poetry. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2004. Pp. 207–235.

The Golden Peak: Travels in North Pakistan. London: Virago, 1992. Reissued as Among Muslims: Everyday Life on the Frontiers of Pakistan. New York: Seal Press; London: Sort of Books, 2002. “Holding Fast—Truth and Change in Poetry.” In Strong Words: Modern Poets on Modern Poetry. Edited by W. N. Herbert and Matthew Hollis. Tarset, Northumberland, U.K.: Bloodaxe, 2000. Pp. 277–281. Findings: Essays on the Natural and Unnatural World. London: Sort of Books, 2005; Saint Paul, Minn.: Graywolf Press, 2007.

REVIEWS Blyth, Caroline. “Rumours of a Massacre.” Times Literary Supplement, December 10, 1993, p. 22. (Review of The Autonomous Region: Poems and Photographs from Tibet.) Bold, Christine. “Intensive Care.” Times Literary Supplement, July 15, 2005, p. 5. (Review of Findings.) Crotty. “An Unfurled Sail.” Times Literary Supplement, November 19, 1999, p. 25. (Review of Jizzen.) Deming, Alison Hawthorne. “Findings.” Orion 25, no. 5:75 (September–October 2007).

EDITED VOLUMES Full Strength Angels: New Writing Scotland, Volume 14. With James McGoningal. Glasgow: Association for Scottish Literary Studies, 1996. Some Sort of Embrace: New Writing Scotland, Volume 15. With Donny O’Rourke and Rody Gormin. Glasgow: Association for Scottish Literary Studies, 1997. The Glory Signs: New Writing Scotland, Volume 16. With Donny O’ Rourke. Glasgow: Association for Scottish Literary Studies, 1998.

“Findings: Essays on the Natural and Unnatural World.” Kirkus Reviews, January 1, 2007, p. 22. Greenwell, Bill. “After the Funeral.” New Statesman and Society, May 13, 1994, p. 38. (Review of The Queen of Sheba and several books by other poets.) Mangan, Gerald. “Romantic Risks.” Times Literary Supplement, August 16, 2002, p. 22. (Review of Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead.) Monaghan, Patricia. “Waterlight.” Booklist, April 15, 2007, p. 17.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Boden, Helen. “Kathleen Jamie’s Semiotic of Scotlands.” In

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KATHLEEN JAMIE “Interview with Kathleen Jamie.” Books From Scotland. com (http://www.booksfromscotland.com/Authors/ Kathleen-Jamie/Interview). (Interview related to Findings).

O’Donoghue, Bernard. “Whae Dae Ye Think Ye Ur?” Times Literary Supplement, August 5, 1994, p. 19. (Review of The Queen of Sheba.) Talbot, Ian. “Among Muslims.” Times Literary Supplement, July 19, 2002, p. 31. Taylor, Tess. “Findings: Essays on the Natural and Unnatural World.” Audubon, September–October 2007, p. 106.

RECORDINGS Kathleen Jamie Reading from Her Poems. Poetry Archive (CD). Gloucestershire, U.K., 2005. The Poetry Quartets: 1. With Simon Armitage, Jackie Kay, and Glyn Maxwell. (Audiocassettes.) London: British Council and Bloodaxe Books, 1998.

INTERVIEWS Fraser, Lilias. “Interview with Kathleen Jamie.” Scottish Studies Review 2, no. 1:15–23 (2001).

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY (1800—1833)

Emma Mason RECENT SCHOLARSHIP HAS sought to recover Maria Jane Jewsbury as a sharp, widely read, and intellectual thinker who wrote many essays, reviews and lyrics. Commentary on women’s writing of the period by Isobel Armstrong and Susan Wolfson has enabled us to read Jewsbury’s work as part of that literary dynamic that shifted and redefined notions of gender during the early nineteenth century. Jewsbury’s central literary and emotional influences were William Wordsworth and Felicia Hemans, to both of whom she dedicated volumes. These three poets, while committed to varying poetic ideologies, might be grouped through their investment in a mild Anglican moralism translated into lyric to serve a pedagogic purpose, sensitizing their readers in a period scarred by war, national debt, poverty, and class conflict.

begotten by Thomas Jewsbury, a cotton mill owner, and Maria (née Smith) Jewsbury, who died when her daughter was nineteen. While bad health caused Jewsbury to be withdrawn at the age of fourteen from the boarding school in Shenstone, Staffordshire, where she was enrolled, it did not stop her from wanting to become a writer. “I was nine years old when the ambition of writing a book, being praised publicly, and associating with authors, seized me as a vague longing,” Jewsbury wrote in a letter to her friend and fellow poet Felicia Hemans (1793–1835). From an early age, then, her desire for fame and attention was strong. S. C. Hall, in her book A Woman’s Story (1857), quotes Jewsbury’s sister, Geraldine, describing the typical reception that Jewsbury received in public:

Jewsbury touches on these areas in her writing, but her early death cut short any development she might have achieved in poetry or prose. Whether or not she is a “second Mary Wolstonecraft [sic]”—as she commented in her semibiographical study “The History of an Enthusiast,” the first part of her Three Histories— remains moot, but her critical voice is unusually clear and acute for a woman writing at the turn of the century. What follows will trace the major events of Maria Jane Jewsbury’s life through her five primary publications: Phantasmagoria; or, Sketches of Life and Literature (1825); Letters to the Young (1828); Lays of Leisure Hours (1829); The Three Histories (1830); and The Oceanides (1833).

The announcement of her name, at a partyѧalways set the room in commotion. There was a “Hush!— silence!—hush!” as she entered; the music would cease, and the conversation come to a dead pause; and even the old steady whist-players would lay down their cards and look up; and young ladies would cease to twitter and rustle, and young men would stand erect, with their heads drawn back, and their arms straight down, as if in bodily fear; while, with a feeling of exalted condescension, the fair “lioness” would advance, look benignly round, smile, and request that everything should go on as if she were not present. (vol. 3, pp. 41–42)

Interest in Jewsbury’s work was equally avid, the writer producing under often difficult domestic and familial circumstances. She published her first poem, “Curiosity and Scandal,” in the Coventry Herald in 1818, but was suddenly distracted from her writing career when her mother died in 1819. Recently moved to Manchester, the young writer was left to care for Geraldine and their four brothers, one of whom was still a baby. As

BEGINNINGS

Jewsbury was born on October 25, 1800, at Measham in Derbyshire, the first of six children

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY she wrote in 1824 to Priscilla Watts, the wife of her future editor, Alaric A. Watts:

Gazette, edited by Mr. Aston, a friend of her father’s, who was soon superseded by Alaric Watts, her first devotee. Having read the early verses that Jewsbury had submitted to the Gazette in 1823, Watts recommended them to Robert Sullivan, the editor of a London quarterly called the Album. Sullivan published Jewsbury’s first two prose sketches, “Boarding School Reminiscences” and “The Complaint of a Schoolmistress.” So impressed was Watts by Jewsbury that he also contacted the publishers Hurst and Robinson, securing a contract for “a work, unseen, and for the most part unwritten, to consist of miscellaneous sketches and essays” for an extraordinary (for the times) “sum of £100” (in Fryckstedt, “Hidden Rill: I,” p. 181).

A love-tale I shall never write. The moment I begin to cogitate over the proper materials I feel an irresistible inclination to laugh. With one or two exceptions, I never have read a love-tale without seeing its ludicrous side; and sure am I that not even from the Rosabella Annes shall I ever extract a tear. If you had any compassion you might make a present of a love-tale; I would be very grateful, and honest too, and acknowledge in a note that I was indebted for it to a married friend of great experience. ѧHow different is my condition at this present! Three dear children are catechizing me at the rate of ten questions in every five minutes. I am within hearing of one servant stoning the kitchen floor; and of another practising a hymn; and of a very turbulent child and unsympathetic nurse next door. I think I could make a decent paper descriptive of the miseries combining literary tastes with domestic duties.

EARLY WORK

(in Gillette, pp. xvii–xviii)

The result of this was Phantasmagoria; or, Sketches of Life and Literature (1825). Comprising fifteen essays and numerous poems, the book is dedicated: “To William Wordsworth, Esquire, These volumes are most respectfully inscribed; as a testimony of grateful feeling, for the High Delight, and Essential Benefit which the author has derived from the study of his poems.” The letter to Wordsworth that accompanied his copy of the volume is more revealing still:

Desperate to continue studying literature and theology while managing a family and mourning the death of her mother, Jewsbury eagerly pursued self-education. In a letter to Hemans she declared: I wrote and wrote, and wrote faster than I can now, and without a tenth part of the timidity. I was twenty-one before I gained any desire for knowledge, as the natural road to the emancipation I craved; this was consequent on forming a friendship with two individuals, not writers, but highly gifted; they suggested study to me, and by their conversation, awoke me to a sense of my own deficiency. My domestic occupations continued as laborious as ever. I could neither read nor write legitimately till the day was over. It is not needful to say how premature ambition and energy developed themselves: suffice it to say, that the path of literature was opened to me when I least expected it.

With the most genuine sentiments of respectful admiration, I venture to present to you the accompanying little volume; and to hope that my having dedicated it to you without your permission will not be deemed an unpardonable liberty. It is the honest expression of youthful enthusiasm, and my only regret is, that the offering should be so unworthy of him, to whom it is offered—but, had I waited to convey their testimony in some future, and consequently less imperfect production, I could not have dedicated my first efforts to the Author, whose works I regard as having occasioned whatever merit these efforts may be found to possess. It is about three years since I took up your poems, as a study; and since then they have been more or less my daily companions, ever able to afford me deep though tranquil delight. ѧThere is poetry, which it requires an effort to remember; and poetry which it would require an even greater to forget; there are verses which fall upon the ear like distant music, imparting momentary pleasure, but leaving no after impression; and there are others, which sinking

(Chorley, p. 67)

This opportunity was provided initially in 1820 by G. R. Gleig, who offered her work for the Library of General Knowledge. To Gleig’s regret, Jewsbury’s preferred subject, female biography, had been assigned elsewhere, the editor noting that “I own that I should have been better pleased to entrust it to a woman of genius” (in Gillette, p. xix). She instead turned to the Manchester

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Such praise deeply affected Jewsbury and was publicly noted by Alaric Watts, who underlined Wordsworth’s admiration in his character study of her life, claiming that Wordsworth declared often “that, apart from other high qualities, in one, quickness in the motions of the mind, she had, within the range of his acquaintance, no equal.” Her quickness could turn as much to satire as to intellectual pursuits, Watts noted, remarking on the parodic “First Efforts in Criticism,” a text which

instantaneously into the heart and memory become united for ever with all those precious thoughts “that cannot die.” May I without appearing impertinent specify Glen Almain, She was a phantom, Ruth, Tintern Abbey, The Fountain, The Highland Girl, and Laodamia, as a few of the very many of your poems which thus affect me. (Gillett, pp. xix–xx)

Jewsbury even used a quotation from Wordsworth’s “The Solitary Reaper” to open the collection, changing the lines from: Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?

even ventures on a joke at the expense of Mr. Southey, rather hinting that certain influential reviews, in whatever subject originating, were sometimes apt to land the reader, without any very definite connection of subject, in the Brazils, the Peninsular War, or Church History. To appreciate the audacity of this suggestion, it is necessary to bear in mind that the “great and good” Mr. Southey, as it was the fashion with a large section of the community to designate him,—I am far from insinuating unjustly,—enjoyed in Tory circles somewhat of the moral pre-eminence over the rest of the world so universally, in the opposite camp, assigned at the present day to Mr. Gladstone, and that to laugh at him involved a daring only to be paralleled by that of Sydney Smith’s man who had been heard to speak disrespectfully of the Equator. The matter was not mended when Mr. Wordsworth, desirous of serving his young friend, in the innocency [sic] of his heart, sent the book to Southey and asked him to review it in the Quarterly! The Laureate, who, like many eminent men, preferred his own jokes to other people’s, responded to this overture with some austerity; and signified, no doubt truly enough, that, in all the circumstances, the best service he could render to this misguided young person was to leave her wholly unnoticed. Mr. Wordsworth, whose interest in the young lady had possibly not gone so far as to lead him to read her book, unless, perhaps, the dedicatory poem to himself, must have wondered what it all meant.

to: Familiar matter of to day, Some natural sorrow, joy, or pain, That has been, and may be again. (p. 212)

The transformation of “loss” into “joy” is indicative of Jewsbury’s difference from Wordsworth, though her upbeat optimism can at times sound false in her verse, if jovial in her prose. In response to the dedication Wordsworth wrote: Madam,—Two days ago I received, & have since read your volume, in which I find so much to admire that it would have afforded me great pleasure to thank you for it under ordinary circumstances; but the accompanying letter & the avowal of your obligations to me in the Dedication, call for an acknowledgement which I should find difficult to express in terms suitable to my feelings. ѧI am afraid that it may give you a little pain to be told, that upon the whole, I prefer your Prose to your Verse; but the lines “to Love” are so excellent that you need not be discouraged even should you coincide with me in thinking this opinion is just. ѧThe Critical Essay, & those that turn upon manners & the surface of life, are remarkable; the one for sound judgment & the other for acute observation & delicate handling, without exaggeration or caricature, & the episode “the Unknown,” highly to be commended for the conciseness & spirit of the styleѧshews an acquaintance with the human heart & a power of the feelings from which no common things may be augured. ѧI hope for you in a degree which I could not venture to do without this evidence of the depth of your feelings & the loftiness of your conceptions.

(p. 185)

The writings included in Phantasmagoria are marked by Wordsworth’s compassionate and philanthropic interests (“Human Sorrow and Human Sympathy” and “Song of the Hindoo Women”); literary culture (“The Age of Books”); theology (“Religious Novels”); and love (“To Love” and “Woman’s Love”). Jewsbury’s concern for universal feeling is stylistically and thematically close to Wordsworth’s Preface (1800) to the

(Hill, pp. 342–343)

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Lyrical Ballads and his Essays on Epitaphs (1810). In “Human Sorrow and Human Sympathy,” she says:

Wordsworth’s many descriptions of the poetic magnetism of the ocean are also echoed in Jewsbury, the former having lost his beloved brother, John, to the sea in 1805, while Jewsbury is drawn to it as an escape, albeit a dangerous one, from the confines of a society where the bonds of affection are often not extended to women. Here is the complete text of one of the lyric highlights in Phantasmagoria, “Address to the Ocean,” prefiguring her later sequence The Oceanides:

The universality of human sorrow is a truth which appeals continually to our senses, and dwells perpetually on our lips,—and yet it is one on which we reflect less, and in a less realizing manner, than almost any other. We believe the inspired declaration that “man is born to trouble,” and are ready to adduce living and lamentable proofs of its correctness;—but how seldom, even in thought, do we get beyond individual instances of suffering! How seldom do we look further than our own families, our own friends, town, neighbourhood, or country! How seldom can we remember, even for a moment, that the sufferings and sorrows which we see, compared with those that are unseen, with the accumulated mass which oppresses the whole family of man, are but as the “dust of the balance.”

How often enchanted have I stood Gazing on forest, field, and flood; Or on the busy breathing vale, With hamlet gemmed, and turret pale, Ne’er dreaming till another hour, That more of beauty, more of power, Than earth, in stream, vale, wood, or tower, Could boast her own,—existed still In one resplendent vision;—till That moment when I mutely bent O’er thee—IMPERIAL ELEMENT!

(vol. 1, p. 12)

For Jewsbury, as for Wordsworth, one’s duty as a citizen within a community is to translate sorrow into action: feeling alone becomes mere indulgence. Echoing this belief, Jewsbury is profoundly critical of “religion with her lofty step, and girded robe, and brightly burning lamp, as she speaks from her shrine, or ministers at her altar, with a countenance and voice,” a system “dizened out in a rose-coloured dress—artificial flowers—and glass slippers,” the “religion of poetry and not of practice” (ibid., p. 45). Her own poetry reinforced her belief in the bonds of human affection, most clearly stated in Wordsworth’s favorite poem in the collection, “To Love”:

I saw them, or in shade or sun, Thy armies of dark waves roll on,— In fierceness and in strength they bore Their plumed heads,—till upon the shore Each thundered, and was seen no more! But still, where’er the glancing eye Spanned the wide sweep of sea and sky, Yet other plumes were bright in air,— Yet other hosts were gathering there,— To seek their brethren on the shore, Like them to thunder and be seen no more! Yet once I saw thee in a mood So gentle, smiling, and subdued, That scarcely might a streamlet lie More calm beneath a summer sky. The winds were sleeping on thy breast, The distant billows were at rest— And every breaker fierce no more Just sparkled, and then kissed the shore; And where thy far-off waters swell, A meek and trembling radiance fell; For like a virgin spirit, stood The crescent moon above thy flood— And snowy clouds around her stole, Like dreams upon a youthful soul!

LOVE! Thou hast no single home! Thou hast wings, and thou wilt roam, And wherever, near, or far, O’er the green earth shines a star; Court, or camp, or rustic shed, Vale or city, be outspread,— Wheresoever flower will spring, Zephyr breathe, or wild bird sing, Young heart glow, or bright eye glisten, Flatterer speak, or lady listen,— Wheresoever life may be, There is always place for thee.— Use thy freedom, then, and roam, For the wide world is thy home.

Who then that saw thee, Giant King, So silent, and so slumbering,

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY exceedingly pleased with this young Lady. ѧShe has remarkable talents—a quickness of mind that is astonishing, and notwithstanding she has had a sickly infant to nurse and has bestowed this care upon the rest of her Brothers and Sisters, she is an authoress.

Had dreamed that once thy waters ran O’erwhelming every haunt of man? That sun and star long rose and set, And found a waste of waters yet, And, but for one small sacred Ark, Beheld no living thing to mark This world, as their bright sister Earth, Called into being e’er their birth.

(Fryckstedt, “Hidden Rill: I,” p. 183)

The closeness between Jewsbury and the Wordsworths attracted the interest of the Blackwood’s journalist Christopher North, who commented in his magazine on the Morecambe Bay holiday, the “only time I ever had the pleasure of seeing Miss Jewsbury.” He wrote:

‘Tis past!—thy billowy pride no more May sweep beyond the girdling shore! ‘Tis past!—Thy mountain waves still rage, But at their Maker’s word assuage; And meek, and trembling as a little child, At his command art thou—the wonderful! the wild!

It was but a momentary glance among the mountains. Mounted on a pretty pony, in a pretty rural straw hat, a pretty rural riding habit, with the sunshine of a cloudless heaven blended in her countenance with that of her own cloudless soul, the young author of Phantasmagoria rode smilingly along a beautiful vale, with the illustrious Wordsworth, whom she venerates, at her side, and pouring out poetry in that glorious recitative of his, till the vale was overflowing with the sound.

(pp. 203–205)

The correspondence between Wordsworth and Jewsbury sparked something more important than literary acquaintances and the beginnings of celebrity, however. Soon after Phantasmagoria’s publication, Wordsworth arranged to meet with Jewsbury, introducing her to his family, whom she quickly won over. Her friendship with his daughter Dora was perhaps the closest of her life, with Jewsbury addressing verses to her (which Dora’s father would often edit) and writing her profoundly intimate letters stopped only by Jewsbury’s marriage to the Reverend William Kew Fletcher in 1832. Dora even invited Jewsbury on holiday with the Wordsworths during their stay at Kent’s Bank, on the north side of Morecambe Bay, throughout July 1825. Despite the fact the holiday was ostensibly taken for the sake of Dora’s health, the young women were enlivened by each other’s company, together producing the Kent’s Bank Mercury, a one-off newspaper about the Wordsworth family. Jewsbury continued to visit Dora at Rydal Mount, impressing the tenants with her domestic abilities, especially in comparison to Wordsworth’s friend, Felicia Hemans, whose household skill was mocked by the family. Not so with Jewsbury, who remained a favorite with them, as Wordsworth’s sister Dorothy reported in a letter of April 1826:

(Clarke, p. 67)

Modern criticism tends to be less generous in its assessment of Jewsbury’s relationship with the older poet. Norma Clarke, for example, argues in her book Ambitious Heights: Writing, Friendship, Love—The Jewsbury Sisters, Felicia Hemans, and Jane Welsh Carlyle that Wordsworth’s “sympathetic” support was often her “worst enemy,” the poet informing her that women’s “hearts very often resemble looking-glasses, not in their capability of being broken, but in that of receiving every impression and retaining none” (p. 68). Jewsbury later recalled the equivocal impact of Wordsworth’s influence, writing in an 1829 letter to Dora: You cannot think how often and how fondly I look back to Kent’s Bank and your father’s conversations there—when in Wales I repeated some of his opinions on the pains and penalties of female authorship, and Mrs Hemans agreed to them, in the sober sadness that I do. Her fame has gilded her chain, but it has not lost its clank. I cannot conceive how, unless a necessity be laid upon her, any woman of acute sensibility, and refined imagination can brook the fever strife of authorship. Do you remember your father’s simile about women and flowers—growing in their native bed and trans-

On the 10th I went to Manchester, where I stayed a few days with a Miss Jewsbury, who was introduced at Rydal Mount last summer—Dora and she became much attached to each other, and we were all

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY question in connection—Who will answer for me?—remember a general hope is no hope at all—to know that there is a Saviour will profit nothing—unless he is your Saviour in this life—he cannot, will not, be your Saviour then—In the commencement of a new era of life, resolve in prayer, to resign yourself to his gracious guidanceѧSoon very soon the trials & employments of womanhood will commence—earthly relatives & chosen friends may die, may deceive, & certainly cannot always help you—choose then this one friend—who became man that he might pity those whom as God he designed to save.

planted to a drawing room chimney place? I wish I could forget it. (ibid.)

Despite the support of the Wordsworths— Dorothy also became an admirer and friend of Jewsbury—she soon fell prey to what she named the “fever strife of authorship,” and by the following year was suffering from both a physical complaint and depression. Dorothy remarked that, while Jewsbury’s volumes shew uncommon aptitude in discerning the absurd or ridiculous in manners—rather too much of that— you would conclude her to be a very satirical person—yet without ill-nature—therefore pray read with charity and remember too—what I know to be true—that [they] were written in ill health. ѧChildren sickly so that she wrote in a sick room, and often sate up till three or four o’clock to enable her to do so.

(Fryckstedt, “Hidden Rill: I.” p. 195)

It is worth noting that while religion was Jewsbury’s main preoccupation in Leamington, she was also increasingly gripped by other topics of study, such as the French Revolution, on which she requested a reading list from Wordsworth. Yet religion remained central to her, partly because it seemed to provide an anchor securing her through a difficult time, but also because it offered a blueprint of morality that Jewsbury could impart to her siblings, whom she had left in Manchester. As Sarah Ellis commented in her obituary of Jewsbury:

(Fryckstedt, “Hidden Rill: I,” p. 183)

In August 1826, Jewsbury moved from Manchester to Leamington Spa for “a change of air” and to receive treatment from Dr. Henry Jephson, whose patients included Florence Nightingale, John Ruskin, and George IV, and to whom she would later dedicate The Three Histories. Dorothy, who visited her there, enthusiastically noted that:

Even then, when her recovery was despaired of, she was not idle; for she had a strong principle within her, perpetually prompting her to employ all the powers she was gifted with, in promoting the temporal and eternal benefit of her fellow-creatures. During her stay at Leamington she wrote her “Letters to the Young,” many of them addressed to her own young friends, and all bearing evidence of a strong conviction of the importance and necessity of that entire devotedness of the heart to God, which this work so strenuously recommends.

She is a real darling—the exemplification of “an old age serene and bright and lovely as a Lapland night.” Kenilworth she knows by heart stick and stone—Warwick she has absolutely digested—St Mary’s Chapel and Guy’s Cliff included—Stratford and Charlecot [sic] she swallowed whole—and bye bits of rides and sights went down between times. (Gillett, p. xxxii)

(p. 33)

Jewsbury’s zeal for the local area was also channeled into another area at this time: her religious faith.

Letters to the Young (1828) collected correspondence that Jewsbury sent to her family and reads as an evangelical primer packed with biblical quotations and associated commentary from writers as diverse as George Herbert, Friedrich von Schlegel, and, of course, Wordsworth. In her advertisement to the volume, she writes that the letters “comprise a real, and not fictitious correspondence. They are the fruit of a protracted recovery from long illness; and are published with a chastened hope, that although originally designed for individual characters and cases, they may admit of a less restricted application.” While

RELIGIOUS BELIEF

Critics agree that Jewsbury’s faith deepened to an evangelical extent during the 1820s. As she wrote in a letter to her sister Geraldine on August 18, 1827: Whenever that summons comes—God will have a right to reckon with you—ask yourself this serious

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Geraldine is often considered to be the sole addressee of the letters in this volume, Harriet Jump argues that they are “in fact addressed to a number of different, unnamed, recipients, some of them male,” letter 23 having been written to Jewsbury’s two youngest brothers and letter 12 to all her siblings as a group (pp. 65, 69). Whoever the recipient, Jewsbury’s volume preaches a largely conservative message, especially with regard to reading. She recommends that her readers focus on the Bible, which offers “literary enjoyment” combined “with a sense of safety,” a directive she reinforces by providing biblical alternatives to secular characters and stories (p. 10). Drawn to Macbeth? Look up Ahab; for Lady Macbeth, Jezebel; for the death of McDuff’s family, the death of Absalom. Instead of Byron’s “Ode to Napoleon” try Isaiah’s ode on the fall of Sennacherib. Avoid Washington Irving’s description of an oak for Ezekiel’s allegory of the tree; and Robert Southey’s “Kehama” is as easily surpassed by Ezekiel’s visions as Thomas Campbell’s lyrics are by the Psalms (pp. 20–34, passim). Far from distracting her young readers from secular literature, however, Jewsbury’s rich citations serve to spark real interest, an interest that Jewsbury hoped would be balanced by a developing faith. As she writes in one of the later letters, Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” is as good a text as any in its demonstration of how to read religion into the world through nature and feeling, without falling into the “self-consuming property of emotion” (pp. 115, 151). She is intent on rescuing religion from the somber role young readers might accord to it, and she declares forcefully that

It is an error of young minds, Jewsbury continues in an almost Blakean mode, to look on religion “as a dry, abstract code of laws; a series of observances, of requirements, of penances, and self-denials; a system of negations; a something, that is to induce gloom and imbecility of mind; to blight our prospects, wither our joys” (p. 69). Religion is “a living principle” for Jewsbury, who again stresses the “active, practical” importance of religion as exemplified by the “Christ of the gospel,” not the “Christ of the human imagination” (pp. 127, 237). LYRIC POETRY

The pedantic, if well-meaning tone of the Letters gradually vanished from Jewsbury’s subsequent works, largely owing to her friendship with Felicia Hemans, a poet who matched Wordsworth’s lyrical skill but understood the pressures specific to women writers at the time. Jewsbury began her correspondence with Hemans in the last months of 1827, and the following summer she moved with Geraldine and her brothers to a cottage in St. Asaph in Rhyllon, Wales, near where Hemans lived. Wales offered a similar respite to Warwickshire, prompting Jewsbury to write to Dora that she “lived the life of a Gipsy” there, “the only life that suits me” (Gillett, p. xlii). Her friendship with Hemans was in some ways a developed version of what she had with Dora, the two women a striking pair in that each fulfilled a public understanding of the “woman writer.” As Jane Williams, author of The Literary Women of England (1861), declared, Hemans was “so intensely feminine, so susceptible and imaginative, so devoted to the tender and the beautiful; the other endowed with masculine energies, with a spirit that seemed born for ascendancy, with strong powers of reasoning, with fathomless profundity of thought” (Gillett, p. xli). Indeed Jewsbury herself depicted Hemans in this way in a later prose piece in which the hero’s Italian lover, Egeria, is portrayed as a woman uniquely passionate and thoughtful:

RELIGION, is not in reality, a gloomy unintelligible thing; a principle, which, when admitted into the human mind, is destructive of intellect and happiness. It is the direction of natural energy into a worthy channel; the devotion of mind to subjects immortal as itself. Religion is not a thing of Sundays and sermons, creeds and commentaries; of separate acts, and distinct observances; it is a lifegiving, life-pervading spirit, intended to exercise over our motives just that guiding, quickening, controlling influence, which the mind exercises over the body. True religion is cheerful.

She did not dazzle, she subdued me. Other women might be more commanding, more versatile, more

(p. 63)

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY ley says in his “Defence of Poetry,” as a “nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds” (p. 486). Suited to imaginatively evoking and recreating emotional states via its nonnarrative and nondramatic style, the lyric was easily recognizable by its musical quality and songlike meters, and was Hemans’s form of choice. Consequently Jewsbury dedicated her lyrical endeavor to her friend, “In remembrance of the summer passed in her society, and as a memorial alike of admiration and affectionate regard.” As with Wordsworth’s “Solitary Reaper,” Jewsbury changed her epigraphic quotation from Hemans’s “The Dying Improvisatore” for effect, replacing the words “fleeting lay” with “feeling lay” to emphasize her affection for her fellow poet. The poems within Lays of Leisure Hours might aptly be described as “feeling lays”—from sentimental poetic portraits (Adam and Eve and Alexander the Great, for example) to songlike dirges with hymnal meters reliant on repeated refrains and common or short measures (“Passing Away,” “Love’s Likeness,” “Where dwelleth good?”). Emotive epigraphs from George Wither, John Donne, and Barry Cornwall suggest that Jewsbury was forever extending her reading and keeping up with newly popular poets, spurred on by a literary community that included Hemans and the Wordsworths. Again her poetical subject matter accords with theirs, as Jewsbury tackles the inseparability of joy and sadness (“Spring for gay blossoms; youth for joyous cheer; Graves for the dead!”); the fragility of human feeling (“Thy hopes,—are they stedfast, and holy, and high? / Are they built on a rock?—are they raised to the sky?”); and the difficulty of remaining hopeful in a society increasingly compromised by marketplaces and individualism (“and thou— / Art still a Syren-World as now”). As she wrote to Anna Maria Fielding, describing her own lyric verse:

acute: but I never saw one so exquisitely feminine. Her birth, her education, but above all the genius with which she was gifted, combined to inspire a passion for the ethereal, the tender, the imaginative, the heroic—in one word the beautiful. It was in her a faculty divine, and yet of daily life; it touched all thingsѧtrue to the first principle of her nature, it was poetry that she sought in history, scenery, character, and religious belief—poetry that guided all her studies, governed all her thoughts, coloured all her conversation. Her nature was at once simple and profound: there was no room in her mind for philosophy, nor in her heart for ambition; the one was filled by imagination, the other engrossed by tenderness. (Three Histories, pp. 187–188)

Hemans’s popularity in the period, which excelled that of Wordsworth and also of the eminently marketable Lord Byron, was grounded in a public perception of her as “feminine,” a word used to describe her by countless critics both then and now. In relation to the woman poet, “feminine” connoted a natural ability to express a balanced, affectionate form of feeling that was neither maudlin nor too effusive or passionate, uttered from the heart but not marked by too much experience. As a mother and wife whose husband had left her shortly before the birth of her last child, Hemans possessed all the hallmarks of domesticity but was liberated to write as an independent woman, assisted as she was by her own mother and sisters. In a period where poetics were upheld by the “validation of discourse by the known character of the writer,” Hemans became a fast favorite with a public more suspicious of Jewsbury. Even though the religious subtext of much of Jewsbury’s work was conformist, the edgy humor and insightful wit so admired by the Wordsworths was translated as “masculine” by observers like Williams. Perhaps because of this reception, Jewsbury’s next publication, Lays of Leisure Hours (1829), is a collection of softer lyric poems, departing from the haunting balladic compositions and critical essays of Phantasmagoria. Perhaps the three weeks she had with Wordsworth during May and June of 1829 influenced her choice of the romantic lyric, a subjective, private, and feminized form in which the poet is figured, as Percy Bysshe Shel-

In the best of every thing I have done, you will find one leading idea—death: all thoughts, all images, all contrast of thoughts and images, are derived from living much in the valley of that shadow; from having learned life rather in the vicissitudes of man than of woman, from the mind being Hebraic. My poetry, except some half-dozen pieces, may be consigned to oblivion; but in all you would find the

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY have suggested of the Lays, but also seems to undermine the superficial if positive judgment of a contemporary review like that of the Literary Gazette: the production of “cultivated taste, rather than of original genius, these Lays shew at least that leisure so employed both refines and elevates the mind; and we recommend this little volume cordially to our readers, as awakening various thought and gentle feeling, for a spring morning’s companion, associating somewhat of sad but pleasant reflection with every leaf and flower around” (“Hidden Rill: I,” p. 199). The Lays are perhaps more indicative of Jewsbury’s sharp and innovative poetic sense than any of her verses, and while they might sometimes sound alienating to a modern, secular ear, their power was felt more deeply by Jewsbury’s admiring literary, and notably Christian, friends.

sober hue, which to my mind’s eye, blends equally with the golden glow of sunset, and the bright green of spring, and is seen equally in the “temple of delight” as in the tomb of decay and separation. I am melancholy by nature, cheerful by principle. (Gillett, p. lxiv)

In line with her other volumes, Jewsbury closed the Lays with a series of religious poems, each focused on a different biblical verse. “There is none like unto thee” (Jeremiah 10:6), “The Wounded Spirit” (Proverbs 18:14), “The Resting Place” (Psalm 116:7), “O that I had wings!” (Psalm 4:6), “The Returning Wanderer” (Jeremiah 21:9), “They shall revive as the corn” (Hosea 14:7), “Now mine eye seeth thee” (Job 42:5), and “The dove of the valley” (Ezekiel 7:6) are moving lyrics addressed to the poet’s subjective response to her developing faith. Her sense of Job, for example, in “Now mine eye seeth thee,” is of an exemplary figure whose faith was necessarily dismantled in order that he might rebuild it free of the constraints of religious law and doctrine:

THE ANNUALS AND FAME

While the Lays contribute to a newly mapped field of lyricism, Jewsbury’s other writing of this time accords to a more recognizably gendered area of publication, that of the gift book or “annual.” Popular from the early 1820s, annuals functioned as a kind of ladies’ pocketbook packed with effusive lyrics and confessional essays. Yet their appeal was enhanced by the inclusion of steel engravings of famous or contemporary artworks otherwise shut away from the public in private collections. Bound in silk, satin, velvet, or embossed leather, annuals became a marker of taste and income, often bought to be displayed rather than read. By 1831 sixty-two different annuals were published in England, contributed to by many women poets (Letitia Elizabeth Landon, Amelia Opie, and Mary Howitt, as well as Hemans and Jewsbury) but also some unlikely male poets (Wordsworth, Barry Cornwall). As Monica Fryckstedt points out, Jewsbury delivered over seventy sketches, poems, and tales to thirteen different annuals including Forget-Me-Not, The Anniversary, The Literary Souvenir, The Album, and Friendship’s Offering, deeming her one of the most prolific contributors of the period. Jewsbury’s regular appearances in the annuals heightened her public status further, and in

Whom see I? Not the God I sought, With vague imaginings of mind; A Deity of formless thought, A God no human heart can find. Whom see I? Not the God of fire Mosaic priest and prophet saw, A Being of avenging ire, The Father of a flaming law. I see him not on wild and waste, Where pilgrim patriarchs bent the knee, Not yet in Zion’s temple, graced As temple never more may be. They heard from Sinai’s steep his voice, But I on Calvary view his face; I see him, and with right rejoice, I see him full of truth and grace. He speaks—it is a brother’s tone, He bleeds—the stream is blood divine; He dies—but in that dying groan Is life for myriad souls—for mine. (pp. 173–174)

This is hardly a “mediocre, and sometimes trite” poem, as Monica Fryckstedt and other critics

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY 1830 she began a correspondence with one of the most renowned women celebrities of the time, Letitia Landon. She was already familiar with Landon’s verse romance “The Improvisatrice,” and she wrote of it to Alaric Watts in 1825:

“The History of an Enthusiast” opens the collection and is ominously semiautobiographical, foreshadowing events that ultimately led to Jewsbury’s death. Julia Osborne, a young, wealthy orphan, cared for by her grandmother, longs for the fame and wealth she believes London promises. Exhausted by the needlessly busy and superficial lifestyle that is imposed on her in the city, Julia welcomes a visit from former beau Cecil Percy, now married and about to assume the position of clergyman in the East Indies. Jewsbury uses Julia to explore the dilemma that ambitious women of the period faced, as Sarah Ellis notes: “The author of the ‘Enthusiast’ has, in that story, bequeathed to the world a striking and most melancholy picture of the ceaseless conflict, the insatiable thirst for what is unattainable, and the final wretchedness necessarily attendant upon the ungoverned ambition of superior intellect, when associated with the weakness, natural dependence, and susceptibility of woman” (p. 32). On the one hand, Julia is alienated from her own social circle, which believes that she desires a status beyond that suited to a woman. Finding her immersed in Shakespeare, her grandmother, Mrs. Carhampton, exclaims: “Shakespeare, as I live! ѧheathen play-acting books are not for babes like you. ѧHe would only fill your head with nonsense” (pp. 11, 13). On the other hand, her determined nature and strong will bar her from the marriage market and so independence: “But I should not like a lioness for a wife, Miss Osborne,” Cecil declares (p. 116). Emotionally removed from society, convention, and family, Julia becomes disillusioned and detached, searching for a higher form of love, what she calls “affection,” in friendship and faith. She tells her friend Annette:

I read it merely as poetry, and endeavour to forget that it was written by a woman, and then I am indeed delighted with the exuberance of genius poured out in every page. No one could suppose it to be the work of a young writer. There is in it a brilliant yet condensed vigour of imagery and expression which might well honour an older judgment. (Watts, p. 17)

In turn, Landon later remarked of Jewsbury: “I never met with any woman who possessed her powers of conversation. If her language had a fault, it was its extreme perfection. It was like reading an eloquent book full of thought and poetry” (ibid.) It is around this time, however, that Jewsbury seems to have become unfocused and made a series of misguided decisions that eventually led to her fatal marriage to Fletcher. First, perhaps seduced by Landon’s urban fame, Jewsbury decided to move to London, much to Dora’s distress, even though Jewsbury had written to Hemans on several occasions in 1830, bemoaning city life, all “streets and gutters” (Gillett, p. xlii). For Jewsbury the city connoted a kind of madness: Such displays of finery in the shops! Such placards! Such advertisements! Such buying, selling, scheming, riding, walking, talking, debating, all on this one subject! ѧcharity the avowed, amusements the real object, and poor religion the cloak. I hear so much of devotional feelings and fancy dresses, that I cannot tell one from the other, and when I see the position of the Messiah on the placard thus, MISCELLANEOUS CONCERT, MESSIAH, FANCY DRESS BALL, I always think of the two malefactors!

And society, that I coveted so much, and that has done so much for me—this robed, and crowned, and sceptered skeleton—this splendid mausoleum— this Moloch with diamond eyes,—I begin to pierce its disguises—to apprehend its superb mockeries. Or call it an imperial pageant—a triumphant procession in which I am an actor;—well, if I wear a purple robe, I walk amongst the—chained: or call me a spectator only of the same procession, still, Annette, I am exquisitely weary when the glare and

(Gillett, p. xliv)

These concerns are addressed in Jewsbury’s final and most celebrated book, The Three Histories (1830), three cautionary tales reflecting on the compromised position one is forced to occupy in fashionable society, devoid as it is, Jewsbury suggests, of any kind of religious or moral cushion.

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY reviewing for the literary and intellectual periodical the Athenaeum, established in 1829 but made profitable and popular by the editorship of Charles Wentworth Dilke from 1829 to 1846. Jewsbury contributed reviews, articles, and verse from 1830 to 1832, coinciding with the magazine’s explosion of sales from six thousand weekly copies in 1831 to eighteen thousand by 1832. With most contributions being published anonymously, Jewsbury felt free of the normal limitations imposed on a woman writer, and wrote over fifty reviews in 1831 alone. Anonymous reviewing allowed her to discuss those subjects that most preoccupied her: the status of the woman writer, the nature of poetry, and the cultural significance of Christianity. Addressing Joanna Baillie’s A View of the General Tenour of the New Testament Regarding the Nature and Dignity of Jesus Christ (1831), for example, Jewsbury comments on both the shifting position of women writers (“Our elder literary women were, in the spirit of their intellect, more essentially masculine; our younger ones are integrally feminine”) and also their defining qualities (“nerve, simplicity, vigour, continuity, unambitious earnestness, and good English”) (Athenaeum, May 28, 1831, p. 337). In later reviews Jewsbury identified Felicia Hemans as a model poet and Jane Austen as an exemplary writer of prose, both feminine yet discriminating, affectionate yet thoughtful. Hemans, Jewsbury argued,

excitement of its shows and games are past. None know better than I do that this society is magnificent in its outward aspect, but in detail it will not bear inspection. The temple is barbaric not Grecian; the worship is idolatrous, not Christian. (pp. 108–109)

Like Madame de Staël’s spiritually driven poet laureate, Corinne, Julia turns to religion ostensibly as an alternative realm to marriage or independence. Jewsbury’s depiction of Julia as a woman with an increasingly intense faith created a stage on which to discuss religious doubt, which continues into the second story, “The History of a Nonchalant.” Here a young disillusioned skeptic chooses to explore the meaning of Christianity and other systems of thought and belief as a way of reconciling himself to his father’s faith. He reads “system upon system, theory after theory” with “all their authorities, arguments, and contradictions; the materialists and the immaterialists; the deniers of matter and impugners of spirit; the adherents of the evidences of the senses, and the opposers of innate ideas” (p. 175). The result of this “Babelbuilding,” he claims, is “confusion and dismay,” a state much encouraged by his corrupt and fiendish intellectual guide who attempts to provoke the father to disinherit his son. Yet the hero is presented as emotionally, not just intellectually Christian, and is consequently redeemable, examining “the evidences of Christianity” and finding “my conscienceѧsoundly in favour of its ethics, and my taste as morbidly indignant against its doctrines” (p. 176). This approach enables a process of reconciliation between the father and son which vindicates a human benevolence founded on reason and will, and Jewsbury sustains her discussion of this balance between morality and kindness in her third story, “The History of a Realist.” While The Three Histories is focused on religion, duty, and compassion, the underlying subtexts regarding money, inheritance, and social standing illuminate Jewsbury’s financial anxieties at this time, anxieties that drove her away from imaginative prose and into the field of journalism. Dora even commented that it was only her need to make money that forced Jewsbury to London (Gillett, p. liv). It was here that she began

always writes like one who feels that the heart is a sacred thing, rashly to be wounded, whilst she scorns to lower her own intellectual dignity by an ambitious straining after effect. Her matronly delicacy of thought, her chastened style of expression, her hallowed ideas of happiness as connected with home, and home-enjoyments;—to condense all in one emphatic word, her womanliness is to her intellectual qualities as the morning mist to the landscape, or the evening dew to the flower—that which enhances loveliness without diminishing luster. (Athenaeum, February 5, 1831, p. 104)

Similarly, Jewsbury declares, Austen provides us with a “triumphant reference” of a woman writer who is “endowed pre-eminently with good sense, and a placid, unobtrusive temperament,” and able

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY to excite “the general good-will of all who knew her” (Athenaeum, August 27, 1831, pp. 553–554). Austen is revered in the review because she refuses to objectify literature as a “profession,” becoming “an authoress entirely from taste and inclination,” rather than from financial necessity (a failing for which Jewsbury perhaps felt guilty).

leyan nightingale but then curbed the process to stop its full development: We deprive the nightingale of sight, in order that it may sing us sweeter songs; we render the captive weak, and demand him to be strong as the free; we stimulate his feelings to madness, and expect from him the exercise of reason; we spread our treasures before him, and mock if he ask to share them; we deprive him of liberty and bid him rejoice in his prison.

Certainly Jewsbury was not always a favorable reviewer, voicing her disillusionment at the gushy state into which poetry had fallen, “sick,” she exclaimed, “of horrors, tired of sorrows and ready to throw sentiment into the sea.” Thomas Campbell’s style of writing, she disparagingly continues, “is a stain that sadly wants a sponge,” insofar as poetry,

(Athenaeum, p. 95)

MARRIAGE AND FINAL WORKS

As was the experience of so many literate women, Jewsbury’s only way out of this prison was into the often equally restrictive realm of marriage. Desperate to continue a career that commanded some financial security and social status, Jewsbury began to humor the idea of marrying one of her more constant (if dull) admirers, William Kew Fletcher, a clergyman employed by the East India Company. Nearly all of her acquaintances, friends, and family opposed the match, notably Jewsbury’s usually supportive father, whom she somewhat estranged in what we may now regard as her misguided bid for freedom. That Jewsbury could acknowledge to Dora —in a letter of March 12, 1831—the flaws in her choice is revealing:

in its wildest flights of fancy, its most anguished eloquence of grief, ought to be true to its own principles of interpretation: a metaphor may be untrue as a moral statement, but it ought to be correct as an imaginative creation;—poetry should err perspicuously, and we cannot, for any appearance of grandeur, consent to the oblivion of grammar. Young minstrels and minstrellesses are apt to fancy that “pouring out sorrows like a sea” in the first words that come to mind, constitutes poetry; that an accumulation of figures must, of necessity, ensure meaning; that the wild beatings of ungoverned sensibility, the tawdry descriptions of commonplace tragicalities, the affixing of one kind of epithet to a directly opposite class of image, thus giving to their thoughts an air of amphibiousness; that forming compound words, and making substantives verbs, and adjectives adverbs; that all these, and a thousand similar absurdities, make POETRY. Errors of this nature have not been fallen into by Mr Campbell through ambition, or a wilful defiance of established modes of thinking and speaking, but from a want of intellectual knowledge, from overestimating the poetical worth of mere emotion, and a consequent mistaking of vehemence for vigour. ѧWere we inclined for a good slaughtering article, and to play the gentle savage at Mr Campbell’s expense, nothing would be easier.

I was called on to decide whether I would be married or not. I found it a harder matter than I expected—because I was not in love—but in a very morally prudential state of mind. ѧAnd who is he? Nobody you ever heard me mention—none of my flirts—none of my favourites—none of my shewy, talking, talked about appendages—nobody in London—nobody who paints, or (Thank Providence) who edits, or who says smart things,— but one who was a smoker, but flung away cigars long before he came and asked me to think about him—who was a sloven, but is trying his very best to be one no longer—and who has promised to make a sacrifice of his present tailor and take lessons in tying his cravat like a gentleman—one who in point of worth is gold; in point of mind silver; in point of manners ironѧone who wants a great deal of polishing and softening and mellowing, but gives promise of all I could ultimately love truly and lean upon safely.

(Athenaeum, March 19, 1831, pp. 180–181)

Real poetry, as Jewsbury considered Hemans’s lyrics to be, should be “beneficial” to the reader, its intention, “like that of Christianity,” to “spiritualize our nature” (Athenaeum, p. 105). Yet for women writers such consolatory talents were always necessarily limited by their socialization, which offered them the chance to become a Shel-

(Gillett, p. lvi)

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY them sofas, pianos, furniture, and dinner dress in preparation for the polite society on board. Jewsbury commented on the farcical nature of her journey in “Extracts from a Lady’s Log-Book” (1832), which she composed for the Athenaeum, dryly noting in it that her

Having rejected Fletcher’s first proposal in early 1831, Jewsbury finally accepted him in March, and they were married the following year by Harriet Hughes’s husband (Hemans’s brother-in-law) at a ceremony in Penegoes, Wales. Many of her close friends, including her beloved Dora, did not attend. Jewsbury, already depressed after the superficial experience of London and the attendant social pressures to marry a man she did not love, began to seriously doubt her own literary abilities and wrote to Anna Maria Fielding that she felt she had

cabin, though one of the two best in the ship, for convenience, light, air, and size, has a rather ludicrous drawback: a good portion of some eighty dozen of poultry, ducks, geese, fowl, pigeons,... have their local habitation in pens over our heads; and all day, and almost all night, they peck, crow, quack, gabble, and quarrel according to their several natures. The sound of their beaks resembles a shower of hail; they are of necessity cramped for room, and, like children, are always crying out for food.

done nothing to live, and what I have yet done must pass away with a thousand other blossoms, the growth, the beauty, the oblivion of a day. The powers which I feel, and of which I have given promise may mature, may stamp themselves in act, but the spirit of despondency is strong upon the future exile, and I fear they never will.

(December 1, 1832, p. 777)

Jewsbury also wrote The Oceanides (1832–1833) for the Athenaeum during her travels, a group of twelve poems, serially published in the journal, that mapped her route from the English mainland to India. While the poems seem inflected by oceanic mythology, Oceanides being the daughters of Oceanus and Tethys, the series focuses more on Jewsbury’s material experience of her journey. The first poem in the series, “The Outward-Bound Ship,” for example, laments her “Fading, fast fadingѧhome, the hills of Devon” (December 29, 1832, p. 843). The narrator sometimes finds the sea consoling, offering her the tranquility necessary to recollect her feelings about Wordsworth, Hemans, and her other literary friends, as she writes in the second poem, “My Sea Hermitage”:

(Gillett, p. lxiv)

Fletcher, clearly intimidated by his celebrated wife, quickly agreed to assume a clergy position in India and arranged for the two of them to set sail on the Victory from Gravesend just a few months after the marriage on September 19, 1832. Again Jewsbury’s immediate community discouraged the trip, Wordsworth writing that from “the first we had a fore-feeling” their friend would not survive, although he still sent her an updated copy of his works for the journey (Bewell, p. 16). Traveling to India in the 1830s was not an easy task, a journey that required sailing first to Madeira, around the Cape of Good Hope, into Ceylon and finally across to Bombay, where the Fletchers planned to settle. Matters were made considerably worse by the fact that East Indiaman ships were designed not for human passage but for other kinds of cargo insensate to the heaving and rolling of the vessel. Of these ships, the tea merchant, Thomas Twining, wrote in 1792: “I was scarcely able to stand without laying hold of some fixed object. I also became exceedingly oppressed by a close suffocating air, and by a sickening offensive smell, to which I know nothing comparable” (Oceanides, Introduction).

And my cabin full of all That may lessen sense of thrall; Books, read last amid green hills With their poetry of rills;— Miniatures of friends afar, Each a fond memorial star. (p. 25)

At other moments, however, the sea becomes more threatening, a prophet figure foreshadowing disaster (“The Burden of the Sea,” April 13, 1833, p. 233); a “Wild, ferocious, wrathful Sea,” unforgiving to its travelers (“Address to the Deep,” April 27, 1833, p. 265); or a jailer, the

Despite all this, middle-class travelers were expected to keep up appearances, taking with

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Sholapore, Jewsbury finally collapsed of a fever and died at Poona on October 4, 1833. Fletcher seemed unforgivably unperturbed, ignoring the applications of the Jewsburys for information regarding her death and refusing to help with the memorial edition of her works that Geraldine sought to produce. The news did not reach Felicia Hemans until the following year, although she would outlive her friend by only a few months:

ship’s inhabitants forced to feel like prisoners “on the ocean,” their cabins like tombs (“The Voyager’s Regret,” May 4, 1833, p. 279). The sequence is often melancholy, looking back to England as a locus of familiarity and solace against the comparatively strange and foreign sights that such poems as “The Eden of the Sea” and “The Haven Gained” record. “The Sunken Rock” stands out as an almost Gothic achievement reminiscent of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1797) and Anne Bannerman’s “Prophetess of the Oracle of Seäm” (1802). As does Bannerman, Jewsbury plays successfully with the idea of a feminized sublime. Populated by bad sirens and good Oceanides, the sea in “The Sunken Rock” is both dark and satanic (its depths seem “cloven” as it wraps its victims “about with slimy things”) but also reassuring and maternal (the Oceanides offer a “milder music” to comfort shipwrecked sailors) (April 20, 1833, p. 249). As Diego Saglia argues, the sequence constantly moves between the sea as a threatening and then protective space, domestically inviting but representing an unknown exoticism which displaces contemporary ideas of “home” and “hearth.” Despite her ability to write sharply and imaginatively while so detached and removed from her environment, the journey the Fletchers had undertaken began to exact its toll on Jewsbury. Landing in Bombay in March 1833, the couple immediately moved to Kurnee on the Malabar Coast. Much of the land was scarred by drought, and Jewsbury wrote in her diary that India seemed populated by a “people of skeletons,” their “landѧcovered with the curses of Jeremiah and Ezekiel” (Espinasse, p. 334). She described Bombay in similarly distressed language, the city “alias biscuit-oven, alias brickkiln, alias burning Babel; alias Pandemonium; alias everything hot, horrid, glaring, barren, dissonant, and detestable” (Gillett, p. lxiii). While she acknowledged that it “is only England that can be English; India must be Indian,” the climate suffocated her; and apart from her friends and family, Jewsbury was unable to rally from the cholera she contracted in June 1833. Journeying back to Bombay from

I was indeed deeply and permanently affected by the untimely fate of one so gifted and so affectionately loving as our poor lost friend. It hung the more solemnly upon my spirits, as the subject of death and the mighty future had so many, many times been that of our most confidential communion. How much deeper power seemed to lie, coiled up as it were, in the recesses of her mind than was ever manifested to the world in her writings! Strange and sad does it seem that only the broken music of such a spirit should have been given to the earth; the full and finished harmony never drawn forth. Yet I would rather a thousand times that she should have perished thus in the path of her chosen duties, than have seen her become the merely brilliant creature of London literary life, at once the queen and slave of some heartless coterie, living upon those poor succès de sociêté, which I think utterly ruinous to all that is lofty and holy, and delicate in the nature of a highly-endowed woman. I put on mourning for her with a deep feeling of sadness. I never expected to meet her again in this life, but there was a strong chain of interest between us, that spell of mind on mind, which, once formed, can never be broken. (Espinasse, p. 336)

Wordsworth was moved to write three poems for Jewsbury, declaring mournfully that: “There is now, alas! no possibility” of these verses ever being “seen by the Individual for whom they were intended”: She accompanied her husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore [sic] to Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her. Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of life to which she had been called. The opinion she entertained of her own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury, was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits,

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Inquiry. Edited by Karyna Szmurlo. Lewisburg, Pa.: Bucknell University Press, 1999. Pp. 185–203. Armstrong, Isobel. Victorian Poetry: Poetry, Poetics and Politics. London: Routledge, 1993. Bewell, Alan. Romanticism and Colonial Disease. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999. Buckingham, James Silk, et al. The Athenaeum: Weekly Review of English and Foreign Literature, Fine Arts, and Works of Embellishment. J. Lection, 1832, p. 95. Chorley, Henry F. Memorials of Mrs. Hemans, with Illustrations of Her Literary Character from Her Private Correspondence. 2 vols. London: Saunders and Otley, 1836.

as is often the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to discover what they are best fitted for. In one quality, viz. quickness in the motions of her mind, she had, within the range of the Author’s acquaintance, no equal. (Prose, p. 179)

Geraldine continued to gather her sister’s manuscripts, papers, and unpublished works for the intended memorial edition, yet Fletcher’s resistance to the idea slowed down the process, and much of Jewsbury’s work was burned or lost. Engendered by general interest in contemporary women’s writing, religion, and colonialism, new investigations into Maria Jane Jewsbury’s work might serve to fulfill Geraldine’s wish and perhaps recover some of the many reviews and essays that she wrote before her early death at the age of only thirty-two.

Clarke, Norma. Ambitious Heights: Writing, Friendship, Love—The Jewsbury Sisters, Felicia Hemans, and Jane Welsh Carlyle. London: Routledge, 1990. Davie, Donald. The Eighteenth-Century Hymn in England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Ellis, Sarah. “Mrs. Fletcher, Late Miss Jewsbury.” In The Christian Keepsake and Missionary Annual. Edited by William Ellis. London: Fisher, 1838. Pp. 30–42. Online at http://www.rc.umd.edu/editions/oceanides/contexts/ christiankeep.html


Espinasse, Francis. “Maria Jane Jewsbury.” In Lancashire Worthies, Second Series. London: Simpkin, Marshall, 1877. Pp. 323–339. Fryckstedt, Monica Correa. “The Hidden Rill: The Life and Career of Maria Jane Jewsbury: I.” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester 66, no. 2:177– 203 (1984).

WORKS OF MARIA JANE JEWSBURY “Curiosity and Scandal.” Coventry Herald (1818). “Boarding School Reminiscences.” Album 4:94–102 (January 1824). “The Complaint of a School Mistress.” Album 4:342–350 (April 1825). Phantasmagoria; or, Sketches of Life and Literature. 2 vols. London: Hurst, Robinson, 1825. Letters to the Young. London: J. Hatchard and Son, 1828. Lays of Leisure Hours. London: J. Hatchard and Son, 1829. The Three Histories. London: Frederick Westley and A. H. Davis, 1830; reprint, Derby: Henry Mozley and Sons, 1838. “Extracts from a Lady’s Log-Book.” Athenaeum, December 1, 1832, pp. 777–778; reprinted in Maria Jane Jewsbury: Occasional Papers, Selected with a Memoir. Edited by Eric Gillett. London: Oxford University Press, 1932. The Oceanides. Athenaeum, December 29, 1832–December 28, 1833. Online at The Oceanides. Edited by Judith Pascoe (http://www.rc.umd.edu/editions/oceanides/).

———.“The Hidden Rill: The Life and Career of Maria Jane Jewsbury: II.” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester 67, no. 1:450–473 (1984). Gill, Stephen. William Wordsworth: A Life. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989. Gillett, Eric, ed. Maria Jane Jewsbury: Occasional Papers, Selected with a Memoir. London: Oxford University Press, 1932. Hall, S. C. A Woman’s Story. 3 vols. London: Hurst & Blackett, 1857. Harris, Katherine D. “Index of Maria Jane Jewsbury’s Contributions to British Literary Annuals.” In Forget Me Not: Hypertextual Archive of Ackermann’s NineteenthCentury Literary Annual. Online at http://www.orgs. muohio.edu/anthologies/FMN/Authors_Jewsbury.htm Hill, Alan G., ed. The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth. Vol. 2, The Middle Years. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978. Hughes, Harriet. Memoir of the Life and Writings of Mrs. Hemans. London: Blackwood, 1839.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Alliston, April. “Corinne and Female Transmission: Rewriting La Princesse de Clèves through the English Gothic.” In The Novel’s Seductions: Staël’s Corinne in Critical

Jump, Harriet Devine. “‘My Dearest Geraldine’: Maria Jane Jewsbury’s Letters.” Bulletin of the John Rylands

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MARIA JANE JEWSBURY Sharon B. Powers. New York: Norton, 1977. Pp. 480– 508. Watts, Alaric Alfred. “Maria Jane Jewsbury.” In A Narrative of His Life. Vol. 1. London: Richard Bentley, 1884. Online at http://www.rc.umd.edu. Wilkes, Joanne. “‘Only the Broken Music’? The Critical Writings of Maria Jane Jewsbury.” Women’s Writing 7, no. 1:105–118 (2000). Wolfson, Susan J. Borderlines: The Shiftings of Gender in British Romanticism. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2006. ———. “Gendering the Soul.” In Romantic Women Writers: Voices and Countervoices. Edited by Paula R. Feldman and Theresa M. Kelley. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1995. Pp. 33–68. Wordsworth, William and John O. Hayden. Selected Poems. Penguin Classics, 1994. p. 212. Wordsworth, William. The Prose Works of William Wordsworth. Vol. 3. Edited by Alexander B. Groshart. London: Edward Moxon, 1876, p. 179.

University Library of Manchester 81, no. 1:63–72 (1999). Kelly, Gary. Felicia Hemans: Selected Poems, Prose, and Letters. Ontario: Broadview Press, 2002. Levin, Susan M. “Romantic Prose and Feminine Romanticism.” Prose Studies 10, no. 2:178–195 (1987). Marchand, Leslie A. The Athenaeum: A Mirror of Victorian Culture. New York: Octagon Books, 1941. Mason, Emma. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century: Writers and Their Work. Devon: Northcote House, 2006. Peel, Ellen, and Nanora Sweet. “Corinne and the Woman as Poet in England: Hemans, Jewsbury, and Barrett Browning.” In The Novel’s Seductions: Staël’s Corinne in Critical Inquiry. Edited by Karyna Szmurlo. Lewisburg, Pa.: Bucknell University Press, 1999. Pp. 204–220. Saglia, Diego. “Other Homes: Exoticism and Domesticity in Maria Jane Jewsbury’s Oceanides.” Women’s Writing 12, no. 2:205–224 (2005). Shelley, Percy Bysshe. “Defence of Poetry.” In Shelley’s Poetry and Prose. Edited by Donald H. Reiman and

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HARI KUNZRU (1969—)

Sophie Ratcliffe IN 2007, VISITORS encountering Hari Kunzru’s website for the first time might have been a little surprised. Those searching for more information about this British author would have come across an old school photograph of a small boy aged perhaps five or six years old. A few lines of curt white typeface gave a few brief details: his current age, the fact that he was born in London in 1969, and, perhaps surprisingly, his blood group (HbAD) and a hyperlink to his genotype (human). Kunzru is joking, here, about the contemporary thirst for biographical details about writers. As he puts it, nowadays, “British journalists seem more interested in your biography or your publishing deal—the British press is interested in writers, but it isn’t interested in writing” (Litt, 2004). The starkly playful nature of Kunzru’s 2007 website poked fun both at his readers and at the cult of the celebrity author. He is highlighting the idea that it is not the particularities of his individual biography that should be of interest but rather the fact that he is, like all who read the page, a human. Such teasing but morally engaged touches, such concern for equality and justice, and such fondness for unusual technical modes of expression indicate something about this British author’s approach. Kunzru’s wide-ranging interests and aesthetic skills have always been combined with a commitment to political and moral causes.

Philosophy and Literature at the University of Warwick in 1995. Kunzru followed his studies with a varied career. He has been a travel journalist writing pieces for British newspapers and magazines such as the Guardian, the Daily Telegraph, and Time Out; a television presenter, interviewing artists for Sky TV; and an editor, working on the music pages of Wallpaper magazine and also on the pages of Mute, a culture and technology magazine. Kunzru’s apparent resistance to biographical revelation on his webpage may be misleading. He is no recluse: the very fact that he maintains a website and has placed a large quantity of his work and interviews online demonstrates his commitment to reaching his public. His work itself has gained considerable public recognition. His first novel, The Impressionist (2002), won two literary awards in the United Kingdom, while his second novel, Transmission (2004), was named as one of the New York Times’s notable books of the year. Every decade, the prestigious literary journal Granta gathers together the twenty writers that it deems to be the best of young British novelists. In 1983, the collection included Martin Amis, Julian Barnes, and Kazuo Ishiguro. In 1993, Iain Banks, Louis de Bernières, and Jeannette Winterson were on the list. Kunzru was chosen to appear in the 2003 collection, alongside A. L. Kennedy, Zadie Smith, and David Mitchell. Hari Kunzru is primarily a novelist, but he has also produced a number of pieces of short fiction, five of which are published in his 2005 collection Noise. Many of Noise’s themes, ranging from the shrinking of global spaces, to the relation of humans to cyborgs, emerge again in his novels.

BIOGRAPHY AND EARLY WORKS

Further research yields a few more details about the author’s background. The son of a doctor, Krishna Mohan Nath Kunzru, and a nurse, Hilary Ann David, Hari Mohan Nath Kunzru was born of mixed English and Kashmiri Pandit ancestry and raised in Essex near London. After taking a degree in English at Wadham College, Oxford University, in 1991, he received a master’s in

While Kunzru has always seemed happy to be in the public eye, he also has always been

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HARI KUNZRU nymphomaniac, and prone to fits of temper, she has been hard to find a match. She is also crafty—crafty enough to escape from those transporting her to her wedding and to find Forrester, prone with illness and sheltering in a cave. As a monsoon devastates the countryside, Armita makes passionate love to this “pearl man”: “The unprecedented sensations of each other’s bodies make them start again and they do this twice more, roll and claw, then lie exquisitely, drunkenly still. By the last time the fire has guttered, and sweat and dust has turned their skins to an identical red-brown colour. The colour of the earth” (p. 15). The scene is unlikely, comic, slightly magical, and faintly shocking—setting the tone for Kunzru’s novel—and it was this sort of writing that created considerable prepublication publicity for Kunzru—as did the fact that the author (reportedly) received an advance of £1.25 million. If true, this was, at the time, the largest advance in publishing history.

seen to keep his ethical principles firmly at the forefront of what he does. He sits on the executive council of PEN, an international fellowship of writers committed to promote literature and the freedom to write. Meanwhile, in November 2003, Kunzru was awarded the John Llewellyn Rhys prize, given to a writer under the age of thirty-five, but Kunzru turned the prize down on the grounds that it was sponsored by the Mail on Sunday newspaper. His agent read a statement in which Kunzru condemned the Mail’s editorial policy, particularly the paper’s “hostility towards black and Asian people.” He went on to add that “as the child of an immigrant, I am only too aware of the poisonous effect of the Mail’s editorial line. ѧThe atmosphere of prejudice it fosters translates into violence, and I have no wish to profit from it” (quoted in Gibbons and Armitstead). He recommended that the £5,000 prize money should be donated to a U.K. charity, the Refugee Council. This caused a stir in the press, but Kunzru is unafraid of publicity or risk taking, noting that “artistic material that risks embarrassment, risks ridicule, is the only kind that is valuable” (Litt, 2004).

Armita’s family swiftly tracks her down, and as she shows “no immediate sign of insanity” (p. 24), they manage to marry her off to her intended husband. Pandit is a harsh man who is interested, primarily, in matters of caste and hygiene. A son is soon born, but Armita dies in childbirth. Here, Kunzru’s hero takes on his first name, Pran Nath Razdan, and his first incarnation of the novel— the son and heir of Pandit. Although his skin is lighter than his father’s, only Armita’s former servant, Anjali, knows the secret of Pran’s true origins. The rest of his family admire his unusual looks:

THE IMPRESSIONIST

Published in 2002, Kunzru’s first novel, The Impressionist, takes its epigraph, given above, from Rudyard Kipling’s 1901 novel, Kim. On the surface, The Impressionist appears to be a picaresque coming-of-age tale, but as the story unfolds, it is revealed to yield much more. The questioning passage touches on a number of the author’s abiding concerns—that of the position of the outsider, on questions of justice and injustice; and of issues of race, and mixed-race, on ideas of changing and fixed identity; and of the relations between Britain and India during the nineteenth and twentieth century. Kunzru’s hero is the product of an accidental encounter, the child of a white British treeplanter, named (coincidentally enough) Ronald Forrester, and Armita, a high-born Indian nineteen-year-old. Armita is making her passage through the Indian countryside on her way to an arranged marriage. Unstable, addicted to opium,

Pran Nath is undeniably good-looking. His hair has a hint of copper to it which catches in the sunlight and reminds people of the hills. His eyes contain just a touch of green. His cheekbones are high and prominent, and across them, like an expensive drumhead, is stretched a covering of skin that is not brown or even wheaten-coloured, but white. Pran Nath’s skin is a source of pride to everyone. Its whiteness is not the nasty blue-blotched colour of a fresh-off-the-boat Angrezi or the greyish pallor of a dying person, but a perfect milky hue, like that of the marble the craftsmen chip into ornate screens down by the Tajganj. Kashmiris come from the mountains and are always fair, but Pran Nath’s co-

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HARI KUNZRU the Indians is growing, as the country asserts its demands for independence. Our hero, now Robert, or “Bobby,” is now old enough to fend for himself to a certain extent—and he begins to make his way around the streets of Agra. His training with the major has paid off, and he is able to pass for British with those who are visiting India. Then, a random encounter with a British man gives him the idea and the means to escape. Jonathan Bridgeman is a young alcoholic who befriends Bobby. On a night out, a gang attacks the pair of them, and Bridgeman is killed. Realizing that Bridgeman is without friends or family, Bobby makes a decision; he adopts the other man’s identity and passport, and he then makes his way to Britain. On arrival, he finds himself the recipient of a reasonable trust fund, a place in a school, and on track for an Oxford education. The plot of the novel is more picaresque than action driven—and “Jonathan” continues to change roles as the novel draws to a close— studying history, falling in love, and setting off to Africa on an anthropological mission. Our hero’s fate is never entirely settled. It drifts off, echoing the title, in an impressionistic blur.

lour is exceptional. It is proof, cluck the aunties, of the family’s superior blood. (p. 20)

As Pran grows up, the servant Anjali becomes more embittered toward the changeling in the household. Then a Spanish flu epidemic strikes the city. Anjali, convinced that the house is cursed by Pran’s presence, reveals Pran’s true origins. When Pandit succumbs to the Spanish flu, his family evicts his one-time son, Pran. Being of mixed race, he is now considered to be an outcast and is thrown out into the street. In the next stage of Pran’s existence, he must manage as a vagabond. Being neither Asian nor white, he cannot find acceptance in earlytwentieth-century Agra. The teenage Pran tries to find support by searching out other mixed-race men in the local colonial club, but is rejected. A beggar directs the starving boy to another address, which transpires to be the local brothel. Here, Kunzru’s plotting takes on elaborate and dark proportions. Pran is drugged with milky lassis, beaten, dressed as a girl, and renamed “Rukhsana.” His job, it appears, is to be a “girlboy.” His mission is to engage one of the visiting English government officials in sexual acts. The Indians, unhappy with the British colonization of their country, plan to frame Major Privett-Clampe in a compromising position, so as to cause scandal and discredit the British government. Rukhsana is to act as bait. Kunzru gives us a number of scenes in which Privett-Clampe rapes the drugged teenage hero— these are handled in a lightly satirical tone. Soon, Privett-Clampe becomes more interested in Rukhsana’s mind than his body, and he decides to educate him. Renaming the boy “Clive,” the major spends hours teaching his protégé to speak with a British accent and familiarizing him with classic English poetry. Eventually, Clive escapes from the major’s care, and in his fourth incarnation, he is adopted by the Reverend Macfarlane, a Scottish vicar, and his wife, who have established an “Independent Scottish Mission among the Heathen.” Elspeth Macfarlane has recently lost her sons in World War I, and she becomes fond of Clive, whom she renames “Robert.” Meanwhile, the tension between the English and

QUESTIONS OF IDENTITY

One of the central metaphors in this novel is the way in which a person’s identity can be formed by societal pressure. Kunzru gives the impression that his hero, as a character, has no central core but instead is the sum of his experiences: what he has learned and what he has adopted from those around them. As the narrator tells us, “Bobby is a creature of surface”: Tissue paper held up to the sun. He hints at transparency, as if on the other side, on the inside, there is something to be discovered. Maybe there is, maybe not. Maybe instead of imagining depth, all the people who do not quite know him should accept that Bobby’s skin is not a boundary between things but the thing itself, a screen on which certain effects take place. Ephemeral curiosities. Tricks of the light. Stitch a personality together. Calico arms. Wooden head. A hat and a set of overheard opinions. How

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HARI KUNZRU perfectly impossible it is to grow a good lawn in India. The positive moral effect of team sports. The unspeakable vileness of Mr Gandhi, and the lack of hygiene of just about everything. Lay them out one by one, like playing patience. It does not matter if you believe them. Belief is nothing but a trivial sensation in the stomach.

dinnae wanna worrit yersel’. Now then, sirs, if you please to follow me I know a very good place.ѧ Bobby deals in stereotypes, sharply drawn. Sometimes he hangs around near the doorways of expensive places, paying the doormen to let him stay [ѧ]

(p. 250)

Bobby is a ghost, haunting thresholds [ѧ] He hovers at the limit of perception.

In many ways, in this novel, Kunzru seems to be hinting at a social constructionist view of human nature (as advanced by theorists such as Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann in their 1966 treatise The Social Construction of Reality). As he puts it elsewhere, “Our supposedly innermost responses ѧ are in fact the most mediated” (Litt, 2004). Some might see this as a bleak vision. It seems to oppose the idea that there is any such thing as a human soul or integral personality— and the consequences of this notion of humanity are most clearly demonstrated when our hero comes to England and witnesses a professional impersonator for the very first time:

(p. 237)

Kunzru’s hero’s ability to transform and impersonate different cultures chimes with current theoretical works about the way impersonation and mimicry work on an anthropological level. In many ways, the act of mimicry has often been perceived, anthropologically, as a primitive and unsophisticated act. When Charles Darwin, in his 1839 work, The Voyage of the Beagle, commented that the native tribe he visited would do an astute impersonation of any European, repeating words and gestures “with perfect correctness,” his praise was mixed with the confidence that the Fuegians were, in some way, inferior and that mimicry was a lower form of understanding. However, as the theorists Homi Bhabha (The Location of Culture, 1993) and Linda Hutcheon (A Theory of Parody, 2000) have pointed out, mimicry and parody can be both subversive and sophisticated, unsettling the boundaries of power. As it becomes increasingly difficult to tell an original from a copy, mimicry can be, Bhabha points out, “at once resemblance and menace” (Bhabha, p. 86). There is a fine line, as Hari Kunzru knows, between mimicry and mockery.

He turns away from the audience, then spins back, a false moustache stuck on his top lip. Holding himself as if he is a very important person, a king or a politician, he gives a speech. A little laughter. Some heckling. He spins round again, comes back without the moustache. His voice thin and reedy, he quavers through a few words, his face held in a lopsided rictus. Jonathan does not understand what he is saying, but he cannot take his eyes away from the man. One after the other, characters appear. One with a deep baritone voice. Another with a little cap and a hectoring way of talking. Each lasts a few seconds, a minute. Each erases the last. The man becomes these other people so completely that nothing of his own is visible ѧ There is no escaping it. In between each impression just at the moment when one person falls away and the next has yet to take possession, the impressionist is completely blank. There is nothing there at all.

Kunzru’s novel is set at the beginning of the twentieth century, at a time of enormous importance for India, during the period of British colonial rule but at a time of increasing Indian nationalism. As a reviewer notes, Kunzru is not so much interested in “Raj bashing,” that is, attacking the British Empire in India, as in pointing out the way in which both British and Indian societies are upheld by controlling and divisive structures of class and race—from his hero’s “adoptive” father, who spends his time attending societies “for the promotion of cast” (p. 23), to the Scottish vicar, who, like the phrenologist Cesare Lombroso, tries to categorize people’s mental capacity according to the structure of their

(p. 418–419)

Identity, Kunzru’s novel seems to be suggesting, may simply be a series of impersonations—the notion of personality is a mere fiction. Kunzru’s examination of ideas of identity connects with his interest in questions surrounding ideas of mimicry. His hero is also a deft impersonator: He can reduce British Other Ranks to fits by imitating regional accents. Oroight there, mate? Och, ye

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HARI KUNZRU Nevertheless, Kunzru’s first novel does demonstrate some particular stylistic features that can be seen to run through his fiction as it develops. The first of these is the way in which he moves into his characters’ thoughts— confidently handling the free indirect style, as when, for example, he imagines the mind of an opium-hazed Amrita:

skull. For all of these characters, Kunzru’s hero is an enigma, or, in their words, “a mongrel.” The Impressionist also offers a deft exploration of the ways in which ideas of nation and nationhood are formed more through fictional representations than through reality—an idea that is described in more depth by Benedict Anderson in his 1991 study of nationalism, Imagined Communities. When Kunzru’s hero reaches England, he is struck by the fact that

Fire and water. Earth and air. Meditate on these oppositions and reconcile them. Collapse them in on themselves, send them spiralling down a tunnel of blackness to re-emerge whole, one with the all, mere aspects of the great unity of things whose name is God. Thought can travel in this manner, from part to whole, smooth as the touch of the masseur’s oiled hands in the hamman.

though he has studied England obsessively, he has never really believed in it. The place had always retained an abstract quality, like a philosophical hypothesis or a problem in geometry. ѧImagine the Lake District, and the Norfolk Broads and the white cliffs rising up out of the green-grey water, circled over by gulls. He tries to feel what the others feel, and wonders nervously what he has become.

(p. 6)

(p. 293)

Another of Kunzru’s stylistic trademarks is also notable here—namely, a fondness for unusual similes, which are often used for ironic effect, as when an upper-class mixed-race man is described as being of “the same blood” as the “street urchin,” our hero, “topped up to more or less the same degree, like two glasses of chai” (p. 49). The use of a simile from Indian culture allows Kunzru to mock the self-hating, racist, upperclass man, who would like to consider himself purely British. The third stylistic element that one could see as typical of Kunzru’s work is his use of grotesque comedy and farce. Pandit, in an attempt to cure his Spanish flu, dies in a bath full of near-boiling water and onion; the major crouches over our hero in an ungainly sexual act, whooping chants from his hunting days. Such a fondness for the tragicomic mode allows Kunzru to engage his readers’ emotions slantwise, keeping painful subjects at a satiric distance. As he has said in interview:

This idea of a nation being a fictional construct is an important one to Kunzru—and in many ways it enables him to separate himself from political arguments over land rights, which, for him, are the cause of needless violence. As he has said elsewhere, he believes that “the idea of a natural connection to a place or a natural connection with a society is false. It is a constructed thing and we build ‘home.’ Home is something you make, you build relationships with people and you build relationships with ‘place.’ There isn’t this fascist type of blood and soil connection” (Book Club, 2001). The question of impressionism, and doing impressions, is borne out by Hari Kunzru himself. The Impressionist is, in itself, a collage of pastiches, echoing, by turns, Rudyard Kipling, E. M. Forster, Charles Dickens, Lawrence Sterne, Evelyn Waugh, and the popular Carry On movies of 1958–1978 that are often considered the epitome of British comedy. In fact, this novel is such an allusive work that it is hard, at times, to find its central core. The parodic imitative quality of both the novel and its hero meant that some reviewers accused Kunzru of hollowness. This is, perhaps, the point; Kunzru is offering a novel that both describes and enacts the idea that identity is something one adopts, rather than inhabits.

I think it is foolish to imagine that you can deploy language in order to create emotional states in the reader. I’m often most interested in my own writing when I have no idea what kind of reaction it is going to produce. If a situation is on a cusp between the tragic and the comic, I can simultaneously be attempting quite a sincere statement and a heavily ironised context for that statement. (Litt, 2004)

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HARI KUNZRU The use of “you”—the intimate second-person pronoun—is an act of consciously false dialogue, guardedly aware of the realms of cyberspace that lie between. Interacting, as the arch italics imply, is a fiction that our various machines, from the novel to the web, virtually sustain.

Kunzru’s next novel, Transmission, shows an increasing interest in the question, and handling, of emotion.

TRANSMISSION

The novel follows Arjun, a geeky comp-sci graduate from New Delhi, who is recruited by the Americans, employed by a Silicon Valley “computer-security specialist” firm, and unfairly fired. He takes revenge on the firm, and the world, by starting a computer virus that disables entire office networks, collapses company systems, and spreads “cybernetic gloom” (p. 148). The virus is transmitted by e-mail, and even the virus-combating company Virugenix, with its “Splat! product suite” (p. 52), cannot stop its progress. One click on an innocuous-looking attachment produces a JPEG file of Arjun’s pinup, a Bollywood starlet named Leela. The host machine is infiltrated and the virus passed on to other computers, causing an informational disaster. Kunzru’s narrative moves between the life of Arjun, in Unit 12, Bilberry Nook, California, and those affected by the virus, including Guy Swift (“Young British Market Visionary of the Year”), Guy’s girlfriend, and the contagious celebrity herself, Leela Zahir, who is on location (in a wet sari) in the Highlands.

Kunzru’s second novel, published in 2004, provides a subtle exploration of the relations between feeling, fiction, and modern technology. The novel opens with what it claims is “a simple message”: Hi. I saw this and thought of you [ѧ] Maybe you obeyed the instruction to check it out! and there she was: Leela Zahir, dancing in jerky quicktime in a pop-up window on your screen. Even at that size you could see she was beautiful, this little pixelated dancer, smiling as the subject line promised, a radiant 21-year-old smile just for you That smile. The start of all your problems. It’s not as if you had asked for Leela to come and break your heart. There you were, doing whatever you normally do online: filling in form fields, downloading porn, interacting, when suddenly up she flounced and everything went to pieces. For a moment, even in the midst of your panic, you probably felt special. Which was Leela’s talent. Making you believe it was all just for you. (p. 3)

Kunzru is obviously demonstrating the way in which technology changes us, but there is nothing Luddite about this novel. One of the pleasures of Transmission is the way in which Kunzru finds music in words usually relegated to the margins of literature. Ready-made compounds such as “downloading,” “online,” “form fields,” and “reboot” are given a sort of organic existence, flowering like the “messy blooms of ASCII text” that signal fatal error. In Kunzru’s prose, Leela’s “jerky quicktime” (p. 3) (a reference to her file format) sounds like a new sort of dance step; her “pixelated” state captures her high spirits as well as her technical animation. As a whole, the novel engages with questions of globalization—particularly the increasing power of the United States in the world. When asked in an interview with Toby Litt about his feelings

We are ostensibly looking at a computer screen, but this is, in fact, a Pandora’s inbox, where signs of affection and infection look the same, now a familiar part of the twenty-first-century spamfilled day. In Kunzru’s hands, however, the idea of the computer virus becomes a postmodern morality tale, suggesting something about the vanity of contemporary consumer desire. Leela looks as if she has been sent especially for you, but she is, it seems, everyone’s and anyone’s. What is more, there is, in fact, no such thing as a “simple message.” Pressing on the idea of the increasing confusion between sender and receiver in today’s society, as Kunzru’s narrator puts it, there is always “a chance for noise to corrupt the signal” (p. 147). There is something plangent about Kunzru’s address to the implied reader.

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HARI KUNZRU both the propagator and the victim of his own rhetoric. Guy, who has helped to sell “an unknown quantity of sporting footwear, alcopops, games consoles and snowboarding holidays,” has been taken in by that most deceptive of internet technology phrases, “solutions” (p. 20). Umbilically attached to his PowerPoint presentations, Guy spends his time “convincing people to channel their emotions, relationships and sense of self through the purchase of products and services” (p. 116). We learn that his “communication facilitation stood out from the crowd. Engaging and impactful, for some years he had also been consistently cohesive, integrated and effective over a spread spectrum” (p. 19). None of this helps him write to his girlfriend: “Switching his laptop on, he tried in a half-hearted way to compose a mail to Gabriella, but, confronted by the blank white screen, he could think of nothing to say” (p. 13). Kunzru himself has a great deal to say about the problems of “global culture”— and a large part of this comic novel exposes the way in which immigrants such as Arjun are exploited by large Western companies. Beneath the slick language of the global product lies the stories of people such as Arjun, working long hours for little money and no credit—trying to escape the poverty of the countries from which they have come.

toward the United States and the spread of “American” language, Kunzru has replied: I don’t have any “citadel/barbarians” kind of feelings. When I read American prose the thing I like about it is its Americanness—I enjoy the rhythms and the vocabulary. I’m interested in the ebbs and flows of language ѧ I’m also interested in globalised English. There is a kind of averaging out that happens in business English. I quite like the international blankness of certain sorts of things, the loss of localisation not just in language but in culture as well ѧ I find it telling about our culture now. Liking it or not liking it seems beside the point. Think about duty-free areas in airports; the brands by and large are similar, so that where you actually are is restricted to the tourist trinkets in the shop; the shape of the small wooden items and the imprint on the silver jewellery are the only clues to your location in the world. So I think a linguistic averaging is quite interesting [or] maybe interesting is the wrong word. I think allowing the blankness to rise up and reveal its horror is what is useful for writers to do. There is something terrifying about the loss of place and the death of location, the death of particularity and the total dominance of global culture by a very small section of cultural producers. Leaving aside the specific politics of the situation, I think it is very difficult to write outside that; deciding to oppose and asserting your resistance is vital, but writing against that blank corporate world in the name of passion and particularity is quite hard. (Litt, 2004)

Kunzru’s mixed feelings about globalization and branding are demonstrated in his use of language in the novel. Arjun, on his first flight, admires the “ergonomic rigour of his meal tray ѧ designed with his lifestyle preferences in mind” (p. 32). Kunzru has carefully picked words such as “ergonomic,” and “lifestyle preferences,” and as the novel progresses, one gets the feeling that Kunzru enjoys this jargon, as “doughy and compacted” as the airplane food that his hero eats. Leela bangras “her way around the world, and disaster, like an overweight suburbanite in front of a workout video, followed every step” (p. 4). The engines of an airplane roar “like a distant sports crowd,” while the “damp polymer smell of microwaved food slowly permeated the fug of the cabin” (p. 32). Kunzru is aware, however, that one can take such blankness too far. This is what has happened to Guy Swift, the novel’s villain, who is

KUNZRU AND EMOTION

The fact that Guy is “half-hearted” is important, for Transmission is concerned with the place of the heart in the technological universe where bodies and machines are curiously intertwined, and touching people becomes increasingly difficult. Like Guy, Arjun has problems with expressing himself. When his mother cries on hearing that he is leaving to work in America, he makes “the gestures you make when you are trying to comfort someone” (p. 16). Later, he meets a girl called Chris and falls in love with her, experiencing “set[s] of emotions” in which he finds himself moving from sadness to happiness with astonishing speed (p. 49). Transmission offers another opportunity for Kunzru to explore his ideas about social construc-

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HARI KUNZRU Impressionist, it is difficult to isolate an emotional center to Transmission. Kunzru slips between the interior lives of his various characters, setting their sincerity against a heavily ironized context. Kunzru has written that it would be intriguing to rediscover “the novel of sentiment as a rigorous literary thing” (Litt, 2004). Transmission is not such a novel, but it is certainly a novel about sentiment; it thinks about why and how our emotional lives are formed. While a number of other contemporary novelists have attempted to write convincingly about cyberspace—from William Gibson, who coined the term in Neuromancer (1984), to Jeannette Winterson in The Powerbook (2001)—Kunzru’s attempt seems unusually successful. Responses to Transmission were almost overwhelmingly positive, recognizing both the novel’s complexity, its comedy, and its carefully balanced emotional tenor—“successful and intelligent,” “compelling”—or, as Christopher Hart puts it, “for all its modishness,” the novel puts its “finger knowingly on the jittery pulse of our times. ѧThe post-modern world is a highly detailed chaos, something which art should convey, not simply mirror. But there is so much to admire in this taut, dense, scintillating novel.”

tionist theories through the medium of cinema. Arjun relies on movies to explain his feelings of love and sadness. As he puts it, only “song lyrics have a purchase on such reversals of fortune. What a difference a day, etc. Lyrics also teach (joy/pain, sunshine/rain) that you can only know how good up feels when you have tasted down” (p. 49). The implication is that it is these movies that also create such feelings. Arjun is a Bollywood devotee, and as he travels to America, he watches the box-office hit Naughty Naughty, Lovely Lovely on the in-flight Hindi channel, communing with “his innermost hopes and dreams.” Kunzru recounts the movie’s climax in wry summary: Spurning the advances of Bigshot’s beautiful daughter, he [Dilip] decides the time has come to make himself known to Aparna, who has been passing the time in a montage of demure praying and chewing a pencil at her desk. As a boring meeting comes to a climax, Dilip strides in, buys the company and sings to Aparna of his undying love. She is bowled over and agrees to be his. ѧThey go walking by the Thames, on the white cliffs of Dover, on the battlements of Windsor castle and briefly in the Swiss Alps, wearing a variety of outfits and describing the life they will lead together once they are united in marriage. (p. 35)

MY REVOLUTIONS

Kunzru is, in part, satirizing the Indian commercial cinema industry here. As Salman Rushdie has commented, this is fairly easy to do—and has been often done in films such as Bollywood Calling (2001) and The Guru (2002). However, there is nothing unequivocally satirical, nor easy, about Kunzru’s relations with Indian cinema. Dark parts of the novel are concerned with exposing the industry’s machinations and exploitation. Meanwhile, Kunzru’s tenderness for the vision of love, or pyaar, which these screen romances project is evident. It provides one of the ideals around which the fractured actualities of transmission and communication cluster. When Arjun is exposed as the originator of the Leela virus, Kunzru’s plot gathers pace, moving between locations at a speed that would put Naughty Naughty, Lovely Lovely to shame. But those questions about love, feeling, and communication trail cloudily behind. As with The

Hari Kunzru’s third novel, published in 2007, is a first-person thriller concerning questions of justice, terrorism, and love. The antihero of My Revolutions is Mike Frame, a man who is just approaching his fiftieth birthday and who is hiding a terrible secret. He is not the man that anyone thinks he is. Although he lives happily with his common-law wife, Miranda, and his stepdaughter, he is living a lie. Mike Frame is, in truth, Chris Carver, a former terrorist. He has changed his name and his identity because during the 1970s he was involved in a communist countercultural revolutionary group that had planned a terrorist attack on the Post Office Tower building in London. Responses and reviews of the novel have been fairly positive— critics viewing it as “a quick-witted, memorable book” and “an intelligent development of Kunzru’s abiding preoccupation with the making

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HARI KUNZRU and dismantling of personal identity” (Mattin, 2007). My Revolutions is, in part, a historical novel. As Kunzru points out in the book’s closing historical note, “The Post Office Tower was bombed on 31 October 1971. No claim of responsibility was made” (p. 278). It is also, however, a psychological thriller, in which Kunzru shows a density and complexity of characterization unseen in his earlier works. Chris Carver’s involvement in political activism begins when he joins an activist group called the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. “I was twenty years old,” he reveals. “I thought about history a lot” (p. 17). He soon becomes a participant in demonstrations, protesting against the Vietnam War, then becomes part of a commune determined to overthrow global capitalism. As Mike looks back on his former self, “Chris,” he does it with a combination of sympathy and satire: “I tended to rely on a small storehouse of slogans. All liberation depends on the consciousness of servitude” (p. 41), he notes. He reflects back on the manifestos that he produced, with the help of Anna, his sometime lover and fellow activist:

are initially peaceable. They march in silence and drop food on people’s doorsteps, with notes promising that “[a]fter the Revolution there will be enough for all” (p. 118). Eventually they become convinced that more radical action is called for, and they plant a bomb outside the American bank in London, posting “copies of our communiqué to mainstream newspapers and the underground press.” “A BOMB TO HALT THE MONEY MACHINE,” it reads in stacked phrases. “Nixon invades Cambodia. More blood on his hands. Bankers and arms companies pull the levers. THEY profit. WE die. ѧRISE UP!” (pp.183–184). Although this bomb explodes, the media and government cover the story up. Disappointed, but not cowed, the group splits up and goes underground, before their final strike— planting another bomb in The Post Office tower. The bomb also explodes, and although nobody is injured, this time the story hits the headlines. Mike goes on the run, making his way to Iran and then Bangkok, where he becomes addicted to drugs; he recovers in a monastery before returning to England. As Mike Frame continues to reminisce about his days as a revolutionary, and his love for Anna, we learn more of his life in contemporary England. He is becoming increasingly distanced from his partner Miranda—partly because she is starting up a new business, and her increasing interest in commerce rides uneasily with Mike’s (hidden) communist leanings. The distance is also caused, however, by the fact that a former member of the communist group is threatening to reveal his true origins—a revelation that would involve Mike’s arrest and the loss of the new life that he has built.

CONFRONTATION! CONFRONTATION! CONFRONTATION! CONFRONTATION dramatizes our condition, which is struggle. CONFRONTATION gives a lead to the apathetic. CONFRONTATION is a revolutionary role model for disaffected youth. CONFRONTATION is a bridge from protest to resistance [ѧ]

HISTORY, JOURNALISM, TERRORISM

We worked together, scrawling phrases, calling them out to one another, little fragments of polemic we delivered like orators, taking pleasure in the force of the words, their potential to make change.

As Kunzru records in the historical note at the end of the novel, Chris Carver and his activist friends have some resemblance to certain reallife activist groups in the 1970s, such as the Baader Meinhof Gang (a militant left-wing terrorist group active in the former West Germany), the Weathermen (a radical terrorist group responsible for bombings in the United States in the

(pp. 44–45)

After Chris is arrested during a riot in London outside the American Embassy, he determines to give up his place at university and commit himself to the revolutionary cause. Chris’s group

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HARI KUNZRU this novel, is complex—and perhaps best summed up by the novel’s conclusion. As plans for his birthday party ensue, Mike wonders whether to start running again—leaving Miranda and his stepdaughter behind—or to give himself up to the police. As the novel ends, he heads toward the airport, but hesitates, and thinks about the consequences of what he may do next. Understanding morality, and legality, for Mike, is hard. He thinks:

late 1960s and early 1970s), and the Angry Brigade (a British terrorist group active around 1970 to 1972). However, Kunzru notes that My Revolutions “is not a representation of the politics of personalities of the Angry Brigade, who carried out a series of bomb attacks on targets including the Police National Computer and the Employment Secretary’s house in the early seventies” (p. 278). What Kunzru does attempt to do in this novel, however, is to probe the idea of hidden histories. He imaginatively reconstructs the stories that might have happened but never made the news—he allows us to imagine things that might have been unseen, but nevertheless occurred, in past history. Much of the fictional group’s actions go unreported; Kunzru’s implication is that the government has stifled the media for a variety of reasons: a fear of creating panic, to prevent copycat actions, or even to preserve its own appearance of power. Peopled as it is with politicians and journalists, the novel seems to ask its readers to engage with the question “Does something exist if it’s unobserved? Does something happen if it is not reported?” Once again, Kunzru seems to be suggesting that our reality is not something that exists “out there” but that rather it may be something that is constructed by ourselves or, more dangerously, by others.

Because legality is just the name for everything that’s not dangerous for the ruling order, because the poor starve when the rich play, because the flickering system of signs is enticing us to give out our previous interiority and join the dance and because just round the corner an insect world is waiting, so saying we must love one another or die isn’t enough, not by a long way, because there’ll come a time when any amount of love will be too late. (pp. 276–277)

From the tone of this speech, it seems, initially, as if Mike (or Chris) has learned almost nothing from his life experiences. The long repetitive sentences form yet another “storehouse of slogans,” reminiscent of his early manifestos. These are the same slogans that caused Mike to act but to refuse to take responsibility for the consequences of his actions and the loss of human life that they might involve. One imagines that this speech is building up to yet another piece of radical violent action. But on closer examination, there seems to be something more complex going on here. The passage is allusive—the phrase “we must love one another or die” is taken from W. H. Auden’s poem “1 September 1939”—a poem that was circulated on the internet as a poem of consolation soon after the attacks on the World Trade Center. Although many found Auden’s sentiment reassuring, as Kunzru would know, this line was rejected from collections of Auden’s later verse, and the poem was eventually eliminated entirely. Auden commented that this line was, in the end, a meaningless thing to say—that it was, in fact, precisely these sorts of meaningless statements that encouraged violent and unthinking action. The case of W. H. Auden offers an interesting parallel with Kunzru’s hero. Auden was once

Set as it is in the late 1990s, Kunzru’s novel about terrorism in the 1970s cannot but reflect the infamous terrorist acts against the United States that took place at the beginning of the twenty-first century. He even allows himself some dramatic irony, as one of his characters claims: “There’s no real conflict anymore. ѧIn a couple of years it’ll be a new millennium and, with luck, nothing will bloody happen anywhere, nothing at all” (p. 259). Since the jetliner attacks on the World Trade Center and other U.S. targets on September 11, 2001, there have been a spate of novels about terrorism—including those by Jonathan Safran Foer, Ian McEwan, and John Updike. Although Kunzru’s novel is set over thirty years earlier, it is impossible not to draw parallels between Mike Frame and more recent terrorists. Kunzru’s own handling of Mike, who is both the hero and, in some ways, the villain of

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HARI KUNZRU concerns. Transmission made a strong case for the dangers of globalization. However, there is always a danger that Kunzru will make his case too strongly—a leaning towards caricature, as was seen in The Impressionist. It is easy to make political points if one draws on sharply defined characters. However, stereotyping is, essentially, at odds with Kunzru’s emerging focus on empathy and the particularity of individuals. For Chris Carver as a character, the danger came from his commitment to ideas rather than individuals. His recognition, at the novel’s close, in the importance of individual relationships rather than ideas and causes, is born out by Kunzru’s own stylistic trajectory. It is a trajectory that is influenced, itself, by the times in which he writes.

extremely interested in communist politics, but in his later years, he rejected the idea that the artist should attempt to write about politics at all. There was, for Auden, a fine line between authorial tyranny—the idea that an author could sway his public—and political tyranny itself. Kunzru’s allusion to Auden tacitly acknowledges this. My Revolutions ends with a change of tone and a movement toward something new. Mike’s speech does conclude with another action of sorts but it is not necessarily a violent one. After pulling the car over, he picks up the phone. He reflects that “it’s something, love, not nothing, and that’s why I pull over and find a callbox in a lay-by and punch a number into the phone” (p. 277). We know this phone call will be a turnaround for Mike—another revolution of sorts. Whether it will take him into the light, or keep him underground, is left for the reader to find out.

As Kunzru’s website and his career as a journalist writing about new technology would both suggest, this is an author who is highly alert to the way in which the media, and mediums, may change us and shape us. He has said that he is interested in knowing “whether all media is a form of pollution, or whether it’s just the mass media, which makes the viewer or listener passive. I am interested in the possibility of two way media, two way means of communication, an interactive form” (Serres, 1995). Kunzru is particularly alert to the new media—interested in the ways in which the power of the Internet may alert us to a number of questions: whether we are, as the journalist Jon Katz puts it in the December 1997 cover story of Wired magazine (“The Digital Citizen”), “a powerful new kind of community or just a mass of people hooked up to machine? ѧ Are we extending the evolution of freedom among human beings” or are we merely “a great wired babble, pissing into the digital wind?” Whether he is writing about the way in which humans are becoming overly reliant on machines or about the way in which Internet viruses and hackers may cause mayhem, Kunzru illuminates the way in which, as Marshall McLuhan famously wrote in 1967, “The medium is the message.”

ASSESSMENT

The most obvious difference between My Revolutions and Kunzru’s earlier works is the way in which it handles questions of characterization. Kunzru’s third novel is a far more conventionally realist work. It also shows the author moving clearly away from the comic and satiric genre. In many ways, one could see this movement as appropriate for Kunzru’s subject matter. As this is, at heart, a “post-9/11” novel, he is, like Clare Messud, Zadie Smith, and Ian McEwan, concerned with questions of empathy: how one might empathize with the mind of a terrorist, whether or not there are minds that are lacking in empathy for others—and whether the novelist can play a role in developing or shaping our empathetic skills. Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, a number of contemporary novelists have been seen to be placing new importance on their own role in shaping the imagination and sharpening the reader’s powers of empathy. Such concerns with empathy necessarily require a deeper level of psychological realism, as is evident in the novel’s characterization. The softening of Kunzu’s satire and comedy is also in line with his aesthetic and ethical

Delivering things straight, and true, may be Kunzru’s practical concern, but when it comes to sending messages, we are, Kunzru seems to say, no angels. And while much of his writing is

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HARI KUNZRU ate, and he repeatedly returns, in his novels, to questions of race, identity, and political injustice. Kunzru has spoken articulately about the manner in which the media may distort and shape questions of race, either positively or negatively. He notes

concerned with pragmatic questions, beneath all this, one can sense an idealism about Kunzru’s writing which is often expressed by the motif of the angel. It is no coincidence that Guy’s girlfriend, who works in public relations, is called Gabriella, or that Guy lunches in a restaurant named Seraphim. The angel appears earlier, in The Impressionist, as “Bobby” acts as an intermediary between the estranged Reverend MacFarlane and his wife, Elspeth, and again in the short story “Deus Ex-Machina,” in his 2005 collection, Noise. As Kunzru discusses with the philosopher Michel Serres, an angel is an important symbol “for someone thinking about new media and communications,” because an angel would be the ideal communicator—a messenger who would never displace or pollute the message. Although Kunzru is not a spiritual writer, he is deeply concerned with ethics—and is convinced that we “should approach ethics not in terms of some a priori sense of the spiritual, but framed in terms of transmission and communication.” As Serres puts it in the same interview, “The problem of disappearing as myself to give way to the message itself is the ethics of the messenger” (Serres, 1995). This ethical determination in some ways has an impact on the quality of Kunzru’s prose— which seems to aim both for transparency and to deliver a clear message. Kunzru may be resisting the idea that there is such a thing as a human “soul.” After all, as Kenneth Gergen points out, “We don’t easily want to part with such a belief, let’s say trading it for a view of ourselves as so many robots or the victims of our genes” (p. 6). Kunzru is not a soulless writer—his belief is in human rights.

The whole multi-ethnic British thing seems to be incredibly cool at the moment. ѧThis year is the year of the Trendy Asian in London! ѧ There’s this sort of sense that it’s cool to be South Asian. That’s an amazing feeling because when I grew up there were no Asian people on TV. ѧSome people are being a bit sneery about the trend factor at the moment. But I know what it has been like. I just think it is great, it is so cool that there is finally people who are South Asian doing a lot of different things. ѧYou can’t underestimate the effect of that on young kids. (Anon, 2001)

However, he points out that although cultural differences may be “celebrated and seen as good” in London, “In other parts of Britain it is not like that. Last September we had old-fashioned race riots with Pakistanis up against whites. There is a national Far Right movementѧall that hasn’t gone away. There are parts of Britain, sadly, where things are just as divided as they ever were.” His concern with keeping such matters a live in the media are demonstrated by his 2003 attack on the Mail newspaper. A number of Kunzru’s influences are philosophical rather than literary—they include the philosophers Michel Serres and Giles Deleuze and theorists such as Donna Harraway. In literary terms, one can see the imprint on Kunzru’s work of other British Indian writers, in particular Salman Rushdie (Imaginary Homelands, 1992), and British Asian writers, such as Zadie Smith (White Teeth, 2001). Transmission demonstrates the ways in which the twentieth-century novelist Martin Amis is a clear influence on Kunzru—the two share the same commitment to political satire, comedy, and caricature for moral means. Meanwhile there are many grotesque moments in Kunzru’s work that recall the style of the postmodern American writer Thomas Pynchon, the author of Gravity’s Rainbow (1973) and Against the Day (2006).

Although one of Kunzru’s most committed causes is that of clear communication, regardless of the message being communicated, his oeuvre does reveal his commitment as a writer to large political themes and a refusal to retire into a world of pure aesthetics. As he writes in an interview with Toby Litt, “The lack of a moral stanceѧthe affectless quality of a lot of prose by young British, American and French writers seems to be something that a lot of people head towards as an appropriate stance to take on the world.” For Kunzru, such a stance is inappropri-

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HARI KUNZRU Kunzru may have many dark passages in his writing, but he is nonetheless essentially a positive writer—one who appears to believe that his writing can do some good in today’s society. In this sense, he can be seen to be part of a cluster of young British and American writers who, turning away from postmodernist fiction, are determined to use their literary skill to make a difference. Kunzru has responded that while “it is very nice being compared to somebody like Zadie who people are very excited about ѧ as to whether we constitute any kind of movement or tendency, I don’t know” (Book Club). It is obviously difficult to place a living author within any particular “movement,” but another contemporary who seems to work along similarly politically engaged lines as Kunzru is Dave Eggers—the author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (2000) and What Is the What (2006). Eggers is also the founder of the literary magazine The Believer, and the title is an optimistic one— intended to evoke not so much ideas of spiritual belief but rather a strong sense of humanism (as its manifesto puts it, “We will give people and books the benefit of the doubt”). Like Eggers and Smith, one could see Hari Kunzru as a believer of sorts. He writes, powerfully, about human nature, and he, too, gives people the benefit of the doubt. As he told Toby Litt,

“Lila.exe.” In Best of Young British Novelists 2003. Edited by Ian Jack. London: Granta, 2003. Transmission. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2004. Noise. London: Penguin, 2005. My Revolutions. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2007. “Aisha.” In Four Letter Word: New Love Letters. Edited by Joshua Knelman and Rosalind Porter. Toronto: Knopf, 2008.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Adams, Tim. “Many Unhappy Returns for a Teenage Terrorist.” Guardian (http://books.guardian.co.uk), September 2, 2007. Chaudhuri, Amit. “The Revenger’s Tragedy.” Guardian (http://books.guardian.co.uk), May 29, 2004. Dirda, Michael. “Things Fall Apart.” Washington Post (http://www.washingtonpost.com), June 20, 2004. Duffy, Carol-Ann. “Our Planet, Speeded Up.” Daily Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk), July 6, 2004. Hart, Christopher. “A Virus Called Love.” Independent on Sunday (http://findarticles.com) May 30, 2004. Kipen, David. “Incarnations of Kunzru’s Part-Indian, PartBritish Hero.” San Francisco Chronicle (http://www. sfgate.com), April 7, 2002. Mars-Jones, Adam. “East Meets West.” Observer (http:// books.guardian.co.uk), March 31, 2002. Mattin, David. “Twenty Years After Going Underground.” The Independent (http://www.independent.co.uk), September 2, 2007 Meadow, Susannah. “Son of a Sort of Goddess.” New York Times (http://query.nytimes.com), May 12, 2002.

I come back to the fact that assuming the status of artists is a valuable way of looking at the world— the kind of thing that a lot of writers could very usefully do, and which would improve the quality of debate. ѧI think we should really look at the level of debate about books, because debate and contention should be doing good and useful things. The spotlight is there, it’s now a question of upping the level of conversation and taking it a bit more seriously, a bit more passionately. People should take risks with what they say and what is possible.

Mukherjee, Neel. “Not a Cosy Novel.” Daily Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk), August 30, 2007. Sooke, Alistair. “Signs of the Times.” New Statesman (http:// www.newstatesman.com), September 6, 2007.

INTERVIEWS

AND

NEWS COVERAGE

“A Conversation with Hari Kunzru.” Book Club (http:// www.book-club.co.nz/features/harikunzru.htm).

(Litt, 2004)

Gibbons, Fiachra, and Claire Armitstead. “Author Rejects Prize from ‘Anti-migrant’ Newspaper.” Guardian (http:// books.guardian.co.uk/), November 21, 2003. Kinson, Sarah. “Hari Kunzru.” Guardian (http://books. guardian.co.uk), July 11, 2007. Litt, Toby. “When Hari Met Toby.” Guardian (http://books. guardian.co.uk), January 27, 2004.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF HARI KUNZRU

Mudge, Alden. “Identity Crisis: The Many Faces of an Amazing Traveler.” BookPage (www.bookpage.com).

The Impressionist. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2002.

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ANDREW MILLER (1960—)

J.-A. George ALTHOUGH HE HAS written only a handful of novels, Andrew Miller has established himself as one of the leading writers in contemporary British fiction. Indeed, his career has been auspicious from the outset. His debut novel, Ingenious Pain (1997), was awarded Britain’s oldest established literary award, the James Tait Black Memorial Prize. However, admiration for his work is not confined to Britain, and Ingenious Pain also won the Italian Grinzane Cavour Prize in 1997. Miller’s international reputation was confirmed when his debut novel also won the prestigious International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award in 1999. Set in mid-eighteenth-century Europe, at the cusp of the Enlightenment, the novel tells the life story of James Dyer, a brilliant surgeon and man of learning who, due to a strange accident of birth, is unable to feel pain. Ingenious Pain not only established the high standard of Miller’s work to come—for example, his third novel, Oxygen (2001), was short-listed for both the Booker Prize for Fiction and the Whitbread Novel Award—it also set the tone. His subsequent works, Casanova (1998), Oxygen, The Optimists (2005), and One Morning Like a Bird (2008), all share a fascination with history. (Casanova and One Morning Like a Bird, like Ingenious Pain, are historical novels; Oxygen and The Optimists, despite their contemporary settings, also feature a complex dialogue between the past and the present.) Each of the books betrays as well Miller’s love of travel (he has lived in Spain, Japan, Ireland, and France, as well as his native England). Indeed, Miller’s protagonists are often wanderers or, like the eponymous hero of Casanova and Lásló Lázár, the Hungarian-born playwright in Oxygen, exiles. The action of his first three novels shifts between Britain and various parts of the Continent, and

his more recent work has moved even farther afield, with The Optimists set partly in Africa and One Morning Like a Bird taking place in Tokyo in the days before Pearl Harbor. While Casanova is valuable for its evocation of eighteenth-century London, it is a testament to Miller’s considerable abilities as a writer that the historical and geographical settings of his novels never come across as mere literary trappings or exotica. On the contrary, period and place are always handled with a rare lightness of touch in Miller’s work. His depictions of eighteenthcentury Europe in both Ingenious Pain and Casanova are very vivid, though Miller freely admits that they present more of a “dream of the 18th century” (O’Regan, 2001), which draw from details gleaned from the literature of the period and Miller’s imagination more than scrupulous historical research. Miller’s skill in making the past come alive derives less from a search for historical authenticity (a dubious concept if ever there was one) than from his gift for characterization. The past times that he recreates are each colored by the perception of his unusual, often exceptional, protagonists. Indeed, time and place play an essential part in making Miller’s heroes the people that they are. Miller’s one-time mentor Lorna Sage argues that his novels are about the “awakening of sensibility in a temperament that had previously been immune, untouched, never taking experience in as experience.” Melancholy, alienated, and introspective, his heroes often find themselves in an environment that is alien to them and leaves them at a linguistic, cultural, and even moral remove from those around them. But it is only in this environment, which offers little in the way of comfort, safety, and familiarity, that this awakening of self-awareness can come about.

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ANDREW MILLER For example, Casanova places its hero in London for the bulk of the narrative. Here, he is literally a stranger in a strange land, unable to speak English and unable to find his way through the unfamiliar, even threatening, city landscape. The London Miller presents us with is fascinating as it is twice defamiliarized: once historically (we see it as it would have appeared in 1763) and once culturally (we see it as it would appear to a Venetian who could not speak English). But it is only in this hostile and alien environment, and after a rejection of his amorous advances that would be seemingly unthinkable on the Continent, that Casanova can begin to understand himself. Miller is most interested in his characters when they are stripped of their ego and their pride and at their most vulnerable. Ingenious Pain opens with James Dyer’s autopsy—he is naked, dead, and being dissected in the name of science—and at the start of Casanova, the hero begins to burn his papers in a vain attempt to liberate himself from his own past. The vulnerability that his characters display may be close to Miller’s own. As he says in an interview with Nadine O’Regan in the Sunday Business Post, when one of his novels comes out: “I’d like to disappear at that point, really.”

ters (Kelman, McEwan, Naipaul); the ubiquity of the crowd-pleasers (Hornby, Bragg),” his audience is deservedly growing (Oxygen remains a book-club favorite in Britain). More importantly though, also growing is his reputation as one of the finest prose stylists and most intelligent storytellers in contemporary British fiction.

BIOGRAPHICAL OUTLINE

Like his books, Miller’s biography revolves around an astonishing number of geographical locations. Miller’s characters live in or visit London, Paris, Venice, Tokyo, Africa, Hungary, Russia, and various parts of the English countryside. The novelist himself has lived abroad in Spain (teaching English as a second language in Avila and Barcelona), France, Ireland, and Japan. His time in England has been spent in Bristol, Bath, Wiltshire, London, and East Anglia. In 2008 he was living in the United Kingdom, in Somerset, near his daughter Frieda Kathleen, who was born on October 20, 2004. Miller, like his eponymous hero Casanova, has shown himself to be a true citizen of the world, and this cosmopolitanism and sensitivity to other cultures is reflected in his work. Born in Bristol on April 29, 1960 (it is said that his birth was induced by his mother’s eating of a large supper of fish and chips), he spent his early childhood in a Somerset village where his Irish father was the local doctor. Perhaps these facts influenced the choice of location in Ingenious Pain, as well as James Dyer’s occupation as a doctor. His English mother was a psychotherapist with an ardent interest in all things French. This clearly influenced Miller, who emerges as a keen Francophile throughout his novels. Alec Valentine in Oxygen makes his living by translating French, and László Lázár (from the same novel) is a Hungarian refugee from 1956 living in Paris writing in French; Casanova, in the work of that name, has a profound respect for French culture and language, as does Yuji in Miller’s 2008 novel, One Morning Like a Bird. Miller’s parents, Molly Anne Hilton and Keith Thomas Wyndham, separated when he was four, at which time he and his brother, Alistair

There’s a slight feeling of embarrassment that what’s been private for the last three years is now very public. And you always regret that you didn’t write a better book. My publisher produced a poster which has at the top of it “a living, breathing masterpiece” ѧ But I wish everyone would tone the language down. Otherwise, everything is a work of genius and a masterpiece. And, of course, there’s nothing left to say when we do write or read a masterpiece. (O’Regan, 2001)

Regardless of Miller’s misgivings about the term and his own modest estimation of his work, critics have seen fit to laud each of his novels so far as “a masterpiece.” While it would be almost impossible for any novelist to create only masterpieces, this critical admiration speaks volumes about Miller’s consistency as a writer. While his name does not, in the reviewer Alfred Hickling’s words, “have the heft of the big hit-

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ANDREW MILLER (who lives in France and upon whom the character of Casanova is partly based), went to live with their mother in Bath. Family is clearly important to Miller, and this is often reflected in his work. Oxygen’s Alec Valentine is extremely close to his mother; The Optimists’ Clem Glass is close to his sister and aunt; Yuji, in One Morning Like a Bird, frets over his mother’s invalid condition and strives to become a good father to his baby son, Emile, despite the cruel vicissitudes of history.

Ph.D. from Lancaster University in 1995 under the supervision of Professor David Craig.

FIRST NOVEL: INGENIOUS PAIN

Ingenious Pain (1997) is aptly named, for the ingenuity and “weirdly wonderful” quality of Andrew Miller’s “dazzling debut” (Patterson, Observer, p. 17) were recognized from the moment of its publication. The novel won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize and Italy’s Grinzane Cavour Prize, as well as the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award, the largest and most international prize of its kind. Librarians from capitol and major cities from around the globe make the IMPAC nominations for the onehundred-strong long list, and the award is open to books written in any language. When one takes into account Miller’s increasing reputation as a “literary” and highly philosophical writer, it is no surprise that even this early on he should have proved a favorite of librarians. In unpublished personal correspondence (January 4, 2008), Miller himself speaks of the relationship between style and substance in his work:

Though Miller’s love of learning is apparent in his work, his own education was initially rather rocky. He failed the eleven-plus exam at the end of primary school and was then sent to a boarding school in Wiltshire from which he was suspended in his penultimate year. The suspicion he has for authority, something that unites Miller with many of his fictional characters, possibly has roots in this moment and earlier. Miller’s first job was working at a chicken abattoir. One can’t help but feel that this experience has influenced his fiction in some way. In his novels, however, Miller often portrays the relationship between humans and animals in a very positive light, and he sometimes uses the mistreatment of animals as metaphor for the cruelty humans inflict upon one another. This is seen most clearly in the image of the kitten with its throat cut in the final moments of Ingenious Pain.

I am—gawd help me—a stylist. When I write I want to work the language until it sings. I do not think of prose and poetry being, ever, quite, interchangeable, but I want to write with the same care and attention as a poet, the same (as Berger put it) loyalty “to the ambiguity of language.” For this reason, I write slowly and revise feverishly. (Actually— physically—I write quickly.) What is carelessly expressed remains forever vague, and in some way untrue.

After three years spent in the social services caring for young children with learning difficulties (pace Ingenious Pain), he went to what was then Middlesex Polytechnic to study literature, philosophy, and history—all subjects that are central to his fiction. He received his first-class degree in 1985, and in 1991 he received an M.A. in creative and critical writing from the University of East Anglia. East Anglia’s creative writing program is perhaps the most prestigious one of its kind in Great Britain, and it produces some of the world’s most important authors and poets. While he was at East Anglia, Miller became a protégé of Malcolm Bradbury and Lorna Sage. He dedicated Oxygen to them in recognition of their influence and guidance. Miller received a

In 1999, the year in which Miller won the IMPAC, the short list of eight included some wellloved and long-established novelists. Ian McEwan was nominated for Enduring Love and Don DeLillo for Underworld. In the light of such stiff competition, some viewed Ingenious Pain as the “surprise winner.” Looking back over Miller’s ten-year career as a novelist, however, the success of Ingenious Pain was clearly no fluke, for Miller now ranks as one of the heavy hitters of contemporary British fiction. Ingenious Pain begins in August 1772. Its protagonist, Dr. James Dyer, is already dead and

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ANDREW MILLER is about to be dissected in the name of science. Dyer, an attractive man in life (as with most of Miller’s male leads), is also “a handsome corpse” (p. 4). He does not remain one for long, however, for two doctors— good, Enlightenment men of science—are determined to discover the secret of Dyer’s immunity to pain. They believe that it will somehow be written on (or in) his body:

same rock as László Lázár in Oxygen (2001) and Clem Glass (whose very surname suggests fragility) in The Optimists (2005). As Christina Patterson has perceptively written in her interview with Miller in the Independent (p. 21): While his novels are, in their various ways, all about the struggle for courage, his characters couldn’t be further from the stereotype of the strong, brave man. “They’re all Hamletty types,” laughs Miller “in the sense that they’re all stuttering on the edge. They are characters who are at least very aware of the potential futility of all that they’ve done, or could do.” They are, in fact, very English, often very fastidious and profoundly embarrassed by displays of emotion. They’re also intelligent, analytical and more than a little tortured. Are there, I ask nervously, any affinities with their creator?

They begin to tear at the chest, working at the ribs with a handsaw, then using the knife to worry through the great vessels. The doctors are visibly excited, bright as eggs. There shall be a paper in this, societies addressed, circles of illuminati: “Some Thoughts, hm, upon the Case of the Late Jm Dyer. An Enquiry into ѧ the Curious and Remarkable ѧ who until his twenty-something year was insensible to ѧ knew not ѧ entirely without all sensation ѧ feeling ѧ knowledge of ѧ pain. With proofs, illustrations, exhibits and so forth.”

Miller smiles kindly. “When I realised that this was something that kept coming up in the books, I was quite surprised,” he confesses. “I’ve also been surprised, talking to other men, how recognisable this thing is. I realised then that this wasn’t just something completely aberrant and idiosyncratic. I look at my own biography. Yes, I can see that this was something. I was a secretive and quite withdrawn child for all sorts of reasons. I was guarded—that’s what it was.

(p. 5)

Miller does not spare the reader here. If anything, the savagery of the moment is emphasized through the style of the writing, the jagged sentences and incomplete thoughts evoking the dismembered body of James Dyer. We are also forced to contemplate the “broken muscle of James Dyer’s heart” (p. 5) in this opening scene, an image Miller uses to symbolize the physical and emotional “brokenness” suffered by Dyer while he was alive. Indeed, this is a condition experienced by many of the characters that inhabit Miller’s fiction. In Casanova (1998), for example, the legendary lover is, according to Sylvia Brownrigg, “burdened by his own reputation, by midlife uncertainties, by the gloom of exile” (p. 14). When Casanova, at the age of thirty-eight, arrives in England, we see him

(Patterson, 2005)

It would be unfair to Miller and his characters, however, to suggest that the novelist’s vision is universally one of Sturm und Drang. Although James Dyer spends the first half of the novel in exquisite detachment from the world of feelings and physical pain—“It may be in this instance the expression ‘cold-blooded’ is more than merely figurative” (Ingenious Pain, p. 135)—he experiences a surfeit of empathy and pain in the second part. “In past and present,” Joanna Kavenna writes in The London Review of Books, “Miller is compelled by inversions and oppositions. His novels are often hinged at the centre” (2005). Fittingly for such an enigmatic character, Dyer’s transformation (resurrection?) is effected in an undefined, almost pagan, ritual by the witch-woman Mary in a scene that beautifully mirrors the opening one of the novel:

looking out at the green whorls of English fields and English woods, at the enchanting chalky blue of the English sky, and wondering if this tilled and agreeable little country might not be just the place for a man to revive himself, to shake off those morbid dawn vigils, those nights when it seemed some demonic lapdog crouched on his chest, panting into his face; those lugubrious moods that had troubled him ever since Munich like a cough one could never quite be rid of. (pp. 13–14)

Dyer is in bed, lying on his back, eyes closed. Mary is beside the bed. The Reverend opens his mouth to speak but Mary looks up at him, silences him. For

Miller’s Casanova, suffering as he does from a kind of existential dislocation, is hewn from the

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ANDREW MILLER Dyer’s body: “Beneath James’s crossed hands lies a book in scuffed leather binding ѧ Gulliver’s Travels. James borrowed it from the study only a week or two ago. Who placed it there? Sam? Mary?” (p. 4). Here, Swift’s masterpiece is iconographically positioned like some kind of secular Bible, and this is surely no accident, as throughout Miller’s oeuvre characters express a reverence for, and love of, books and learning. What better example of this than Casanova’s admission that “often he wanted to eat books, to devour them physically!” (p. 24)?

a moment he wonders if Dyer is dead, but then sees the slow swelling of his chest, the slight palp of the skin over his heart. ѧThe Reverend starts forward, a single step, then stops. The room is sealed. There are forces here he knows nothing of, a magic more powerful than his own. He cannot prevent her. One of Mary’s hands is in, now the other works in beside it. There is no blood; the flesh parts like water, like sand. Her arms are trembling, her face racked with the effort of her secret business. Dyer does not move, only sometimes sighs like a sleeper in a dream. When it is finished she sits heavily in a chair, her head falls forward, her shoulders slump. The room is suddenly calm, ordinary. A man sleeping in a bed, and a woman next to him, sleeping in a chair.

Casanova’s bibliophile fetish is clearly one shared by Miller himself, for Ingenious Pain also reveals a novelist steeped in the literary conventions and belief systems of the eighteenth century. Miller adopts the epistolary form, a favorite of eighteenth-century readers, throughout parts of his novel and his exploration of the “double-self” owes much to texts such as James Hogg’s The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824). Indeed, the employment of this particularly Scottish theme—one taken to new heights in Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886)—may owe something to Miller’s partly Scottish roots (he still has family in the country). The account of James Dyer’s conception is also like something straight out of an eighteenth-century novel, for Miller implies that the moment of conception, and the way in which it occurs, can determine the course of an individual’s life. This is most famously articulated in the opening paragraph of Laurence Sterne’s The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman (1759–1767):

(pp. 254–255)

In personal correspondence (January 4, 2008), Miller responded to a comment by James Urquhart in the Financial Times Magazine: “Miller has spent a good deal of time vigorously challenging the possibility—or sanity—of happiness in a world framed by pain and affliction.” “Hmm,” the novelist pondered. “Not sure it’s happiness I’m concerned with, more the possibility of going on decently, by which I mean going on with integrity, by which I mean honesty to self. That has to be the bedrock. Characters must, if possible, wake to ‘the truth’ about themselves. ѧI cannot write at all without holding on to some pre post-modern notion of ‘truth.’” James Dyer’s waking to the “truth” about himself ultimately drives him mad, but better this, Miller seems to suggest, than to go on living a pain-free lie. Although Ingenious Pain is, as many have said, a novel that explores what it means to be human, it is also a work of historical fiction. The “wonderful sense of period” that the IMPAC judges praised is established, as has been seen, in the novel’s initial moments. The Enlightenment’s reverence for rationality and scientific discovery is signified by the autopsy itself, and this aspect of the period is echoed throughout the novel: Miller shows us, for example, characters toasting “The future.” “Knowledge.” “Newton.” (p. 130). We also know that we are in the eighteenth century by the choice of reading matter attributed to the characters in the novel. One reads Roderick Ransom, and Jonathan Swift’s ironic and irreverent Gulliver’s Travels is found on James

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly consider’d how much depended upon what they were then doing;—that not only the production of a rational Being was concern’d in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;—and, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humors and dispositions which were then uppermost:—Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,—I am verily persuaded I should have

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ANDREW MILLER somewhere between historical fiction and fairytale, but “the tension between credibility and credulity is, after all, part of the very subject matter of the book” (Bowler, 1997).

made quite a different figure in the world, from that, in which the reader is likely to see me. (p. 3)

In Tristram Shandy’s case, the mishap of his (mis)conception becomes one of the great comic turns of the novel. Mrs. Shandy fails to “mind” what she was about by asking her husband at the crucial moment “Pray, my dear, ѧ have you not forgot to wind up the clock?” The tragedy of James Dyer’s conception is portrayed in a much darker way, for his mother has an illicit union with a stranger. Here, Miller gives us a moment as unexpected and unexplained as the one in which Dyer is reborn through Mary’s mysterious practices:

CASANOVA

Miller’s second novel, Casanova (1998), finds him returning to the eighteenth century with a story in part “based on Casanova’s Histoire de Ma Vie, written down in old age at the castle of Count Waldenstein in Dux, on the Czech-German border,” as he says in the author’s note that closes the book. The novel, published hard on the heels of Ingenious Pain, covers some of the same period ground but in a more arch and playful manner. The running joke throughout is that “Casanova the woman-killer” (p. 117), the man whose name is synonymous with erotic adventure, is failing in the art of seduction. Marie Charpillion, an eighteen-year-old beauty whose family owes Casanova a great deal of money, is rejecting his advances, and Miller describes the legendary lover’s humiliation with a certain wry humor. At times, the exchanges between Casanova and Charpillion are almost slapstick and are comparable to the sexual high comedy found in, say, Henry Fielding’s An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews (1741):

In his haste, the stranger loses his balance; he slips and drags them both down on to the ice, his weight on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. They writhe in a heap, yet neither tries to stand. Her skirts are up. She knows she has the strength to fight him, to fling him off her. Instead, she gropes towards the bank, scrabbling until she catches hold of a root, cold as brass, and clutches it with both hands, anchoring them, her and the stranger, like some clumsy vessel wallowing off a black coast. He hangs from the bones of her hips, jabs several times before he succeeds in entering her. It is over in seconds: a half-dozen thrusts; the dig of his nails; his breath hissing between his teeth. Then he drifts away from her, her shifts and petticoats and gown falling like curtains. (pp. 57–58)

“Why do you think I was brought here?” he began, the pitch of his voice weirdly high. “Do you deny that you knew I was coming here this afternoon? Do you mean to tell me that you did not know that I was in the room, that you did not deliberately inflame me with your nakedness?”

More significantly still, Miller sets this scene during “the winter of 1739 ѧ the worst in living memory” (p. 55), the year of the Big Freeze. James Dyer, the man who feels no pain, is conceived during a time when the entire world is frozen. Miller brings the importance of this home later in the novel, when one of the characters muses about Dyer’s “cold-blooded” nature: “And should this prove to be the case—that the senses are in some way frozen—it is a nice question to consider how this ice may be thawed, and what the effect would be should the child experience pain for the first time” (p. 135).

“Monsieur,” she answered, “you have spent too long among depraved company. It has coloured all your thinking.” ѧ Between gritted teeth, more to himself than to the girl, he hissed: “This should not be happening.” “Out, monsieur!” (pp. 76–77)

Though Miller gives us a highly realistic portrait of the eighteenth century in Ingenious Pain, we are at times required to suspend disbelief. Ultimately, Miller’s novel is situated

This scene illustrates perfectly Joanna Kavenna’s remark that “writing about the past, Miller is in holiday humour, allowing his characters flights

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ANDREW MILLER into the baroque, spilling out adjectives and lavish conceits” (2005). At this early stage of his career, Miller was establishing himself as a writer of historical fiction and, as a result, he was often asked to discuss this particular facet of his work. Perhaps the author’s most comprehensive defense of the genre is found in “The Power of the Past,” a piece he wrote for Waterstone’s magazine. Here he writes that

He gathered the papers in his arms like laundry, but rather than stuffing them into one of the drawers or kicking them under the bed – supposing there were any room left there—he carried them to the hearth and dropped them in among the chill of the ashes. Then, striking a spark into the lint of his tinderbox and touching a match to the embers, he ignited them. WOOMPF! (p. 7)

The task ultimately proves futile, however, for in this process of eradication Casanova is forced to confront his younger self through the reading of an old letter sent to him by Marie Chapillion. This letter, much like Marcel Proust’s “petites madeleines,” brings the past clamoring without warning into the present. “Memory, like a thousand-petal bloom, unfolded” (p. 9):

even as a boy I understood that history is not out there, something apart from us, sealed off. It is in our blood, our music, our language, our food, the buildings we pass every day on the way to work. There is no break between us, no missing links in history, and we ourselves, of course, are a part of the chain that will stretch on to the horizon of the future and beyond. Historical fiction, then, is never a turning away from the Now, nor a symptom of some kind of cultural enervation eating away at our literature like Dutch Elm disease, but rather one of the ways in which our experience of the contemporary is revived. Janus-like, a good historical novel looks two ways, a version both of the past and of the present. ѧIt is essential, through a process [Marguerite] Yourcenar describes as a blend of scholarship and the magic arts, to engage imaginatively in the fullest possible way among the lives of our ancestors, the somewhat eerie otherness of their world, [to] see our lives subtly transfigured. History must have its full measure of difference, of weirdness even; an understanding of both the continuities and what is now deliciously alien, anthropologically remote.

Imagine him now: thirty-eight years of age, big chin, big nose, big eyes in a face of ‘African tint’, a guardsman’s brawny chest and shoulders, stepping down the gangplank in Dover harbour behind the Duke of Bedford, with whom, after a gentlemanly wrangle, he had shared the expense of the voyage from Calais, each of them paying three guineas to the captain of the brig. (p. 11)

It is in England that Miller shows Casanova as the Other, and much of this is conveyed through the metaphor of language. As Casanova cannot speak English, he is excluded from much of the new life around him. The world becomes defamiliarized as a result. Indeed, language and its importance to identity is a recurring theme throughout Miller’s work. James Dyer, in Ingenious Pain, does not speak until he is eleven years old. This clearly signifies his own Otherness. In Oxygen, Alec Valentine is an Englishman who translates French for a living, and László Lázár, an Hungarian exile residing in Paris, conducts his daily life through a language not his mother tongue. And in Miller’s 2008 novel, One Morning Like a Bird, we find Yuji, a young Japanese man, obsessed with French cinema, literature (especially Rimbaud), and language. He even names his son Emile. This constant return in his fiction to the issue of language contributes significantly to Miller’s ongoing interrogation of what it means to be

In this way the best historical fiction plays its part in rescuing the past from the heritage barbarians who would have us believe that it is just us with different hats on, ѧIt is not really a question of genre at all but the desire to take full advantage of our inheritance. Novelists are ventriloquists, shape shifters, ghoulish inhabiters of other lives. How odd it would be if they restricted themselves to the events and style of one particular period. (pp. 48–56.)

This notion of the Other, of an “eerie otherness,” is one of the main subjects of Casanova. The novel opens with Giovanni Giacomo Casanova de Seingault (1725–1798) as an old man. He is initiating a great purge, an attempt to destroy his past through the frenzied burning of all of his papers:

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ANDREW MILLER human. Our ability to speak is, after all, what essentially defines us as such. Miller’s framing device in Casanova is also significant. Through a series of anachronous flashbacks we are shown the life and times of the novel’s central character. In this way, the narrative structure of Casanova is similar to that of Ingenious Pain. Miller, as a historical novelist, seems intrigued by the idea of time moving in reverse. This is his way of anatomizing his characters, of breaking their identities down piece by piece. Miller’s employment of this strategy reaches new heights in the later novel One Morning Like a Bird, when Yuji attempts to define himself by who he is not. The scene is made all the more effective by Miller’s use of a stream-ofconsciousness style:

Casanova, unsurprisingly, dreams of women and keeps “dream diaries” (p. 8). The nature of their dreams tells us much about Miller’s characters, and the fact that they dream at all invests them with an extra layer of complexity. Equally, dreams are one of Miller’s ways of uniting the past with the present in his novels; they often mirror the waking world and illuminate the meaning of events that have already occurred. In his historical fiction, therefore, Miller does not merely create a sense of period, he also delves into a character’s past as a means of illuminating his or her present. There is, therefore, a psychological dimension to Miller’s use of history, and history operates on two levels in his writing, the microcosmic and the macrocosmic. On the BBC 4 program Front Row in January 2008, John Sutherland claimed that “we are living in a great era of historical fiction.” Novels like Ingenious Pain and Casanova prove the truth of this statement.

He lies down, a finger tracing the little ridges of the matting. He is thinking of the writer Akutagawa, his scraps of beautiful work, his misery, his taste for Veronal (There are old bottles of it downstairs in mother’s room. She always had much more than she needed). The thought is comforting, though slightly ridiculous. He is not Akutagawa. He is not Arthur Rimbaud dying of boredom and swollen veins in the desert. Nor is he Feneon or Uncle Kensuke or father or Ryuichi. He is not Jun, he is not Taro or Professor Komada telling them that Proust slept in a cork-lined room. He is not Proustѧ

OXYGEN

“In his third novel, Oxygen (2001), Miller cast off the breeches and capes to write about a mother suffering from terminal cancer whose sons go to her house in the country to help nurse her,” wrote Joanna Kavenna in the London Review of Books. Although it is true that Miller’s third novel is not a work of historical fiction in the strictest sense, Oxygen is nonetheless profoundly interested in history. It is also much more explicitly political than its predecessors, Ingenious Pain and Casanova. Oxygen is set in the present but, like Miller’s previous books, it moves back in time through a series of flashbacks involving László Lázár, who was involved in the Hungarian Revolution of 1956. Miller’s engagement with the events of 1956 makes him one in a long line of British writers who have chosen to write about this moment in history. For instance, on October 14, 1956 (nine days before the outbreak of the Hungarian Revolution), the London Observer announced a play competition. One condition of entry was that “the action of all plays submitted must take place in the period since the last war.” On August 18, 1957, Kenneth Tynan, the Observer’s drama critic and one of

The singing stops. The list continues. He will, he supposes, by morning, be left with something. (Typescript, pp. 326–327)

Many of Miller’s characters not only have flights of fancy like Yuji, but they also dream—a lot. Oxygen begins with the image of a Native American “dream catcher,” which promises to “snag the bad dreams in its web” (p. 1). In Ingenious Pain, everyone dreams: In the next chamber, the Reverend is sitting, in his dreams, naked and perfectly companionable with Lady Hallam over a hand of cards. Dido dreams of a man, tenderly sucking the blood from her elbow. James dreams of a cherry tree large as a house and of looking down through the flaked green flesh of its leaves to where the Negro, dressed in cherry silks and satins, holds up his arms to catch him. (p. 51)

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ANDREW MILLER the judges of the contest, wrote in the newspaper: “We expected five hundred entries and thought ourselves optimists. When the closing date arrived in mid-April we received nearly two thousand,” and he noted that “last autumn’s Pyrrhic victory for the tanks” in Hungary “produced several hundred entries, all of them vehement and all stirred by the highest motives.” Despite the failure of any of these plays to win the Observer prize, the competition does highlight the extraordinary interest that British writers (and would-be playwrights) took in the Hungarian Revolution. Oxygen, through the character of László Lázár, who in his youth was “ambiguously” caught up in the turmoil of October 1956, resurrects this interest and, as a potential narrative of the left, implicitly explores not only the issue of class but of minority cultures as well, through a character who is gay and Hungarian. László Lázár, a famous playwright, was one of the “two hundred thousand that year ѧ crossing the winter marshes with their suitcases, their parcels, their spoiled lives” (p. 297). Lázár attempts to mend his “spoiled” life in Paris, and we find him some forty years later:

with the same remarkable idea: freedom” (p. 293). Miller’s description here of the revolutionary process in Hungary distinctly echoes such firsthand accounts as those found in Peter Fryer’s The Hungarian Tragedy (London: Dobson, 1956). Fryer, who at the time was a reporter for the Daily Worker, was, in his own words, expelled from the Communist party “for telling the truth [about the Hungarian Revolution]” (p. 7). Of events in the town of Magyaróvár during the initial days of the revolution, for example, Fryer writes: “They [the citizens of the town] were unarmed, and at that stage they did not want arms. Their only weapons were red, white and green flags, and occasional rough posters bearing the two fundamental demands of the national uprising: ‘End the Russian occupation’ and ‘Abolish the A.V.H.’” (p. 20). There is a poignant, as well as highly amusing, moment in the novel where we are given the mature László’s political reflections: Who could care about collective agriculture, presidiums, space labs or Five Year Plans when the face of everyone over thirty looked so withered and unloved, while those on the other side of the curtain could rehydrate and nourish their skins with luxurious creams? Wasn’t that what we feared about time, about death, its assault upon our vanity, the grinding out of whatever measure of physical loveliness we had enjoyed? How much more effective it had been, this creative narcissism of the West, than all the Minutemen missiles or the corruption and stupidity of the Party stooges.

Long-time resident of the sixth arrondissement, author of Saying Yes, Saying No (1962), of Flicker (1966), of Sisyphus Rex (1969, his first play in French), and thirteen other productions all well received other than by those critics of the far left or far right who found his work maddeningly uncommitted; one-time artistic director of the Théâtre Artaud in San Francisco, now part-time lecturer in Dramaturgy and Eastern European literature at the Sorbonne (Monday and Thursday afternoons) ѧ

(pp. 128–129)

When asked (in a private interview, June 5, 2002) to say something about László’s politics both as a young man in 1956 and at the age of fifty-nine (the age we find him in Oxygen, as a writer whose work is viewed as “maddeningly uncommitted”), Miller replied, “As a young man László is more interested in art than politics, though having been brought up in the Soviet Bloc he wouldn’t need the connection between the two pointed out to him. I’m sure at nineteen he is a Socialist but also a Nationalist. Like everyone he would have loathed Moscow. At fifty-nine he is a liberal intellectual who reads Le Monde and Liberation. More importantly he is a pessimist, a

(p. 19)

One of the most puzzling things about Lázár must surely be the “maddeningly uncommitted” position of his own fiction, for in his youth he was one of the thousands of Hungarians who, pushed too far by the Russians and the AVH (the Hungarian secret police), went, in Miller’s words, “from believing they could do nothing [to being] suddenly convinced of their power. Changing the world might, after all, require nothing more than the belief that change was possible. In the space of a few hours, thousands of minds blossomed

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ANDREW MILLER man who has made a career showing (on stage) the futility of political action, our inability to take effective control of our destinies. In his case, of course, this is self-justifying. It has been easier to think of his failure to save Péter [his gay lover, who is shot and killed by the Russians during the revolution] as being inevitable rather than a moment of personal failure or cowardice. He doesn’t want to believe that Péter could have been saved. I don’t think critics with a strong political bent— either left or right—would like László’s fatalism. They would feel attacked.”

Kurt squeezed László’s hand; László squeezed back. He was never entirely comfortable with this way of walking, and he reserved it for those moments of especial tenderness when something more than mere proximity was required. It was not that he was ashamed of Kurt. On the contrary, he was often joyfully incredulous that such a sweet-tempered young man should agree to stay with him. But László was a homosexual who retained a certain abstract disapproval of his tribe. In San Francisco, during his tenure at the Théâtre Artaud, he had been appalled at some of the things he had seen, men using each other as dogs use table legs, a corrupt and worthless version of the Dionysian. In truth he had never really thought of himself as queer or Gay. A mariposa. A fruit. His case, he believed, was much simpler. There had been in his life certain people, beginning with Péter, whom he had needed, and who happened to be men. He did not want to make a vocation of it, go on marches, wear badges. And anyway, he was from a time and a place where the notion of “coming out” had been utterly unimaginable. Homosexuality was illegal in Hungary until years after he had left. His parents might have stood it—they were doctors, liberals, readers—but the Party would have destroyed him.

Why did Miller choose to write about the Hungarian Revolution at all? What resonance did it have for him in the final years of the twentieth century? He makes some connections in Oxygen, for example, between the then situation in the Balkans and the position of the Hungarians in 1956, but did the events of 1956 have any resonance, to his mind, for the British Left today? Miller said in the June 2002 interview, “I wrote about fifty-six because I found out about it and it moved me. The struggle of the Hungarian fighters against the USSR is the struggle of the miners in Oxygene [one of László’s own works] and, for me, a model—metaphysical rather than political—of the struggle any of us have to make something good of our lives while born down upon by the weight of chance circumstance, inner weakness, and the spectre of death. Albert Camus is behind this somewhere—I mean the Myth of Sisyphus, which when I was nineteen became a very important book for me. I tend to see us all as troopers in the Polish cavalry about to charge German Panzers. We’re going to lose, but in the meantime we should dress well and take good care of each other! Well, I think you know what I’m saying. What is the relevance of the uprising for the British Left of today? I don’t know. ѧPerhaps that when socialism is not about the greatest freedom for the greatest number then it isn’t worth a damn, László says.”

(pp. 209–210)

“In the very earliest versions of László,” Millers says, “I knew he would be gay, it wasn’t something I tacked on later. I suppose I wanted him at a particular angle to the world and I wanted his relationship with Péter to be more than just a friendship. This last of course for dramatic reasons.” As Miller observes above, László, in his youth, is “more interested in art than in politics.” This passion for art, literature, and aesthetics (the nature and power of beauty is an important subject in Miller’s work) is something that the Hungarian playwright shares with many of the other characters who inhabit Miller’s novels. Casanova’s best friend in London, for example, turns out to be none other than Samuel Johnson. Dr. Johnson, essayist, lexicographer, literary critic, and biographer, was one of the leading intellectual figures of his day. As such, Casanova’s association with him enhances the legendary lover’s intellectual credibility. There are many instances in Casanova where these two characters discuss philosophy and literature. Casanova’s literary ambitions are also alluded to during these conversations. Equally, Miller uses Casanova’s friendship with Dr. Johnson to

A reader can question whether there is any political significance to the fact that the character László is gay, together with the fact that he does not politicize this—the very opposite, in fact, as illuminated by this passage in the novel:

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ANDREW MILLER introduce more serious themes into the novel. Like László’s relationship with Péter, Casanova’s and Dr. Johnson’s friendship seems to be added to the narrative for “dramatic reasons.” It makes the novel more substantial:

The space ahead of Larry, illuminated now by six quietly fizzing fluorescent tubes, looked as though it were used for storing the salvaged remnants of a house fire, objects retained only until someone had the will to do away with them. A dozen spare and improbable costumes hung from a mobile wardrobe rail next to two mattresses covered with the type of plastic sheeting found on the beds of incontinent children. Other props included a square of mulberrycoloured carpet, an office desk and chair, a six-foot plastic palm tree and a hat-stand from which dangled, suspended by one of its eye sockets, a latex gorilla head. It was hard to imagine a space less conducive to the performance of a sex act, and the skin of Larry’s balls tightened at the thought of it.

“There is a point,” said Johnson, hammering a tack through a piece of decorative holly above the window, “where our understanding fails us. It is, if you like, the mind’s kissing gate, beyond which language and intellectual vigour avail us nothing. We can never hope fully to explain ourselves, nor to perceive another in his entirety. That, monsieur, is the prerogative of our Creator.”

“We got lights and multi-track sound in the back. All the dubbing and post-production’s done on site. Al’s our man behind the camera. You’ll like him. Nadine’s the sound girl. Her sister’s the fluffer. That’s where TB sits.” He gestured to the obligatory folding director’s chair. “Fellini’s his big influence.”

Casanova, beginning to feel the narcotic effects of so much tea-drinking, nodded his head gloomily. “We are doomed to act out of ignorance.” (Casanova, p. 184)

Other intellectuals and bibliophiles residing within the pages of Miller’s fiction include James Dyer and Dr. Canning in Ingenious Pain, Clare Glass (an art historian who writes scholarly books with titles such as Delacroix and the Economics of Excitement) in The Optimists, and the Frenchman Feneon and Yuji and his circle of friends in One Morning Like a Bird. What Oxygen also shares with Miller’s other novels is a rather veiled and delicate discussion of sexuality. Unlike many contemporary fiction writers, Miller has never been one to fill his work with graphic sex scenes. In this sense he is, like the majority of his male characters, rather fastidious. There is a certain “sensibility” in the true, eighteenth-century usage of the word at work here. This does not, however, cause Miller to shy away from portraying the darker, less wholesome aspects of human sexuality. This is seen in the conception scene in Ingenious Pain, for example, and there are also discussions of pornography in Oxygen. In the latter novel, Larry Valentine, the one-time star of a soap opera set in an hospital (“Oh my God! It’s Dr. Barry!” p. 117), becomes involved in the X-rated movie business when his career takes a nosedive. Miller plays this largely for laughs, however, very much in the way he did Casanova’s sexual impotence (this, again, reflects his “eighteenth-century” sensibility at work):

(pp. 120–121)

Unusual sexual situations are also present in Ingenious Pain, particularly when James Dyer finds himself confined to a London madhouse after his “rebirth.” Dyer develops an attraction for, and eventually falls in love for the first time with, Dot Flyer, another inmate of “hell” (p. 259). They consummate their relationship in an unsettling, not to say symbolic, setting: A broad room, empty but for a hundred, two hundred, five hundred strait jackets piled up together; a single high barred-window for light, the noise of the world muffled like a dream. They lie on the jackets, the jackets sigh and give off their breath of sweat, dog blanket, midden. All the spices vented by the soul in the mortal combat. This, thinks James, is how purgatory will smell. (p. 280)

When Miller explores less “normative” ideas of sexuality in his writings, these are treated not too deeply or explicitly, as with László Lázár, who is homosexual but “had never really thought of himself as queer or Gay.” Clare Glass of The Optimists has a female companion, but her sexual orientation is never fully disclosed, not even to her brother. This becomes apparent when Clem visits Dundee to see Clare after she has had another nervous breakdown. His interview with one of her psychiatrists is awkward at best:

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ANDREW MILLER Most fiction catalogues its characters’ achievements; Miller lingers remorselessly on their failures. It’s a bleak world, but one invested with peculiar beauty.” Although Yuji, in One Morning Like a Bird, also belongs to this community of “failures,” he is desperate to assert his better self in relation to Alissa and their baby, Emile. Like James Dyer before him, Yuji experiences a rebirth—but this time it is one brought about by the literal birth of a child.

“Anyone in the family with a history comparable to Clare’s?” “No one I know of.” “And the last time she was ill was when she was in Paris?” “Yes.” “Did you see her then?” “Not until she was home.”

THE OPTIMISTS “Boyfriends?”

In the light of the subject matter of Miller’s first three novels, it is not surprising that the title of his fourth book would be The Optimists (2005) and that the title would be, at least partly, ironic. The novel begins, after all, with the sentence “After the massacre at the church in N— Clem Glass flew home to London” (p. 3). Clem is a photojournalist, another one of Miller’s characters to use his eyes for a living (Clem’s sister, Clare, is an art historian; Molina, in Ingenious Pain, is a painter). After witnessing the aftermath of this genocide, however, he returns home from Africa to London and attempts to shed his old self: “He puts his boots and the clothes from his case in a black bin-liner. He carried the bag down to one of the dustbins in the basement courtyard, then came in and scoured the skin of his hands” (p. 3). As with Casanova, however, Clem soon discovers that it is not possible to escape his past: memories of the massacre in Africa begin to haunt him. He teeters on the brink of sanity and becomes psychically dislocated from his environment (like his sister Clare; like James Dyer; like Casanova). So far, the parallels with Miller’s earlier novels are clear. Other themes familiar from Miller’s first three novels include family, identity, art and culture, travel, writing (ShelleyAnne in The Optimists is actually a novelist), and dreams. What is new about The Optimists, however, is that it is Miller’s most comprehensive and most direct contemplation of the nature of evil. There is no equivocation here. We are, for example, “shown” one of the photographs Clem took immediately after the massacre:

“I suppose.” “But you haven’t met any?” “One or two.” “And girlfriends?” “I don’t think she’d advertise it. Not to me.” (pp. 58–59)

The reticence and edgy humor surrounding Miller’s depictions of sexuality and sexual relationships, however, largely disappear in his 2008 novel, One Morning Like a Bird, with its serious depiction of fatherhood and the heavy consequences of casual sex. Yuji has a one-night stand with the young Frenchwoman Alissa Feneon. As time goes by, the encounter callously fades from his mind—until he discovers that Alissa is pregnant. At this moment, everything in his life changes, and Yuji grows up virtually overnight. Fearing that he will, even to himself, become a “not-caring” (Typescript, p. 267) kind of man, Yuji admits his paternity to Alissa’s father, whom he has long admired: “‘It was me,’ repeats Yuji, tonelessly. Then, his face in a spasm, he shouts in French. ‘C’etait moi! C’etait moi! Je suis la coupable!’” (p. 268). Noting the points of commonality between the male protagonists of Miller’s first three novels, Alfred Hickling, in a Guardian review of Oxygen, writes, “The hero of Miller’s debut novel was a surgeon who could not feel pain; the second featured a legendary seducer who could not get it up. Now he creates a revolutionary who could not pull the trigger.

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ANDREW MILLER present into the past by making a comparison with the Nazi doctor Josef Mengele and his remorseless experiments on twins, but the parallel hangs in the air, unspoken. Similarly, in One Morning Like a Bird, Miller leaves his characters (Japanese in Tokyo during World War II) just before disaster strikes. The chilling and sparse note that the author includes at the end of the novel says it all, however:

The third was Odette Semugeshi. She was dressed in a blue cotton pinafore and plastic sandals, and stood at the end of her bed at the Red Cross hospital. Ten years old, bandaged, graceful as a blade of grass. The daughter of murdered parents, the friend of murdered children. She returned the camera’s stare with a gaze of the quietest imaginable outrage. (p. 116)

Christina Patterson’s interview with Miller around the time that The Optimists was published sheds light on the novelist’s reasons for writing a book of this nature. Patterson makes note that The Optimists contains an epigraph from Fergal Keane’s Season of Blood (1996), “an account of his time in Rwanda during the genocide.” The passage reads, “We had learnt something about the soul of man, that would leave us with nightmares long into the future.” “I like that book because it’s quite undigested in a way,” Miller told Patterson. She recounts more of his response about the book’s effect on his own work:

On March the 9th–10th 1945, in an operation codenamed Meeting House, more than three hundred B-29 Superfortresses from a base in the Mariana Islands made a low-level night attack over Tokyo. The raid began just after midnight and continued in waves for two and a half hours. Each plane was carrying up to eight tons of incendiary bombs. Film taken on the ground shows vast walls of fire moving uncontrollably in strong winds, while people, ant-like, scurry desperately for shelter. Estimates of casualties vary widely but it is likely that between eighty and a hundred thousand were killed that night, the majority from the old, densely populated wards near the river. By daybreak, the Low City lay in ashes again.

“It’s journalism and a bit more. ѧHe says in the book that after a while he lost his sense of optimism, that somehow in the struggle between good and evil, and dark and light, the light would win out, just. He said he didn’t know how he would ever get it back.” Haunted by this thought, Miller locked himself away with a pile of books of spectacular grimness and set out on a literary journey that proved radically different to all those that had gone before. “I was a bit like a man running downstairs in the dark at full pelt,” he says. “There was something I wanted to pursue around this problem of evil thing, and I decided to go at it in a headlong fashion, just to see where I might come out. I berated myself later for working in this crazy way,” he adds, “but I thought I couldn’t actually have done it any other way.”

(p. 358)

ASSESSMENT

The success that Andrew Miller’s work has enjoyed, from prestigious literary awards to critical plaudits and popularity among book clubs and discerning readers, demonstrates several things about contemporary British fiction. First, his two early novels, Ingenious Pain and Casanova, help to prove that historical fiction is not a barren and outmoded genre. Additionally, his success has shown that contemporary British fiction remains a rich and varied field, full of many less-well-known writers whose substantial talents equal those of the handful of names that seem to capture most of the attention and publicity. Furthermore, his move away from historical fiction toward a more complex engagement between the past and present in Oxygen and The Optimists shows a refusal to be pigeonholed and a need to continue developing and testing his own talents as a novelist, a fact that is born out all the more by his 2008 novel, One Morning

(Patterson, 2005)

The Optimists is a pivotal book. In Ingenious Pain, Miller’s first novel, the question of the nature of evil is explored indirectly. Its main scene of “spectacular grimness,” where a gruesomely callous, and ultimately deadly, attempt is made to separate female Siamese twins is recorded without authorial comment. As the girls are being slaughtered in the name of science, however, a polite quartet of musicians plays “a dainty overture from something popular in town” (p. 140). Miller does not bring the (relative)

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ANDREW MILLER Like a Bird. It also shows that there remains an audience, not just in Britain, but globally, for serious, intelligent, fiction, which can challenge readers without resorting to sensationalism and which is characterized by beautifully written, yet rigorous, prose. It certainly bodes well for modern British fiction that writers as good, and as comparatively young, as Miller are continuing to evolve and have their mature work ahead of them.

OTHER WORK “The History of a Historical Novel + Writing Ingenious Pain, New York Times Book Review, October 12, 1997, p. 39. “The Power of the Past.” Waterstone’s Magazine, spring 1999, pp. 48–56.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Bowler, Peter. “Reflections on the Pain of Being Human.” Canberra Times, May 1997. Brownrigg, Sylvia. “Lover Man.” Newsday, October 11, 1998, p. 14. Craig, Cynthia C. “Casanova at the Bicentenary: Familiar Questions, New Directions.” Eighteenth-Century Studies: vol. 33, no. 4: pp. 579-586 (summer 2000). Hickling, Alfred. “The Trick Is to Keep Breathing.” Guardian, August 25, 2001, p. 8. Kavenna, Joanna. “Mixed Up.” London Review of Books, March 3, 2005, vol. 27, no. 5. O’Regan, Nadine. “Grist for the Miller.” Sunday Business Post, September 23, 2001. Patterson, Christina. “Andrew Miller: His Dark Materials.” Independent, March 25, 2005, pp. 20–21. Patterson, Christina. “He Fell Out of a Tree. But His Luck Didn’t Last.” The Observer, February 23, 1997, pp. 17. Sage, Lorna. “The Rake’s Progress.” New York Times, October 25, 1998, p. 14. Urquhart, James. “Seeing, Not Believing.” Financial Times, March 5, 2005, p. 32.

Selected Bibliography WORKS BY ANDREW MILLER NOVELS Ingenious Pain. London: Sceptre, 1997. Casanova. London: Sceptre, 1998. Oxygen. London: Sceptre, 2001. The Optimists. London: Sceptre, 2005. One Morning Like a Bird. London: Sceptre, 2008. (Quotations in this essay are from an unpublished typescript viewed in advance of the novel’s publication.)

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DAVID MITCHELL (1969—)

Patrick Denman Flanery DAVID STEPHEN MITCHELL was born in Southport, England, in January 1969, and raised in Malvern, Worcestershire. He was educated at the University of Kent, where he received a BA in English and American Literature in 1990 and later earned a master’s degree in Comparative Literature. He has lived in England, Sicily, Japan (where he taught English from 1994 to 2002), Ireland, and the Netherlands. In May 2007, Time magazine included Mitchell as one of its “100 Most Influential People in the World,” claiming, in a profile by Pico Iyer, that with his first novel, Ghostwritten, in 1999, Mitchell had achieved “novel globalism.” While acknowledging the temptation to compare him “to such modern revolutionaries as Thomas Pynchon and David Foster Wallace,” Iyer asserts that Mitchell “is tilling his own distinctive field,” citing influences as diverse as the American postmodernist Paul Auster, the aging British bad boy Martin Amis, and the Japanese literary bestseller Haruki Murakami, “to nurture something entirely original and strangely rooted.” Mitchell live in Japan with his wife, Keiko Yoshida, and their two children, Hana and Noah.

momentum toward an unsettling anticipation of global apocalypse. In the first section, “Okinawa,” a young man, Keisuke Tanaka, who goes by the name “Quasar” and is a member of a cult called “The Fellowship,” led by “His Serendipity,” has fled Tokyo after releasing nerve gas in the subway, recalling the real sarin gas attack by the Aum Shinrikyo cult on March 20, 1995. Hiding in Okinawa, Quasar is distressed to learn that other cult members, including His Serendipity, have been arrested. Eventually, in desperation, Quasar phones an emergency cult contact number, asking for help. (In a brief final flashback section at the end of the novel, Quasar reappears, at the moment of the attack on the Tokyo subway.) Quasar’s call is answered, though, not by a fellow cult member, but by Satoru Sonada, an aspiring half-Filipino, half-Japanese jazz saxophonist and the narrator of the novel’s second section, “Tokyo.” Satoru, in his late teens, works in a record store owned by Takeshi, a thirty-five-yearold serial womanizer. Mitchell’s descriptions of Tokyo place Satoru in a vividly realized space: Twenty million people live and work in Tokyo. It’s so big that nobody really knows where it stops. It’s long since filled up the plain, and now it’s creeping up the mountains to the west and reclaiming land from the bay in the east. The city never stops rewriting itself.ѧ Things are always moving below you, and above your head. All these people, flyovers, cars, walkways, subways, offices, tower blocks, power cables, pipes, apartments ѧ You have to do something to stop yourself caving in, or you just become a piece of flotsam or an ant in a tunnel.

GHOSTWRITTEN

Mitchell’s first novel, Ghostwritten (1999), won Britain’s John Llewellyn Rhys Prize (awarded annually for the “best work of literature” by a British Commonwealth writer under the age of thirty-five) and the Betty Trask Award. In what is now frequently described as a “novel-in-stories,” Ghostwritten’s nine chapters, and nine discrete voices, travel from Tokyo to New York City, via Hong Kong, Mongolia, St. Petersburg, London, and Ireland, through a series of chance encounters and suggestive interconnections, which build

(p. 37)

Peppered with references to the Japanese novelist Murakami, to whom this section of the novel, and Mitchell’s second book, Number9Dream (2001), are both stylistically and tonally indebted,

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DAVID MITCHELL warlord’s son, and the resulting pregnancy leads to the girl being socially ostracized; her child, a daughter, is sent away to live with relatives. Later, as an adult, she sees the Japanese invade during World War II and, after the war, the nationalization of the mountain under Chinese Communism. With each new period of historical shifts in power, the woman and her tea shack suffer abuse, assault, and exploitation; as Mitchell has said, she “is a virtual slave of history” (McWeeney, 2000). Throughout these traumas, however, she finds solace in the belief that she is being spoken to and protected by a tree near her tea shack. As she grows older, she hears news of her absent daughter’s development, her beauty, her eventual flight to Hong Kong, the birth of her granddaughter, and her granddaughter’s daughter. The woman’s great-granddaughter is, it transpires, Neal Brose’s maid and lover in Hong Kong, and she ultimately comes to visit the old woman, revealing that she has bought a hotel and restaurant in the neighboring village because Neal, in fact, was “very generous to [her] in his will” (p. 151).

“Tokyo” deals both with Satoru’s budding romance with Tomoyo, a half-Chinese girl who lives in Hong Kong but is visiting Tokyo for a few weeks, and Satoru’s own preoccupation with the possibility of meeting the Japanese father he has never known. (Satoru is also clearly an early version of Eiji Miyake, the narrator of Number9Dream.) Neal Brose, the thirty-one-year-old Englishman and narrator of section three, “Hong Kong,” later sees Satoru and Tomoyo at a coffee bar in Hong Kong. Brose—who appears as an adolescent in Mitchell’s fourth novel Black Swan Green (2006)—is an unsympathetic financial lawyer working for Cavendish Holdings, a large firm in the former British colony, and has recently broken up with his wife, Katy Forbes, who has returned to London. Their breakup was caused by a combination of factors: Katy’s inability to become pregnant, the apparent haunting of their apartment by the ghost of a young girl, and Neal’s affair with their Chinese maid. One morning, on his way into work, Neal discovers that a trading company to which he secretly transferred $115 million (to an account with the suggestively palindromic number 1390931, a Mitchell hallmark) at the direction of his boss, Denholme Cavendish, and a Russian businessman, Andrei Gregorski, has just been raided by the authorities. Neal turns around and, instead of going to work, heads to a Buddhist shrine on Lantau Island; on the way, he dumps his briefcase and cell phone into the sea. Neal dies abruptly and unexpectedly, of undiagnosed diabetes, at the Buddhist shrine, thus making the whole section’s occasion of narration impossible.

In the fifth section, “Mongolia,” the tree that “spoke” to the unnamed narrator of “Holy Mountain” is revealed to be a “noncorpum” or noncorporeal entity—essentially, a soul adrift in the world, able to migrate into and out of anyone’s mind, either revealing its presence or trying to remain hidden in the host’s unconscious; passage from one host to another is possible only when the noncorpum’s present host touches another person. At first, the noncorpum inhabits a Danish tourist, Caspar, who is traveling across Mongolia by train. Searching for its own origins, and for others like it, the noncorpum has tried, since inhabiting the tea shack lady (who thought the noncorpum was the “talking” tree) and hearing a Mongolian folk story that it recognized as its own first memory, to move toward Mongolia, believing that it may be able to find the truth about its origins there. From Caspar, the noncorpum transmigrates into an old Mongolian woman, Gunga, who seems to be aware of its presence, and goes to a shaman to seek guidance. The remainder of the chapter follows the noncorpum as it passes into a truck driver, a Mongolian KGB

“Holy Mountain,” the fourth section, tracks back in time from the notional “present” of the first three sections, to early-twentieth-century China and the narration of a young girl whose father runs a tea shack on the slopes of Mount Emei in Sichuan province. “Holy Mountain,” like Mitchell’s third novel, Cloud Atlas (2004), is preoccupied with historical cycles of violent domination by one group over another, and the flux of twentieth-century Chinese history is seen through the eyes of the narrator. As a girl, she is raped, essentially with her father’s consent, by a

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DAVID MITCHELL drummer in a band called “The Music of Chance” (a rather labored reference to the American postmodernist Paul Auster, who published a novel of the same name in 1990). The section begins with Marco waking up after a one-night stand with Katy Forbes, the former wife of Neal Brose, who died four months earlier. Marco is currently ghostwriting the autobiography of Alfred Kopf, who lives with his partner, Roy, a Canadian composer. On the way to see Alfred and Roy at their home near Hampstead Heath, Marco pushes a woman out of the way of an oncoming taxi; the woman frantically gets into the taxi and asks the driver to take her to London’s Gatwick Airport. Moments later, men who appear to be plainclothes police stop Marco, wanting to know where the woman was heading; he lies, saying she was going to Heathrow Airport. Marco proceeds to Alfred and Roy’s house, where Alfred begins to reminisce about working for British Intelligence in Berlin after the end of World War II. In the midst of the reminiscence, Roy barges in with the news that their friend Jerome Morris (the painter in St. Petersburg) has been killed. Later, Marco goes to see Timothy Cavendish, the vanity publisher who is putting out Alfred’s book and the brother of Denholme Cavendish, Neal Brose’s former boss. Timothy, trying to put Marco’s doubts to rest about the Kopf project, says, in a line that points toward the larger theme of the book, that “We’re all ghostwriters. ѧWe all think we’re in control of our own lives, but really they’re pre-ghostwritten by forces around us” (pp. 295–296). Timothy Cavendish, who shows up again in Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, is also the publisher of the works of His Serendipity, the leader of Quasar’s cult. The chapter ends with Marco finally phoning his longtime girlfriend, Poppy, who is pregnant, and asking her to marry him.

agent named Suhbataar (who reappears in Number9Dream), the daughter of an anthologist of Mongolian folk tales, her uncle, and eventually an old woman, who has been guarding the memory of the noncorpum’s origins—it was, in fact, the soul of an eight-year-old Buddhist novice, who was murdered by a mercenary soldier in 1937. For Mitchell, use of this rather contrived device allows him an early exploration of one of his favorite Hobbesian themes, the essential nastiness of humanity: the entity has concluded, after living in so many human hosts, that “[h]umans live in a pit of cheating, exploiting, hurting, incarcerating” (p. 170). Section six, “Petersburg,” is narrated by Margarita Latunsky, a gallery attendant at the Hermitage Museum and member of an art theft ring, which replaces masterpieces with fakes. Her accomplices are Rudi (who is also her boyfriend) and Jerome, the British artist producing the fakes, who was previously “a spy in the Cold War” and former “lecture[r] in art history at Cambridge University”; the Russian government has stopped paying Jerome’s pension, and he can no longer return home to Britain because “he’s wanted for treason” (p. 219). Before the end of the Soviet period, Margarita had been the mistress of a politician and of an admiral, and she is now growing impatient with the slow process (and comparatively modest financial returns) of replacing paintings with forgeries, and beginning to think that it might be time for a final, dramatic theft. Gregorski, the Russian mafioso who was involved in directing Neal Brose’s money laundering, acts as the middleman for the theft ring, and also arranges a floor-cleaning contract for Rudi, which gives him access to the museum after hours. The ring is presently planning to replace a Delacroix, Eve and the Serpent, and Suhbataar, the Mongolian KGB agent from the previous chapter, has ostensibly come to take the painting to a buyer in Beijing. The chapter ends in murderous chaos, however, as, after stealing the painting from the museum, Margarita panics and kills Jerome, who had murdered Rudi, while Suhbataar has betrayed Margarita to Interpol.

The woman Marco saved from the taxi reappears as the physicist Mo Muntervary, narrator of the eighth section, “Clear Island.” Mo has come home to Clear Island (off the coast of Ireland), after a long period abroad, in Zurich, and also Hong Kong, where she stayed with a friend, Huw Llewellyn, who had been investigating Neal Brose’s money-laundering activities (Mo in fact

“London,” the seventh section, is narrated by Marco, a professional ghostwriter who is also a

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DAVID MITCHELL concludes that Mitchell’s preoccupation with the supernatural might “reflect a doubt about the power of story itself.” Michiko Kakutani, also reviewing the novel for the New York Times, suggests that it “resembles a musical composition for multiple instruments whose parts converge around a single theme” and that “it blends the nonlinear techniques of movies like Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction and Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Red with the narrative strategies of [British novelist] Alex Garland’s 1999 novel, The Tesseract.” While Kakutani sees the “concept of crisscrossing parallel lives” as “an intriguing postmodern formula for examining the randomness of life in today’s global village,” she concludes that Mitchell does not entirely succeed, questioning in particular the success of his ventriloquism (a term he dislikes) and dismissing some of the narratorial voices as “phony talentcontest impersonations.” In an interview with Catherine McWeeney, Mitchell explains that in conceptualizing the novel, he “wanted the book to travel East to West because it reverses the usual direction of Orientalism, and challenges the Eurocentric view of the world map.” Mitchell himself visited all the locations in the novel, apart from New York City, “in the same order as the book,” he told McWeeney. As for the supernatural thread running through the novel, Mitchell admits in the same interview that he “like[s] ghost stories” and is “interested in ѧ the borderline between objective reality and whatever is beyond—insanity, New Age hokey pokey flimflam, the supernatural, entities way out of our reality-league,” because “for writers, this is a narrative gold mine.”

witnessed Neal’s death). Mo has recently resigned from a think-tank after she discovered that her work on “quantum cognition”—a mechanical sentience that would allow machines to think— was going to be used to produce the ultimate weapon. The Pentagon is now trying to catch her and compel her to bring her research, and herself, to work for them, by threatening her teenage son, Liam. As the Pentagon closes in, Mo begins to think she could make quantum cognition ethical, so that “technology could no longer be abused” and instead “could act as a kind of ѧ zookeeper” (p. 374). Mo ultimately surrenders to the Pentagon, although strictly on her terms. Mo’s “Zookeeper” resurfaces in the climactic ninth section of the novel, “Night Train,” as a caller on a late-night radio talk show in New York, hosted by Bat Segundo. Segundo plays a piece of music by Satoru Sonada (the narrator of section 2) and also fields a call from Luisa Rey (who reappears as a character in Cloud Atlas) before taking the first of several annual calls from Zookeeper, the artificial intelligence designed by Mo Muntervary to have a sense of ethics. In its first call, Zookeeper reveals that it has destroyed the installation at Sarasoga, Texas, where Mo Muntervary went to work for the Pentagon. Zookeeper eventually conducts a cyberwar against the world’s militaries, destroying all the nuclear arms in order to save humanity from itself. A year after Zookeeper’s attack on the nuclear warheads, elections have been suspended, and the Zookeeper’s own four “laws,” which govern its activities, are in chaos. If it takes action, it causes unforeseen problems if it fails to take action, it allows other problems to continue or occur. It ultimately becomes clear that Zookeeper is going to allow humanity to be destroyed by a comet which is due to pass between the earth and the moon.

NUMBER9DREAM

Mitchell’s second novel, published in 2001 and short-listed for Britain’s Man Booker Prize in that year, is, like Ghostwritten, organized into nine chapters (although the ninth is, in fact, only a series of blank pages). Unlike its predecessor, however, Number9Dream is told more or less entirely by a single character, Eiji Miyake, who, like Satoru Sonada in Ghostwritten, is obsessed with the father he has never known and never

Largely critically lauded in Britain, the reception of Ghostwritten was more qualified in the United States. Reviewing it in the New York Times, Richard Eder claims that “Mitchell’s spirit-summoning seeks to assert unity, but the best segments are true gems in a ponderously worked necklace”; Eder asserts that the chapters would work better as individual short stories and

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DAVID MITCHELL fantasize that he follows Kato to a run-down cinema showing a film called PanOpticon, about a prison in Eastern Europe, with a warden named Bentham—an unsubtle allusion to the English philosopher and prison reformer Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832), who theorized a prison he called the panopticon, in which prisoners could be observed at all times without knowing when or if they were being watched at any given moment. Mitchell, however, does not capitalize on the concept of the panopticon (for instance, he might have explored the Foucauldian nature of contemporary surveillance societies as panoptic and carceral), while in reality, Eiji does go to the PanOpticon building but fails to make it past the security guard, who insists he must have an appointment with Kato before he can even enter the elevator. Meghan O’Rourke has argued in a review of the novel that Eiji’s “fantasies of violence and action overlap and intertwine with the ‘real’ narrative until we’re not sure what is real and what is false” (p. 165). Any alert and sensitive reader, however, will easily tell the difference between Eiji’s videogame-like fantasies, and the grittier “real” world of contemporary Tokyo he is forced to negotiate.

met. James Francken, reviewing Number9Dream in the London Review of Books, concludes (arguably correctly, if ungenerously) that the plot of Mitchell’s second book “is little more than a spin-off from Satoru’s chapter in Ghostwritten.” While references to the Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami were oblique in Ghostwritten, Number9Dream might be regarded either as a stylistic love-letter to Murakami (particularly the Murakami of Norwegian Wood [1987; released in English translation in 2000], to which the novel makes reference, but also of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle [1992–1995; English trans., 1998] and Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World [1985; English trans., 1991]) or as an oddly anglicized and derivative pastiche of a Murakamian vision of millennial Japanese society and culture. Mitchell has also cited numerous other Japanese novelists as influences, including Yukio Mishima and Junichiro Tanizaki. While the frame of reference is certainly Japanese (the characters, setting, and cultural preoccupations are all Japanese), Mitchell’s idiom is, perhaps unsurprisingly, strictly in contemporary British vernacular (this is true, too, of many of the nonBritish voices Mitchell creates in Ghostwritten and later in Cloud Atlas). In his essay “Japan and My Writing,” Mitchell concedes that his “ability to read the Chinese characters used [in Japan] is roughly on par with a 10-year-old” and that during his time living in Japan he was able to “get by in everyday spoken Japanese OK, but ѧ with more formal adult registers of speech [he] los[t] track quickly.” This tension between his inability to transcend an overtly British linguistic register and his interest in non-British, and specifically Japanese, cultures can make for both a frustrating and disorienting reading experience.

In the second chapter, Eiji’s memories of his childhood alternate with the continuing progression of the story in the present. Eiji has come to Tokyo from Yakushima, a rural island at the southern tip of Japan, and is now living in a small capsule above a video rental store, both owned by a man named Buntaro. (Yakushima and its fabled Yakusugi Forest were supposedly the inspiration for the anime director Hayao Miyazaki’s 1997 film Princess Mononoke. In Number9Dream, Mitchell includes a direct reference to another Miyazaki film, Laputa: Castle in the Sky [1986].) Eiji remembers, at the age of eleven, cutting off the head of a wooden thunder god on Yakushima after his twin sister, Anju, drowned trying to swim out to a large outcropping of rock in the harbor. In the days leading up to the tragedy, Anju had pleaded with Eiji not to go to a soccer game in nearby Kagoshima, but he refused. On the morning of the game, Eiji went to the thunder god shrine, asking it to make him a great soccer player, in return for which the god

The novel begins with an elaborate fantasy in which Eiji imagines bluffing his way through security at PanOpticon, the skyscraper where his father’s lawyer, Akiko Kato, works, at the firm of Osugi & Bosugi, fantasizing about confronting and killing Kato to get the file that contains details of his father’s identity. In the real world, sitting in the Jupiter Café across the street from the PanOpticon building, and fixating on an attractive waitress, Ai Imajo, Eiji continues to

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DAVID MITCHELL might take anything from him. Returning home from the match, where he performed unexpectedly well, he discovered that Anju was missing and had drowned.

Eiji is eventually put on “trial” by Morino, a yakuza overlord, who knows the identity of Eiji’s father, taunting him with a file containing all the information, which was gleaned during a lengthy investigation into Eiji’s life. Morino ultimately releases Eiji, but rather than returning immediately to the city, Eiji stays at the resort, where he finds Ai Imajo giving a piano recital. Eventually he sneaks back into the unfinished hotel and finds the file with his father’s information—but inside is nothing but a cryptic message directing him to a pachinko parlor (the Japanese equivalent of slot machines), where Morino awaits and offers Eiji details of his father’s identity only in return for Eiji’s “loyalty.” Foolishly agreeing, Eiji signs an oath in his own blood. After several more complex twists, Morino is killed by a rival yakuza who sets Eiji free after Morino has ordered Eiji’s death; at the other yakuza’s prompting, Eiji “disappears.”

In the present, Eiji rereads a letter from Akiko Kato refusing to disclose his father’s name or contact details; nor is Kato willing to forward a letter from Eiji, because his father does not wish to be contacted. Nonetheless, Eiji decides to stay in Tokyo, and Buntaro helps him find a job working at a lost-property office at Ueno Station, where Eiji befriends the talented hacker, Suga, who intends to break into the Pentagon’s computer system. Meanwhile, Eiji receives a letter from his alcoholic mother, posted from the Miyazaki Mountain Clinic, which reveals that, when he was a baby, she tried to kill him by throwing him down the stairs. The incident was the turning point that led her to institutionalize herself and leave her children to be raised by their grandparents. Eiji later tries to phone his mother at the clinic, only to discover she has discharged herself.

In section five, Eiji is in hiding at the home of Buntaro’s aunt, a writer who is away in Germany on a book tour. With time to fill, Eiji begins to read a manuscript of stories she left behind (the content of which forms a contrapuntal second voice in the chapter) about two anthropomorphized characters—Goatwriter and the henlike Mrs. Comb. Mitchell has a seeming obsession with goats. In Ghostwritten, Mo Muntervary feeds a notebook to her pet goat, Feynman, to keep it out of the hands of the Pentagon, and in Cloud Atlas, the character Zachry is a goatherd; Mitchell’s novels are all peppered with other recurring references to goats. The designation of this writer figure in Number9Dream as Goatwriter (also a play on “ghostwriter”) perhaps suggests something approaching an identification with the fabled stubbornness of goats, or perhaps it is even a sustained and radically resistant allusion to “The Judgment of the Nations” in the biblical Gospel of Matthew, in which, at the last judgment, the “saved” and the “damned” are divided “as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats” (Matthew 25: 31–46).

In the third chapter, on his twentieth birthday, Eiji receives a letter from his father’s wife (who was tipped off by Akiko Kato that Eiji was making enquiries), threatening that Eiji will be “lanced” if he makes any further attempts to contact his father. At the same time, Eiji strikes up a friendship with a law student named Yuzu Daimon, who spends money extravagantly, taking Eiji out on the town, picking up women, going to an exclusive private club, the Queen of Spades, and later to a love hotel, before leaving Eiji with the hotel tab the next morning. As a consequence of his night out with Yuzu, Eiji’s life soon begins to be intertwined with the notoriously violent Japanese mafia, the yakuza, who, in one of the novel’s recurring messages, appear to control all aspects of Japanese society. Through a series of increasingly convoluted plot twists, Eiji is picked up by a group of yakuza thugs who deliver him to the outskirts of Tokyo, where a huge luxury hotel, Valhalla, is under construction at a large resort complex. There, he’s locked in a bathroom with Yuzu, who explains they’ve been caught in the middle of a yakuza turf war.

Regardless of its allusive potential, by any standards the Goatwriter stories are badly overwritten, largely nonsensical, and laboredly symbolic. Thomas Jones has described the

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DAVID MITCHELL warhead to detonate; the final pages of the diary were written from within the torpedo, as he began to run out of oxygen. Meanwhile, Eiji kindles a relationship with the piano-playing waitress Ai Imajo, a diabetic who is determined to win a scholarship to the Paris Conservatoire. Eiji returns to the Rihga Royal on the appointed day, but instead of his grandfather, his stepmother and Eiji’s half-sister are waiting for him; his grandfather died three days earlier, and it emerges that “Admiral Raizo” was in fact Takara Tsukiyama, only pretending to be a family friend. Eiji’s stepmother tells him that his father does not want to meet him because of the terrible shame caused by Eiji’s birth. Eiji, in turn, fails to reveal that his grandfather entrusted the kaiten journal to him, keeping it for himself and thereby suggesting a rebuke of contemporary consumerist Japanese society in favor of a more traditional Japan of the past.

language of these stories as “full of irritating sub-Joycean rhymes and puns” that “seem the work of a writer struggling to fulfil his selfimposed schema.” Throughout Mitchell’s work there is evidence of a frequently unrestrained joy in the playfulness of language, although this play is most effective when deployed in strictly limited quantities. The play of the Goatwriter stories is excessive, relying on a glut of consonance, assonance, rhyme, and neologism for its effects: Goatwriter worked all morning, trying to reconstruct the fragments of the truly untold tale which whispered before dawn, but it was as taxing as tracking tacks in a jonquil junkyard. Mrs Comb mangled wrangled sheets.ѧ Goatwriter finally got up from his writing bureau to look up the correct spelling of zwitterion in his dictionary, but got sidetracked by gustviter and lured farther away by durzi and theopneust. Drowsiness ambushed. Goatwriter’s last thought was that his dictionary was an imposter pillow, or possibly vice versa. (p. 210)

Needing once again to support himself, Eiji goes to work in a pizza kitchen, while Ai has decided to defy her father and accept a scholarship to the Paris Conservatoire, facing the prospect of being disowned by her family. Eiji, meanwhile, receives a letter and computer disk from Kozue Yamaya. The letter, of which Eiji is only one recipient of many copies, reveals that Yamaya’s husband defaulted on a loan from a yakuza-linked organization, and she was made to work as a sex slave to repay the debt. She eventually escaped and went in search of her young son, from whom she was separated; working for a private investigator, she began to infiltrate the yakuza and discovered her son had been murdered and his organs sold. The letter explains that the accompanying disk contains the identities of the men who head the organ and sex trafficking group and everyone else (surgeons and politicians) implicated in the system. She plans to go public with the information but has sent the letter and disk to various people, warning them that if they have received the package, she is already dead. For the moment, Eiji decides to do nothing. Coincidentally, his old friend Suga, the hacker, comes to visit; after he hacked the Pentagon computer system, they gave him a job, and he’s moving to the United States. As a

Whether this overwriting was Mitchell’s attempt to suggest something about the talent of the absent writer figure (an absent writer, suggestively and perhaps inadvertently damningly, at the heart of Mitchell’s own novel), or merely his own stylistic failure, is open to debate. Later, Buntaro visits Eiji, who is relieved to hear that there has been nothing in the news about the death of Morino, in which Eiji was implicated by association. The suggestion is that the yakuza so controls Japanese society that anything can be covered up. Eventually, Eiji manages to contact the detective who had been investigating him for Morino, and some days later, the detective, an older woman named Kozue Yamaya, brings Eiji a letter from his paternal grandfather, Takara Tsukiyama, asking Eiji to meet him at the Rihga Royal Hotel. On the appointed day, a friend of Takara, Admiral Raizo, comes in his place, entrusting Eiji with the loan of Takara’s brother’s World War II diary and instructing him to return it to Takara in person a week later. The sixth section of the novel is interspersed with extracts from the war diary, recounting Eiji’s great-uncle’s training for an elite kaiten unit (which used manned torpedoes in suicide missions, similar to kamikaze pilots) and the eventual failure of his

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DAVID MITCHELL oddly unsatisfactory, leaving us and the hero in a more uncertain situation than before.” Dutta criticizes Mitchell’s “highly elliptical” style, in which “reality is mixed with dreams, myth, stories within stories, cyberspace and Zen-like revelations,” while Hugo Barnacle, reviewing the novel in the New Statesman, confirms that Mitchell “adopts Murakami’s catchy style: potboiler escapism with experimental tweaks and melancholy humour.” Similarly, Michiko Kakutani in the New York Times describes the novel as a “sprawling production” that is “a sort of helterskelter tribute to [Murakami’s] work” (2002); she concludes that “many of the characters and plot points” in Mitchell’s novel “are variations on elements from [Murakami’s] Norwegian Wood.” Daniel Zalewski (also in the New York Times), makes a more nuanced argument, suggesting that “Mitchell’s perfervid style is miles away from the minimalism of Haruki Murakami” and while Murakami has succeeded in creating “fictional worlds in which reality and dreams seamlessly connect,” achieved “by keeping the temperature of his prose cool even when his stories take the strangest turns,” “Mitchell’s prose is overheated,” dreams mere “fodder for literary games” (2002). More critically, Robert Edric, in Britain’s weekly Spectator magazine, complains about the novel’s “overwrought and overwritten prose,” arguing that “form and content groan under the weight of the language heaped upon them. Endless wordplay—alliteration and onomatopoeic gimmickry—will leave the reader groaning, too” (p. 40).

farewell gift, Suga gives Eiji a computer virus he created, which will send a message to every addressee in the address book of the person to whom the virus is sent, and so on, for ninetynine generations. The next evening, Eiji’s mother phones him, after readmitting herself to the clinic in Miyazaki; surprising himself, Eiji proposes to come see her the next day. The following morning, as he finishes his shift at the pizza parlor, an order comes in from his father at the PanOpticon building; Eiji’s father, it transpires, is Akiko Kato’s colleague, not her client. Offering to deliver the pizza, Eiji ends up standing outside his father’s office, overhearing him talking on the phone with his wife. Sensing this is not a man who wants to know him or, in fact, whom he wants to know, Eiji (in the most anticlimactic climax possible) leaves the pizza without revealing his identity. Before departing Tokyo to see his mother, Eiji stops at an electronics store, where he loads Suga’s virus onto a computer and emails Yamaya’s files about the yakuza to the Tokyo Metro Police before dropping the disk down a storm drain. In the eighth (and effectively final) section, Eiji undertakes the long trip to see his mother. The narrative is interspersed with a surreal dream in which Eiji meets John Lennon, and reveals, unsurprisingly, that his favorite Lennon song is “#9dream” to which Lennon replies: “Truth is, ѧ ‘#9dream’ is a descendant of “Norwegian Wood.” Both are ghost stories” (p. 398). Mitchell is effectively, if unsubtly, acknowledging that his own book, the present novel, is a descendant of Murakami’s novel Norwegian Wood. Before visiting his mother, Eiji goes home to his grandmother’s house, where he hears a news report of a massive earthquake in Tokyo. Frantically, he starts running, thinking only of Ai and her safety. Despite being shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, Number9Dream had a decidedly mixed popular critical reception. Shomit Dutta, reviewing the book in Britain’s Times Literary Supplement, argues that the novel “ends with a surprise”—the earthquake in Tokyo and Eiji’s implied return to the city—“that is dramatic but

CLOUD ATLAS

In 2003, Mitchell was selected as one of Granta magazine’s “Best of Young British Novelists” (under the age of forty). The following year, he published his third and most formally innovative novel, organized as six interconnected stories moving from the nineteenth-century South Pacific to interwar Belgium, 1970s California, millennial England, a futuristic Korea, and a postapocalyptic Hawaii, before revisiting the previous temporal and geographic locations in reverse order, or as Stephen Abell explains in his review of the book, it “is formally divided into six discrete

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DAVID MITCHELL narrations. ѧEach of the first five is initially incomplete and interrupted by its successor; each is framed by the subsequent narrator stumbling across the previous story” (p. 21). Many critics have picked up on a suggestion in the novel itself that this pattern resembles a set of Russian nesting dolls, or matryoshka; more helpfully, Thomas Jones alerts us to Mitchell’s debt to Italo Calvino’s metafictional 1979 novel If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler (a debt Mitchell acknowledges elsewhere) but says that what makes Calvino’s novel “so impressive is that its beginnings don’t require continuation” whereas Cloud Atlas’s matryoshka structure is ultimately self-defeating, “hollow at its core.”

Robert Frobisher is a young British composer and musician, who has fled England for Belgium where he hopes to be taken in by a fellow British composer, the eminent, elderly, and syphilitic Vyvyan Ayrs, who is living near Bruges with his wife and teenage daughter. Critics have noted the similarity between Frobisher and Ayrs’s relationship and that of the English composer Eric Fenby (1906–1997), who worked from 1928 to 1934 as amanuensis for the English-born composer Frederick Delius (1862–1934). Told in the form of letters to his lover, Rufus Sixsmith, Frobisher recounts his arrival at Ayrs’s decaying country estate and his success in convincing Ayrs, after an audition, to take him on as amanuensis. In between helping Ayrs with his compositions, Frobisher discovers Adam Ewing’s journal in the library but is dismayed to find half of it missing. To supplement his meager income, Frobisher is also literally raiding Ayrs’s library, stealing and selling off rare books through Sixsmith. At the same time, Ewing begins a loveless affair with Ayrs’s wife, Jocasta van Outryve de Crommelynck.

The first section, “The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing,” is in the form of a diary kept by an American notary between 1850 and 1860, as he travels home to San Francisco from New South Wales. While waiting for the ship, the Prophetess, to be repaired at Chatham Island (east of New Zealand), Ewing befriends Dr. Henry Goose, an English surgeon. During the days of the ship’s repair, Goose and Ewing explore the island, among other things witnessing a public flogging in a Moriori village. The Moriori, or indigenous inhabitants of the Chatham Islands, Ewing discovers, have been victims of various forms of colonization, not least from the Maori of New Zealand. (Although the Moriori are now thought to be a splinter group of Maori who arrived on the Chatham Islands around 1500.) When the Prophetess is finally ready to depart, Goose is persuaded to join as ship’s doctor. A day into the voyage, Ewing discovers that Autua, the Moriori man he saw being flogged, has stowed away in his cabin. Autua asks Adam to intercede for him with the ship’s captain, and Adam rather reluctantly agrees. Autua, however, proves himself a capable seaman and is allowed to live. Meanwhile, Adam begins to feel increasingly unwell, and Henry Goose diagnoses him as having been infected with a tropical parasite, which is gestating in his brain. Henry, however, promises he can treat it. The first installment of Ewing’s journal breaks off midsentence, and the second section, “Letters from Zedelghem,” begins.

Told in the style of a mass-market American thriller, the third and least convincing section— Mitchell’s ear for American idiom is imperfect— “Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery” (whose title obviously puns on the bifurcated “lives” of the novel’s characters) finds Rufus Sixsmith, now sixty-six years old, living in fictional Buenas Yerbas, California. Briefly stuck in an elevator during a power outage with the journalist Luisa Rey, Sixsmith is on the verge of divulging a huge story about corruption at the Seaboard power company, where he works, when the power comes back on. The only section of the novel not in the first person (and proving that Mitchell’s narrative talents are better suited to the limited perspective of first-person narration), “HalfLives” follows Luisa’s ongoing investigation of Seaboard’s new HYDRA nuclear reactor at its offshore base of operations, Swannekke Island. She attends the opening ceremony for the new reactor but sneaks off looking for Sixsmith, who, a janitor tells her, has gone to Las Vegas for a vacation. Meanwhile, Sixsmith, in hiding at a hotel, receives a phone call from someone warn-

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DAVID MITCHELL throwing a critical reviewer off a twelve-story building to his death. Consequently, Knuckle Sandwich becomes a bestseller and Hoggins goes to prison. Cavendish sees the resulting financial success as an opportunity to turn his vanity press into a serious concern. A year later, however, Dermot’s brothers break in to his offices, demanding £50,000. Cavendish’s unflappable assistant, Mrs. Latham, reports that all the profits from Knuckle Sandwich have, in fact, gone on paying off Cavendish’s long-standing debts, and there is no more money. (On the same day, Cavendish receives a manuscript submission from Hilary V. Hush, titled Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery.) Desperate for money, Timothy appeals to his brother, Denholme, who refuses to help since his bank crashed (in Ghostwritten); he suggests that Timothy hide out for a while. Following Denholme’s advice, Timothy takes a train north and checks into Aurora House, outside of Hull, where Denholme has arranged for him to stay. Timothy signs in but soon discovers that, far from being a hotel, Aurora House is a secure nursing home, and in signing in, he also signed away his own liberty by giving the establishment the right to hold him in permanent custody.

ing him to leave the country. Sixsmith secures a top-secret report on the HYDRA reactor and sends a key to Luisa. He can’t get a flight until the next day and, while rereading Frobisher’s letters at the hotel, is killed by Seaboard’s in-house assassin, Bill Smoke. Sixsmith’s death is covered up as a suicide, but Luisa is convinced that he was murdered by Seaboard. Going to investigate at the hotel, she manages to acquire Frobisher’s letters, and becomes obsessed with tracking down a recording of Frobisher’s Cloud Atlas Sextet, as the images in his letters feel like memories to her (one of many clues in the novel that a character in each section is a reincarnation of a previous character, all of them sharing a comet-shaped birthmark). At the same time, Bill Smoke has started trailing her. Fay Li, Seaboard’s public relations officer, asks Luisa out to the island for a visit. While she is there, another executive, Isaac Sachs, has an apparent attack of conscience and tells Luisa everything—that they have been covering up Sixsmith’s report, which reveals serious safety flaws in the new reactor. Luisa tries to convince him to give her a copy of the report, and they plan to meet for breakfast. The next morning, however, another Seaboard executive, Joe Napier, comes instead, telling her that Sachs has been called away on business. In the middle of the following night, Luisa receives a call from Isaac, who is in Boston, saying that he left a present for her in her car. Finding Sixsmith’s report hidden in the trunk of her car, Luisa flees before dawn. As she crosses the bridge to the mainland, Bill Smoke runs her car off the road and into the ocean.

The fifth section, “An Orison of Sonmi˜451,” is in the form of an interview transcript between Sonmi, a “fabricant” (a human clone genetically engineered to have physical and mental limitations) and an archivist, in a dystopian version of Korea, called Nea So Copros (set some time in the twenty-second century, according to Mitchell in his interview with Ramona Koval). Sonmi, an “ascended” fabricant, reflects back on her life while awaiting “xecution.” The interview is recorded in an orison, a kind of advanced video recorder and telecommunications device. Sonmi was one of a group of fabricants designed to work as servers in Papa Song’s, a McDonald’s-like chain of fast food restaurants. Fabricants would spend their whole working lives—twelve years— “without venturing outside” the enclosed dome of the subterranean restaurant. Organized as a repressive, quasi-religious corporate culture, Papa Song’s kept its fabricant servers to a rigorous routine, with morning “Matins” and a sermon from the holographic Papa Song. Under the influ-

Section four, “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish,” follows the misadventures of its eponymous narrator, the London vanity publisher and brother of Denholme Cavendish, owner of the company for which Neal Brose worked in Ghostwritten. (Timothy also appeared in Ghostwritten, as the publisher of Alfred Kopf ’s autobiography, ghostwritten by Marco.) Now in the early twenty-first century, Timothy has undertaken to publish Knuckle Sandwich, an autobiographical novel by the gangster Dermot Hoggins, who attracts fame and notoriety by

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DAVID MITCHELL tion is narrated by Zachry in a modified version of English, described by Stephen Abell in the Times Literary Supplement as “a splendidly fallen dialect of clipped participles, conjoined adjectives, words peeled of pretension and obfuscation” (p. 21). “Sloosha’s Crossin’,” which Philip Hensher has compared to Russell Hoban’s 1980 science fiction novel, Riddley Walker, tells of encounters between Zachry’s people, the Valleysmen, and the armored Kona, who, when he was a boy, killed Zachry’s father and took his brother as a slave. In Zachry’s loosely theocratic and illiterate society, Sonmi has become the deity of a monotheistic religion headed by the Abbess, who is also the notional leader of the largely agrarian community (Zachry is a goatherd). The ancestors of the Valleysmen came to the Big Island of Hawaii by flotilla, “to ‘scape the Fall” (a nuclear apocalypse) decades earlier (p. 255), and their only contact with the rest of the world is through annual visits from the dark-skinned “Prescients.”

ence of a fellow fabricant server, Yoona, Sonmi began to “awaken,” questioning all the assumptions upon which her life at Papa Song’s was based. The turning point came when Yoona was killed by the authorities when she tried to escape the restaurant. After Yoona’s death, Sonmi began her own process of “ascension,” gaining greater sentience, until one day, a Mr. Chang came to give Sonmi a choice—either leave the restaurant immediately with him or wait around for her ascension to be discovered, as Yoona’s was. Sonmi agrees to leave, and Chang takes her to Taemosan University where she’s given to Boom Sook Kim, a graduate student. At the university, Sonmi acquires a “sony” (like a portal media player), loaded with “autodidact module[s] in corpocracy schooling” (p. 216), in other words, educational programs. Sonmi proves an incredibly quick student, and, largely ignored by the serially absent Boom Sook, she has ample opportunity to educate herself. Eventually, after using Sonmi for target practice (but missing), Boom Sook is expelled, and Sonmi is taken under the protection of Boardman Mephi (a university administrator), who moves Sonmi to a luxurious apartment in the Unanimity Faculty building. (Unamimity is, effectively, the government.) Her reading patterns—traced through downloads to the “sony”—caught the attention of Unanimity, and they realized that she was the “first stabilized ascendant” (p. 228). Mephi sends another graduate student, Hae-Joo Im, to befriend Sonmi and distract her from a creeping existential depression. Hae-Joo has access to restricted films in the security archives, and he takes her to watch a film version of Timothy Cavendish’s life. As they’re watching the film, however, they receive word that Mephi has been arrested and that the authorities are searching for Sonmi and Hae-Joo, with orders to kill Sonmi on sight. Hae-Joo confesses to Sonmi that he’s not who he claimed to be.

Survivors of an advanced society, the Prescients arrive annually on a great ship to barter with the Valleysmen, but they refuse to give them technology more sophisticated than what they already possess and also refuse to tell them about the rest of the world (an obvious derivation from the “Prime Directive” of the Star Trek television series). When Zachry is sixteen years old, he, his mother, and his sister allow a Prescient woman, Meronym, to stay with them for six months, to study their way of life. As well as being the character’s name, “meronym” is also a linguistic term, meaning a word that denotes an object that forms part of another object; “toe,” for instance, is a meronym for “foot,” “nose” a meronym for “face.” This perhaps suggests Mitchell’s character Meronym’s symbolic function as the end point or apex of the novel’s series of reincarnations (Adam Ewing— Robert Frobisher—Luisa Rey—Timothy Cavendish—Sonmi˜451—Meronym; she is one incarnation of the soul all six characters share; or, she is the meronym for that soul), as well as the middle section’s status as a meronym for the whole novel, which highlights, by extension, each other section’s meronymic status. Of course, the term “meronym” also bears the trace of “metonym,” a

“Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After,” the middle section of the novel, is the only one not divided into two halves. Set in a postapocalyptic Hawaii, or “Ha-Why” (between one thousand and fifteen hundred years in the future, according to Mitchell in his interview with Koval), the sec-

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DAVID MITCHELL ѧ Now the Civ’lized got the same needs too, but he sees further. He’ll eat half his food now, yay, but plant half so he won’t go hungry ‘morrow. He’s angry, he’ll stop’n’think why so he won’t get angry next time. He’s swellin’, well, he’s got sisses an’ daughters what need respectin’ so he’ll respect his bros’ sisses an’ daughters. His will is his slave, an’ if his will say-soes, “Don’t!” he won’t, nay.

word that denotes a thing that is understood as a substitute for or symbol of something else, for instance, “sails” being a metonym for “ship.” One might think of Mitchell’s character Meronym as a metonym for the novel as a whole—a status encoded in her importance as the only character fully conscious of, and alert to, the novel’s central theme: the predation of one group of humans by another.

(p. 318)

When Zachry presses Meronym about what is better, to be “savage” or “Civ’lized,” she avers that “ev’ry human is both” (p. 319). The Kona, however, prevail, and Meronym and Zachry are ultimately forced to flee to Maui. The section ends with a reflection from Zachry’s son, who inherited the orison of Sonmi given to Zachry by Meronym.

Zachry is initially suspicious of Meronym, and he searches her bags one day, discovering an orison, in which he sees Sonmi’s interrogation by the archivist (although he fails to realize it’s Sonmi because he can’t understand the language). The orison, however, is also a communication device, and another Prescient appears in it, warning Zachry not to interfere with what does not belong to him. Zachry and Meronym eventually form a tentative bond, after she secretly provides life-saving medicine for his sister, and together they go on a long trek up Mauna Kea to investigate the now-abandoned observatories. During their ascent, Meronym tells Zachry about the rest of the world, and how the Valleysmen are among the most advanced remaining societies anywhere; Meronym also explains that Sonmi is not a deity, only a human like them.

In the continuation of Sonmi’s narrative, HaeJoo Im reveals that he and Mephi are both members of the resistance movement “Union,” which is seeking to overthrow the “corpocracy” of the Unanimity government. Ordered by the Union leader to get Sonmi out of the city, HaeJoo takes her into the countryside, on the way explaining that Union planned “to engineer the ascension of six million fabricants” (p. 342) to overthrow Unanimity. Sonmi had been identified as a potential ambassador between Union and the ascended fabricants, and Hae-Joo takes her to see what happens to fabricants when, after twelve years of service, they go to “Xultation” in Hawaii. Far from being delivered to a fabricant retirement heaven, as she was brainwashed to believe, Sonmi discovers that the fabricants are executed on a ship and immediately recycled into “soap,” the very food that is the only substance a fabricant’s body is able to digest (a twist that seems to nod to the science fiction films Soylent Green [1973] and Logan’s Run [1976], as well as the novels on which they were based). Sonmi resolves to write a Catechism for ascended fabricants and wage war against corpocracy. Ultimately, however (in a less than subtle nod to George Orwell’s 1949 dystopian novel 1984), Sonmi discovers that Union and Unanimity are effectively two arms of the same organization— Union’s “revolutionary” activities are designed merely to manufacture consent. Her last wish

Toward the end of Meronym’s stay, the Valleysmen go to an island-wide bartering market at Honokaa, where the Kona stage a violent raid, kidnapping Zachry and conquering the whole northern half of the Big Island. Meronym, however, comes to Zachry’s rescue, killing his five Kona abductors. The next day, Zachry and Meronym discover that all the Valleysmen’s territory has been taken by the Kona, and they find Zachry’s own home deserted and ransacked, prompting a rather simplistic discussion of civilization versus savagery that points toward the novel’s key themes. Meronym asserts that: It ain’t savages what are stronger’n Civ’lizeds, ѧ it’s big numbers what’re stronger’n small numbers.ѧ ѧ The savage sat’fies his needs now. He’s hungry, he’ll eat. He’s angry, he’ll knuckly. He’s swellin’, he’ll shoot up a woman. His master is his will an’ if his will say-soes “Kill” he’ll kill. Like fangy animals.

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DAVID MITCHELL ing for the Triads (Chinese organized crime), is waiting for Luisa at the bank. Fay reveals to Luisa that her real bosses are trying to discredit Seaboard, and that she intends to make Sixsmith’s report public. Unknown to Fay, Bill Smoke has rigged Sixsmith’s safe deposit box with a bomb that kills her. In the chaos of the explosion, Joe Napier arrives, saves Luisa from Bill Smoke, and spirits her away to safety. Napier then arranges for Luisa to meet Megan Sixsmith, Rufus’s niece, who reveals that Rufus was working not only for Seaboard but also for the Department of Defense: the HYDRA reactor was designed to produce weapons-grade uranium. Megan thinks there might still be a copy of the report on her uncle’s yacht—a yacht about which, conveniently, no one at Seaboard was aware. Luisa and Joe duly go to the yacht and find the report, but Bill Smoke has followed them; he shoots Napier, who manages to kill Smoke before he can harm Luisa. Inevitably, Luisa gets the scoop, which spurs a federal investigation, while, through Megan, she also acquires Robert Frobisher’s remaining letters to Sixsmith and begins to believe that she is Frobisher’s reincarnation.

before execution is to finish watching “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish.” In the continuation of Cavendish’s story, he wakes to discover that he has suffered a stroke, is unable to speak coherently, and has memory lapses. As the months pass, he begins to improve, passing his time by editing the Luisa Rey manuscript, although he’s distressed to find that the story breaks off with her plunging off a bridge. He manages one night to phone his sisterin-law and is horrified to discover that his brother Denholme has died. He hatches a plan to escape from Aurora House with fellow inmates Ernie and Veronica. Together, they trick the autocratic Nurse Noakes into Cavendish’s room, lock her in, then nail the door shut. Stealing the car of a patient’s visiting son, they ram the gates of Aurora House and flee to Edinburgh, where Cavendish contacts his assistant, Mrs. Latham, who reveals that the film rights for Knuckle Sandwich have been optioned and Timothy is, for the first time in ages, “flush.” The section concludes with him planning to have his own story turned into a screenplay. Mrs Latham, in the meantime, has been in touch with Hilary Hush, the author of the Luisa Rey book, and the second half of the manuscript arrives for Cavendish to edit.

In the continuation of “Letters from Zedelghem,” circumstances rapidly decline for Frobisher. While Ayrs is increasingly ill in bed, Frobisher is working, in another self-conscious reference to the formal structure of the novel, on his Cloud Atlas Sextet “for overlapping soloists” (p. 463). To his horror, however, Frobisher realizes that Ayrs has been stealing ideas from his own work and accuses his employer of plagiarism. Ayrs is unmoved and threatens to ruin Frobisher if he leaves his employ or exposes him, by telling the world that Frobisher raped Jocasta; Ayrs, it emerges, has known all along about Frobisher’s affair with his wife. Nonetheless, Frobisher leaves, sneaking out before dawn, but not before discovering the second half of Adam Ewing’s journal, which he takes. Frobisher retreats to Bruges, where, after an incident of gross miscommunication, he stalks Ayrs’s teenage daughter, Eva, believing she is in love with him. Ultimately Eva rebuffs him publicly (revealing her engagement to another young man), and her rejection moves Frobisher to at-

In the continuation of Luisa Rey’s tortuously plotted story, she manages to escape from her submerged car and swim ashore. At the same time, Isaac Sachs, who tried to help her, is on a plane that blows up as he’s pondering the relation between the past and the future in a way that refers directly to the formal structure of the novel. Alive but shaken, Luisa decides to lie low and allow the Seaboard people to think she’s dead; Joe Napier, however, soon discovers she has survived, and he comes to warn her, as an old friend of her late father, to leave town if she wants to live, because Bill Smoke is after her. Napier, meanwhile, is forced into early retirement, while Spyglass, the magazine for which Luisa works, has been bought by a company owned by Seaboard, and she soon finds herself unemployed. After an unexplained delay, Luisa finally receives a key to Rufus Sixsmith’s safe deposit box with a note from him. However, Fay Li (Seaboard’s PR guru), who is actually work-

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DAVID MITCHELL powered vehicles of low culture (genre-writing, cartoons, movies), in which an action-filled plot is a crucial element” (p. 21). Philip Hensher, in his review in the Spectator, links the novel’s formal structure to chaos theory, which “holds that tiny events may have huge ultimate consequences” and “that the observer of an event alters the nature of that event by observing it”: “The novel’s extravagant chain of consequences and its obsessive interpretations and misinterpretations of preceding material turn these ideas into an aesthetic shape” (pp. 34–35), he contends. The reception of Cloud Atlas in the United States was rather more qualified. Reviewing the novel in the New York Times, Tom Bissell argues that, while “Mitchell’s strategy is boldly antithetical to what most narrative-driven novels have been up to since Cervantes,” Cloud Atlas “is basically James Michener’s Alaska with an I.Q. transplant,” although he concedes (somewhat incredulously) that British reviews were “messiah-worthy.” While he credits Mitchell’s “impressive achievement,” he concludes that “impressive is usually all that it is,” finding that the novel “is not nearly as smart as its author,” whom he nonetheless credits with “genius.”

tempt suicide. In his final letter to Sixsmith, he asserts that Rufus is the love of his life, although it is clear (and confirmed in Mitchell’s fourth novel, Black Swan Green), that he will kill himself. In the conclusion of Ewing’s Pacific journal, Adam’s headaches worsen, while Henry Goose’s treatment continues, in ever larger doses, until Adam finally realizes that he is being poisoned. However, Autua, the Moriori stowaway, comes to Adam’s rescue, taking him ashore at Honolulu, where Adam is nursed by nuns at a Catholic mission, while Goose escapes. The book ends with Adam contemplating predation, concluding that “one fine day, a purely predatory world shall consume itself.ѧ In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction”; he decides to “pledge [him]self to the Abolitionist cause,” since he owes his life “to a self-freed slave” (p. 528). Shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, Cloud Atlas is the book that seems to have cemented Mitchell’s reputation, at least in Britain. Reviewing the novel in the Times Literary Supplement (the very fact of a long lead review in the TLS being evidence of literary esteem), Stephen Abell says that Mitchell’s third novel “offers throughout an expectedly extravagant and thoroughly enjoyable compendium of narrative moments,” and he points to its central theme as the “eternal recurrence of human subordination, the will to power”: “Thus, the human tendency to dominate perceived inferiors—whether it be Pacific tribes, the elderly, genetically engineered races, or neighbouring lands—is used, like Nietzschean adhesive, to help hold the narratives together” (p. 21). William Skidelsky has argued, likewise, that the novel’s “six narratives ѧ are animated by a single theme—mankind’s capacity for cruelty, rapaciousness and violence.” Carol Watts similarly argues in her essay “On Conversation” that the novel’s “storytelling function ostensibly frees voices to speak against the historical grain of violence and disenfranchisement” (p. 161).

BLACK SWAN GREEN

With his fourth novel, Black Swan Green, in 2006, Mitchell seemed suddenly to be writing the typical “first novel,” the one most closely resembling his own life, or at least his own childhood. The book’s semiautobiographical “nature” gives it, as Joel Rickett claims, “the feel of début fiction” (p. 20). The flamboyant formal inventiveness of Cloud Atlas and Ghostwritten is gone, but it would be a mistake to dismiss Mitchell’s fourth novel as simply a shift toward the conventional; it is, if anything, a half-sibling of Number9Dream, a fellow bildungsroman and first-person narrative with a single narrator, thirteen-year-old Jason Taylor, who, like Mitchell did, has a stammer (personified as “Hangman,” an “imaginary internal enemy”) and is growing up in Worcestershire, in the fictional town of Black Swan Green. Set over thirteen months from January 1982 to January 1983 (with one chapter

Importantly, and persuasively, Abell also notes Mitchell’s “hitching” of “high-cultural literary ambitions” (identifiable in the complex formal arrangement of the book) “to the higher-

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DAVID MITCHELL Lord of the Flies (1954), and is haunted by the “guiding spirit” of the French novelist AlainFournier’s “paradigmatic novel of adolescence,” Le Grand Meaulnes (1913), to which Jason Taylor is introduced by Eva Crommelynck (p. 30). Both Black Swan Green and Le Grand Meaulnes, although “separated by almost a century, are preoccupied with the same basic themes of adolescence: first love, the disruption of parental relationships, the allure of an older role model, the dark secret that must finally be brought to light, and most of all the fascination of the world beyond home and school” (p. 30). Franklin concludes by celebrating Black Swan Green as the “funniest novel of adolescence since Catcher in the Rye,” “the most painful portrait of boyish aggression since Lord of the Flies,” and “the most inventive depiction of teenage language since [Anthony Burgess’s] A Clockwork Orange” (p. 31). Sam Leith suggestively links Black Swan Green to the themes of Mitchell’s previous novels, finding a preoccupation with “the foundational predation of the school playground” whose more sinister adult incarnations have been explored in Mitchell’s evocations of the historical repetition of “the exercise of power by the strong, at the expense of the weak.”

allotted to each month, each also designedly functioning as an autonomous story), Black Swan Green continues to illustrate Mitchell’s obsessive preoccupation with the possibilities of language. Taylor’s idiolect is steeped in the popular culture of Thatcherite Britain (it is set against, and directly refers to, the Falklands War) but prone to the kind of metaphorical play that has characterized most of Mitchell’s many narrators. Thomas Jones, reviewing the novel in the London Review of Books, argues that “the supposed naturalism of Jason’s voice is highly artificial, and making romantic claims for its authenticity puts it under more strain than it is able to bear.” Taylor is a closet poet, publishing his juvenilia under the pseudonym Eliot Bolivar in the local parish newsletter and attracting the attention of the reclusive Eva Crommelynck, who last appeared as Vyvyan Ayr’s precocious daughter in Cloud Atlas. (Mitchell, it should be noted, published poetry under the pseudonym “James Bolivar” in his own parish newsletter as a young adolescent; see his interview with Melissa Denes in the Guardian.) In a long review in the New Republic, Ruth Franklin concedes that while the “territory” of Black Swan Green “is decidedly more mundane” than that of Mitchell’s previous novels (contending with such domesticities as “a bad marriage turning worse; the torments of school; the first crush, first cigarette, first encounter with the world of ideas beyond Black Swan Green,” Jason Taylor’s “claustrophobically cozy village”), in another sense, the novel is “Mitchell’s most adventuresome work yet” (p. 28). The “difference,” she notes, is “that while language previously played a supporting role to [Mitchell’s] formal experimentation, here he performs his experiments within the medium of language itself, and with brilliant results” (p. 28). Astutely tracing Mitchell’s long line of “literary heroes,” Franklin notes that “[Vladimir] Nabokov and [Jorge Luis] Borges are the patron saints of Ghostwritten, and [Herman] Melville has a disguised cameo in Cloud Atlas”—as the influence behind Adam Ewing’s journal—while in Black Swan Green, Mitchell “references the Brothers Grimm,” as well as William Golding’s

Speaking about the novel himself, Mitchell argues that the typical first novel is “a maligned form,” an opinion “partly justified” as such books tend to be written “by people in their early 20s who don’t have much experience to draw on, and haven’t yet worked out how to project out of themselves”; nonetheless, “the clutch of years at the beginning of our adult lives fixes us in permanent glue” (Rickett, p. 20), and books focusing on this period can “get under the skin.” Like his protagonist, Mitchell admits he grew up “in a muddy, English village,” “was afraid of the end of the world,” and “wrote bad poetry which [he] delivered in secret at night to the parish magazine.” His own parents, however, did not get divorced, and his house had an “atmosphere ѧ of mild friendliness, but that isn’t the stuff of drama.” Mitchell acknowledges that “Jason’s stammer ѧ is the central autobiographical thread,” which allowed him to explore “how it affects

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DAVID MITCHELL your personality, your interaction with the world or lack of it, and the loquacity of your inner voice compared to the stunted, faltering outer voice” (Rickett, p. 20). In his essay “On Becoming a Non-Stammering Stammerer,” Mitchell has written movingly about his own struggle with stammering, concluding: “If I could have produced unbroken, effortless sentences like my secretlyenvied class-mates, I would never have felt the need to write them down, nor become a writer.” Mitchell’s next novel, intended to take the form of six novellas, is set in the Napoleonic period on Dejima, a tiny artificial island in Nagasaki Bay that functioned as a Dutch trading outpost, which, as Mitchell says, was “the only place in Japan where white people were from 1610 to 1850,” Japan’s Edo period, during which the country isolated itself from the rest of the world. Mitchell imagines Dejima “as the cat flap through which the outside world could see Japan, and Japan could get information about the world. If there isn’t great fiction there, then God help me” (Rickett, p. 21).

“On Becoming a Non-Stammering Stammerer.” Black Swan Green website (http://www.blackswangreen.co.uk/ extra_material.html), 2006. “Dénouement.” Guardian Review, May 26, 2007, pp. 20–22.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Abell, Stephen. “How to Get to the Ker-Bam: David Mitchell Exercises the Power of Storytelling.” Times Literary Supplement, February 27, 2004, pp. 21–22. Barnacle, Hugo. “Novel of the Week: Number9Dream.” New Statesman, March 12, 2001, p. 55. Barry, Shane. “Silver Daggers and Russian Dolls—David Mitchell, Author of Cloud Atlas, in Interview.” Three Monkeys Online (http://www.threemonkeysonline.com), March 2005. Bissell, Tom. “History Is a Nightmare.” New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com), August 29, 2004. Denes, Melissa. “Apocalypse, Maybe.” Guardian (http:// www.guardian.co.uk), February 21, 2004. (Feature with Mitchell.) Dutta, Shomit. “Eiji, Anju, Ai, and Goatwriter.” Times Literary Supplement, March 2, 2001, p. 22. Eder, Richard. “Caller No. 1.” New York Times (http://www. nytimes.com), September 17, 2000. Edric, Robert. “One Hand Clapping.” Spectator, March 10, 2001, pp. 39–40. Finbow, Steve. “Q & A: David Mitchell.” Stop Smiling Magazine (http://www.stopsmilingonline.com), June 29, 2007.


Francken, James. “In Which the Crocodile Snout-Butts the Glass.” London Review of Books (http://www.lrb.co.uk), June 7, 2001. Franklin, Ruth. “Bursting the Thermometer.” New Republic, July 24, 2006, pp. 25–31. Freeman, John. “Muse with a Long Fuse.” Scotsman (http:// www.scotsman.com), April 2, 2006. Freudenberger, Nell. “Wonder Year.” New York Times (http:// www.nytimes.com), April 16, 2006. Hensher, Philip. “Roller-Coaster of a Ride.” Spectator, February 14, 2004, pp. 34–35.

WORKS OF DAVID MITCHELL NOVELS Ghostwritten. London: Sceptre, 1999. Number9Dream. London: Sceptre, 2001. Cloud Atlas. London: Sceptre, 2004. Black Swan Green. London: Sceptre, 2006.

ESSAYS

AND

SHORT FICTION

Iyer, Pico. “David Mitchell: The Man Who Is Reinventing the Novel.” Time, May 14, 2007, p. 96. Jones, Thomas. “Outfoxing Hangman.” London Review of Books (http://www.lrb.co.uk), May 11, 2006.

“Japan and My Writing.” Random House Bold Type (http:// www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/1100/mitchell/essay. html), 2000. “The January Man.” Granta 81: Best of Young British Novelists (2003): 135–148. (Short story; revised and included in Black Swan Green.) “Acknowledgements.” Prospect 115 (http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/article_details.php?id=7069), October 2005. “Preface.” Vintage website (www.randomhouse.com/vintage/ catalog/results_author.pperl?authorid=20870), 2006.

Kakutani, Michiko. “When Lives, and Worlds, Converge.” New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com), September 12, 2000. ———. “Wandering Along the Border Between Reality and Fantasy.” New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com), March 15, 2002. Koval, Ramona. “Books and Writing: David Mitchell.” ABC

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DAVID MITCHELL Rickett, Joel. “Teenage Kicks.” Bookseller, March 31, 2006, pp. 20–21.

Radio National (http://www.abc.net.au), February 20, 2005. (Transcript of a radio interview with Mitchell.) Leith, Sam. “Ace!” Literary Review, May 2006, p. 52. MacFarlane, Robert. “When Blade Runner Meets Jack Kerouac.” Observer (http://observer.guardian.co.uk), March 11, 2001. McWeeney, Catherine. “A Conversation with David Mitchell.” Random House Boldtype (http://www. randomhouse.com/boldtype), 2000. O’Rourke, Meghan. “Fiction in Review.” Yale Review 90, no. 3: 159–169 (July 2002). Phillips, Adam. “About a Boy Poet.” Observer (http:// observer.guardian.co.uk), April 16, 2006. Poole, Steven. “I Think I’m Turning Japanese.” Guardian (http://www.guardian.co.uk), March 10, 2001.

Schenkenberg, Stephen. “A Kind of Music: Interview with David Mitchell.” PopMatters (http://www.popmatters. com/books/interviews/mitchell-david-060525.shtml), May 25, 2006. Skidelsky, William. “A World of Tricks.” New Statesman, March 22, 2004, p. 55. Watts, Carol. “On Conversation.” In Literature and the Visual Media: Essays and Studies. Edited by David Seed. Cambridge, U.K.: D. S. Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2005. Pp. 142–162. ———. “Zombie Spawn Descend to Earth.” New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com), March 24, 2002.

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FRANK O’CONNOR (1903—1966)

Adrian Paterson the height of the myth-ridden Irish Literary Revival, reaching adolescence in time for the hysterical excitement of the republican movement, but maturing amidst the hypocrisies and introversion of the post-1922 Irish Free State, O’Connor’s characteristic note was always going to be disillusionment. Still, it was from Yeats that O’Connor learned the habit of painstaking revision, endlessly writing and rewriting stories and poems as if to manifest an unshakeable belief in art’s perfectibility. From Yeats (1865–1939) too he borrowed an attachment to the cadences of the spoken voice, and from James Joyce (1882– 1941), perhaps, the ear to catch characteristic habits of dialogue and fix them in prose. In both he found ways to adopt into his continentalleaning stories—formally reminiscent of the short fiction of Anton Chekhov and Guy de Maupassant and spiritually, perhaps, of Thomas Hardy—an unobtrusive poetic symbolism and a surreptitious use of myth that mark them as peculiarly Irish. While in The Mirror in the Roadway (1956) O’Connor claimed affinity with the nineteenth century realist novel, this did not make him a conservative. His concern with what in his shrewd critical study of the short story The Lonely Voice (1963) he called the “submerged population group” (p. 18) of priests, clerks, teachers, laborers, children, aged parents, and all the suffocated late-marrying families of his hometown Cork lent the story in his hands “an intense awareness of human loneliness” (p. 19), focusing as it did on forgotten lives and forgotten tones of voice. In the short story O’Connor discovered a form that was closer to the lyrics he was translating than to the sprawling social networks of the novel. This is not the place to argue why Ireland has produced so many outstanding short story

FRANK O’CONNOR, poet, translator, playwright, and novelist, will be remembered as a master of the short story, and has a strong claim to be among the finest writers of fiction Ireland ever produced. Born Michael Francis O’Donovan, under the pen name Frank O’Connor he was probably too productive for his own reputation. The energetic author of several appealing books of travel and literary anthology, two coruscating volumes of autobiography, five of incisive literary criticism, and of an enormous number of articles commenting on such cultural matters as the neglect of Irish monuments, the evils of censorship and compulsory Irish, and the Romanesque detail in Irish churches, his easy broadcasting style made his weathered voice familiar to thousands, and the distinctive individual voices of his many poems, plays, and stories spoke familiarly to many more. The paradox is his works are far from verbose. His bare, sinewy poetry, including some of the most vivid translations we possess from the Irish, wastes no word and can collapse hundreds of years into a single phrase. His stories, composed with an economy that distills a novel’s worth of material into ten pages, conduct a dry, often humourous penetration into our customary habits of mind, and at their best achieve a spare but heartrending intensity, recalling William Butler Yeats’s desire for literature “cold and passionate as the dawn.” Indeed, although Yeats and O’Connor appeared to the eminent critic and biographer Richard Ellmann in his essay “Michael/Frank” (Maurice Sheehy’s critical compilation by the same title) to be, respectively, the “last romantic and the last realist,” they were not altogether different (p. 26). O’Connor instead might well be described as Yeats’s heir, an unruly but gifted stepson. Born at

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FRANK O’CONNOR object and word. Yet perhaps because he grew up living the stories he read, for O’Connor art and life were not dichotomous: art was part of life, and the pains and joys of life were not of a different order from the pains and joys of art.

writers: O’Connor had his own theories about this, ably articulated in The Lonely Voice, but the fact remains that even among the finest creators of this “distinct art form,” James Joyce, George Moore, and Elizabeth Bowen, he will always get a hearing. The craft and sympathy O’Connor devotes to apparently minor subjects, derived, as he acknowledged, from Ivan Turgenev and Anton Chekhov, find ample consummation in minor masterpieces. His moving autobiographies of childhood and literary apprenticeship have an energy and resonance missing from more overwritten accounts, while his critical work exhibits the same psychological insight and close scrutiny of varying modes of expression as his fiction. All the same, O’Connor has always been a writer more read than talked about. His once mediocre critical reputation is reviving, as attested by Hilary Lennon’s Frank O’Connor: Critical Essays (2007), while recent reissues of his short stories and autobiographies should find him a new audience receptive to his mastery of these onceoverlooked genres. His critical occlusion can be ascribed to two factors. The story of O’Connor’s artistic life does not fit the story of modernism, which describes experimenters in language forging their own path against popular taste. Nor does it fit the received story of Irish letters, which, reluctant to remember the frustrations of the middle years of the century, concentrates on the Irish Revival and the recent literary renaissance. Sharing the tenacity of his literary generation, the novelist Elizabeth Bowen (1899-1973), the polymath Seán O’Faoláin (1900-1991), and the poet Patrick Kavanagh (1904-1964), O’Connor forged his own path, determinedly resisting the censorships and parochial tastes of Ireland. In that process he damaged his relationship with the audience he had at home and was forced to find one overseas. In his own way, O’Connor was singularly influential: the local attention but lofty artistic aspiration of such younger Irish writers as John McGahern (1934-2006) and William Trevor (b. 1928) is inconceivable without him. True, O’Connor preferred to investigate dislocations of place above dislocations of language, and he never believed in Samuel Beckett’s breakdown of

LIFE AND AUTOBIOGRAPHIES

Born on September 17, 1903, to Michael “Mick” O’Donovan and Minnie O’Connor, Michael Francis O’Donovan was always leaving. Like so many Irish writers, he left his hometown, Cork, its hills and waters tucked in on Ireland’s southern seaboard, only to return again and again in imagination. He left his birth name and adopted his mother’s maiden name as his nom de plume, or more aptly, given conservative attacks on his writing, his nom de guerre. At a defining moment in his life he left “every organization [he] belonged to” in order to write (An Only Child and My Father’s Son, p. 347). During the Second World War, he briefly left wife and children for England, returned, and on his wife’s departure, would leave again for England and finally for a life between America and Dublin. More metaphorically he left behind the self-conscious modernism and trickery of Joyce and Beckett to mold psychological studies of Ireland’s forgotten people, miniature prose dramas on a human scale. He would never, however, leave behind memories of the books and people he encountered: his prodigious recall of word patterns and character tics ensured his continual return to the small details of life and to close readings. “Displaced Persons,” the prospective title for an uncompleted novel that eventually became his autobiography An Only Child, gives us an idea of his preoccupations; that he also called it “The Invisible Presences” reveals his ever-present awareness of those who had left this world for the dwellings of the dead. Behind him O’Connor left two volumes of memoirs, An Only Child (1961) and My Father’s Son (1968), themselves sharply drawn character analyses, portraits of the artist as a young man, of his friends and relatives, and of the island they inhabited. It is through these penetrating books we can best observe his life, wryly entwined by

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FRANK O’CONNOR bedroom. Over-egged descriptions of Irish poverty have since become the stock-in-trade of Irish-American bookselling; O’Connor never oversells the deprivation that was genuinely his milieu, and he never descends into pity. He hated the “drunkenness, dirt and violence” he associated with his father’s family, perhaps because he knew something better; but his memoirs disclose how close destitution was (Only Child, p. 27). Significant places in this early landscape included the women’s prison and the Good Shepherd Convent, in the orphanage of which his mother had grown up. O’Connor tells his mother’s terrible stories of forced separations and blighted lives with as much insight as if they were his own, and in a way they were: whatever the thread, and his mother was as adept as he at gathering stories, the material became his to weave.

the author in Ireland’s history—as when a dice game called Harp, Crown and Feather produces a “prophetic” result: “Being a patriotic child, with something of Father’s high principle, I put my money on the national emblem and lost.ѧ Since then I have lost a great many pennies on the national emblem” (Only Child, p. 20). The tone is characteristic: an abbreviated telling of a childhood experience that is seen as formative only in retrospect, the defrocking of innocence, the use and deflation of symbolism after the example of Joyce’s Ulysses (1922)—with a deft humor, empathy, and epigrammatic poise all O’Connor’s own. In Irish “corraigh” means “marsh,” and O’Connor found the rising floods and islanded streets of Cork as difficult to get out of as any marsh. All his life an idea of home, Cork’s vitality and linguistic variety, fought in his mind with the reality of saturating claustrophobia and provincial depression. He begins his earliest memories with the possibility of escape, remembering the top of the hill on Blarney Lane “just on the edge of the open country” where “behind the house were high, windy fields that are now all built over” (ibid., p. 15). Those high windy fields seem to represent one incarnation of the imaginative freedom on which O’Connor depended, much as the view from the high house with tall windows at the beginning of his novel Dutch Interior (1940), from which a boy very like O’Connor observes ships heading out to sea, represents another: as Sean O’Faolain recalled, in Cork “the sea was at our door” (A Book of Ireland, 31). The fields look toward the desolate spaces of the country, the dwellings and language of the interior and of the past; the view toward the Atlantic faces other lands, the future, the possibilities of other lives and literatures. This, it could be argued, was something of the condition of Ireland and its diaspora as well of O’Connor’s mind. O’Connor escaped, both literally and imaginatively, but had to smuggle the people with him: however sparsely, all O’Connor’s landscapes are populated.

His mother left her work as a maid to marry Mick O’Donovan, a soldiering friend of her brother Tim, who insisted that he was not good enough for her. For the young O’Connor too this marriage appeared very much a mistake, and he looked wistfully on the shop owned by an earlier suitor of his mother where he really ought to have grown up. Notwithstanding such glimpses of other lives, echoed in the ironically titled story of parents’ strange pasts, “The Study of History,” his mother claimed that Mick O’Donovan “raised me from the gutter where the world threw me” (ibid., p. 39). Still, if we add to this early landscape the barracks, very much the territory of his father, an old soldier, we have a grim triangle of limited aspiration. The two poles between which O’Connor oscillated all his life were mother and father: a father who displayed remarkable capacities for homesickness, obduracy, and gloom, possessed of his family’s “alcoholic emotionalism,” and a mother early cast adrift, who could never find a home but who exuded instinctive compassion, an innocent “belief in the world of appearances,” and a kind of “improvised gaiety” to which the melancholy O’Connor found himself always drawn (ibid., p. 40). A father with family, a mother without any family: these “were the two powers that were struggling for possession of my

“House,” O’Connor suggests, is an exaggerated term for the domicile in which he was raised: “cabin” better described the tiny kitchen and

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FRANK O’CONNOR and sometimes the reality of violence, affected O’Connor enough to cause him “pseudo-epileptic fits” in adolescence. Domestic dramas, lives broken by intransigent bonds of money, marriage, and religion, would ever after be his subjects. Living next to the trumpet calls and rituals of the barracks, the only child adopted his father’s morbid taste for military funerals and their music; while his mother’s attachment to the sweet melancholy of Thomas Moore’s Irish Melodies was leavened by sentimental Victorian drawing room songs. All the chapters of An Only Child take their titles from songs, as if they were playing in O’Connor’s inner ear throughout his childhood, and all this music represented O’Connor’s real initiation into politics and literature. Cork politics are even dramatized by way of music: in the arbitrary passions of the songs and riots between the two brass bands supporting the two nationalist factions later remembered in the story “The Cornet Player Who Betrayed Ireland” and the poem “A Statue of Life.” As this latter suggests, for a long time afterwards O’Connor tried to be finished with politics in favor of music, though he never quite managed it:

soul” (ibid., p. 27). His mother largely won; but both would provide character studies crucial to his life and fiction. One gets the feeling O’Connor learned emotionally by studying to understand his parents and their incomprehensible dependency. Father’s dominance was shown by a move in the spring of 1902 to the Barrack Stream, a rougher but richer area in the north of Cork city where Mick O’Donovan’s family lived and where they could take in lodgers—including an inconvenient grandmother. There O’Connor found himself with an attic room possessed of intriguing views over adjoining backyards and the hillside opposite (ibid., p. 23). Privacy was impossible in such proximate living, “fifteen houses in the little square,” but the compensation was the opportunity, even the compulsion, for close observation (ibid., p. 71). Adoring proper education, like girls, from afar, O’Connor was summoned by an instinct for something better, fuelling his obsessive reading of English school stories and penny weeklies, which bequeathed him a hopelessly ill-fitting code of honor and a keen sense of injustice, all of which he remembered later in his stories. In this way too he could peer into the lives of others: “I was very fond of heights, and afterwards it struck me that reading was only another form of height” (ibid., p. 88).

Farewell, poetic speeches And unpoetic songs! Drummers that beat the neighbours, While neighbours slashed the drums.

At O’Connor’s birth and for much of his childhood, Mick O’Donovan was away fighting with the British army in South Africa and in the Great War. His absence was not mourned by his son: the disturbance aroused by the return, with pension, of the mountainous Father is amusingly described in O’Connor’s nakedly Freudian stories of childhood, the well-known “My Oedipus Complex” among them: “Do you think if I prayed hard,” asks the son, “God would send Daddy back to the war?” (Collected Stories, p. 285). The truce between Father and Son over possession of Mother might hold for a time, but eventually the family would find the “rainy day had at last arrived” when the squandering of savings and pawning of property would begin, and Father’s chronic thirst would bring the family to the edge of destitution (Only Child, p. 34). The memory of these episodes, laden with the threat

(Three Old Brothers, p. 28)

When he was nine years old, two things happened to change O’Connor’s life. Frailer than his well-built (and dismissive) father, he began to suffer headaches that led to his wearing thick glasses, inaugurating a series of chronic health problems, usually gastric, that would plague him throughout his life and even cause, after his first marriage, a false diagnosis of terminal cancer. The second, and more important, was that he met Daniel Corkery. As O’Connor astutely put it, this was “the real weakness—if it is a weakness—of the Mother’s boy. It is not that he is not attracted to women, but that he is liable to get into emotional relationships with older men” (ibid., pp. 251–252). Corkery was the first of these, “my first and greatest love” (ibid., p. 105). An irascible

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FRANK O’CONNOR Joining the now highly politicized Gaelic League, “I played at reading foreign languages and tenth century Irish, at being a priest and saying Mass, at singing to staff notation,” writes O’Connor, and cheekily transfers this sense of improvisation to the country as a whole (ibid., p. 114): “All I wanted was to translate,” he says, just as Ireland was learning to translate the foreign language of revolution. Dismissively known as “Native” in the railway goods shed where he worked as messenger-boy, O’Connor found he had a use only to speak Irish to the perverse English who insisted upon it. An immature poem of his was published in a children’s magazine, and he was strongly advised (“for God’s sake”) to stick to writing (ibid., p. 127). When a second effort, a translation from French into Irish of a sonnet by Joachim du Bellay, was hailed in print as a “perfect translation,” O’Connor knew something was up. “It was a period,” he comments, “when journalists could improvise a literature as lightly as country clerks improvised government departments” (ibid., p. 134).

schoolteacher of uncommon intellect and personal magnetism, he was painter, novelist, critic, and language revivalist in one limping but energetic frame. When O’Connor discovered his old teacher was the author of the stories of A Munster Twilight (1916), his career was fixed. “With which shall I begin,” Corkery asks at the opening of his book, “man or place?” O’Connor chose man but never lost Corkery’s fascination with the permanent residue of place. Although O’Connor would later take issue with Corkery’s narrow definitions of Irish literature, expounded in Synge and Anglo-Irish Literature (1931), Corkery was not a narrow influence on the young writer, to whom he would introduce the classical music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Franz Schubert and the fiction of France and Russia, as well as an intensity of national feeling learned alongside the Irish language. O’Connor was soon reading all the continental fiction he could get his hands on, building on a fascination with his mother’s favoured Victorian novels. Poetry in Irish he encountered through Corkery’s painting of the blind poet and fiddler Anthony Raftery and his lines written in Corkery’s peculiar Gaelic script. “I know that I learned them, as I learned everything, by heart,” says O’Connor, who rushed home to find that his irritating grandmother at last had a use, “because it turned out that Irish, not English, was her native language” (ibid., p. 104). A love of languages had emerged: with astounding facility he began to memorize scraps of Latin and poems from Flemish, German, French, by such writers as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Pierre de Ronsard. So too, after reading the sensitive portraits of priests in the novels of Patrick Augustine Sheehan, known as Canon Sheehan (1852–1913), emerged his awareness of a distinctive Irish literature written in English.

As Ireland took tottering steps toward nationhood, O’Connor remained in Corkery’s orbit, commencing a friendship and literary rivalry with the slightly older Seán O’Faoláin (1900–1991), who now represented the possibility of intellectual escape as Corkery turned to increasingly dogmatic nationalism. Corkery never forgave the defection of his two bright stars, and he ignored their subsequent careers, leaving O’Connor deeply hurt. Yet even then O’Connor had begun to quarrel with his mentor, who insisted that “you must remember there are more important things in life than literature” (ibid., p. 143). Certain there were not, on the signing of the treaty with Britain, “granting us everything we had ever sought” except a formally republican government and control of Ulster, O’Connor nevertheless “took the Republican side because it was Corkery’s” (ibid., p. 147).

Affected by illness O’Connor’s education petered out at twelve. What replaced it was the voracious but scattered appetite of an autodidact. The Easter Rising in Dublin in April of 1916 dragged him from Flemish back to the Irish poetry practiced by its leader, Patrick Pearse, and into histories of Ireland that hardly squared with his cherished image of the English public school.

O’Connor’s subsequent involvement in the Irish Civil War precipitated many of the stories published in his first collection, his “war book,” Guests of the Nation (1931). By the time of his autobiography twenty-seven years later the tone of poignant disillusionment had descended into

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FRANK O’CONNOR the rigors of Irish grammar for the first time. Languages, he found, were not just “a form of magic, like girls”; typically O’Connor attributes to the discovery of the accusative or objective case his wearying of emotional invocations to martyrdom (Only Child, p. 174). Within the camp, things were organized exactly as outside. Bitterly noting the human cost of abstract ideals, O’Connor remarks, “It was a great pity God hadn’t made mothers with the durability of principles” (ibid., p. 182). Refusing to go on hunger strike by order of majority verdict—this from rebels imprisoned for resisting majority view—O’Connor was ostracized. As the hunger strike ignominiously crumbled, O’Connor’s memoirs observe without pleasure the death of an attractive but concocted romantic idealism and predict a long hangover for the country.

black farce. The excitement of incompetently improvised guerrilla warfare was tested by arbitrary observed or overheard acts of violence, which O’Connor read as the intrusion of reality onto a desperate literary romanticism borne, ironically, of Shelley and English nineteenthcentury adventure stories. Working as a propagandist and shadowing the novelist and revolutionary Erskine Childers, a former British officer, to O’Connor there appeared little doubt of the confused and literary nature of the conflict. Childers’s unlikely friendship with the Free State commander Michael Collins led to O’Connor’s sympathetic but unreserved biography of Collins, The Big Fellow (1937), which he wrote as if to come to terms with the strange literary infatuation of the period. Allowing himself to be captured (a copy of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot in his pocket) and imprisoned in Cork’s women’s prison, O’Connor witnessed internecine brutality that could turn a young boy’s body into “a bundle of rags,” his face “a lump of dough,” and leave him dead, provoking a particularly bitter epiphany of the kind Joyce employed to close his stories:

After his release his mother found him changed, and O’Connor found that his reputation as a disbeliever had gone before him to Cork, making him “wonder if I should ever again be completely at ease with the people I loved, their introverted religion and introverted patriotism” (ibid., p. 190). On this unsettling note ends one of the great Irish memoirs: less austerely architectural than Elizabeth Bowen’s Seven Winters and Bowen’s Court (1942), not as stage-Irish and stage-managed as Patrick Kavanagh’s The Green Fool (1938), but more self-revealing and cutting even than George Moore’s magisterial Hail and Farewell (1911–1914). As O’Connor’s editor William Maxwell said to him in a letter of May 9, 1962, “The problem, really, is that volume I is a classic, and you can’t descend from it into ordinary light of day autobiography” (The Happiness of Getting It Down Right, p. 182). Its successor, My Father’s Son (1968), unrevised at O’Connor’s death and posthumously published, is inevitably not so well constructed, consisting essentially of intertwined portraits of figures he encountered during his artistic comingof-age, as he emerged, in Maxwell’s words, from “fantasy and obscurity” to “a life of public activity” and literary friendship (ibid., p. 195). In many ways a less personally exposing memoir, My Father’s Son follows O’Connor’s years as a librarian and board member of the Abbey Theatre,

I was beginning to think that this was all our romanticism came to—a miserable attempt to burn a widow’s house, the rifle butts and bayonets of hysterical soldiers, a poor woman of the lanes kneeling in some city church and appealing to a God who could not listen, and then—a barrack wall with some smug humbug of a priest muttering prayers. (ibid., p. 169)

If the savagery of this last denunciation emerges, we suspect, from subsequent battles, the effect of this experience of meaningless violence on O’Connor was the same as on the narrator of his story “Guests of the Nation”: “Anything that ever happened me after I never felt the same about again” (Collected Stories, p. 12). Nearly all his characters’ disillusionments and painful accommodations would explore in quieter echo this bite of reality on romantic temperament. An Only Child casts bitter disillusionment as the signature of his life. Transferred to an old American aerodrome outside Dublin, O’Connor discovered his university: an internment camp full of able republican rebels where he learned

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FRANK O’CONNOR For three years from December 1925, O’Connor lived at home as librarian of Cork County—“Nothing could cure me of the notion that Cork needed me and that I needed Cork” (ibid., p. 235)—valuable mainly for his wholehearted ambush of the Cork Dramatic Society; but his new umbilical attachments led him inexorably back to Dublin. For the next ten years he flung himself with the same demonic energy at the Pembroke District Library, founding strong collections in European fiction and beginning his battles with the authorities over funding and the severe censorship laws passed by the Free State government in 1929.

the home of Yeats’s Irish National Theatre Company. O’Connor had been offered a library training post in Sligo by the dramatist Lennox Robinson, later his friend and antagonist at the Abbey. Not perhaps a natural librarian, there he discovered the landscape and poetry of W. B. Yeats and many another writer: “Never in my life had I had enough books to read,” he wrote; “this was my opportunity” (Only Child, p. 198). Autobiographies tell us as much concerning the man writing as the man written about: and like Yeats’s autobiographies, O’Connor’s reflect his preoccupations at the time of composition. While writing this second volume he was also preparing the lectures for Trinity College Dublin that became The Backward Look (1967), his deftly unifying history of Irish literature. Accordingly My Father’s Son is about literary inheritance, and his own search for a father. The book is especially concerned with giving valediction and judgment to a period of literature that began with the Irish Literary Revival. At its heart, as at the heart of the revival, is W. B. Yeats. This was not unusual: what O’Connor calls the “fascinating” autobiographies of the “last of the romantics,” the playwright Sean O’Casey, were also evidently composed in the shadow of Yeats, but with a self-conscious poeticism O’Connor does not allow himself. No book has come closer to penetrating the contradictory intellect and loyalties of Yeats, who as a presiding spirit is balanced with a vivid sketch of AE, Yeats’s old art school companion George Russell (1867–1935), a generous friend to aspiring Irish poets in general, as well as to O’Connor himself. Transferred to Wicklow to work at a new library under the direction of the inspiring poet Geoffrey Taylor, the two young librarians together conducted a poetic apprenticeship within touching distance of literary Dublin, fostered by AE’s benign presence and the publication opportunities of his Irish Statesman, to which Michael O’Donovan contributed early translations and impassioned articles, for the first time using the pseudonym made up of his middle name and his mother’s maiden name, Frank O’Connor, in an attempt to avoid the censure that had earlier afflicted Lennox Robinson.

His initial arguments with Yeats became an unsteady alliance as O’Connor sought to reinvigorate the Abbey Theatre by bringing in new plays and new players. Joining the board in 1935, O’Connor briefly became managing director in 1938. Never able to keep out of anything, O’Connor expounded to the actors his Yeatsian theories of staging and of speaking in verse, and he wrote five variously received plays for the Abbey with its English director Hugh Hunt. Constant intrigues with Robinson and the poet F. R. Higgins on the board became wearing: O’Connor’s boundless energy hid a shy man who was prone to bouts of black depression. In compensation this gave him a sensitive understanding of the troubles of others and an acute ear for their oblique admissions: in O’Connor’s memoirs we often meet the originals to his stories. His are above all human portraits: Yeats’s wife George told O’Connor she had spotted in him the same way of “running your hand through your hair” as the poet himself when shy (ibid., p. 267). In all O’Connor’s writing, as in his life, even poets get down off their stilts and become men again: perhaps this was why he notes that AE had fallen for the willful heroine of O’Connor’s first novel, a tale of frustrated love, The Saint and Mary Kate (1932). Anxiety about his work persisted, yet what the memoirs do not make clear is the hyperbolic abundance of his writing. In a ten-year span beginning in 1931, O’Connor produced four books of poems and translations, two books of stories, his only two novels, five plays, and the

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FRANK O’CONNOR Michael Collins biography. “I still considered myself a poet,” he remembered, “and had little notion of how to write a story and none at all of how to write a novel, so they were produced in hysterical fits of enthusiasm, followed by similar fits of despondency, good passages alternating with bad, till I can no longer read them” (ibid., p. 250). Neither do the memoirs unravel his personal life. Initially this was broached secondhand, as Taylor confided his entanglements in London with the poetical ménage of Robert Graves and Laura Riding.

His splendid hydrocephalic head stretched behind his neck like a balloon; his myopic eyes glaring at the clouds over the roofs through the thick lenses of his glasses; a waterfall of black hair permanently frozen over his left eye; his big teeth laughing, his big voice booming, he looked for all the world like a peasant Yeats in a poor state of health. (p. 92)

If we add the habitual small bristling mustache and allow in his forties for a rapid silvering and combing back of his hair, this catches O’Connor very nicely: in motion, as he must have always appeared to the world. Typically, O’Connor was active in helping found O’Faoláin’s caustic literary periodical the Bell, and his second novel, the plangent Dutch Interior, was published in June 1940 and banned in July. On the seizing of Patrick Kavanagh’s bitter book-length poem of sexual frustration The Great Hunger (1942), to which was attached O’Connor’s “The Future of Irish Literature,” he reacted with fury. In a letter of July 1943 to his friend Stan Stewart, he confided, “I spent ten years trying to save this country from itself when I should have been saving myself from the country” (Matthews, p. 193). For some months O’Connor had been broadcasting stories for Radio Eireann and musings on the theater for the BBC. Disgracefully forbidden by Eamon de Valera’s government to leave the country to pursue these broadcasts—despite the intervention of the friendly press attaché, the poet John Betjeman—O’Connor found all his avenues of publication suspended and his family facing penury. His response was typical: forced into further pseudonymity, “Ben Mayo” began fulminating on all matters cultural and political from the pulpit of the Sunday Independent. “Censorship is not law,” he cried, “it is outlawry” (McKeon, p. 149). As for travel, he indulged Evelyn’s interests by embarking on the cycling tours of Irish churches and monuments that would make up the delightfully discursive Irish Miles (1947), perhaps the most intimate of all O’Connor’s books. Its opening though is characteristic. The reader expects landscape and architecture, but what interests the author is people and what they say. His first extended broadcasting trip to England in 1944 had left O’Connor with another

O’Connor himself had fallen hopelessly in love with an amateur actress and pharmacist from Cork who steadfastly refused to marry him, and “in those years of insecurity light love was as much beyond me as light verse” (ibid., p. 241). His subsequent attachment to a married actress at the Abbey, Evelyn Bowen, added scandal to insecurity, and when they set up housekeeping together in 1937 and late the following year she became pregnant, O’Connor’s unconventional reputation was sealed. The couple was finally able to marry in February 1939, and Myles, the first of their three children, was born in July. Shortly after that O’Connor’s father came to visit them but arrived hopelessly drunk. O’Connor’s memoir painfully remembers being forced to send him back home. He never saw him again. Conspicuously the memoir ends not with the death of his father, but with the death of Yeats. Compromised by the board, O’Connor soon resigned from the Abbey: indeed, “resigned from every organization I belonged to and sat down, at last, to write” (ibid., p. 347), stimulating another period of furious activity. However his life and new marriage became no less complicated. The nineteenth-century realist in O’Connor was concerned always to tether his words to material reality. Frequently he opened the second paragraph of his stories with a brief physiognomy, usually one suspects, drawn recognizably from real life. Of O’Connor himself we can do no better than this fictional portrait of “the poet” in “his flabby tweeds” from Seán O’Faoláin’s story “Falling Rocks, Narrowing Road, Cul-de-sac, Stop,” quoted by James Matthews in his biography of O’Connor, Voices:

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FRANK O’CONNOR O’Connor’s provoking opinions about fiction and form are collected. More importantly perhaps he was introduced to a young student named Harriet Rich, who late in 1953 received an unorthodox proposal: “H. At last I feel morally and legally free to ask you to marry me. If you want to I’d be delighted. I don’t know what I can promise you. Love, M” (McKeon, p. 155). They were married on December 5.

family to support, and living arrangements for the next few years were complicated: a ménage à quatre with his mother and both mothers of his children was tried and abandoned. Now firmly a peripatetic lover as well as author, he alternated between Joan Knape in Lyme Regis and Evelyn in Dublin. Joan gave birth to a son in June 1945 and Evelyn to a third child, Owen, in June 1946. Under intolerable strain, O’Connor’s marriage to Evelyn, marked now by numerous infidelities, eventually dissolved in a bitter divorce and custody battle in 1953. Throughout these years O’Connor was writing frenetically: three more collections of short stories appeared, including the tart sweet savor of perhaps his single finest collection, Crab Apple Jelly (1944), and three books of literary criticism, as well as miscellaneous other volumes. Resuming broadcasts for the BBC, O’Connor also learned to manage “those terrible fifteen minutes when you must be on top of your material and of your public” (Matthews, p. 174).

Although devastated by the death of his mother in November 1952, O’Connor blossomed in this Indian summer in America. When Harriet gave birth to their daughter Hallie-óg on June 25, 1958, after a winter in Dublin the family took an apartment in Brooklyn Heights, where at his desk O’Connor could watch the ships sailing to Ireland. Though finally in July of 1960 they would return permanently to Dublin, by then O’Connor was firmly attached to the American market. The New Yorker had the right of first refusal for his prose, and Maxwell cajoled from him stories that were collected on the insistence of Alfred Knopf in The Stories of Frank O’Connor (1952) and More Stories (1954). Dissatisfied with the latter, O’Connor continued his endless revisions, resulting in two further volumes, Collection Two (1964) and the posthumous Collection Three (1969).

He also had found a new source of income. In 1945, Evelyn had innocently posted to the New Yorker “News for the Church,” a story of the confessional in which a priest cruelly instills a sense of shame into a loving young woman. It was accepted immediately and published in September, and further material was requested, inaugurating a fruitful working relationship delightfully recorded in letters between O’Connor and the New Yorker’s fiction editor, William Maxwell, discussing proofs, points of view, and the best ways of setting up stories and families. This close collaboration, chronicled in the letters collected in The Happiness of Getting it Down Right (1996), and O’Connor’s relationship with America in general, were strengthened when the Yeats scholars Richard Ellmann and John Kelleher procured him invitations to teach first at Northwestern University and then at Harvard. O’Connor was thrilled and terrified: “I’ve never even been to school,” he pleaded, but the summers he spent ably lecturing on the novel and on creative writing led indirectly to two volcanic critical works, The Mirror in the Roadway: A Study of the Modern Novel (1956) and The Lonely Voice: A Study of the Short Story (1963), in which

Increasing preoccupation with his autobiographies concealed a general decline in the quality of his new stories, sensitivity now too often ebbing into sentiment. In 1962, O’Connor received his only academic recognition, an honorary doctorate from Trinity College Dublin, and he was granted a post there lecturing on Irish literature. His energy for lecturing, broadcasting, and further forays into Irish was undimmed, as he prepared the first edition of A Golden Treasury of Irish Poetry (1967), delivered a stunning eulogy in Sligo on the centenary of Yeats’s birth, and even, to his own amusement, was granted a measure of acceptance by being asked to speak at the prominent seminary of St. Patrick’s College, Maynooth. His gastric problems intensified, and he began to fade, resignedly quoting George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan: “The work is over; my voices have left me” (Matthews, p. 373). He died

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FRANK O’CONNOR on March 10, 1966, and was buried, not in Cork but at Deansgrange in Dublin. Funerals were true O’Donovan territory, and it was a shame Michael O’Donovan (and the writer Frank O’Connor) had to miss his own. He was survived by five children and his wife. Harriet later married their close friend the former priest Maurice Sheehy, who subsequently assembled the drafts and fragments of My Father’s Son into a coherent autobiography and edited Michael/Frank (1969), the first critical study of O’Connor and his work.

I am Sweeney they call the Mad I am tall as any tree, I am a tree without its roots And yet the mountains nourish me. (Matthews, p. 37)

So begins his first notable publication, a translation of twelfth-century verses attributed to Suibhne Geilt, published in the Irish Statesman on March 14, 1925. Seamus Heaney, Thomas Kinsella, and even Flann O’Brien have all since translated the verses; there is no higher praise than to suggest O’Connor’s early efforts stand comparison, and anticipate in their conversion of the Irish rann into a taut four-stress, four-line rhymed stanza, the patterns and concentration of his later work. Composed over some years, O’Connor’s first book of verse, The Wild Bird’s Nest (1932), sprang from a well-tapped source: it was published at Yeats’s Cuala Press, with an introduction by AE, “The Character in Irish Literature,” praising a poetry that stemmed from life and intuition not knowledge, its “mood bleak, cynical, and ironical.” Perceptively AE suggests that one can “foresee in germ in the early and middle Irish poetry the cold yet passionate realism which is the dominating mood in the latest Anglo-Irish literature”; and as the use of Yeats’s phrase (from his poem “The Fisherman”) suggests, the pendulum in O’Connor’s oeuvre had swung decisively toward Yeats’s current starkness and intensity (Wild Bird’s Nest, p. vii). Indeed O’Connor had worked over the poems with Yeats, who borrowed many lines for use in his own poetry, such as the following from the acidulous eighteenthcentury lament “Kilcash,” which found its way into “Under Ben Bulben”:

POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS

In some quarters short stories are still considered merely the product of a novelist’s apprenticeship. Yet Frank O’Connor began as a poet and novelist and only became a short story writer. Certainly he always thought of himself as a poet. His earliest literary enthusiasms were songs and verse; his first published works were poems; and although time has not been kind to his original verses, according to Richard Ellmann no less a figure than Yeats admired their “tone of ironic yet passionate regret” and “their severe, unsentimental vigour” (Matthews, p. 99). As he confided to Michael Longley, “I write my stories as though they were lyrics.ѧ I would call myself a spoiled poet” (Lennon, p. 103). What kind of poet he was, and what kind he considered himself to be, then matters immensely, both in itself and as pointing the direction of his creative career. As a poet O’Connor was foremost a translator. His books of verse conducted what was essentially an unearthing of oddments and carvings from the past with original salt and tang but without being overlain with the dust of the archivist. Unlike such earlier Irish Revival translators as Douglas Hyde and Lady Augusta Gregory, for O’Connor this was not a conscious national project so much as a compelling affinity. Of a piece with his impassioned if erratic rediscovery of the curiosities and stonemasons of Ireland’s architectural past, O’Connor insisted on reminding the country about its own iconolatrous and iconoclastic builders. Consequently he created some of the finest translations of Irish in living language:

Your courtyards filled with water And the great earls where are they? The earls, the lady, the people Beaten into the clay. (ibid., p. 24)

Yeats did not just steal from the poems, however; according to O’Connor he helped fashion the turns of some of these lines and their curious tone of voice, largely by testing them vocally, an example of tenacious rhythmic labor that

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FRANK O’CONNOR O’Connor never forgot. They argued over the refrain from the poem “Valentine Brown” by Egan O’Rahilly that O’Connor succinctly entitled “A Grey Eye Weeping,” using a phrase from the poem for the title and thus anticipating a method he would later use for his stories:

Your grey eye dew-bright, Your rich rounded breast Turn to lust the sight. (Wild Bird’s Nest, p. 12)

If not all the verses had, in their new context, such implied anticlericalism, nearly all were dramatic monologues, unlike Browning’s only in what AE called an “intensity of brooding over life” (ibid., p. v). The voices of his stories would reap the benefit. The finest poem in the volume, “The Lament for Art O’Leary,” is Eileen O’Connell’s fragmentary but powerful eighteenth-century complaint against the English. Revised and republished in 1940 with bleak illustrations by Jack Yeats, O’Connor’s version has been criticized for carrying over into English such estranging exclamations as “My love and my calf” (ibid., p. 27). However, he was determined to preserve, as he says in the introduction to Kings, Lords and Commons (1959), the “element of ingenuousness, even clumsiness” that he felt was necessary to the telling but was lost in academic translations (p. viii). Kinsella’s “My friend and beloved” and “My steadfast love” in The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse certainly do not do the job nearly as well (p. 220). At the poem’s heart is a blunt approach to gore surely recalling O’Connor’s wartime experiences, as the speaker finds O’Leary killed, with nobody about him

Dernish away in the west—and her master banned; Hamburg the refuge of him that has lost his land; Two old grey eyes that weep; great verse that lacks renown Have made me travel to seek you, Valentine Brown. (ibid., p. 21)

After hearing Yeats repeat this final line over and over, “changing pitch and intonation,” O’Connor became frustrated: “‘It’s tautological,’ I complained. ‘It should be something like “has made me a beggar before you Valentine Brown,”’ and he glared at me as if he had never seen me before. ‘No beggars! No beggars!’ he roared” (Only Child, p. 271). The line stood. From Yeats, O’Connor learned all too well the importance of revision. One astringent lyric, “The Old Woman of Beare Regrets Lost Youth,” he was still reworking in his final two collections: I am ebbing like the seas, Ebbtide is all my grief; Plump no more I sigh for these Bones bare beyond belief. (Wild Bird’s Nest, p. 1)

That O’Connor was drawn to such lyric cries of grief he explained by reference to his parents: “Though my love of poetry sprang from my mother, my taste, I fear, was entirely O’Donovan” (Only Child, p. 137). His empathy with the bodies of an aging population he took into his stories, and his poems too possess contemporary point, as in these painful verses of self-denial, which he called “Autumn” to contrast them with Keats’s “mellow fruitfulness”:

But an old, old woman And her cloak about you, And your blood in torrents, Art O’Leary, I did not wipe it up, I cupped it in my hands. (Wild Bird’s Nest, p. 29)

This strange reaction to the gruesome effects of violence anticipates a scene in Dutch Interior when the protagonist encounters the returning “rebel,” the body of his dead brother Ned: “Stevie had seen with horror that all the clothes on the edge of the bed were painted bright red. Then he had noticed the wash basin by his mother’s knee and that too had been red” (p. 85). Here the narrator’s “with horror” tells us rather too

Take your mouth from mine, Kissing’s bitterer still; Flesh from flesh must part Lest of warmth come will. Your twined branching hair,

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FRANK O’CONNOR intimately what to think; more moving is the bloody washbasin, a detail that reveals the mother’s attempts to save her son and discloses how reluctant, and yet how inevitable, is her acceptance of a woman’s archetypal role in conflict, to bathe and to dress the dead. In the poem this role is chillingly embraced:

of words into memorable phrases, and many of these same poems later found themselves collected again into the best single volume of his translations, Kings, Lords and Commons (1959). Again the preponderance of dramatic monologues with a bitter edge must be counted significant, among them the grotesque “The Song of the Heads”:

And I shall make your bed Of soft and snowy sheets, And blankets dark and rough To warm the lovely limbs An autumn blast has chilled.

We three brothers last night, Stood in a goodly throng, Tonight we are but three heads Singing a lonesome song. (Wild Bird’s Nest, p. 29)

(Lords and Commons, p. 1)

“Ritual is only a linking of the dead with our daily actions,” O’Connor insists with searing insight in An Only Child (p. 249). With its repeats and conscious awkwardness his translation convincingly rehearses the repetitions and numbing actions of grief, leaving us with a real sense of the tormented psychology behind the poem. His stories too would commemorate both the mesmeric power and the deadening effect of habit becoming ritual: even half-conscious actions, O’Connor suggests, helplessly recall the dead. The largely original poems contained in Three Old Brothers (1936) tend either to trip with an unconvincing folkish canter or lumber with a sub-Yeatsian tread, and though containing moments of luster, they are chiefly interesting only for their variety of voices and flashes of selfrevelation, as in “Self Portrait,” where the persona finds himself next to a priest on a train reading suspicious French fiction. “Return in Harvest” attempts a new lightness of sexual touch while “Irish Channel” finds Ireland “still lay locked in darkness”:

O’Connor attempts terse versions of the famously acerbic (Woman of) “Three Cows,” once treated with discursive elaboration by James Clarence Mangan, and the familiar defiant “Sarsfield,” and he collects stray verses in quatrains as if to crowd the reader with the variety of Irish poetry’s arguing, reminiscing, and entreating ghostly voices. However, it is his rhymed version of Brian Merriman’s “The Midnight Court” that makes a deliberate assault on the sensibilities of his time. Believed by Yeats to be indebted to Swiftian satire, for O’Connor too, Merriman was anything but provincial, and he borrowed the poet’s voice to pass caustic comment on the sexual hypocrisies of de Valera’s Ireland. The poem describes an uproarious, proto-feminist dream vision of a trial conducted against the poet and the men of Ireland for leaving women unloved. Where Thomas Kinsella’s and even Ciáran Carson’s versions are slowed by elaboration, O’Connor’s choice of rapid couplets often imparts the necessary fizz, possessing also a powerful line in spoken invective. Mentioning the “Catholic church” when “church” would have done, O’Connor missed no occasion the poem afforded to attack the celibacy of the priesthood. That the translation was banned, even as Merriman’s original was still available, was absurd but hardly surprising. In more sanguine mood he once noted in a radio broadcast: “An Irish writer without contention is a freak of nature. All the literature that matters to me was written by people who had to dodge the censor” (Matthews, p. 204). So even if this snub

All experience draws about me Nets to trap the dream that haunts me. (p. 21)

Although unconvincing as a lyric cry, this describes exactly the situation of the protagonists of his stories: there however O’Connor’s tight grip on narrative could show us rather than simply tell us. The poems of Lords and Commons (1938) and The Fountain of Magic (1939), the latter being dedicated to Yeats, uncover again and again O’Connor’s ability to harden clusters

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FRANK O’CONNOR Patriot,” shows O’Connor intrigued by the stubborn nationalist temperament, and the play wheels from heavy irony—“I exercised the first right of every Irishman of denying in public what he says in private” (Invincibles, p. 35)—to something near pathos, as the bitter fixity of Joe Brady and the loyalty of his young friend Kelly reach an end at a powerful scene in which the condemned prisoners in Kilmainham Gaol all together sing a ballad. O’Connor’s other plays on such Fenian themes, Moses’ Rock (1938; concerns the fall of the nationalist leader Charles Stewart Parnell) and Time’s Pocket (1938, unpublished; follows the 1867 Fenian uprising), again rehearse the painful repetitions of Irish nationalism, and confirm O’Connor as a “literary Parnellite,” together with Yeats and Joyce mourning the fall of Parnell and the polarization of political opinion in Ireland. More important was O’Connor’s absorption of the lesson the old dramatist had taught him: Yeats was convinced any successful theme for dramatic presentation could be written on a postcard. The 1950s found O’Connor requiring from his American fiction students themes of no more than four lines, reducing a story to its pith. Dependence on place or atmosphere was rendered impossible: only when the theme was tinkered with to his satisfaction, perhaps the sex or age of the characters altered, the ending made the beginning, might a story be built up over the bare bones. This became O’Connor’s own method, and he began his stories much as Yeats began his plays and poetry. He invariably finished them with his own savor.

turned him from fruitlessly digging up old poetry to examining in quieter tones the sadness of an unpermissive society, O’Connor refused to let it turn him against all religious feeling. Horace Plunkett had long before claimed, “In no other country probably is religion so dominant an element in the daily life of the people as in Ireland” (Brown, p. 20). This O’Connor well knew, but he also felt the literature in touch with an older religion; even Lady Gregory had remarked that she preferred “those poems translated by Frank O’Connor because they come out of original sin” (Matthews, p. 99). Eve and Adam’s old curses of sex and labor were the ground of true artistic and religious joy: hence perhaps his version of “The Old Poet,” included in The Little Monasteries (1963): God be praised who ne’er forgets me In my art so high and cold And still sheds upon my verses All the magic of red gold. (p. 10)

O’Connor only intermittently believed in God and never in magic. He recognized, however, that only in the struggles of the artist could come the magic of inspiration. This was a miracle the church could never suppress.

PLAYS

None of the eight plays in which O’Connor had a hand is without flaws. However the best of them show the vibrant practical man of the Abbey Theatre, groping from dialogue toward outline and form. The play with the most life, The Invincibles (1938), follows the abortive 1882 murders of the chief secretary to Ireland and his deputy in Dublin’s Phoenix Park, a recurrent figure in Joyce’s Ulysses and Finnegans Wake (1939) and the subsequent discovery and execution of the conspirators. The play traces the hopes and disintegration of idealism: opening scenes in pubs and back rooms become farcical as selfadvancement and naivety push the conspiracy to its ignoble and sickening conclusion—the pattern, it is tacitly suggested, of every Irish attempt at insurrection. A contemporary poem, “The

STORIES AND NOVELS

The keynote of O’Connor’s short fiction is distillation. Not a word is out of place; almost never is a situation overplayed by elaboration; events of years or of moments are compressed or extended with a vital sense of pacing, the story’s pith sparely rendered in compact but easy prose. The important Irish dramatist, journalist, and broadcaster Denis Johnston (1901–1984) thought O’Connor’s volume Domestic Relations (1957) surpassed Joyce in realizing its author’s “sense

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FRANK O’CONNOR gray mist clearing “minute by minute” like the living stream of “Easter 1916,” “the seed of the fire” remembering “The Song of the Old Mother” and “The Song of Wandering Aengus” (Guests, p. 97). Such poetry is the stuff of life, and just as in Yeats’s poems the fire is awakened and embodied for a moment in a girl, O’Connor depicts the maid of the house with a lambent gathering of symbols of old Ireland aflame with an ancient sexuality: “Her hair was down her back in one long plait of dull gold, and her body, slender as a hound’s, made a deep furrow for it as she walked” (ibid.). Occasionally these early stories become distracted by pale, idealized women figures in the tradition of Cathleen Ni Houlihan; here, though, the girl’s movement has the touch of life. Under her influence the protagonist for a moment turns from death to life, from deathly ideology to spontaneity, and with hardly a word awakes himself by suddenly kissing her: “For him in the melancholy kiss a core of longing was kindled, and he buried his face in the warm flesh of her throat as the kitchen filled with the acrid smell of turf” (ibid., p. 98).

of form and discipline” (The Happiness of Getting It Down Right, p. 63). The novelist Peter Carey (b. 1943) believes such concentrated distillation arrives with age: certainly O’Connor wrote some of his best stories in his forties and fifties, his methods tested by repetition. He even argued, “I know there is only one correct way to write a story, and that is the way I do it.” It was not that he did not respect other writers; “on the contrary, considering that they use the wrong methods, I think it remarkable that they should write as well as they do” (Steinman, p. 2). He felt rather as the old man in “The Majesty of the Law” does about whiskey: “The secrets of distilling are being lost the way the old songs were lost” (Collected Stories, p. 323), demanding of himself iron control of form while applauding innovators in loneliness like J. D. Salinger. Seán O’Faoláin believed the short story represented “a special distillation of personality,” meaning the personality of the writer, as he projected his sensibility onto an artistic counterpart (The Short Story, p. 30). Yet although O’Connor’s stories are recognizably his, in them the sensibility of the writer himself seems to stand aside: at their best his stories are “a special distillation” of personalities placed under social compression.

Atypically O’Connor finds in such a consummation a degree of hope, leaving the story brimming with a beautiful though self-conscious poetry. Probably it matters that, dying in order to live, he buries himself in her throat, finding in this throbbing of warm life a suggestion of the spoken voice. This recalls the title story, which ends with a different empty tone but the same sense of a man speaking, the narrator “listening to the damned shrieking of the birds. It is so strange what you feel at such moments, and not to be written afterwards” (Collected Stories, p. 12). What cannot be written calls attention to the inevitable limitations of a first person telling, the necessary self-censorships in the face of sickening violence. Yet this narrative voice, its admissions and calculated inarticulacy, is what makes the story so powerful, denying the written for the spoken form. The essayist Stephen Gwynn observed that “men—and women—in Ireland read very little”; instead “talk is their literature” (Brown, p. 32). In contrasting ways these stories point forward to

At the heart of O’Connor’s first collection, Guests of the Nation (1931), is not the famous title story, which concerns the friendship of two English soldiers held as hostages and their Irish captors and ends brutally when the captives are shot, but the plangent, lyrical “September Dawn.” This story concerns two rebel soldiers of the Irish Civil War who, surrounded by Free State troops, are forced to disband their column and bury their weapons, rather conspicuously in a shroud: “We want to live for Ireland, not to die for it” (p. 73). The other members of their troop melt into the countryside, but these two run for their lives across a rural landscape heightened, because of their fear, with an unusually sharp sense of color, a literary feature that O’Connor may have derived from Hemingway. Taking shelter from the piercing wind in an old couple’s farmhouse, the protagonist wakes to the cold and passionate dawn of the title, whose “half-light” has become suffused with a litany of Yeatsian gestures, the

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FRANK O’CONNOR O’Connor: what mattered to him was that the germ of the story, which might emerge from a remembered or overheard tone of voice, be transmuted by careful framing into a feeling universally understood. “A theme,” he argued, “is something that is worth something to everybody” (Steinman, p. 2). There was thus no necessary contradiction between the spoken word and the redraftings of the printed page: attention to the latter might bring into sharp focus the subtleties and silences of the former.

O’Connor’s model of the short story as “a lonely voice speaking,” an idea intensified by his experience of reading his stories over the radio. The irony is that the cadences of this voice were honed by constant redrafting, dependent not on extempore anecdote but the writer’s labor. Reports of O’Connor’s rewriting of this last story have been exaggerated. As he said, “I wrote in a fever, weeping, laughing, singing the dialogue to myself” (Matthews, p. 202), and the text is relatively stable from first book publication to its appearance in the volumes that make up Collected Stories (1981).

So it is that his most ambitious story, “In the Train,” can be measured by shifting patterns of dialogue. The story is told in seemingly freewheeling but tightly organized sections that roughly correspond to compartments on a train, with a shifting cast subtly delineated by precise vocal timbre. Slowly the reader learns that these various groups on the train are returning from a murder trial in which a woman has been accused of killing her husband. With a start we then realize that, although everybody has testified in her defense, they all know she is guilty, and she will face their own judgment when they reach home.

Interestingly, however, he tinkers most with the vowel sounds of the Cockney speakers, and in one rewrite they largely disappeared in favor of standardized spelling, deliberately eliding the differences between captors and captives, now retained only in a few tics of vocabulary. This points to a trend we can observe in the sedate “The Majesty of the Law,” which on first publication in Bones of Contention (1936) was littered with exclamations and transcriptions of brogue. Evidently O’Connor found that, although the story is concerned with peculiarities of local custom—the resolute deference of a police sergeant coming to ask a respected old man if he might attend prison—these Irishisms tethered the story to its local situation. With an American audience in mind O’Connor winnowed away much of this language in favor of the repetitions natural to conversation, in the process coming closer to what Flann O’Brien once described as “the mysterious language they speak, which is not Irish and certainly not English,” native to Cork and its surrounds.

Evidently this is a version of what J. M. Synge heard in the Aran Islands (west of Ireland) about local communities protecting murderers from the authorities, tales which became the uproarious Playboy of the Western World (1907). O’Connor’s emphasis on the community’s silent moral disapproval differs from Synge’s, but probably because of O’Connor’s care with dialogue, when he adapted the story as a play for the Abbey Theatre, it was a great success. On the other hand, from Yeats he learned that constructing a convincing story was not the same as constructing a play: “You should have explained in the first scene that the woman was the murderess. You must never, never, keep a secret from your audience.” Remembering this incisive remark in An Only Child O’Connor recalls, “Though I fancy I swore under my breath, I knew he was right again” (p. 318). A story, notwithstanding, must tell us only just enough. By contrast, in Seán O’Faoláin’s “A Broken World,” an important influence on O’Connor’s story, that writer destroys this delicate balance, insisting on explaining to us the view of his characters as

In fact “The Majesty of the Law” best conveys the taste of this mysterious language through what is not said, through the ritual ceremonies of hospitality and gesture in the drinking of whiskey and tea, the two men’s companionable but “long, long silences,” and their own judicious care for the right phrases, which is matched by the scrupulous weighting of adverbs and commas on the part of the narrator (Collected Stories, p. 325). This ought to remind us that a spoken cadence is not the only or even the characteristic narrative voice employed by

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FRANK O’CONNOR consummation with the old Ireland: given the chance to marry a silent but translucent island girl with “naked eyes,” the weary city-dweller Ned decides she is only a dream. “No,” Ned said gravely. “We made our choice a long time ago. We can’t go back on it now” (Collected Stories, p. 98).

they watch from the train: “Under that white shroud, covering the whole of Ireland, life was lying broken and hardly breathing.ѧ There were few people abroad, and as they walked against the wind with huddled backs they, too, seemed to be shrouding something within them that slept, and barely palpitated, and was hurt by the cold.” (O’Faoláin, Collected Stories, p. 173). Though he agreed with the sentiment, O’Connor’s best stories have an inevitability about them that he gleaned from the theater: they neither surprise us too much nor do they editorialize or tell us too openly what the story means.

O’Connor’s favorite George Moore story, “The Untilled Field,” which describes a similar clash of old and new Ireland, is present here, as are the geographical estrangements of his own “The American Wife,” reflecting the difficult choices of his transatlantic experience. But something else is too: at the close, “a boy on a horse rose suddenly against the sky, a startling picture, ѧ all its colors intolerably bright; something he had outgrown and could never return to”—in other words, a world of youth, like the land of youth to which Oisin, the horse-riding hero of Irish saga, can never return (ibid.). This vision makes an unexpected end to O’Connor’s story, more vivid than his cruder attempts to cram the same myth into “Darcy in the Land of Youth,” or the myth of Deirdre into “The Lady of the Sagas.”

“In the Train” reveals a desire for a larger canvas only partially satisfied by his novel Dutch Interior, which drew on O’Connor’s childhood and imagined maturity in Cork to create a world where nothing happens fast, but because the narrative leaps over gaps of intervening years, events and emotions are brought to life suddenly, casually, without disturbing the murky depths of ongoing stagnation. This technique was evidently deliberate. As Stevie maintains, “Something happens” to all human relationships, “but it’s not the sort of dramatic things we imagine, and the other things, the real things, we can’t foresee” (Dutch Interior, p. 245). This made it, however, a novel of fascinating vignettes, a collection of interconnected stories rather than an achieved narrative, an experiment O’Connor would never repeat. It should remind us that he felt even short stories represented “an art form distinct from the tale,” and he was determined to gather them in collections with strong thematic threads.

His subtle use of myth raises the question of where O’Connor found his themes. He was an acquisitive collector, quite happy to transpose from California to Cork, though he preferred hints and suggestions he could mold more than he did fully formed stories: “Anything could engage my imagination,” he told Michael Longley. “It could be a poem or a folk song or a character that starts me off” (Steinman, p. 5). As we have seen, a character might form around the sound of a voice running in his head, and often around a fragment of vocabulary, as in several stories where suggestive words like “gravitate” and “irremediable” find unlikely but believable outlet on the lips of the self-educated. Even the Irish, O’Connor suggests, read books sometimes. Sometimes too O’Connor is overtly intertextual, as in “A Story by Maupassant”—a story, ironically, that the French writer Guy de Maupassant could never have written—in which a prostitute’s delighted reading of Maupassant gives her more life than is embodied by the degraded central character.

“As I understand it,” he wrote in the introduction to Modern Irish Short Stories (1957), “the short story derives from the novel, and like the novel has attempted successfully to combine artistic and scientific truth” (p. xv). He discovered that linked stories might create the conditions for this novelistic truth to transpire: a late story about unbelief, “The Cheat,” picks up loose characters from where a much-revised story, “The Little Mother,” dropped them, a sure sign that O’Connor felt there was something more to say. So too “Uprooted” picks up themes from the earlier “September Dawn,” but only to twist them almost beyond reconciliation. Here there is no

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FRANK O’CONNOR pride was all he could now offer to the shadow of his son” (ibid., p. 81).

O’Connor’s stories of childhood, some of his most popular, seem to arise from personal memory inscribed onto Oedipal patterns. The exquisite “The Masculine Protest” describes a boy trying to run away from home, cycling into the main town’s General Post Office to withdraw his savings. With sympathy we observe the child’s noble rejection of suicide (his air-gun is not strong enough) and sincere investment in clichés, casting himself in literary roles in which he, with his “heart of gold,” is the savior of his mother: “I, the black sheep, was the one who really loved her” (Collected Stories, p. 338). It is with a shock that the reader realizes O’Connor is replaying the determined actions and almost childhood self-presentations of Patrick Pearse in April 1916, cycling with ineffectual gun to Dublin’s General Post Office for the Easter Rising in order to save his mother country, his venture ending in inevitable but dignified failure. It takes an insightful and deft writer to make such connections and yet keep the surface narrative convincing.

Small town distortions evidently affected both writer and tale profoundly: I struggled with that story for the best part of twenty years, and I still seem to be struggling with it.ѧ The difficulty ѧ is that I knew the Irish small towns and was often horrified at the constricted lives people led in them, but I also noticed that in them I was always running into remarkable characters, men who in any other sphere would have been dominating figures. The difficulty of the story was to keep the issues small, but the men big. (Matthews, p. 205)

Though he doesn’t say so, O’Connor keeps the men big by casting a large shadow across the story: that of the Irish hero Cuchulain, who kills his son because of an oath he has sworn to his king. O’Connor realized that to the likes of the poet Samuel Ferguson “the old stories were merely good subjects,” while to Yeats they were themes for autobiography (Backward Look, p. 173). To O’Connor they were themes for variation: he smuggled them into contemporary dramas, as if their traces persisted in the very stones that had gone into the building of these constricting towns. In “The Future of Irish Literature” he admitted, “I am bewildered by the complete lack of relationship between Irish literature and any form of life, within or without Ireland” (Matthews, p. 188). O’Connor hoped to reconnect patterns of myth to where they had begun, in patterns of life, reinvigorating both, even as they described enclosed patterns of behavior.

O’Connor worked on storytelling like a skillful translator. For him to translate themes in such echoes and caricatures was in the short story’s genes. He was not interested in Virginia Woolf’s “moments of being” so much as in symbolic precipitations of crisis that reveal essential character. A classical craftsman, aspiring to what he called “pure storytelling,” he imposed restrictions on himself, working best in an abbreviated form which reined in his restless imagination. This is probably why the unwieldy “The Luceys” was his favorite of his own stories. In it the fundamental condition of the characters and the writer is the same: all are laboring under selfimposed restrictions. It is, he said, “the story of a man who sins against his family.” A draper, Tom, refuses to speak to his brother Ben after his son’s financial disgrace and subsequent death, the cautious Ben having decided he could not help him. Tom, despite his nephew’s desperate intercession, pursues his stubbornness to the point of Ben’s death in the teeth of the town’s opposition: this defiance is not because he cannot forgive his brother, but because of an oath he has sworn to himself: his nephew “knew his uncle’s barren

Perhaps the best way to describe O’Connor’s particular skill as a writer is to record what is not in a piercing story like “The Frying-Pan.” Realism is supposed to be interested in surfaces, how the texture of things creates forms of life, not unlike some complicated system of digestion. In this material sense O’Connor is no realist: his social conditions are created by the things people say and don’t say. Though his travel writing showed him capable of sparkling visual descriptions of landscape and interior, evidently his mature stories were interested in something else. In “The Frying-Pan,” O’Connor’s attention

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FRANK O’CONNOR whisks the reader past the bundles of possessions on which Charles Dickens or Honoré de Balzac might have lovingly dwelt—for O’Connor they are merely the attributes of an energetic but frustrated bachelor—but also whisks us with bewildering haste past what seems the point of the story, an unauthorized kiss. The gist is the “eternal triangle” of man, wife, and would-be lover; the bite is that this bachelor lover is a priest, Father Fogarty, a familiar figure in O’Connor’s stories, who will die early and have his funeral procession to “The Mass Island” poignantly illuminated by scores of car headlights.

natively in Ireland meant to O’Connor living in European letters and being read abroad; he was a last romantic who became a bitter realist. Early on, O’Connor had praised the power that Heinrich “Heine speaks of, the power to project Gestalten—figures—whether they be dramatic creations or dramatized ideas” (Lennon, p. 36). His best stories manage this by energy and force of will, painstakingly forging an art of restrained but tangible passion.

The priest’s wondering naivety as he comforts his old friend upstairs suggests we are not the only ones bewildered: “Fogarty realized that in the simplest way in the world he had been brought to admit to a married woman that he loved her and she to imply that she felt the same about him, without a word being said on either side” (Collected Stories, p. 155). After further exchanges we know the kiss must have happened, but like the players we are not allowed to savor its taste; it is placed silently in the interstices of dialogue, just as they will be silent about it afterward: “And he knew that the three of them, Tom, Una, and himself, would die as they had lived, their desires unsatisfied” (ibid., p. 157). This final line hits the reader in the solar plexus; we do not need to know anything about Ireland or the priesthood to feel its appalling resonance.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF FRANK O’CONNOR O’Connor extensively revised many of his stories each time they were published—in periodicals, in books, and in the various collected editions. Even titles were subject to change. In the United States, O’Connor’s prose was published in Harper’s Bazaar, the Atlantic Monthly, and, chiefly, the New Yorker. He also published more than two hundred fifty articles and essays in such journals as AE’s Irish Statesman, the Irish Times, the London Evening News and Seán O’Faoláin’s the Bell, and under the name Ben Mayo in the Dublin Sunday Independent. All his books of poems contain translations, but only Three Old Brothers includes substantially original work.

POEMS

AND

TRANSLATIONS

The Wild Bird’s Nest: Poems from the Irish. Dublin: Cuala Press, 1932. Three Old Brothers and Other Poems. London: T. Nelson, 1936. Lords and Commons. Dublin: Cuala Press, 1938. (Translations from Irish.) The Fountain of Magic. London: Macmillan, 1939. (Translations from Irish.) A Lament for Art O’Leary. Illustrated by Jack B. Yeats. Dublin: Cuala Press, 1940. (Translation from Irish of a poem by Eileen O’Connell.) The Midnight Court: A Rhythmical Bacchanalia from the Irish of Bryan Merryman. London: Maurice Fridberg, 1945. (Translations from Irish of poem by Brian Merriman.) Kings, Lords and Commons: An Anthology from the Irish. New York: Knopf, 1959; London: Macmillan, 1961. The Little Monasteries: Poems Translated from the Irish. Dublin at the Dolmen Press: Oxford University Press, 1963.

Poetry must be as well written as prose, Ezra Pound insisted. O’Connor’s prose is as well written as poetry, his themes as sparely but pungently wrought as his translations. Whether disinterring myth in his stories or the dead in his autobiographies, we feel the pulse of life rather than the impress of verbal wizardry, and we trust his sensitive narrative voices, not because we are credulous, but because they have earned it. Never subject to the same pressures as, say, Russian writers and composers of the same period like Dmitri Shostakovich, the distortions of censorship undoubtedly affected O’Connor’s writing: his need to peer beneath the nation’s skirts caused a lack of detachment from the subject that sometimes tipped into sentiment. However it made him anything but parochial: to live imagi-

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FRANK O’CONNOR An Only Child and My Father’s Son: An Autobiography. Introduction by Declan Kiberd. London: Penguin, 2005. (Quotations from An Only Child and My Father’s Son come from this combined edition.)

A Golden Treasury of Irish Poetry: A.D. 600 to 1200. With David H. Greene. London: Macmillan, 1967.

PLAYS The Invincibles: A Play in Seven Scenes. With Hugh Hunt. Edited by Ruth Sherry. London: Proscenium, 1980. (First performed in 1938.) Moses’ Rock. With Hugh Hunt. Gerrards Cross: Colin Smythe, 1983. (First performed in 1938.) In the Train: A Drama in One Act. Adapted by Hugh Hunt. New York: French, 1973. (Based on O’Connor’s story “In the Train”; first performed in 1938.) “The Statue’s Daughter.” Journal of Irish Literature 4 (January 1975). (First staged in 1941.)

NOVELS

AND

CRITICISM, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELOGUES The Big Fellow: A Life of Michael Collins. London: T. Nelson, 1937. Revised and reprinted as The Big Fellow: Michael Collins and the Irish Revolution. London: Burns and Oates, 1965. Towards an Appreciation of Literature. Dublin: Metropolitan, 1945. The Art of the Theatre. Dublin: Maurice Fridberg, 1947. Irish Miles. London: Macmillan, 1947. The Road to Stratford. London: Methuen, 1948. Revised and reprinted as Shakespeare’s Progress, Cleveland: World, 1960. Leinster, Munster and Connaught. London: R. Hale, 1950. The Mirror in the Roadway: A Study of the Modern Novel. New York: Knopf, 1956. The Lonely Voice: A Study of the Short Story. Cleveland: World, 1963. Reprinted with an introduction by Russell Banks, Hoboken, N.J.: Melville House, 2004. The Backward Look: A Survey of Irish Literature. London: Macmillan, 1967.

SHORT STORIES

Guests of the Nation. London: Macmillan, 1931. The Saint and Mary Kate. London: Macmillan, 1932. Bones of Contention and Other Stories. London: Macmillan, 1936. Dutch Interior. London: Macmillan, 1940. Crab Apple Jelly: Stories and Tales. London: Macmillan, 1944. The Common Chord: Stories and Tales. London: Macmillan, 1947. Traveller’s Samples: Stories and Tales. London: Macmillan, 1951. The Stories of Frank O’Connor. New York: Knopf, 1952; London: Hamish Hamilton, 1953. More Stories. New York: Knopf, 1954. Domestic Relations: Short Stories. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1957. Modern Irish Short Stories. Edited by O’Connor. London: Oxford University Press, 1957. A Book of Ireland. Edited by O’Connor. London: Collins, 1959. (Anthology of prose and verse.) My Oedipus Complex and Other Stories. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963. Reprinted with an introduction by Julian Barnes, London: Penguin, 2005. Collection Two. London: Macmillan, 1964. Collection Three. London: Macmillan, 1969. A Set of Variations: Twenty-Seven Stories. New York: Knopf, 1969. Collected Stories. Introduction by Richard Ellmann. New York: Knopf, 1981.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES

AND

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Averill, Deborah M. The Irish Short Story from George Moore to Frank O’Connor. Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1982. Brown, Terence. Ireland: A Social and Cultural History, 1922–2002. 2nd ed. London: Harper Perennial, 2004. Evans, Robert C., and Richard Harp. Frank O’Connor: New Perspectives. West Cornwall, Conn.: Locust Hill Press, 1998. Frawley, Oona. Irish Pastoral: Nostalgia and Twentieth Century Irish Literature. Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2005. Kinsella, Thomas. The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. Lennon, Hilary, ed. Frank O’Connor: Critical Essays. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2007. Matthews, James H. Voices: A Life of Frank O’Connor. New York: Atheneum, 1983. McKeon, Jim. Frank O’Connor: A Life. Edinburgh: Mainstream, 1998. O’Faoláin, Seán. The Short Story. London: Collins, 1948. ———. The Collected Stories of Sean O’Faolain. Boston: Little, Brown, 1983. Rafroidi, Patrick, and Terence Brown, eds. The Irish Short Story. Gerrards Cross: Colin Smythe, 1979. Sheehy, Maurice, ed. Michael/Frank: Studies on Frank

LETTERS

An Only Child. London: Pan, 1958; London: Macmillan, 1961. My Father’s Son. London: Macmillan, 1968. The Happiness of Getting It Down Right: Letters of Frank O’Connor and William Maxwell, 1945–1966. Edited by Michael Steinman. New York: Knopf, 1996.

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FRANK O’CONNOR Tomory, William M. Frank O’Connor. Boston: Twayne, 1980. Wohlgelernter, Maurice. Frank O’Connor: An Introduction. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.

O’Connor with a Bibliography of his Writing. London: Macmillan; New York: Knopf, 1969. Steinman, Michael. Frank O’Connor at Work. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989; Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1990.

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IAIN SINCLAIR (1943—)

J. M. Tyree LONDON, THE CITY of William Shakespeare, Dr. Johnson, Daniel Defoe, William Blake, Charles Dickens, Virginia Woolf, T. S. Eliot, E. M. Forster, and Joseph Conrad, needs no apology for its importance as a literary subject. In contemporary writing, London has given the era of globalization such fictional views of cosmopolitanism as Zadie Smith’s White Teeth (2000) and Monica Ali’s Brick Lane (2003). The “mixed style” that Peter Ackroyd took to be the quintessential tonality of the English mindset in his 2002 book, Albion: The Origins of the English Imagination, has its headquarters in the diversity of London. Consider London’s all-absorbing tendency; its proximity to but prickly distance from Europe; its position in the English-speaking world as a mediator (financial and cultural) between America and the rest of the world; its multiplicity of immigrant communities from the old Empire and the Commonwealth; its densely impacted layers of history, from pre-Roman to post-Blair, sometimes vanished, sometimes still physically present, jutting through the urban fabric in the form of old stones, walls, chapels, cobbles, or just street names. The commonplace literary phrase “the matter of London” encompasses all this and more. Among contemporary writers, only Peter Ackroyd has done the more with the matter of London than has Iain Sinclair.

ist of great figures and sweeping themes. The conjunction of the authors is not accidental: Ackroyd was an early public champion of Sinclair’s far more difficult work, while Sinclair’s researches influenced Ackroyd’s own 1985 novel Hawksmoor. It is possible to encapsulate the parallels and differences between the two writers by noting that while Ackroyd wrote his 2001 cultural history, London: The Biography, as if the entire city were a single person, Sinclair’s 1999 book Rodinsky’s Room (cowritten with the artist Rachel Lichtenstein) used the biography of a single person (David Rodinsky, the obscure caretaker of a synagogue, who vanished mysteriously from the old Jewish East End) to tell the story of the city. In Sinclair’s work, discerning the imprinting presence of such a place can be construed as an act of interpretative navigation, an environmental understanding of human life, a way to connect current events with history, a political speech act, or evidence of a will to record and transmute actuality into the stuff of art. In the literature of London, the metaphor of the city as a universal microcosm is perennial. That impulse makes the city signify something larger in literature, from the self-reflexive meditations on “The Globe” in Shakespeare to Blake’s New Jerusalem, to the novels of Dickens and Conrad, to the “Unreal City” in Eliot’s The Waste Land. In London: The Biography, drawing on a rich tradition including Blake, Ackroyd compared the city to a “human body.” In his 1994 study Flesh and Stone: The Body and the City in Western Civilization, Richard Sennett noted how Edwardian London conceived of its parks as lungs, its streets and underground railways as arteries and veins to circulate “the human blood of the city.” (Sinclair reviewed Sennett’s book for the Times Literary

THE MATTER OF LONDON

Much (though not all) of Sinclair’s career has been dedicated to the matter of London, not only to the city but to a single chamber of its heart, East London. Also like Ackroyd, Sinclair’s work on London encompasses both fiction and nonfiction, although Sinclair is a master of unremembered byways, forgotten nooks, and discarded people, while Ackroyd is a biographer and novel-

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IAIN SINCLAIR thorny, and somewhat hermetic—also helps explain the author’s lack of following in America, where the whole frame of reference might be lost. Future editions may require copious annotations; Sinclair’s work, taken as a whole, forms a sort of fragmented Ulysses of London.

Supplement in 1995.) The body metaphor, larger and more perennial than any one writer, keys into modern, secular versions of classic medieval and magical concepts of the body as a microcosm of creation: the city is a body is a world in miniature. For Sinclair, “the unedited book of the city,” as he calls it in his best-known book, Lights Out for the Territory: Nine Excursions in the Secret History of London (1997), can mean everything, possibly anything. “There is more history here,” he writes in that book, “than any one man can bear” (p. 316).

At the foundation of Sinclair’s work are the twinned notions of writing about and walking through places. When he branched out from writing about London itself in works like London Orbital: A Walk Around the M25 (2002) and Edge of the Orison: In the Traces of John Clare’s “Journey out of Essex” (2005), this modus operandi remained consistent. In his short story “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb,” collected in the anthology The Time Out Book of London Short Stories Volume 2 (2000), Sinclair offers a thumbnail sketch of his own creative process in this regard, albeit in a comical and caricatured fashion:

SINCLAIR’S PROJECT

For Sinclair, the concept of London-as-microcosm resonates on multiple levels and makes for one critical path into work that might otherwise feel various and widely divergent, a career spanning decades that includes fiction, essays, criticism, poetry, filmmaking, and a graphic novel as well as editing, book dealing, and small-press publishing. Although not everything Sinclair has produced concerns the city (examples are his novels Landor’s Tower, from 2001, set in the Welsh borderlands, and Dining on Stones, from 2004, set in coastal southern England), the core of his literary sensibility, expressed in his major works, is welded to the matter of London. The city repays study, as though it were a body of knowledge to be mastered, a text to be interpreted, or even a gigantic crime scene to be carefully combed for clues about the nature of the victim and the perpetrator. These metaphors operate in Sinclair’s work explicitly and implicitly, in a fashion that goes beyond traditional ideas of “setting” or even “local color” and into an imaginative realm in which one feels magnetized by the premise and the possibility that London is the world. There is also a cost to this strategy: Sinclair delves so deeply into the city’s particularities, singularities, minutia, and B-list celebrities that it can be difficult to follow. Even fellow Londoners may not know these spots without their London A–Z Street Atlas handy. This choice on Sinclair’s part, which is artistic in nature and might be called a “deliberate drawback”—a sort of late-late modernist decision to be difficult,

Norton kept on walking. This was the form his mania took, hammering for hours at a time, out there beyond the traces of the Roman wall. He could no longer enter the city, the density of surveillance undid him, leeched his energies. Instead, he played the canary, fluttering around the rim of the affected area, interested to discover at what point he would go down. Norton was stone crazy, written out. If he stopped moving, so he believed, the treadmill would grind to a halt, buildings would topple, ancient streams would rise to the surface, the Walbrook, the Fleet, the Tyburn; the Wall would crumble back into dust and the demons of greed, paranoia, corruption would escape. (p. 159)

This reads like a précis of Sinclair’s epic project, and the character Norton appears in several of his works as an analogue for the author. Because it is fiction it can enact the fantastical, pretend that the connection between the writer and the city is real, and proceed to draw a catastrophic consequence from artistic failure. The landscape of the City of London (in which Britain’s financial markets are situated, not to be confused with the entire city of London), marked here by its ancient Roman boundary, is both threatening and threatened. It emits toxicity and remains a location in which the past, in the form of London’s vanished rivers, can easily break

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IAIN SINCLAIR In his emphasis on gathering “dormant energies” from the city, Sinclair is obviously indebted to the literature of the stroller, the nineteenthcentury French poet Charles-Pierre Baudelaire’s flâneur, especially as developed by the 1960s countercultural Situationist art movement into the concept of the derive, the urban walk that yields up the meaning of a place. In England, this movement spread into various neomodern art projects exploring and excavating often derelict and marginalized city spaces, as well as amateur associations for studies in a literary field known as “psychogeography” (a term drawn from Situationism). A psychogeographical premise would be, for example, that London’s underground and disappeared rivers like the Walbrook really could somehow exercise influence on life above the street, just as Sinclair suggests in his short story. In Sinclair’s early work Lud Heat (1975), the “heat” of “Lud” (an earlier precursor for “London”) involves the attempt to recover the buried energies of the city. Robert Bond, in Iain Sinclair (2005), the first critical study of Sinclair’s work, encapsulates the project: “The art-work represents a disinterral of the buried ‘heat’ of the stones [of London] and their historiesѧan irresistible, unresolved process of investigation and interpretation” (p. 118).

through into the present. This is an “Unreal City” in the sense Eliot imagined, as well as a “Vortex” in the sense that Ezra Pound proposed, where the influences of the past (historical incidents, art, writers, great crimes, old buildings, and landscapes) exercise a powerful pull on the writer. The conception of the writer as a “keeper” or curator of a museum that encompasses the whole city implies that delving into the meaning of the city is essentially an act of art criticism. But the writer, the observer, the walker of these epic walks, is also part of that work, so there is interplay involved in the notion of writing “on the city,” in both senses of the phrase. The opening of Lights Out for the Territory makes this clear: “The notion was to cut a crude V into the sprawl of the city, to vandalise dormant energies by an act of ambulant signmaking. To walk out from Hackney to Greenwich Hill, and back along the River Lea to Chingford Mount, recording and retrieving the messages on walls, lampposts, doorjambs ѧ” (p. 1). Similar passages occur in “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb,” which refers to the boards outside newsagents’ shops as “calligraphic half-haikus” (p. 159) and in the novel Radon Daughters (1994), which speaks of “the haiku, the secret books of the city” (p. 42) written on lampposts and in doorways. The compulsion to repeat this process of interpretation marks the same meaning-seeking as the very act of recycling these words and ideas themselves in different works, from Norton’s fictional walks to the “ambulant signmaking” in Lights Out for the Territory. Whatever the diversity of forms and of subject matter, Sinclair is a hedgehog rather than a fox, he is about one basic literary project rather than many. That project is about the meaning of places, and especially the place of London, or, to generalize more broadly about much of his work, London and environs. “But man is like plant,” Sinclair wrote in Suicide Bridge (1979). “He is utterly possessed by what place is” (p. 149). And of the project of interpreting, reclaiming, recovering, excavating, and investigating places, Sinclair perhaps wrote most clearly of his intentions in Radon Daughters: “All the drowned voices of London, accumulations that audition for—now” (p. 21).

Bond here refers to Sinclair’s early novel White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings (1987), which has the appearance of a detective novel about the Jack the Ripper case but in fact is designed, like many of Sinclair’s fictions, to thwart genre conventions and even basic expectations of realism. Crime, for Sinclair, is both a subject and a metaphor for the things that are done to the city. In his political reading of Sinclair’s work, Bond argues that Sinclair’s long-standing interest in East End criminals like the Kray Twins in Suicide Bridge (1979) and Lights Out for the Territory involves the gangsters’ similarity to the property developer, with his expanding and rapaciously exploited “turf.” This is apt: Sinclair’s enduring interest in the detective novel extends all the way to his prose style, which has the patter and incisive brevity of Dashiell Hammett or James Ellroy. Two Sinclair fictions, White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings and Slow Chocolate Au-

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IAIN SINCLAIR Sinclair had encountered London for the first time in 1951 on a trip to see the Festival of Britain. Sinclair told Jackson of the “landscape lodging in my mind from the very start as being somewhere really magical” (p.18). Sinclair returned to London at age eighteen to attend the London School of Film Technique in Brixton. After another move, to Ireland to attend Trinity College, Dublin, where he studied English and Fine Arts, Sinclair returned to London to teach at a Polytechnic in Walthamstow. From the mid1960s to the mid-1970s, Sinclair recalls a “grey” period of part-time teaching, writing, and wandering around London. In 1967, Sinclair made a documentary film about Allen Ginsberg called The Kodak Mantra Diaries for West German television, a project that transpired during that year’s “Congress of the Dialectics of Liberation” in London, a countercultural event that also included figures such as the maverick psychologist R. D. Laing and writer/social critic Paul Goodman. (Sinclair’s Albion Village Press published a book about the film in 1971.) The next phase of Sinclair’s life involved a series of “strange laboring jobs” in East London—in the Truman Brewery in Hackney, as a groundskeeper in Limehouse, as a book scout and book dealer, and so forth—that allowed Sinclair to see the city “from the dirt up” (p. 60). In the 1970s, he began running a small press, Albion Village Press, which published the work of Sinclair and his associates. Sinclair began writing experimental poetry, and he mixed it with prose pieces about the mythology of London places and their historical resonances. At the heart of these early poetry and prose collages, including Lud Heat (1975) and Suicide Bridge (1979), was the belief that would become the centerpiece of Sinclair’s literary project in later works, the notion of “psychogeographical” explorations of London’s topography and history, recordings of “voices and echoes” in the “acoustic chambers of the city.” This aesthetic would remain consistent up until the public recognition of Sinclair’s work in the 1990s and beyond.

topsy (1997), the latter a graphic novel collaboration with the illustrator Dave McKean, take the idea of an inquest as exemplary metaphor for investigating the city, an “auto-psy” in the sense of “seeing it yourself.” London, then, becomes a crime scene; the writer is an amateur detective following clues and “tracing” them into the mangled body of the city. Bond notes the similarity between the Scarlet Tracings of Sinclair’s novel and A Study in Scarlet (1887), Arthur Conan Doyle’s first Sherlock Holmes mystery story. Sinclair’s own 2001 introduction to the Penguin paperback of A Study in Scarlet, noting that “red” had been defined as “London’s colour” by Ackroyd, suggests that Conan Doyle’s title “identifies the novel as growing from the topography of London” (p. xvi). What’s more, Holmes “raids the energy map of the city” (p. xv) and, according to Sinclair, Conan Doyle’s “creations grow away from him, pick up their own momentum, as their narratives are ghosted by the forms and forces of the city” (p. x). BIOGRAPHY AND INFLUENCES

Sinclair sketched out the details of his life in a series of interviews with Kevin Jackson, collected in the 2003 small-press book The Verbals, to which the following summary is indebted. Sinclair was born in Cardiff on June 11, 1943, and grew up in Maesteg, Wales. His mother’s first child, a girl, died as an infant, and Sinclair was raised as an only child, but in a close-knit, small community. He attended a Welsh prep school between the ages of seven and nine, then went to a school in Porthcawl on the Welsh coast, then to a prep school of Cheltenham College, then to Cheltenham at age thirteen. The college had a good film society that exposed Sinclair to the work of Alfred Hitchcock and François Truffaut. Sinclair told Jackson he used to hitchhike into London to see film and theater. A Cheltenham teacher exposed him to the writing of Jack Kerouac, and when his parents took a vacation to New York, the teenage Sinclair had them visit Greenwich Village to pick up a copy of The Dharma Bums (1958). The Beat generation aesthetic of “recording everything,” as Sinclair described it to Jackson, was formative.

A key element of Sinclair’s project, brought out well by Jackson’s interviews, has been the influence of American writers and artists. Bond

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IAIN SINCLAIR the pantheistic, all-inclusive aesthetic they derived from William Carlos Williams’ urban collage poem Paterson (1946–1958) and, before that, in the detailed New York City list-poems of Walt Whitman. The fundamental concepts here are that not only is urban space worth documenting and investigating but also that the marginalized people and places in the city are important reflectors of culture precisely because of their peripheral status. Departing completely from nineteenth-century poetic norms, Whitman wrote of the unclaimed corpse of a prostitute in “The City Dead-House” (1867), and, in the postwar context, William Carlos Williams documented the troubled and sick underclass (such as the “Beautiful Thing” of Paterson) who visited him in his New Jersey doctor’s office. Another early influence mentioned by Sinclair to Jackson is Frank O’Hara, who took up the mantle of Whitman and Williams in his urban strolls through Manhattan for his “Lunch Poems” (1964).

argues that these influences came to Sinclair mainly through the “neomodernist” poetry movement associated with Cambridge University and figures such as the British poet J. H. Prynne. But in Jackson’s interviews, Sinclair’s contact with American literature feels much more direct. Sinclair is “on the road” in a similarly endless fashion to that of his early influence, Kerouac, even if exhaust and chrome have been replaced by shoe leather and highways by passages, alleys, and lanes. The difficult prose style of Sinclair’s fiction, with its phantasmagorical set pieces, its emphasis on the science fiction and mystery genres, and its experimental metafictional games, owes something to William S. Burroughs. “The William Burroughs method,” Sinclair wrote in the 1993 introduction to the American edition of Downriver (a collection of linked fiction originally published in the U.K. in 1991, which received the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Fiction), “has much to recommend it: ‘I just walk around, and the stories walk through me’” (p. xiii). Sinclair’s poetry and early experimental essay-poem narratives are indebted to Ed Dorn, Robert Creeley, Charles Olson, and Allen Ginsberg. These writers were essentially American inheritors of Pound and William Carlos Williams and the postwar exponents of European modernism (experimentalism, formalism, antirealism, surrealism, abstraction, and the like), but they also fed the growth of 1960s political radicalism and counterculture on the literary scene. Although Sinclair’s writing has become less experimental over the years—perhaps a consequence of turning from poetry to prose and becoming a celebrated nonfiction author—it is remarkable and notable that he was able to publish a book as rich and strange as Radon Daughters in the mid-1990s. The novel’s deliberate difficulties, through which narrative is used as a lure into realms of pure prose style, resemble the contents of the old catalogs of the New Directions publishing house far more than the postThatcher market economy into which the book was thrown by its publisher, Jonathan Cape.

Sinclair’s relentless focus on the outcaste dwellers of cityscapes—“the drowned voices of London”—has multiple roots. One of these roots is in the flâneur city-walking tradition and its inheritors, from Baudelaire to Walter Benjamin to the Situationists and psychogeographical societies. Another involves the anti-poverty Victorian documentary works by travelers in the English metropolis, such as Gustave Dore, the illustrator of London: A Pilgrimage (1872), and Charles Dickens, who wrote of his “night walks” in The Uncommercial Traveller (1896). Yet another set of influences is from the all-inclusive pantheistic urban literary micro-tradition of American poetry and art mentioned above. Finally, James Joyce’s use of walkers in Dublin (the city in which Sinclair attended university) forms another inevitable literary mapping with immense gravitational pull for twentieth-century writers. Robert Frank is a particularly useful example of an influence because of Sinclair’s interest in photography in general and Frank’s photography in particular. Frank’s 1958 New York Bus series, in which snapshots were taken from bus windows as they traveled through the city, or the photographer’s 1951–1952 London pictures of

The work of Ginsberg and Kerouac, like the photography of their contemporary, friend, and collaborator Robert Frank, is rooted at its core to

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IAIN SINCLAIR bankers and coalmen, form exemplary models for Sinclair’s modus operandi. To Jackson, Sinclair explained Frank’s influence on his own process: “I came to him through Kerouac, but then went on to be very interested both in him and in that type of photography. ѧI wasn’t under pressure to produce huge swathes of prose, so that, as well as a short prose piece or a poem, I would always log a visual image alongside it (p. 83). Indeed, Sinclair’s snapshots or the more artful photography of Sinclair’s longtime collaborator Marc Atkins accompany Sinclair’s texts in Lights Out for the Territory and London Orbital, and Sinclair’s small-press book Liquid City (1999) is a series of meditations on Atkins’ pictures of forgotten places and people in and around London. In London Orbital, Sinclair notes parallels between his own working methods and the use to which W. G. Sebald (1944–2001), another compulsive walker of English landscapes, put photographs in his books. Sebald’s novel Austerlitz (2001) contains snapshots of the same kinds of overgrown cemeteries in East and North London that Sinclair documented in Lights Out for the Territory. The “will to record” everything in a city, the impulse that might be called the encyclopedic imperative (“noticing everything,” Sinclair calls it in Lights Out for the Territory, p. 4), is less a school of thought than a perennial temperament or a tendency. It’s not bound by any one constellation of influences. Sinclair writes in Liquid City that

“nothing connects with nothing,” in Sinclair’s London everything connects with everything. Regarding learning, Sinclair rejects self-definition as a scholar but he is an all-absorbing sponge, and in that sense he is also an emblem of the “mixed style” of the city itself. As a sort of literary alchemist of influences, Sinclair throws everything into the crucible, surfing a diverse range of influences and trying out various concoctions of poetry, fiction, and essayistic prose. In Sinclair’s work, this sort of magical translation and all-embracing transubstantiation is often presented through metaphors of mental illness and/or occult phenomena. Certainly there is a freewheeling emphasis on irrationality reminiscent of influential postmodern philosophical works like Michel Foucault’s Madness and Civilization (1961). But Sinclair is also aware of the pitfalls of the metaphor, as well as the pitfalls of the occult and of the esoteric literature on the city he finds attractive as a collector. In Lights Out for the Territory, he titles one essay on obscure London artists “The Shamanism of Intent” (and not “The Intent of Shamanism”). Sinclair writes: Certain artists—the ones you came across by accident, working their own turf—began to look strange, otherworldly, out of it. Their behavior, this remorseless pursuit of discomfort, this restlessness and fruitful irritation, struck me as exemplary. Worthy of notice. The will to continue, improvise upon chaos, could be defined as “intent”: a “sickness-vocation,” as Eliade has it, an elective trauma. The health of the city, and perhaps of the culture itself, seemed to depend upon the flights of redemption these disinherited shamans (there were women too, plenty of them) could summon and sustain. They were associated in my mind with other avatars of unwisdom: scavengers, dole-queue antiquarians, bagpeople, out-patients, muggers, victims, millennial babblers.

I thrived on movement, drift, being out in the weather. I wanted a single sentence to contain everything I knew. I suffered (exposure to Jack Kerouac at an impressionable age) from that impulse to sketch, note improvise, revise, double back, bifurcate, split like an amoeba. My rampant schizophrenia expressed itself in the act of transcribing the speech of dogs, watching cloud-streets advance across the mouth of the Medway, listening to the shapeless buzz of cafés, trains, supermarkets—until I arrive at that nanosecond when the pattern was revealed, before it vanished forever.

(p. 247)

Clearly, this is not a case of magic but rather of the revaluation and redemption of outcaste figures somewhat similar to ancient notions of sages or holy fools or even Franz Kafka’s hunger-artist. “Is it too preposterous,” Sinclair asks, “to think of this delusion—that work is capable of re-

(p. 8)

Bond refers to Sinclair’s style as a “connectionist method” (p. 187). This is apt: if in Eliot’s London

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IAIN SINCLAIR cal delving as one fundamentally connected with sickness, not recovery. He recounts the plot of his novel as a recapitulation of his own artistic process:

enchanting place—as a reality, a significant marker on the chart of our culture?” (p. 246). Equally, the “buried energies” he purports to discover in the city are presented as metaphorically active and, if the phrase may be allowed, fictively real. “Myths are lies,” he wrote early on in Suicide Bridge (p. 147). Sinclair makes his approach clear in one of his interviews with Jackson:

I saw these photographs in the London Hospital. The London Hospital was the only real archive of memory for Whitechapel, they had the best collection of images of the place, the best texts. I’d go into the basement of the London Hospital and see these very early X-Ray photographs of hands with rings, and the people who took them—the flesh was rotting off of them, they all died, they died of cancer. So the proposition [of Radon Daughters] is that there is a machine in the basement there which gives the narrator access to memoryѧbut at the cost of destroying his own existence, which he knows. So it’s a deranged proposition. But that was the metaphor for the business of writing it, as far as I was concerned. The business of dealing with these matters of London, saturating yourself with them, would mean that you were actually dooming yourself to fall apart—A Faustian Pact.

[The artist Brian Catling has] developed these techniques for going into places and sounding out what would be the voices or resonances within that place. And, by different means, that’s what I’ve tried to do through writing. The material that’s sometimes called “psychogeography” is loosely based on that era of primitively sounding out place through possession or séance. ѧIt wasn’t that at all. It was as if certain places released voicesѧ (p. 75.)

In his fiction, as in Ackroyd’s novels Hawksmoor and The House of Dr. Dee (1993), Sinclair does play with occult effects such as the literal confusion of time. But as the above passage makes clear, this is also a game designed to represent how the “voices” of a place can become incorporated metaphorically into the fabric of the present time. In his study of Sinclair, Bond offers a political reading of this strategy. The fundamental point is to release the meaning of the city from the constraining interpretations and closed systems of meaning. These include those offered by tourism, “straight” history, officially sanctioned heritage trips into the city’s past, and the real estate developer ’s notion of quaint refurbishment. Sinclair’s alternative, secret, or buried histories—“the drowned voices of London” again—form literary antidotes to the bland logic of tourist brochures and to the idea of comfortably settling into renovated properties with foundations in the muck of an unstable and troubling past. Sinclair conceives of these voices and buried energies as dangerous, like the proverbially disturbed graveyard or the seeping of toxic substances like radon through basement floors. In a discussion of Radon Daughters with Jackson, Sinclair described his creative process of histori-

(pp. 127–128.)

The notion here of an occult toxicity residing in the “matters of London” is of course fictive, but it serves as a metaphor for the artist’s role in exploring, excavating, and recovering the city’s past.

WALKING

For Sinclair, walking and writing about the city are kindred acts. As the opening lines of Lights Out for the Territory suggest—“the notion was to cut a crude V into the sprawl of the city”—walking is a kind of writing. Sinclair continues: “I had developed this curious conceit while working on my novel Radon Daughters that the physical movements of the characters across their territory might spell out the letters of a secret alphabet” (p. 1). In “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb,” the character Norton (a Sinclair analogue described as a “prisoner of London” in Slow Chocolate Autopsy) walks because he has no choice. “Norton kept on walking,” Sinclair writes. “This was the form his mania took, hammering for hours at a time” (p. 159). Walking, here, is defined as compulsion, but that compulsion is related to meaning-making, the attempt to encompass, absorb, describe, and record.

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IAIN SINCLAIR transcendent oddity of airport perimeter roads, Ikea warehouses, neutral buffer zones between town and country” (p. 314). Bond suggests that Sinclair wants to formulate new kinds of sacred urban spaces from this peripheral material, secular counterweights to the heritage concepts of great church buildings, secret dumping grounds and odd “buffer zones” rather than chapels. Discussing Downriver, Bond argues that “the narrator’s use of the idea of pilgrimage” suggests “the possibility of escape from the imprisoning central area of the city. ѧThe river journey ‘downriver,’ ‘from the Isle of Dogs to the Isle of Sheep,’ is to be a ‘pilgrimage towards hope’” (p. 140).

Part of the ethos of the urban stroller has to do with a sort of deliberate purposelessness. “Walks for their own sake, furiously enacted by lacking agenda,” Sinclair suggests in Liquid City. Not walks without meaning but walks with meanings too numerous to catalogue: Strategic walks (around the M25, the walls of the City) as a method of interrogating fellow pilgrims. Walks as portraits. Walks as prophecy. Walks as rage. Walks as seduction. Walks for the purpose of working out the plot (from Albion Drive, by canal and river, to Springfield Park: coffee and bacon roll). Walks that release delirious chemicals in the brain as they link random sites (discrete images in an improvised poem). Savagely mute walks that provoke language.ѧThere was no ulterior motive, no commissioned or projected work to justify these riparian exercises.

Bond also explores a Sinclair quotation from the psychiatrist R. D. Laing, who believed in excavating “the original layout of the land under the cities [ѧ] the sacred spots” (quoted on p. 54 of Bond’s Iain Sinclair). Sinclair told Jackson about connecting with an artistic tradition involving “a sense of place, of archetypal meanings hovering over a landscape” (p. 53). Yet these pilgrimages take the beaten-down and forgotten aspects of the city as their postcards: “Odd esturine landscapes,” Sinclair writes in Liquid City: “Gull islands. Sewage farms. Oil refineries where Count Dracula’s abbey once stood” (p. 15). Just as the city makes its researcher sick in Radon Daughters, here the idea of walking is far from the sort of salutary or pastoral “rambling” advocated by contemporary English nature lovers. Instead, it is a way in to dredging up the things at which nobody wants to look: the forgotten, the befouled. Accordingly, sections of Liquid City contain photographs by Marc Atkins and short prose sketches from Sinclair about out-ofthe-way places such as “Hardy’s Tree” at St. Pancras Old Church, “The Warehouse on Durward Street,” the Catholic graveyard in Leyton, tower blocks, concrete bridges, waste grounds, abandoned industrial parks, and so on. Lost people feature, too, in the sketches of Liquid City, poets like Allen Fisher, Bill Griffiths, and Barry MacSweeney whom Sinclair championed as a critic, poetry editor, and small-press publisher. “This is deleted history,” Sinclair writes (p. 38) in a chapter whose title, “Is this London?” might

(p. 15)

This is more than strolling, even of a Baudelairean sort, and obviously not a matter of physical exercise. It is a faith of walking or a faith in walking. It is a secular conception of walking meditation or pilgrimage. The notion of walking as pilgrimage, emphasized by Bond, is here one of many alternatives, including intimations bordering on altered states of mind (“delirious chemicals”), the writer’s creative process (“working out the plot”), libidinous activity (“seduction”), and so forth. Walking for Sinclair is fundamental to the release of the creative process as well as baser urges. Sinclair’s reference to “fellow pilgrims” in Liquid City recalls the quasi-medieval language of walking from one holy place to another. This notion of pilgrimage in English literature stretches back to Geoffrey Chaucer and in European culture is also connected to the destitute, homeless, and dispossessed people who walked from site to site in search of charity. Sinclair’s version of this is a deliberate encounter with postmodern, postindustrial England, as in this discussion of the filmmaker Patrick Keiller in Lights Out for the Territory: “Truths about a cityѧcan only be uncoveredѧthrough a series of arcane pilgrimages, days spent crawling around the rim of things. Expeditions that fail to discover any trace of Sherlock Holmes in Vauxhall or Poe in Stoke Newington—but which stumble instead on the

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IAIN SINCLAIR foot cream called “Pride of London Paste” that’s supposed to make “Walking a Pleasure” and is “Quite Harmless.” Clearly, this is not a typical survey of London. One of the book’s nine “excursions,” titled “Bulls and Bears,” is an essay on the City of London. It diverges very quickly from the City’s well-known tourist sites like St. Paul’s Cathedral into extraordinary meditations on the surveillance state as a sort of ongoing artwork. This imagined scene takes place in the “inner sanctum of surveillance imagery in Bishopsgate Police Station,” which oversees a “new art form”:

stand as one of the key questions of these interrelated walks and essays.

LIGHTS OUT FOR THE TERRITORY

Sinclair’s obsessions and artistic concerns remain remarkably consistent across his entire body of work, which can be read as an ongoing series of connected projects as much as individual books. But Lights Out for the Territory stands out as a major accomplishment as well as a watershed publication in Sinclair’s career. In a review for the Times, Peter Ackroyd compared Sinclair with Thomas DeQuincey, and, in a review for the Guardian, James Wood called Sinclair “a sublime archeologist of the present.” The book, a series of essays devoted to tracing the “secret history” of London in nine walks throughout the city, is a genre-bending combination of travelogue, urban study, personal essay, historical exploration, and criticism of English literature, art, architecture, city planning, and political culture. In creative writing terminology, it would be called “creative nonfiction,” with elements of the kind of participatory New Journalism of Tom Wolfe, Norman Mailer, Joan Didion, and Hunter S. Thompson, in which the writer is the protagonist of the book. The overall effect is a little like walking through London on a guided tour with a madman who wants you, the tourist, to enter into his manias. Or reading a guidebook to the city written by a person who leaves no stone unturned in a relentless search for obscure corners, people, buildings, and found objects that will serve to throw the city’s meaning into sharp relief. Part of the book’s ongoing joke at the expense of the travelwriting genre is that while readers could certainly try to retrace the steps of Sinclair’s walks, if they did so they would find themselves face-to-face with the abandoned husk of a broken-down graveyard chapel in Abney Park, Stoke Newington, or in an artist’s studio made from a World War II–era makeshift air-raid bunker, or in a newsagent’s shop in Hackney that had become the site of a local murder investigation. The book offers a series of photographic illustrations in the middle, the first of which depicts a found object from the market area of Kingsland Waste E8: a

Vague specters of menace caught on time-coded surveillance cameras justify an entire network of peeping vulture lenses. A web of indifferent watching devices, sweeping every street, every building, to eliminate the possibility of a past tense; the freedom to forget. There can be no highlights, no special moments: a discreet tyranny of “now” has been established. “Real time” in its most pedantic form. It is only when there is no one to watch the watchers, when the machines are left to hose imagery on to banked screens in an empty room, that a melancholy futurist poetic begins to operate: visionary street scenes unrivalled since the birth of cinema. The delight of a thing that is simply itself, mechanical process in all its essential mystery: a train coming into a station, firefly lights from a river of slow-moving cars. A cinema that spurns the vulgar excitement of editing. ѧThe City is at last able to compose its own poetry, with no human intervention. (pp. 91–92)

On the surface, this passage refers to the fact that the City of London, protected by its so-called ring-of-steel surveillance cameras, is perhaps the most watched (or, in Sinclair’s imagination, recorded but unwatched) spot on earth. But it also gestures beautifully (if teasingly) to the quasi-pantheistic notion that each moment of discrete reality has value as part of these ongoing “visionary street scenes.” Sinclair’s tour, then, is playful and subversive but also poetic and meditative, swiftly transforming what might seem vulgar or even unnoticed (the City’s surveillance cameras) into subjects for a sort of writing that begins with an acid political critique and winds up offering the wholly unexpected twist of “the nanny state” as a sort of unintentional experimental filmmaker.

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IAIN SINCLAIR The main thrust of Lights Out for the Territory, then, is not an act of political or cultural critique through wholesale negation. Sinclair is on to bigger quarry, the project of constructing alternative views of the city based largely upon his readings both of the past and of contemporary art. The latter is particularly prized for opening new ways of seeing urban space among its many other virtues, Sinclair’s book is exceptional for its art criticism. The photographer Marc Atkins, Sinclair’s longtime collaborator, as in Liquid City, appears as both a character in and the illustrator of Lights Out for the Territory. Atkins is described by Sinclair like a postmodern urban version of a desert saint, tormenting his body for the sake of art. “Fourteen hours a day in the darkroom,” Sinclair writes,

Other interludes in Lights Out for the Territory involve Sinclair’s research on the exact location of a particular camera angle in Patrick Keiller’s 1994 film London, an account of an East London funeral, and, for comic relief, a chapter on a long quest to visit the grand riverside home of Jeffrey Archer, the hack mystery writer and Conservative lord who would later be indicted on criminal charges related to various shady dealings. It’s clear that Sinclair wishes to counter what he sees as the malign energies of the city (with its focal points in the City and the Canary Wharf development in the Docklands area and the Isle of Dogs) with margin notes on marginal places, sites, people, and projects. His prejudices are uncomplicated. Sinclair writes scathingly of Canary Wharf, a Thatcher-era folly that was supposed to have been a New Venice on the banks of the Thames:

had gifted him with a ridge of tension at the base of the skull that feltѧlike a bolt through the neckѧStalking London, early and late, in a feeding frenzy. A convinced vegetarian whose lifelong obsession was the analysis and celebration of meat, dusty metropolitan light nibbling at the unclothed female form. Generously vampiric, he’d butchered himself in pursuit of his project: the cataloguing of the city, its buildings, shrines, rivers, railways, writers, clouds and women.

The Isle of Dogs. Anubis land, a reservation of jackals. Death’s promontory. The whole glass raft is a mistake, glitter forms of anachronistic postmodernism (the swamp where that word crawled to die). Instant antiques. Skin grafts peeling before completion. The seductive sky/water cemetery of Thatcherism, cloud-reflecting sepulcher towers: an evil that delights the eyeѧa corrupt thirst for eternity.

(p. 76)

(pp. 40–41)

The overlap with Sinclair’s own “project” would be almost too obvious to mention, except for the fact that the criticism and the artwork are here conceived as part of the same “cataloguing” impulse. The filmmaker Patrick Keiller is mentioned in Lights Out for the Territory using similar terms:

As an antidote, Sinclair offers places like real urban cemeteries, such as Abney Park Cemetery, Tower Hamlets Cemetery, Chingford Mount, Kensal Rise, the Catholic graveyard in Leyton, and, closer to the city center, Bunhill Fields, the resting place of several favored authors. On the latter, Sinclair writes of “Blake, Bunyan, Defoe, the dissenting monuments in Bunhill Fields. Everything I believe in, everything London can do to you, starts there. The theatre of obelisks and pyramids, signs, symbols, prompts, whispers. The lovely lies that take you out into the light. That bless each and every pilgrimage” (pp. 34– 35). The notion of “dissenters” of course has a specific meaning in English religious life (those outside the Church of England), but Sinclair’s use of the term encompasses an expanded sensibility. His own walking meditations are designed to suggest dissent from what the city is making of itself.

Patrick Keiller in the intersecting journey/quests across town in his film, London, planted his camera at many heart-stopping viewpoints: riverscapes, Arcadian upstream prospects, sun-dappled inner-city courtyards. These alignments were magnificently right (they agreed so closely with my own private catalogue: locations where, visited at the right hour of the day, light affects time). I recognised, and respected, most of Keiller’s choices, belonging as they did to a fully realised alternate city—a version that floats above or alongside the streets through which we hustle about our business. Keiller’s retrieved London, his architecture of sunlight, belonged to the stalker. (p. 124)

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IAIN SINCLAIR “you” and “we,” as if they were also his companions on these quests. What, exactly, does Sinclair hope for his readers to find? Whatever it is

What Sinclair is after in his own quests and pilgrimages in the walks described in Lights Out for the Territory is connected on a fundamental level to these conceptions, “catalogue” and “retrieval.”

must have a special quality; a quality that by its nature will be impossible to define. We can look for movement in the air, an unpredictable shift in the intensity of light. Whatever is not infected by being dragged over the ground. A music. A ravished inattention. Whatever resists being listed in a newspaper. Whatever is unregistered by surveillance cameras.

The work of the visual artist Rachel Lichtenstein, who would later coauthor a book with Sinclair, Rodinsky’s Room, forms another vital node in the progression of Lights Out for the Territory, along with the poet Aidan Dun, the sculptor Rachel Whiteread, and the painter Gavin Jones. Lichtenstein’s work, like that of Atkins and Keiller, involved the business of “not-forgetting, the recovery of ‘discernable traces.’” She is another cataloguer who “accumulated, retrieved, polished, presented” (p. 238)—who “would let nothing go, not an envelope, not a lock of hair” (p. 239). One of her projects, a residency in the Princelet Street synagogue in Whitechapel, involved explorations of its vanished caretaker, David Rodinsky, whose attic room had been kept “as is” since Rodinsky’s disappearance in the late 1960s. Lichtenstein, in Sinclair’s words, “took on herself the Herculean labour of cataloguing the mysterious caretaker’s possessions: as postcards, they could be ‘re-collected’” (p. 239). This conception of “re-collection” and recollection, of tracing the connective tissue between places and the people who inhabited them, is critical also to Sinclair’s project.

(p. 60)

“If we do not find this thing,” Sinclair continues, “if we fail in our quest, we will be left with the vision of that prince among paranoids, Franz Kafka.”

POLITICAL RESONANCES

The vision of London as a crime scene explains much about Sinclair’s political reaction to the changes in the city—whether one calls it development, creative destructive, manipulation, mutilation, or even attempted murder—brought about by Margaret Thatcher and her neoliberal inheritors, both Conservative and New Labour. The “drowned voices of London” are the victims of London—or else London itself is the victim who has been drowned. Sinclair’s 1987 volume, White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings, recapitulated the postwar era in London with dark comedy:

The work of Lichtenstein, Keiller, Atkins, and the other writers and artists of Lights Out for the Territory has to be seen as a dissenting counterforce to the “freedom to forget” offered by the images on the City surveillance cameras. The city needs its past most desperately, but what Sinclair calls the “philosophy of place” (p. 227) is in dire straits, in danger of being plowed under, used up, converted to lofts, developed for a quick turnaround, or tamed by tourism and “heritage” industries. Seen more honestly, the past isn’t even past, to borrow the language of William Faulkner. Sinclair’s “secret histories” are deliberately designed to invade the present; in the terminology of contemporary art his walks might be called “interventions” intended for more than passive consumption on the page. Sinclair implicates his readers with his use of words like

The warren is detonated. They disguise it, cover it over with respect, modesty, forward planning: destroy it, utterly ѧ Bury Christ Church, Spitalfields, in earth. Incarcerate its hieratic bulk. Lift up a new mountain. To oversee a New Age. Seal its power. Stop its mouth ѧ Hold concerts in the belly of the church. Summon the musicians, tame the doctors. Banish the phantoms, the vagrants. Feed them into submission. Bandage the lunatic. Stack cars above the sweating room. Spray it with concrete. (p. 146)

The critique here is not limited to Thatcherite ideas about the market economy but also indicts

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IAIN SINCLAIR the “forward planning” and food giveaways of the welfare state as well as the liberal sector and its enthusiasm for “heritage” events such as church concerts. Consistently in Sinclair’s work—especially in Rodinsky’s Room (1999), the collaboration with the artist Rachel Lichtenstein about the vanished and vanishing Jewish East End—various neighborhood improvement projects and “blue plaque–ing” heritage projects are seen as only the terminal stages of real estate scams that defang the resonances of “the warren.” As Bond notes throughout his study, this is actually a highly complicated, unusual, and paradoxical political critique, one in which the writer is implicated as yet another developer of the Long March of Heritage. The curiosity is that for Sinclair, things get worse as they get better, until a sort of repressive safety is achieved, symbolized by the ubiquitous surveillance cameras that, as noted above, form a leitmotif in Sinclair’s work. As the city gets nicer—cleaner, safer, more prosperous, and so forth—its rough edges and rougher elements are pushed to the periphery, and its deletions of the past become especially brutal because they are entirely self-imposed. Sinclair’s politics, then, although ruthless about Thatcherite “market forces” and 1980s city real estate code words like “riverside opportunities” along the Thames, certainly does not entail a simplistic Marxist belief in progress or even the typically nostalgic leftist dream of a return to centralized “forward planning.” Sinclair’s critique of what he referred to in a sketch for Granta magazine’s special 1999 issue, London: The Lives of the City, as “obscenery” is far more allencompassing and misanthropic. His technique is diagnostic. He deals in confrontation with facts on the ground. Ultimately Sinclair seems better situated in the long tradition of urban satire stretching all the way back to Juvenal’s dark passages about ancient Rome. “The late eighties,” Sinclair wrote in his introduction to the American edition of Downriver,

silted creeks unprotected, wide open to the predatory instincts of the men (and women) in chalkstriped Savile Row suits and yellow hard hats. Crack in the streets, cocaine in the executive washrooms. Deregulation was the order of the day. There was no time for the niceties of planning permission, transport infrastructures, debate with civilians; get in there, tear it down. (pp. xiii–xiv)

Sinclair then summarizes the Thatcher era. “Things had never been so bad,” he writes. “The Thatcherite era was energy without soul. To act was to become. Londoners suddenly had no past, except that which could be pastiched; we wallowed in the worst of ourselves. The river, the spine of my project, was a brochure of all the development notions I most mistrusted” (p. xiv). Sinclair’s career project of excavating the past takes on a political resonance and impetus in this climate. The argument here is that the idea of history itself has become political. The logical corollary would be to resist “energy without soul” by means of writing about the city’s past. “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb” suggests that the artist’s purpose in walking around and writing about the city is a stay on “demons of greed, paranoia, corruption” (p. 159). For Sinclair, developers must be foremost among those driven by such demons. A passage in Lights Out for the Territory, a parallel text with the musings on surveillance video as a new kind of cinema, teasingly outlines the notion of developers as visionaries and seers: “The scavengers follow the predatory instincts of the sculptors who have already surveyed the ground, every underused loft and bunker. Developers become the poets of trespass. They are like possessed shamans. They “see” white gymnasium temples where the rest of us, pedants picking over heritage maps, find nothing but serrulated blocs of poverty housing” (p. 215). Sinclair here becomes London’s wisecracking gravedigger, reminding the reader about all the things the “brochure” would rather stayed buried. If to have no past is to wallow in the worst of oneself as a person or a culture, then it follows that the act of writing about “the drowned voices of London” is of necessity a political speech act, a dissent. Indeed, there is almost a sense of exile implied

were evil days for the disenfranchised riverside communities of London. Years of neglect, the failure of the docks, the encroachment of a chemical wilderness, left the deepwater basins and the

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IAIN SINCLAIR by being shut out of the meaning of one’s city, which in turn implies that politics cannot be divorced from writing even if one is not writing about politics per se. The shaping and reshaping of neighborhoods, literal and metaphorical, by bulldozer, building site, committee, or pen, is a struggle with political meaning. No accident, then, that many of the essays in Lights Out for the Territory were originally published as sketches in the leftwing London Review of Books. As Thatcher gave way to John Major, and John Major to Tony Blair, the era of Tory dominance in English politics was eclipsed by what many saw as a “new day” in which New Labour and the culture of “Cool Britannia” came to the fore. As his 1999 small-press book, Sorry Meniscus: Excursions to the Millennium Dome, makes clear, however, Sinclair never expected much from the highly vaunted “Third Way” Blairite approach, at least when it came to the fabric of his city. Not only were the developers still in charge, but Blair’s government also had kept the Millennium Dome project, a rankly absurd Tory-era folly, alive as a civic-minded recognition and celebration of the year 2000. The Dome, a tourist trap situated in Greenwich, was a Teflon-roofed plastic dome arranged with various themes into fourteen “zones” such as “Work/ Learning” and “Body.” For Sinclair, this epic boondoggle represented a continuity of masterfully misconceived political lies:

of Tony Blair. This shabby field of dreams is where Britain will show the world how to have a good time by erecting the most expensive tent in the universe. (pp. 19–20, 23)

Sorry Meniscus (the title is in part a joke at the expense of the Dome’s convex shape) is a highspirited political satire that takes an epic, “intergenerational” governmental planning disaster as a lens through which to view the political transition from one era to another. Sinclair writes of his hope that Blair’s victory would ensure the deflation of the Dome, just as it had shown the door to what he calls “the merciful extinction of the sorriest rump of chancers, carpetbaggers, and self-serving pond-life ever inflicted on a masochistic democracy” (p. 23). But it was not to be. What’s more, in Sinclair’s mind, the implication is that Blair and his most powerful “fixer” of that time, Minister Without Portfolio Peter Mandelson, would be, like the Dome, yet another “Big Idea, the idea which is no idea” (p. 87). The Dome, in Sinclair’s hands, becomes a microcosm for the durable stupidity of politicians, no matter what their political party affiliations. In Sinclair’s more recent work, politics and development come into play once again, as in the afterword/ pamphlet/insert/essay, “Diving into Dirt,” written to accompany Stephen Gill: Archeology in Reverse (2007), a collection of Gill’s photographs documenting the zones of East London being developed for the 2012 London Summer Olympics.

The Dome was a classic Tory scam, a pointless but vaguely patriotic symbol sprayed over with cheerleader slogans. “Rejoice.”ѧCynics and the moderately under-enthused were denounced as party poopers and whingeing lefties. Rejoice. But what was left to celebrate in Mogadon Britain, with its beggers (native and imported), its hospitals converted into Wendy House estates, its care-in-thecommunity psychotics forced to discover that “community” had evaporated somewhere around 1953, its failing inner city schools, its buggered up legal system. ѧWho cares? Rejoice anyway. New Labour, after a few misgivings, was ready to pick up the tab. Opinion formers and massagers of statistics went into action. It was suggested that TV soap operas should slip in positive references to the Millennium Experience and arrange, budget permitting, day trips to East Greenwich. ѧThe carcinogenic venom of the Greenwich marshes has been painlessly neutralised. They have received the blessing

BEYOND LONDON; OR, LONDON AND BEYOND

Sinclair has always been interested in the peripheries of London and the “matters” that were considered peripheral to the city. His literary projects having focused for so long on the lost, the missing, the forgotten, and the discarded, it was not surprising to find him editing a 2006 volume titled London: City of Disappearances. It is equally intriguing to note that in his later writing, Sinclair seemed to shift at least some of his focus away from the city itself, moving from the peripheries of London to matter that might be construed as peripheral to London itself. Sinclair’s work on David Rodinsky is exemplary

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IAIN SINCLAIR in this regard. In his collaborative book with Rachel Lichtenstein, the vanished caretaker of the Princelet Street synagogue in Whitechapel is traced from East London to the place of his death in Epsom. But the book Rodinsky’s Room is also a portal even farther out of London, as Lichtenstein attempts to trace the migrations of Rodinsky’s family, and her own, back into the disappeared Jewish culture of Eastern Europe. Meanwhile, in London Orbital, Sinclair visits Epsom, the location of Rodinsky’s final days living as a pauper in an asylum. In a notable passage in London Orbital, Sinclair describes the quest for Rodinsky’s meaning in a manner characteristic of his entire literary project. But, characteristically, it also builds and expands upon Sinclair’s previous descriptions of Rodinsky and Lichtenstein in both Lights Out for the Territory and Rodinsky’s Room. Finally, the passage revisits the heart of Sinclair’s cultural and political critique, recapitulating the axis of opposition in his work between the developer’s conception of history and the author’s own philosophy of place and the project of retrieving its drowned voices:

Sinclair’s nonfiction books, like new rooms or wings added to an ever-expandable mansion of enormous size, almost appear to be one life project. In fact, the postscript to London Orbital describes four of Sinclair’s books as “missing chapters of a larger whole, outstations” (p. 460). London Orbital is connected to Rodinsky’s Room and Lights Out for the Territory by several threads, especially its modus operandi of endless walking and re-mapping. The book is connected to Sorry Meniscus by its opening lines: “It started with the Dome, the Millennium Done. An urge to walk away from the Teflon meteorite on Bugsby’s Marshes” (p. 1). Bond’s phrase about Sinclair’s “connective” method is relevant. Sinclair wanted to walk, not drive, the M25, some 120 miles, to try to see it anew, as an actual place, not a roadway without meaning. Having been opened by Thatcher herself, the Orbital triggered in Sinclair a desire to circumnavigate the entire city in order to locate “the point where London loses it, gives up its ghosts” (p. 1). The project resulted in nearly five hundred pages of prose, which in terms of sheer statistics would amount to approximately four pages per mile of Orbital highway.

Without Lichtenstein’s possessed pursuit, the story of Rodinsky’s death would blacken in a convenient bonfire. The medical records of his sister and many of the other displaced patients from East London, kept at Claybury (now Repton Park), were burnt in a builders’ skip. Heritaged history is the new TV pornography, the ratings winner. Henry VIII’s wives, Elizabeth II’s suitors. The Normans, the Romans, the Vikings. Ghetto history is unrequited: we want to know about the planting of the estate, the notable figures who lived in the great house. Developers peddle an anodyne future of managed ecology, fitness regimes, security. The Long Grove ward where Rodinsky died was described to Rachel as a babble of arguing Hasids, displaced cabbalists, a city hive. Even now, when the walls are coming down, the noise won’t go away.

Also peripheral to, but connected with, London is Edge of the Orison (2005), a critical study of John Clare in which Sinclair physically retraced the “peasant poet’s” steps on his escape from the High Beach Asylum in Epping Forest (now in the suburbs of North London) to his home town, Northborough in Northhamptonshire, supposedly covering eighty miles in three days in 1841. “I re-walk, compulsively, routes other men established,” Sinclair writes (p. 102) in Edge of the Orison, referring to his retracing of Clare’s descriptions of his first visit to London. In following Clare’s steps, Sinclair also finds himself crossing the paths of other London writers, including Pepys, Dr. Johnson, John Donne, and John Keats. These are all figures who are “there and not there” for Sinclair. They have to be imagined or conjured as much as remembered. “The city is freighted with code,” Sinclair suggests. “Watch a street and you become it. You construct, if so inclined, a narrative, but you are also part of the witnessed event. You shape what

(p. 282)

All this is familiar territory, Sinclair’s home ground, so to speak, except that he is no longer in London. Instead, the action here takes place in Epsom, as a small part of Sinclair’s epic walking tour in London Orbital—no longer in London but still in its orbit, traveling the entirety of the M25 motorway on foot, some ways out but still in the gravitational pull of the city.

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IAIN SINCLAIR A13 rather than circling the M25 or the footpaths of John Clare, the notion of gathering enough energy for an “escape velocity” from the immense gravitational field of London parallels the concerns of those other works. Characteristically, Dining on Stones, like many of Sinclair’s fictions, contains metafictional elements involving author characters who are doubles of Sinclair and whose works are sometimes doppelgangers of Sinclair’s own projects. Here is the fictional Andrew Norton’s description of his fictional book Estuarial Lives, a walking tour of the A13 road from London to the coast with a photographer companion, Jimmy Seed: “I took the decision that the road would have to be walked. Every yard of it, Aldgate to the sea: through memory, mess, corruption, dying industries, political scams, satellite shopping cities buried in chalk quarries. Defoe, Bram Stoker, Joseph Conrad. Elements were predictable, I was working from a very familiar script ѧ” (p. 12). Of course, the joke for Sinclair’s longtime readers here is that the “very familiar script” is the basic outline of the idea for London Orbital, with the location shifted. Norton’s stories, in Dining on Stones and elsewhere, should not be confused with autobiographical episodes from Sinclair’s life; instead, Norton is Sinclair, more or less, but the things that happen to him are patently fictional, based in alternate realities, lives that might have been lived but were not, or sometimes involving completely surreal, impossible, or supernatural episodes. This effect makes reading Sinclair’s fiction alongside his nonfiction a little bit like looking at a series of imaginative paintings featuring the same figures that appear in an artist’s real-life photo album. Anything that can be imagined can happen in the paintings, even while many of the people in them are recognizable, drawn from life. This is especially true of Norton. In Dining on Stones, Norton sketches a portrait of himself that feels strongly like a self-portrait of Sinclair. Musing on his habit of photographing and writing about London, Norton writes:

you see” (p. 102). London became a prison for Clare and, therefore, an avatar of the need for escape to the periphery described in London Orbital. But Sinclair’s Clare investigation also forms a larger meditation on place: He had to learn the difficult thing, in different places we are different people. We live in one envelope with a multitude of voices, lulling them by regular habits, of rising, laboring, eating, taking pleasure and exercise: other selves, in suspension, slumber but remain wakeful. Walking confirms identity. We are never more than an extension of the ground on which we live. ѧPoetry is a form of going away. Of holding landscape, and its overwhelming, simultaneous particulars, in the float of memory. (Edge of the Orison, 2005)

This passage, although it refers to Clare’s pastoral home grounds rather than the city, expands all of Sinclair’s critical themes: the connection of walking and writing to places and the argument that landscapes are imprinted by voices that can gather from previous times and speak meaningfully to our present condition. Sinclair wants to find traces of Clare’s voice not only by following his trail through the physical landscapes he walked but also by making a fusion of horizons between place and person, one era and another. There is infinite elaboration upon, but a philosophical continuity with, some of Sinclair’s earliest work, like the notion in Suicide Bridge, about being “utterly possessed by what place is” (p. 149). The figure of an escapee from London appears again in Sinclair’s 2004 novel Dining on Stones. Its main character, Norton, is an author from Hackney. (As noted above, Norton—a Sinclair analogue—also features in the graphic novel Slow Chocolate Autopsy as a “prisoner of London,” and as the compulsive walker in “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb.”) In his interviews with Jackson, Sinclair described what later became Dining on Stones as “part documentary, part fiction, set on the coast, and the A13 journey out of London toward the coast—the kind of Dagenham, Ford Motor Company, Rainham Marshes, grungy journey out of London towards an aspirational coast” (p. 137). Unsurprising, then, to find the first part of Dining on Stones titled “Road.” Although this time traversing the

I learned to deactivate the flash and frame by instinct. The result was a pleasing, slapdash, unmediated aesthetic. The prose I contrived from

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IAIN SINCLAIR “represent just some of the many potentialѧ versions of how the manifestly shared (or at least explicitly public) streets and buildings delineate fragmented localities and senses of placement and identity”ѧ.

these snapshots would be more provocative, so I hoped, than the awkward blocks of verbless sentences “inspired” by the many thousands of diary-images I’d gathered during the years of my compulsive logging of London and the river. What are we really doing with those handheld obituary lanterns, our cameras? Despoiling virgin topography. Forging, on stiff cards, autobiographical confessions. I witnessed it. Every picture a story, every story a lie. Look at them now. Look at the captured rectangles in their prophylactic envelopes. This person, raking over mounds of paperback books, left when the market packs up, is someone I once was: predatory, stooped, close to the pulse of the city. This building charts my ruin, wrecked knees, twisted spine. A failing heart. The fouled stream skulking through Rainham Marshes, a pisstrough, is my lost optimism, my childhood. When the local was eternal, water (clear and fresh) always flowed towards some larger, busier river, a cold grey sea.

(p. 145)

Sinclair, too, sees clearly how “multiple cartographies” and “senses of placement and identity” fold into the cultural sensibility of an era. If Sinclair is a difficult writer, it is because he wants to force a confrontation with the smallest potsherds of places in what James Wood calls his archeology of the present. Most certainly Sinclair is an angry writer, but his anger often takes the form of comedy; in addition to his other virtues he is a brilliant political satirist of the post-Thatcher market economy, a restless apostle of discontent in a rapidly changing culture of global capitalism. Sinclair’s writing has implications that stretch beyond the microhistory of London’s obscurities. His ongoing investigation into the meaning of place forms a strong dissent from the opinion that in a globalized world all places are checkthe-box itineraries on a new world tour, quaint but disposable cultures eagerly awaiting translation into American English, bits of a regrettable “history” whose “end” remains a work in the “progress” of “creative destruction,” exploitable “locations” for film scouts, potential mini-mall sites, or local neighborhoods of a global village sponsored by Europe or the UN. Instead, Sinclair’s work forms an argument in favor of the importance of specific locales as irreducible and complex, their genius loci resistant to assimilation.

(p. 25)

Although it is unwise for critics to impute any one-to-one biographical correspondences even in heavily autobiographical fiction, this passage stands as an immensely powerful and surprisingly personal sketch about all the questions Sinclair asks in his work. Norton is a kind of alternative Sinclair, and at least in this passage, the author’s description of what would become Dining on Stones as “part documentary, part fiction” seems resonant. The notion of Sinclair’s fiction—especially his “Norton” writings—as an alternative mapping of himself accords well with the overall project of creating new, different, subversive, alternative, parallel, or multiple maps of places, London above all, pursued throughout his nonfiction. In Lights Out for the Territory, Sinclair elegantly summarized this way of thinking in a discussion of the “alternative cartographies of the city” that are treated in an essay by Chris Jenks called “The History and Practice of the Flaneur.” Sinclair argued:

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF IAIN SINCLAIR

We have to recognise the fundamental untrustworthiness of maps. ѧMaps are a futile compromise between information and knowledge. They require a powerful dose of fiction to bring them to lifeѧ.

NOVELS, POETRY,

AND

NONFICTION

Lud Heat: A Book of the Dead Hamlets. Albion Village Press, 1975. Reprinted with Suicide Bridge. London: Vintage, 1995. Suicide Bridge: A Book of the Furies: A Mythology of the South and East. London: Albion Village Press, 1979. Reprinted with Lud Heat. London: Vintage, 1995.

Jenks sees clearly how these multiple cartographies (the microclimates under which we all navigate)

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IAIN SINCLAIR Body and the City in Western Civilization, by Richard Sennett. “Theatre of the City.” The Guardian, July 14, 2005, Comment & Features, p. 6. “Who is Stewart Home?” London Review of Books, June 23, 1994. Pp. 21–22.

White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings. Uppinham, U.K.: Goldmark, 1987; London: Paladin, 1988; London: Granta, 2001; London: Penguin, 2004. Flesh Eggs and Scalp Metal: Selected Poems 1970–1987. London: Paladin, 1989. Downriver. London: Paladin, 1991. Published in the United States as Downriver; or The Vessels of Wrath: A Narrative in Twelve Tales. New York: Random House, 1993. Radon Daughters. London: Cape, 1994. Lights Out for the Territory: Nine Excursions in the Secret History of London. London: Granta, 1997. Crash: David Cronenberg’s Post-Mortem on J. G. Ballard’s “Trajectory of Fate.”London: British Film Institute, 1999. Sorry Meniscus: Excursions to the Millennium Dome. London: Profile Books, 1999. Landor’s Tower; or, The Imaginary Conversations. London: Granta, 2001. London Orbital: A Walk Around the M25. London: Granta, 2002. Dining on Stones; or The Middle Ground. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2004. Edge of the Orison: In the Traces of John Clare’s “Journey Out of Essex.” London: Hamish Hamilton, 2005.

BOOKS EDITED

OTHER

COLLABORATIVE WORKS

AND

SINCLAIR

N.B. More than a few of Sinclair’s books have complicated publication histories with several editions and publishers; consult the bibliography in Kevin Jackson’s The Verbals for a more complete listing of early small-press and self-published works not included here. I am grateful to Jackson for taking time to share his insights about Sinclair with me via email. A fuller list of articles and essays by and about Sinclair can be found in Robert Bond’s critical study Iain Sinclair. Finally, I am indebted to the Green Library at Stanford University for its collection of Sinclair titles. – JMT.

Slow Chocolate Autopsy: Incidents from the Notorious Career of Norton, Prisoner of London. With Dave McKean. London: Phoenix House, 1997. Liquid City. With Marc Atkins. London: Reaktion, 1999. Rodinsky’s Room. With Rachel Lichtenstein. London: Granta, 1999.

ARTICLES

BY

Conductors of Chaos: A Poetry Anthology. London: Picador, 1996. London: City of Disappearances. London: Hamish Hamilton, 2006.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES SELECTED CRITICAL STUDIES, INTERVIEWS,

AND

REVIEWS

Ackroyd, Peter. Albion: The Origins of the English Imagination. London: Chatto and Windus, 2002. Ackroyd, Peter. London: The Biography. London: Chatto and Windus, 2000. Bond, Robert. Iain Sinclair. Cambridge, U.K.: Salt Books, 2005. Bond, Robert, and Jenny Bavidge. City Visions: The Work of Iain Sinclair. Newcastle, U.K.: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2007. Beckett, Andy. “An End to His Territory.” The Guardian (Saturday Review), June 12, 1999. Carter, Angela, “Adventures at the End of Time.” London Review of Books, March 7, 1991. Gardner, Lyn. “The Lost Spirit of Spitalfields.” The Guardian Saturday Review, May 22, 1999. (On David Rodinsky and Rodinsky’s Room.) Jackson, Kevin, and Iain Sinclair. The Verbals: Kevin Jackson in Conversation with Iain Sinclair. Tonbridge, Kent, U.K.: Worple Press, 2003. Jeffries, Stuart. “On the Road.” The Guardian, April 24, 2004. Murray, Alex. Recalling London: Literature and History in the Work of Peter Ackroyd and Iain Sinclair. London: Continuum, 2007.

ESSAYS

“All Change. This Train Is Cancelled.” London Review of Books, May 13, 1999, p. 10 (www.lrb.co.uk). “Diving into Dirt.” In Stephen Gill: Archeology in Reverse, by Stephen Gill. London: Nobody, 2007. “Hopi Mean Time,” London Review of Books, March 18, 1999 (www.lrb.co.uk). “Introduction.” In A Study in Scarlet, by Arthur Conan Doyle. London: Penguin, 2001, p. vii–xxi. “The Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb.” In The Time Out Book of London Short Stories Volume 2. Edited by Nicholas Royle. London: Penguin, 2000. Pp. 159–171. “A London View.” In London: The Lives of the City. Granta 65 (1999). “Museums of Melancholy.” London Review of Books, August 18, 2005, (www.lrb.co.uk). “Out of Essex.” London Review of Books, January 8, 2004 (www.lrb.co.uk). “Secretly Sublime.” London Review of Books, March 19, 1998, p. 30. “A Softness in the Stone.” Times Literary Supplement, January 13, 1995. Pp. 4–5. Review of Flesh and Stone: The

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IAIN SINCLAIR word article on Sinclair’s life and work.) Ellam, Julie. “Iain Sinclair.” British Council: Contemporary Writers (http://www.contemporarywriters.com). (Contains a capsule biography, list of awards and prizes, critical perspectives, and a bibliography.)

Sennett, Richard. Flesh and Stone: The Body and the City in Western Civilization. New York: Norton, 1994. Wood, James. “The Magus of the City.” The Guardian, January 23, 1997.

“Iain Sinclair.” Complete Review (http://www.completereview.com). (Contains a brief critical snapshot, bibliography, and links.)

ONLINE RESOURCES Cunningham, David. “Iain Sinclair.” Literary Encyclopedia (http://www.litencyc.com). (Sample of a two-thousand-

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS (1840—1893)

Nikolai Endres may be the most famous passage about the Renaissance:

NOWADAYS ALMOST FORGOTTEN, John Addington Symonds enjoyed an excellent yet controversial reputation in his time. In an 1893 essay, “Recollections of Professor Jowett,” Algernon Swinburne castigated the “cult of the calamus, as expounded by Mr. Addington Symonds and his fellow-calamites.” Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), especially the infamous chapter 11, draws on Symonds’ magnum opus, The Renaissance (1875–1886). In various guises, Symonds makes multiple appearances in several works by Henry James: Mark Ambient in “The Author of Beltraffıo” (1884), Ashton Doyne in “The Real Right Thing” (1899), and Lionel Croy in The Wings of the Dove (1902). The first half of E. M. Forster’s Maurice (written 1913, published 1971) traces Symonds’ version of a “superior” homosexuality that neglects the needs of the body. D. H. Lawrence echoes Symonds’ name in the protagonist of his early short story “The Shades of Spring” (1914): John Adderley Syson. On the advice of Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot removed the following lines from the opening of “The Fire Sermon” section of The Waste Land (1922): “Women grown intellectual grow dull, / And lose the mother wit of natural trull. / Fresca was baptised in a soapy sea / Of Symonds— Walter Pater—Vernon Lee.” Virginia Woolf modeled Sally Seton in Mrs. Dalloway (1925) on Symonds’ daughter Margaret or “Madge.” The French novelist Marguerite Yourcenar singles out Symonds for praise in a bibliographic note for her Memoirs of Hadrian (1951). According to the Oxford English Dictionary, Symonds first circulated the word “homosexuality” in the English language. Last but not least, Symonds wrote what

During the Middle Ages man had lived enveloped in a cowl. He had not seen the beauty of the world, or had seen it only to cross himself, and turn aside and tell his beads and pray. Like S. Bernard traveling along the shores of the Lake Leman, and noticing neither the azure of the waters, nor the luxuriance of the vines, nor the radiance of the mountains with their robe of sun and snow, but bending a thought-burdened forehead over the neck of his mule; even like this monk, humanity had passed, a careful pilgrim, intent on the terrors of sin, death, and judgment, along the highways of the world, and had scarcely known that they were sightworthy, or that life is a blessing. Beauty is a snare, pleasure a sin, the world a fleeting show, man fallen and lost, death the only certainty, judgment inevitable, hell everlasting, heaven hard to win; ignorance is acceptable to God as a proof of faith and submission; abstinence and mortification are the only safe rules of life: these were the fixed ideas of the ascetic mediæval Church. The Renaissance shattered and destroyed them, rending the thick veil which they had drawn between the mind of man and the outer world, and flashing the light of reality upon the darkened places of his own nature. For the mystic teaching of the Church was substituted culture in the classical humanities; a new ideal was established, whereby man strove to make himself the monarch of the globe on which it is his privilege as well as destiny to live. The Renaissance was the liberation of the reason from a dungeon, the double discovery of the outer and inner world. (The Age of the Despots, pp. 13–14)

BIOGRAPHY

John Addington Symonds was born October 5, 1840 in Bristol, to a middle-class family. His father was a prominent physician and an eminently learned man:

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS He was open at all pores to culture, to art, to archeology, to science, to literature. In a large and liberal sense he yielded his spirit up to beauty and imbibed the well-spring of modern philosophy. Judged by the narrow standard of his kindred, he was unsound on doctrine, dangerously alive with the revolutionary forces of the century.ѧ He had abandoned the narrow standpoint of Nonconformist or Evangelical orthodoxy. But he retained what was ethically valuable in the religious tradition.

Swallows were reeling in the sunlight round the tower. The clock struck. I took Willie’s slender hand into my own and gazed into his large brown eyes fringed with heavy lashes. A quite indescribable effluence of peace and satisfaction, blent with yearning, flowed from his physical presence and inundated my whole being with some healing and refreshing influence. (Memoirs, p. 104)

At his father’s insistence, he officially discontinued the relationship, but he and Willie clandestinely saw each other for years, and Symonds financially supported him in his musical education. Still, Symonds recorded his erotic frustration in a poem:

(Memoirs, pp. 52–53)

John’s mother died when he was four years old. A snobbish aunt, Miss Sykes, took over his education, impressing on him a stern Victorian work ethic, while his father instilled in his son the values of a man of character and striver for success. John’s grandfather taught the boy Latin, and a tutor got him excited about classical literature, especially Homer’s Iliad, Euripides’ Hippolytus, and Horace’s Odes, plus Shakespeare. John also heard Charles Dickens read A Christmas Carol. Physically, though, John was a sickly child, with a troubled sexuality. As Phyllis Grosskurth wrote in her biography of Symonds:

What might have been, what might have been! Is there a sadder word than this? Are any serpent’s teeth more keen Than memories of what we miss? ѧ The love we might have known, if we Had turned this way instead of that; The lips we might have kissed, which he For whom they parted, pouted at! (Grosskurth, p. 44)

Dream-like states, not necessarily sexual, would at times become so overpowering that he sank into a trance, a condition which half-frightened, halffascinated him. These experiences were marked by a progressive obliteration of space, time, sensation, and all the multitudinous factors which connect one with external reality, culminating in a complete withdrawal from everything except his inner consciousness, the John-ness of John. Gradually he would return to awareness of the world around him, first by a recovery of the power of touch, followed by the rapid influx of familiar sensations.

Almost eighteen, Symonds went to university in 1858. At Balliol College, Oxford, he fell under the spell of John Conington (professor of Latin language and literature, who also encouraged Symonds’ homosexual proclivities) and the famous Benjamin Jowett, religious heretic and Regius Professor of Greek to be. Symonds fondly remembered some of their lectures on Euclid, logic, the Gospel of St. John, the Aeneid, and Herodotus. Like Oscar Wilde later, Symonds won the Newdigate Prize for a poem on the Escorial (Matthew Arnold, professor of poetry, had cast a vote in his favor). Symonds proudly recited his creation before the Prince and Princess of Wales. In his last year (1863), he was given the Chancellor’s Prize for an essay on “The Renaissance,” the germ of Symonds’ later monumental output. At Oxford, Symonds met other boys, in particular G. H. Shorting, who later tried to blackmail and ruin him professionally, and Alfred Brooke, who seems to have replaced Willie as the object of his affection. The friendship was similarly tempestuous, and once again Symonds channeled his despair into verse (with the

(p. 21)

The only person in his family that he developed an emotional attachment to was his sister Charlotte. In 1854 Symonds went to Harrow, a school he came to hate passionately. He did not learn much, made few friends, resented the focus on athletics at the expense of academics, and resisted the sexual advances made by pupils and teachers. In 1859 a homosexual scandal implicated the headmaster Dr. Vaughan, who, at Dr. Symonds’ urging, was forced to resign. In his final year at Harrow, Symonds met Willie Dyer, a choirboy and his first love:

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS had his first sexual encounter with Norman. Soon Symonds and his wife reached an agreement—on his terms—to let Symonds go his own erotic ways: “I had a long talk with my wife [about] our common wish to beget no more children, chiefly for her sake; the consequent difficulty of my position; my increase in health since I knew Norman, the uncontrollable bias of my nature in this direction, and my firm resolve to keep within the limits of good sense and taste” (Memoirs, p. 202). Still, Norman proved a fickle partner:

characteristic camouflage of female pronouns to denote male lovers): Ah, what pain is here! All through the night I yearned for power, and nursed rebellious scorn, Striving against high heaven in hot despite Of wavering nerves and will by passion torn. I dreamed; and on the curtain of the gloom False memory drew an idyll of old hope, Singing a lullaby to mock my doom With love far off and joy beyond my scope. I woke; the present seemed more sad than hell; On daily tasks my sullen soul I cast; But, as I worked, a deeper sorrow fell Like thunder on my spirit; for she past Before the house with wondering wide blue eye That said, “I wait! why will you not reply?”

The ideal and the reality did not correspond. Slowly over the years the torment of his love began to ease. The relationship was continuously marred by suspicion and tortured analysis, the inevitable concomitants of a passion which demanded so much and met only affection. Symonds now knew that he could find a measure of peace when the mind was smothered and he abandoned himself to sexual indulgence. If Norman left him with any lesson, it was that sex could be an escape, a surcease from thought, a renewal of life. Yet if the wolf of lust were satisfied, the imagination and its unfulfilled ideal persisted.

(“Renunication,” Vagabundi Libellus, p. 136)

A trip to the Continent provided another distraction, especially the charm of Venice, a city Symonds fell in love with. In 1862 he was elected a fellow of Magdalen College. At the same time, the pressure to find a suitable wife and establish respectability mounted. Symonds’ doctor impressed on him “that marriage ought not to be regarded as a matter of idealized passion, but as the sober meeting together of man and woman for mutual needs of sex, for fellow service, and loyal devotion to the duties of social and domestic life in common” (Memoirs, p. 152).

(Grosskurth, p. 140)

From now on, brothels provided a quicker outlet and a less guilt-ridden experience. In 1872 Symonds’ first book, An Introduction to the Study of Dante, was launched. Reviews were mixed, but Symonds felt he had made a good start. Shortly afterward he reviewed Walter Pater’s Studies in the History of the Renaissance, the precursor to his own magnum opus. Bad health, a diagnosis of tuberculosis, and general restlessness necessitated a move to the Swiss Alps for recovery. Symonds would spend the rest of his life there. In Davos, then a backwater village, he built a large house, Am Hof. Professional problems, such as his failure to obtain the Oxford Professorship of Poetry in 1876, were offset by an affair with a sledge-driver, Christian Buol, and by the arrival of another invalid, Robert Louis Stevenson, author of Treasure Island and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Too, there were escapes to the south. Symonds assembled his impressions in three collections: Sketches in Italy and Greece (1874), Sketches and Studies in Italy (1879), and Italian Byways (1883). At Taormina, for example,

In 1864 he married Catherine North, daughter of a member of Parliament, with whom he fathered four children. In 1868 Symonds suffered a nervous breakdown in Cannes, France, and made a suicide attempt. Catherine could never give him the fulfillment that only men had to offer. They moved to London, where Symonds renounced a career in law or politics for literature and writing. He also eagerly embraced the city’s cultural offerings: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven, Giuseppe Verdi. Moreover, he fell under the spell of Walt Whitman, met the illustrious literary figures of the day, and was saddened by the deaths of Arthur Hugh Clough (whom Matthew Arnold eulogized in “Thyrsis”) and of his own father. Once again, Symonds got infatuated with a boy with model looks, Norman Moor, whom he started to “lecture” as a tutor. Almost thirty years old, Symonds

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS a homosexual tinge, such as the Artist and the Spirit Lamp, the latter of which was edited at Oxford by Lord Douglas. A large number of poems, however, remained in manuscript at the time of Symonds’ death. Many Moods (1878) contains “The Lotos-Garland of Antinous,” about the lover of the Roman emperor Hadrian, and “The Meeting of David and Jonathan,” the Bible’s most famous homoerotic couple. In New and Old (1880), “From Friend to Friend” conveys sexual desire under the cloak of friendship and Whitmanian comradeship:

Every spot on which the eye can rest is rife with reminiscences. It was there, we say, looking northward to the straits, that Ulysses tossed between Scylla and Charybdis; there, turning toward the flank of Etna, that he met with Polyphemus and defied the giant from his galley.ѧ And all along that shore, after Persephone was lost, went Demeter, torch in hand, wailing for the daughter she could no more find among Sicilian villages. (Sketches in Italy and Greece, pp. 204–205)

Symonds met a Venetian gondolier, Angelo Fusato, which eventually made him establish a semipermanent home in the city of canals and lidos. In his autobiography, Symonds recollects:

Dear friend, I know not if such days and nights Of fervent comradeship as we have spent, Or if twin minds with equal ardour bent To search the world’s unspeakable delights, Or if long hours passed on Parnassian heights Together in rapt interminglement Of heart with heart on thought sublime intent, Or if the spark of heaven-born fire that lights Love in both breasts from boyhood, thus have wrought Our spirits to communion; but I swear That neither chance nor change nor time nor aught That makes the future of our lives less fair, Shall sunder us who once have breathed this air Of soul-commingling friendship passion-fraught.

This love at first sight for Angelo Fusato was an affair not merely of desire and instinct but also of imagination. He took hold of me by a hundred subtle threads of feeling, in which the powerful and radiant manhood of the splendid animal was intertwined with sentiment for Venice, a keen delight in the landscape of the lagoons, and something penetrative and pathetic in the man. (Memoirs, p. 272)

Toward the end of his life, Symonds took a great interest in his contemporary writers, especially Oscar Wilde and his lover Lord Alfred Douglas, Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling, Robert Browning, the Poet Laureate Tennyson, plus former Prime Minister W. E. Gladstone. When Symonds visited Rome during an influenza epidemic and caught pneumonia, he was nursed by his daughter Madge and his faithful Angelo. Symonds died peacefully on April 19, 1893 and was buried near Percy Bysshe Shelley’s grave in the Protestant Cemetery. Together with a Latin inscription composed by Jowett, an epitaph, from a hymn by Cleanthes, a third-century B.C. Stoic philosopher, on his tombstone celebrates his life:

(p. 209)

“The Valley of Vain Desires” chronicles the frustration of homoerotic yearning, “the attraction of vice that ‘fascinates and is intolerable,’ with its punishment of spiritual extinction or madness in this life” (p. 248), which can be consummated only in a dream. “The Ponte di Paradiso” recalls the charms of Venice: “This is the bridge of Paradise: / ‘Twas here he lay, / Gazing with large and earnest eyes / That summer day” (p. 174). “Pantarkes” glorifies a youth of Elis as the object of admiration for the sculptor Pheidias. Animi Figura (1882) contains homoerotic verse in “The Passing Stranger,” “Eros and Anteros,” and a sonnet sequence titled “L’Amour de l’impossible.” In Vagabunduli Libellus (1884), two sections stand out: “Stella Maris,” which offers a more passionate experience of the selftormenting mind of Animi Figura, and “On Classical Themes,” imitations of the homoerotic writers Theognis, Philostratus, and Sappho.

Lead thou me, God, Law, Reason, Motion, Life, All names for Thee alike are vain and hollow: Lead me, for I will follow without strife, Or if I strive, still must I blindly follow! (John Addington Symonds: A Biography, p. 480)

POETRY

Symonds published four books of poetry. Some poems had previously appeared in journals with

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Reading Symonds’ poetry requires care, for the gender of the beloved was frequently transferred from male to female, and risqué passages were excised. Still, as John Holmes notes about Animi Figura: “As well as being the fullest and most sympathetic Victorian exploration of homosexuality in verse, it is an eloquent and highly intelligent engagement with the spiritual crises of its day, and a pioneering representation of the human mind which anticipates aspects of structuralism and analytic psychology” (p. 121). A fifth volume, Wine, Women, and Song: Mediaeval Latin Students’ Songs (1884), is a translation of Goliard poetry, named after group of clergy and wandering scholars who, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, wrote satirical Latin poetry (the Carmina Burana being the most notable example); poem titles include “Wine and Venus,” “The Will of the Dying Ass,” and “Gaudeamus igitur”; the book also contains a thorough overview of medieval and Goliardic literature, especially speculations whether Golias, the scholars’ patron saint or hero, was a real person. Finally, there are several unpublished or privately printed pamphlets—Crocuses and Soldanellas, Lyra Viginti Chordarum, Genius Amoris Amari Visio, Love and Death: A Symphony, Fragilia Labilia, Tales of Ancient Greece, Rhaetica, and Midnight at Baiae: A Dream Fragment of Imperial Rome—which contain Symonds’ most explicit homoerotic outpourings.

homosexual readers; a rewriting of social myths of sickness, insanity, perversion, and universal effeminacy, without sacrificing the essentiality of difference” (p. 176). Plato, in particular, became Symonds’ patron saint: I went to bed and began to read my Cary’s Plato. It so happened that I stumbled on the Phaedrus. I read on and on, till I reached the end. Then I began the Symposium; and the sun was shining on the shrubs outside the ground-floor room in which I slept, before I shut the book up.ѧ Here in the Phaedrus and the Symposium—in the myth of the Soul and the speeches of Pausanias Agathon and Diotima—I discovered the true liber amoris at last, the revelation I had been waiting for, the consecration of a long-cherished idealism. (Memoirs, p. 99)

In 1873 Symonds wrote A Problem in Greek Ethics. Only ten copies were privately printed in 1883 and circulated among Symonds’ closest friends. Symonds first defines “Greek Love”: “a passionate and enthusiastic attachment subsisting between man and youth, recognised by society and protected by opinion, which, though it was not free from sensuality, did not degenerate into mere licentiousness” (p. 8). In his discussion of Greek love, Symonds stresses that a Greek erastes (lover) could have been married, had children, and was thoroughly masculine: “What the Greeks called paiderastia, or boy-love, was a phenomenon of one of the most brilliant periods of human culture, in one of the most highly organized and nobly active nations” (p. 1). It yielded numerous benefits: “paiderastia at Athens was closely associated with liberty, manly sports, severe studies, enthusiasm, self-sacrifice, self-control, and deeds of daring” (p. 44). He then mentions the Spartan model of the eispnelas (alternatively eispnelos), the man who “breathes” something into the boy, the aitas (the listener); educational values were transmitted by inhaling or kissing. Finally, Symonds speculates that the Dorians introduced the military aspects of pederasty during their migration to southern Greece, where they came into contact with the Phoenicians, who exposed them to a more refined form of sensuality yet wholly free from Oriental luxury. Two forms of pederasty resulted: “the one chivalrous

GREEK PROBLEMS

No world held a greater attraction than Greece: What is left for us modern men? We cannot be Greek now. Since the sixteenth century, what would Aphrodite Pandemos have been? The sculptors must have modelled her, white as leprosy, adorned with golden emerods. And the Spartan laws of comradeship, the Socratic doctrine of a noble life developed out of boy-love with philosophy, how would these show in the tents to Mrs. Grundy? (Memoirs, p. 169)

Remarkably, though, Symonds never reached Greece. Still, an imaginary voyage offered a place of erotic freedom or, according to Byrne Fone, “the construction of a positive identity for

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS and martial, which received a formal organisation in the Dorian states; the other sensual and lustful, which, though localised to some extent at Crete, pervaded the Greek cities like a vice” (pp. 30–31). Another reason for the rise of pederasty may have been the seclusion of women:

GREEK POETS

Studies of the Greek Poets, published in two volumes in 1873 and 1876, contains chapters on Greek literature, mythology, Achilles, women in Homer, Hesiod, Parmenides, Empedocles, gnomic poets (poets who embody gnomai, “sententious maxims on life and morals,” vol. 1, p. 236), the satirists, lyric poets, Pindar, Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, fragments of the three main Greek tragedians and of the lost tragic poets, ancient versus modern tragedy, Aristophanes, the comic fragments, Herondas (alternatively spelled Herodas, author of Alexandrine mimes or short dramatic interludes in prose), the idyllists, The Anthology (a collection of short poetry), the Hero and Leander story throughout the ages, and the genius of Greek art. Symonds revels in Greek sensuality:

There was less scope for the emergence of passionate enthusiasm between men and women, while the full conditions of a spiritual attachment, solely determined by reciprocal inclination, were only to be found in comradeship. In the wrestling-ground, at the common tables, in the ceremonies of religion, at the Pan-hellenic games, in the camp, in the hunting-field, on the benches of the council chamber, and beneath the porches of the Agora, men were all in all unto each other. (p. 63)

Next, Symonds discusses all the relevant sources of homoeroticism, such as famous couples (real and mythological): Achilles and Patroclus in Homer’s Iliad (though Homer does not explicitly call them lovers, later interpretations saw them that way), Theseus and Peirithous, Orestes and Pylades, Heracles and Iolaus, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Hadrian and Antinous, Alexander and Hephaistion; even the divine lovers Poseidon and Pelops, Zeus and Ganymede, Apollo and Hyacinth, Hypnos and Endymion. Symonds continues with lyric poetry (Theognis, Solon, Anacreon, Pindar); drama (all lost: Aeschylus’ Myrmidons, Sophocles’ Achilles’ Loves, and possibly Euripides’ Chrysippus); philosophy (Xenophon’s Symposium and Plato’s Symposium and Laws); and prose (Aeschines’ speech against Timarchus, Lucian’s Dialogue on Love, which later scholars do not attribute to Lucian, and Plutarch’s Eroticus). Symonds follows with an analysis of Greek art and lesbianism. Christianity, he concludes, transferred Platonic love to the female: “The Middle Ages proclaimed through chivalry the truth, then for the first time fully apprehended, that woman is the mediating and ennobling element in human life. Not in escape into the cloister, not in the self-abandonment to vice, but in the fellow-service of free men and women must be found the solution of social problems” (p. 73).

Like a young man newly come from the wrestlingground, anointed, chapleted and very calm, the Genius of the Greeks appears before us. Upon his soul there is as yet no burden of the world’s pain; the creation that groaneth and travaileth together has touched him with no sense of anguish, nor has he yet felt sin. The pride and the strength of adolescence are his—audacity and endurance, swift passions and exquisite sensibilities, the alternations of sublime repose and boyish noise, grace, pliancy, and stubbornness and power, love of all fair things and radiant in the world, the frank enjoyment of the open air, free merriment, and melancholy well beloved. (vol. 2, p. 384)

Christianity imbued carnal desire with sin and beauty with sensuality, hence the well-known Victorian dichotomy, expressed most forcefully by Matthew Arnold, of Hebraism versus Hellenism. In the chapter “The Genius of Greek Art,” Symonds had lamented: After all, the separation between the Greeks and us is due to something outside us rather than within— principally to the Hebraistic culture we receive in childhood. We are taught to think that one form of religion contains the whole truth, and that one way of feeling is right, to the exclusion of the humanities and sympathies of races no less beloved of God and no less kindred to ourselves than were the Jews. At the same time the literature of the Greeks has for the last three centuries formed the basis of our education; their thoughts and sentiments, enclosed

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS inventions such as the compass, telescope, printing press, and gunpowder. In “Italian History,” Symonds pays attention to the growth of communes and why Italy failed to achieve unity; he also considers the vast influence of the papacy on Italian politics. In “The Age of the Despots,” Symonds points out how the despots pacified the country and thus paved the way for a flourishing of the arts, for even the most perfidious tyrants felt the sacred thirst for knowledge; the five great powers on the eve of the Renaissance were the Duchy of Milan, the Republic of Saint Mark, Florence, Rome, and the kingdom of Naples. In “The Republics,” Symonds turns to the new rights of citizens, especially in Venice, with a “wise” system of government, which spared the city much of the civil strife prevalent in Florence. In “The Florentine Historians,” we read how Florence contributed to intellectual life and achieved sophistication. Next, Symonds analyzes Machiavelli’s The Prince and praises the author for his cynical yet sincere theory, which was consistent with morality at that time; Machiavelli basically proposes a theory of government in which statecraft and morality are separated, where force and fraud are recognized as legitimate means to attain political ends and which presuppose the baseness of mankind. In “The Popes of the Renaissance,” Symonds traces increasing worldliness while the papacy itself was revered by the people: “Yet the Pope is still a holy being. His foot is kissed by thousands. His curse and blessing carry death and life. He rises from the bed of harlots to unlock the gates of heaven and purgatory” (p. 373); a period of nepotism and profligacy ensued, but once again the arts flourished. According to “The Church and Morality,” despite the corruption of the Church, the Reformation never took off in Italy, for morality and religion were divorced. Symonds concludes with two biographies. The first is of Girolamo Savonarola, the Italian religious and political reformer, who rightly predicted the advent of the French under Charles VIII to Florence and who was hanged and burned for heresy in 1498. Often seen a precursor of Martin Luther, Savonarola was convinced of the wickedness of the world and preached an imminent apocalypse;

like precious perfumes in sealed vases, spread themselves abroad and steep the soul in honeysweet aromas. Some will always be found, under the conditions of this double culture, to whom Greece is a lost fatherland, and who, passing through youth with the mal du pays of that irrecoverable land upon them, may be compared to visionaries, spending the nights in golden dreams and the days in common duties.ѧ We must imitate the Greeks, not by trying to reproduce their models of life and feeling, but by approximating to their free and fearless attitude of mind. (vol. 2, pp. 408–409)

Symonds’ ruminations were positively heretical in Victorian England and provoked a vicious review by Richard St. John Tyrwhitt (rector of St. Mary Magdalene, Oxford), “The Greek Spirit in Modern Literature,” in the Contemporary Review (March 1877), complaining of Symonds’ supposed immorality and “unnatural practices” between men. ITALIAN RENAISSANCE

Symonds’ monumental achievement, The Renaissance in Italy, was published in five parts and seven volumes from 1875 to 1886. John Hale explains Symonds’ choice of period: “The Renaissance, then, was a period in which Symonds, detaching himself from the present as best he could, found the whole lives, the vivid contrasts, the self-reliant individuals he admired, the greatest promise given modern man enacted in the country he most loved” (p. 139). At the same time, according to Richard Titlebaum, Symonds was clearly a child of the Darwinian age: “Not God, not sin, not retribution, but progress, evolution, and secularism are the triple pillars that support the edifice of Symonds’s conception of the Renaissance” (p. 88). In part 1, The Age of the Despots (1875), Symonds dates the epoch from 1453 (the fall of Constantinople) to 1527 (the sack of Rome), but to understand the Renaissance one must go back much farther. In the chapter “The Spirit of the Renaissance,” Symonds discusses the emancipation of reason, the attainment of self-conscious freedom, and the discovery of man and of the world—thanks in part to literary precursors such as Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio and to great

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS an avid student of Thomas Aquinas, he knew the Old and New Testaments by heart. The second biography is of the French king Charles VIII, who had inherited a tenuous claim to the kingdom of Naples, invaded Italy, and was crowned king, but quickly lost the overall war and was defeated at Fornovo in 1495. Five appendices contain essays on the “blood-madness” of tyrants and religious revivals in medieval Italy, plus supporting translations. Part 2, The Revival of Learning (1877), begins with “The Men of the Renaissance,” where Symonds outlines the foundation of conscious personality in Italy and goes on to note that, despite a lack of national architecture and drama, Italy excelled in sculpture, painting, and literature. Symonds traces the conflict between humanism and medievalism and holds up some of the greatest personalities of the Renaissance— Petrarch, Copernicus, Columbus. He posits that, through contact with Islam in the south and east, diplomatic relations with Turkey, friendships with Northern Africans in Spain, and commerce with Germanic peoples, Italians had been exposed to other cultures and therefore grew tolerant. Two chapters, both entitled “First Period of Humanism,” discuss medieval romance and the legend of Doctor Faustus, a fascinating yet dangerous body of literature that, Symonds conjectures, may lead one to sell one’s soul to the devil. He describes how a renewed interest in Virgil (who, in the Dark Ages, was supposed to have been “friends” with Homer) was coupled with an increase in Greek learning, thanks to the influence of Boccaccio; and how important universities, especially Bologna, spread methods of humanist teaching. Finally, Symonds asks: What is humanism?

Two chapters, both entitled “Second Period of Humanism,” sketch patronage in Florence under the Medicis and the study of Plato and Aristotle at the Florentine Academy, which taught canon and civil law, medicine, theology, rhetoric, philosophy, and astronomy; southern Italy, meanwhile, was mainly a cultural wasteland. “Third Period of Humanism” records an improvement in taste and criticism through coteries and academies, plus Marsilio Ficino’s erudition. “Fourth Period of Humanism” records the fall of the humanists, with scholarship permeating society and thus becoming more “democratic”; the period’s increasing moral corruption and growing ecclesiastical influence culminated in the intellectual supremacy of Rome rather than Florence. In “Latin Poetry,” Symonds describes the resuscitation of classical learning; since Italy possessed no common dialect or vernacular, Latin was the lingua franca, which, scholars hoped, would never cease as the language of culture. In his “Conclusion,” Symonds laments the end of the Renaissance in Italy: “enslaved and decadent, outstripped by the nations she had taught, and scorned by the world that owed her veneration” (p. 510), the humanists became like the sophists in classical Athens, who substituted semblance for reality; another fault was their paganism, which was untempered by Greek self-restraint or Roman patriotism. Part 3, The Fine Arts (1877), ranges from medieval Christian art to its culmination in classical learning. Symonds claims that every important building, statue, or picture he describes he saw for real, often after repeated journeys to Italy. In “The Problem of the Fine Arts,” he asks how figurative art, which is essentially corporeal, can express Christian ideas; since God, unlike Greek anthropomorphism, is symbolic, he cannot be represented. At the same time, Symonds argues, plastic art needed to become more emotional for the intensity of the modern mind, hence the dominance of painting (perfected by music) in the Italian Renaissance. In “Architecture,” he begins with medieval architecture in Milan, Genoa, and Venice and distinguishes various styles: Lombard (northern or alpine Italy, with its bell towers, or campanili), Tuscan/Romanesque

The essence of humanism consisted in a new and vital perception of the dignity of man as a rational being apart from theological determinations, and in the further perception that classic literature alone displayed human nature in the plenitude of intellectual and moral freedom. It was partly a reaction against ecclesiastical despotism, partly an attempt to find the point of unity for all that had been thought and done by man, within the mind restored to consciousness of its own sovereign faculty. (pp. 71–72)

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS (such as the cathedral of Pisa), and Gothic (Our Lady in Milan). When Symonds gets to the convoluted genesis of Saint Peter’s Basilica, he notes that one of the problems builders faced was their sketchy knowledge of Greek architecture, and the Roman ruins of theaters, baths, and triumphal arches did not lend themselves as blueprints for churches. In “Sculpture,” Symonds surveys the tomb of Pope Benedict XI at Perugia and bas-reliefs at Orvieto, and, while enumerating many minor sculptors, focuses on the grand master Donatello. Four chapters on painting follow. Frescoes at Assisi and Padua depict the legend of St. Francis, but eventually medieval art was exhausted. Giotto expressed ideas of the Middle Ages but anticipated the Renaissance by painting upon walls. More daring and playful artists eventually took over, perfecting the articulation of the human body: Lippo Lippi (immortalized in Robert Browning’s poem) and Sandro Botticelli, especially his The Birth of Venus. Then comes the golden age: Leonardo da Vinci, the magician of the Renaissance, both artist and scientist, lover of the grotesque and bizarre, creator of the masterpiece The Last Supper. Other giants include Raphael and his The School of Athens and Michael Angelo (alternatively Michelangelo). Symonds writes of one figure in the Sistine Chapel:

where he worked for Henry VIII and Francis I; like the statesman Machiavelli, the craftsman Cellini recognized no authority but individual will, eschewing conscience and remorse; he thus epitomizes the dissolution of the Renaissance. “The Epigoni” chronicles the decline of painting. Here Symonds invokes Andrea del Sarto (dubbed the “faultless painter,” but because he was perfect, he lacked inspiration and thus failed) and goes on to detail how it was the CounterReformation, finally, that extinguished the Renaissance impulse. The volume ends with appendices on the pulpits of Pisa and Ravello, Michael Angelo’s sonnets, and chronological tables; it also contains several illustrations. Part 4, Italian Literature (1881), comprises two volumes. In volume 1, Symonds makes the bold claim that “literature must always prove the surest guide to the investigator of a people’s character at some decisive epoch” (pp. v–vi). “The Origins” demonstrates how the Italian language was slow in overcoming Latin; Italy did not practice feudalism, and this, coupled with a lack of national legends and great pride for the Roman past, was the reason chivalry never took off. But there were Gallic influences: French chansons de geste, Arthurian romances, and Provençal lyrics, which peaked in Sicily, passed upward along the peninsula and were adapted to Tuscan texts. “The Triumvirate” analyzes Guido Cavalcanti’s poetry, Dante’s New Life and Divine Comedy, Petrarch’s lyrics, and Boccaccio’s Decameron as the precursors of the Renaissance. “The Transition” considers the rising national element of the quattrocento (fifteenth century), various lyrics of the piazza and the villa, political poetry of the Guelfs and Ghibbelines, and terza rima (a three-line stanza using chain rhyme). According to “Popular Secular Poetry,” even though the Italian language was despised by the learned, Italian poetry is unique in its exchange between the sophisticated classes and the lower echelons and hence embodies a truly national spirit; Dante’s characters, for example, are known by heart throughout the peninsula, while poets have borrowed subjects from the people of all walks of life. “Popular Religious Poetry” records moments of fanaticism, such as the spiritual ecstasy

It is a woman of gigantic stature in the act of toiling upwards from the tomb. Grave-clothes impede the motion of her body: they shroud her eyes and gather round her chest. Part only of her face and throat is visible, where may be read a look of blank bewilderment and stupefaction, a struggle with death’s slumber in obedience to some inner impulse. Yet she is rising slowly, half awake, and scarcely conscious, to await a doom still undetermined. Thus Michael Angelo interpreted the meaning of his age. (p. 346)

Venice was a special case, for the city was independent of the Holy See, peaceful in domestic politics, free of war, rich with luxury, and inhabited by merchants who were also princes; the Ducal Palace thus became the star-chamber of Renaissance art for Tintoretto, Titian, and Veronese. Symonds continues with two biographies, Michael Angelo and Benvenuto Cellini. Cellini lived at the courts of London and Paris,

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS fort after formal purity, no less minute observance of rules, than if it had been a dead language. At the same time, as a consequence of this system, the vices of the humanistic style—its tendency to servile imitation, emptiness, rhetorical verbosity, and preference of form to matter—were imported into the vernacular literature” (p. 247). “Burlesque Poetry and Satire” singles out macaroni poetry: “As maccaroni is dressed with cheese and butter, so the maccaronic poet mixed colloquial expressions of the people with classical Latin, serving up a dish that satisfied the appetite by rarity and richness of concoction” (p. 327). The chapter on Pietro Aretino presents an unflattering estimate: “Base in character, coarse in mental fiber, unworthy to rank among real artists, notwithstanding his undoubted genius, Aretino was the typical ruffian of an age which brought ruffianism to perfection, welcomed it when successful, bowed to its insolence, and viewed it with complacent toleration in the highest places of Church, State, and letters” (p. 383), yet he excelled through his originality. “History and Philosophy” looks at the frivolity of some Renaissance literature and contrasts it with Machiavelli’s sobriety; Symonds also takes into account the Fifth Lateran Council (1512–1517) and the Church’s attempt to stifle philosophy. Last but not least, he chronicles the main intellectual movement of the Renaissance:

of the flagellants (Christian pilgrims who mortify their flesh by extreme whipping), which turned out to be the origin of the theater, with passion plays, legends of saints, and other biblical subjects. Next comes an appreciation of Lorenzo de’ Medici, the patron of the cinquecento (sixteenth century), and an outline of the three prominent phases of Renaissance culture in Italy: firstly, serene, self-satisfied, triumphant art, glorying in the beauty of form for form’s sake, and aiming at perfection in style of sunny and delightful loveliness; secondly, profound scientific analysis, taking society for its object, dissecting human history and institutions without prejudice or prepossession, unqualified by religious and ethical principles, pushing its logical method to the utmost verge of audacity, and startling the world with terror by the results of its materialistic philosophy; thirdly, moral corruption unabashed and unrestrained, destitute of shame because devoid of conscience, boldly asserting itself and claiming to rule society with cynical effrontery. (p. 363)

The true peak was reached when the division between popular and humanistic texts, between Tuscan and Latin, was abolished in favor of Italian literature. Then Symonds looks at the poets Luigi Pulci and Matteo Maria Boiardo, romantic epic, Carolingian subjects, and the myth of Roland. He ends with an evaluation of Ludovico Ariosto’s life and his Orlando Furioso. Appendices on Italian heroic verse, some sonnets, and translations conclude volume 1. In volume 2, Symonds terms Orlando the epic of the Renaissance. “The Novellieri” looks at Boccaccio’s legacy, social conditions of literature in Italy, and the novella (a short story or anecdote often recited orally and suited to middle-class tastes, primarily for entertainment rather than instruction). “The Drama” notes that Italy has no national drama; ironically, the tragic material of Italian history was used by English playwrights. There were, however, performances and adaptations of Latin comedies by Plautus and Terence, in both Latin and Italian. “Pastoral and Didactic Poetry” considers idylls, mostly based on Virgil and Theocritus, and rustic romances and pastoral. According to “The Purists,” prejudice against the mother tongue was widespread: “Italian was written with no less ef-

The first is an abrupt breach with scholasticism. The whole method of philosophy has been changed, and the canon of authority has altered. The second is the acquisition of classical thought, and the endeavor, especially at Florence, among the Platonists, to appropriate it and adapt it to Christianity. The third is the introduction of a new problem into philosophical discussion. How to make the best of human life, is substituted for the question how to insure salvation in the world beyond the grave. (p. 457)

The “Conclusion” argues that the Renaissance cannot be imitated. In a Hegelian vein, Symonds sees the Renaissance in the great chain of dialectical materialism: feudalism, Renaissance, Reformation, revolution. Symonds appends Italian comic prologues and translations; an exhaustive index covers all five volumes. Originally Sy-

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS monds had intended to end his study here, but later he found it necessary to follow up. Part 5, The Catholic Reaction (2 vols., 1886), covers the fifteenth- and early-sixteenth-century reactionary Catholic Revival. “The Spanish Hegemony” points out how the wars between France and Spain reduced to servitude the Italian states, which culminated in the loss of national independence when, at Bologna in 1530, Charles V was crowned king of Italy and Holy Roman Emperor. “The Papacy and the Tridentine Council” discusses the Counter-Reformation and Council at Trent, which convened three times between 1542 and 1563 in modern Trento; the council reaffirmed Catholic dogma, made reconciliation with Protestants irrevocable, and rendered papal supremacy incontestable: “At no previous period in the history of the Church had so wide, so undefined, and so unlimited an authority been accorded to the See of Rome” (p. 131). “The Inquisition and the Index” surveys the infamous Index Librorum Prohibitorum, which included not only censorship but also correction and purgation of nonconformist texts: “Exception is made in favor of the classics, on account of their style; with the proviso that they are on no account to be given to boys to read” (p. 200). “The Company of Jesus” describes the Jesuits and their founder Ignatius of Loyola, who preached the virtue of obedience; Symonds passes a crushing verdict on the Inquisition and the Jesuits:

age, piracy, and the plague; Symonds considers in detail the Cenci family—subject of Shelley’s drama The Cenci—and some professional murderers’ own points of view. Volume 2 contains chapters on Torquato Tasso and his masterpiece Jerusalem Liberated, various other Italian notables of that time, the composer Palestrina and church music, and painting. In conclusion, Symonds sees four seminal events since the birth of Christ: the fall of Greco-Roman civilization, the triumph of Christianity, the invasion of Teutonic and Slavic tribes, and the Renaissance/Reformation. Protestantism, Symonds argues, “has never been more than a half-way house or halting-place between Catholicism and what may variously be described as free thought or science or rationalism” (p. 401). An index for The Catholic Reaction comes at the end.

MODERN PROBLEMS

In 1891 only fifty copies were privately printed of A Problem in Modern Ethics, Symonds’ endeavor at the decriminalization and depathologization of homosexuality. He starts out with the books he consulted: Edward Gibbon’s History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776), Moritz Hermann Eduard Meier’s encyclopedia article “Päderastie” (1837; Pederasty), Julius Rosenbaum’s Geschichte der Lustseuche im Alterthume (1839; History of the Plague of Lust), Ambroise Tardieu’s Les Attentats aux moeurs (1857; Offenses Against Public Decency), Adolf Bastian’s Der Mensch in der Geschichte (1860; Man in History), Karl Westphal’s “Die conträre Sexualempfindung” (1869; Contrary Sexual Feeling), Cesare Lombroso’s L’uomo delinquente (1876; Criminal Man), Paul Moreau’s Des aberrations du sens génésique (1880; Aberrations of the Sexual Instinct), Richard Burton’s The Arabian Nights (1885), Benjamin Tarnowsky’s Die krankhaften Erscheinungen des Geschlechtssinnes (1886; Morbid Manifestations of the Sexual Instinct), Richard von Krafft-Ebing’s Psychopathia Sexualis (1886), Paolo Mantegazza’s Gli amori degli uomini (1886; Sexual Relations of Mankind), Félix Carlier’s

The one worked by extirpation and forcible repression; the other by mental enfeeblement and moral corruption. The one used fire, torture, imprisonment, confiscation of goods, the proscription of learning, the destruction or emasculation of books. The other employed subtle means to fill the vacuum thus created with spurious erudition, sophistries, casuistical abominations and false doctrines profitable to the Papal absolutism. Opposed in temper and in method, the one fierce and rigid, the other saccharine and pliant, these two bad angels of Rome contributed in almost equal measure to the triumph of Catholicism. (p. 160)

The two chapters “Social and Domestic Morals” chronicle some “domestic tragedies,” such as private crimes, savage criminal justice, brigand-

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Les deux prostitutions (1887; The Two Prostitutions), Johann Ludwig Casper and Carl Liman’s Handbuch der gerichtlichen Medicin (1889; Handbook of Forensic Medicine), plus various works by Karl Heinrich Ulrichs (pseudonym Numa Numantius), Walt Whitman, and others. Symonds then engages with these fascinating yet long-forgotten works in the chapters “Literature: Pornographic and Descriptive,” “Literature: Medico-Forensic,” “Literature: Medico-Psychological,” “Literature: Historical and Anthropological,” “Literature: Polemical,” and “Literature: Idealistic.” In his introduction, Symonds is put on the defensive, for he is now addressing the homophobic present. The chapter “Christian Opinion from the Age of Justinian” chronicles the decline of Greek love and rise of Christianity with its new morality. In “Vulgar Errors,” Symonds dismisses various mistakes: “It is the common belief that all subjects of inversion have originally loved women, but that, through monstrous debauchery and superfluity of naughtiness, tiring of normal pleasure, they have wilfully turned their appetites into other channels” (pp. 10–11). Another misconception arises from “the common belief that a male who loves his own sex must be despicable, degraded, vicious, and incapable of humane or generous sentiments” (p. 11). Another error pertains to the conflation of homosexuality with anal intercourse and resultant disease; many gay men do feel sick, but for totally contrary reasons: “under the prevalent laws and hostilities of modern society, the inverted passion has to be indulged furtively, spasmodically, hysterically [and] the repression of it through fear and shame frequently leads to habits of self-abuse” (p. 13). Too, many believe that underage boys are liable to corruption, but, as Symonds claims, teenage girls are much more exposed to danger. Finally, Symonds dismisses stereotypes that seem still apposite in our time: “All subjects from inverted instincts carry their lusts written in their faces ѧ pale, languid, scented, effeminate, painted, timid, oblique in expression” (pp. 14–15). Instead, homosexuals

bench, the throne, the chair of the professor; under the blouse of the workman, the cassock of the priest, the epaulettes of the officer, the smock-frock of the ploughman, the wig of the barrister, the mantle of the peer, the costume of the actor, the tights of the athlete, the gown of the academician. (p. 12)

Symonds ends with “Suggestions on the Subject of Sexual Inversion in Relation to Law and Education,” where he attempts to abolish the infamous Labouchere amendment about public or private acts of “gross indecency” between two males (which arose in the wake of sundry homosexual scandals in the 1880s), under which Oscar Wilde was tried a few years later and sentenced to two years in prison with hard labor.

MICHELANGELO

In 1878 Symonds published a frank translation of Michelangelo’s sonnets. Michelangelo the Younger had bowdlerized and heterosexualized his grand-uncle’s text in 1623; it was not until 1863 that the accurate Guasti edition appeared in Italian. In his introduction, Symonds points out Michelangelo’s “admiration of masculine beauty,” while at the same time claiming—rather absurdly—that “a woman is generally intended under the title of ‘Signore’ and ‘amico’” (p. 6, footnote). Typical of his reticence in all matters (homo)sexual, Symonds is hedging his bets. However, for the first time in English, Michelangelo’s sonnets to his beloved Tommaso de’ Cavalieri now appeared in their authentic, male-male, form. Symonds also added short titles to the poems. In preparation for his two-volume biography of Michelangelo (1893), Symonds traveled to Italy to experience firsthand Michelangelo’s paintings, architecture, and sculpture. During research in the long-closed Buonarroti archives, he discovered that earlier scholars had distorted or suppressed Michelangelo’s letters (such as redirecting letters addressed to a man to a woman), all but erasing the great artist’s homoerotic proclivities. In chapter 12, Symonds sets out to debunk Michelangelo’s attachment to Vittoria Colonna and emphasizes Michelangelo’s

may be met with every day in drawing-rooms, lawcourts, banks, universities, mess-rooms; on the

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS passionate desire for Cavalieri and other men, quoting copiously from letters, poems, and other material and evoking the example of Shakespeare’s love for the mysterious Mr. W.H. Throughout the biography, Symonds refers to the artist’s feelings for “male beauty” or the “masculine ideal”; some of Michelangelo’s female statues are even blatantly muscular. Testifying to the longevity of Symonds’ biography, the edition was reissued in 2002 by the University of Pennsylvania Press; it also reproduces Symonds’ many illustrations.

a love which yearns in absence, droops under the sense of neglect, revives at the return of the beloved; a love that finds honest delight in handtouch, meeting lips, hours of privacy, close personal contact. He proclaims this love to be not only a daily fact in the present, but also a saving and ennobling aspiration. (pp. 81–82)

Symonds ends Whitman with a tearful confession: Through him, I stripped my soul of social prejudices. Through him, I have been able to fraternise in comradeship with men of all classes and several races, irrespective of their caste, creed, occupation, and special training. To him I owe some of the best friends I now can claim—sons of the soil, hard workers, “natural and nonchalant,” “powerful uneducated” persons.

WALT WHITMAN

Walt Whitman: A Study (1893) covers chapters on biography, the difficulty of critical method with regard to Whitman, and analyses of Whitman’s religion, personality, love and sex between men and women (“amativeness”), love between men (“adhesiveness”), democracy, and poetry. Whitman, who practiced the creed of “America, Self, Sex, the People” (p. 15), regarded democracy “not merely as a political phenomenon, but far more as a form of religious enthusiasm” (p. 95). Symonds was an avid reader of Whitman’s poetry and heavily annotated the 1860 edition of Leaves of Grass. In chapter 5 of his study, “The Love of Comrades,” Symonds quotes from the Calamus section. Once again, his typically hesitating inquiry mars some of Symonds’ ideas: “an impartial critic will [infer] that what he calls the ‘adhesiveness’ of comradeship is meant to have no interblending with the ‘amativeness’ of sexual love,” but he is not really convinced: “Had I not the strongest proof in Whitman’s private correspondence with myself that he repudiated any such deductions from his ‘Calamus,’ I admit that I should have regarded them as justified; and I am not certain whether his own feelings upon this delicate topic may not have altered since the time when ‘Calamus’ was first composed” (pp. 74–76). Only at the end of the chapter does Symonds finally speak out:

(pp. 159–160)

MEDICINE

In 1891 Havelock Ellis inquired Symonds about “Greek love” in modern life. Ellis was a medical doctor, social reformer, and sexual psychologist, who turned to Symonds because of his classical background. Even though the two never met and only corresponded via mail, they coauthored Sexual Inversion, with Symonds posthumously contributing the literary and historical parts of the study. The book appeared in 1896 in Germany as Das konträre Geschlechtsgefühl (the book fell under the Obscene Publications Act) and one year later in England, with Symonds’ name listed on the cover. In the German edition, Symonds’ A Problem in Greek Ethics appeared as chapter 3. In the English edition, Symonds’ contribution was relegated to an appendix. Then, due to the insistence of Symonds’ literary executor Horatio Brown, who was appalled by the book’s frankness and tried to buy up the entire supply of the first edition, Symonds’ name was excised from the second printing; instead, he appears as “Z” and “indebted friend” of Ellis, plus the Problem essay was deleted entirely. (In 1898, the second edition was confiscated by the police and banned after George Bedborough was taken to court for selling it to an undercover detective and found guilty at the Old Bailey of obscene libel.)

Whitman recognises among the sacred emotions and social virtues, destined to regenerate political life and to cement nations, an intense, jealous, throbbing, sensitive, expectant love of man for man:

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Subsequent editions, now with the title Studies in the Psychology of Sex, never listed Symonds’ name; any signs of their collaboration have been effaced. As Wayne Koestenbaum posits, Ellis had performed “a symbolic castration on his dead collaborator” (p. 51). Still, Sexual Inversion became an important reference point in later literature, symptomatic of the doctor having replaced the lawyer or the priest as the agent of moral conduct. Ellis was the first to treat homosexuality with clinical objectivity and concluded that in some cases homosexuality is both inborn and inherited, due to a peculiarity or disturbance in either the sperm or in the oval elements, or in their mingling. Crucially, too, Ellis contended that homosexuality is not a disease; as a result, he was especially dubious about the efforts to “cure” the truly inverted by advising marriage.

year-old Venetian facchino (workman), Augusto, and his beauty against various colors, which inspired Symonds to compose a fantasy of “blues and blouses” (p. 4). Other chapters are devoted to an appreciation of the beauty of the Euganean Hills, an altarpiece by the Venetian painter Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Emile Zola’s La bête humaine, medieval Norman songs, a Somersetshire home (Sutton Court), the meaning and uses of culture, John Fletcher’s tragedy Valentinian, the lyricism of the romantic drama, and lyrics from Elizabethan songbooks. In “The Dantesque and Platonic Ideals of Love,” Symonds compares Platonic love and Dantean adultery, both of which are “extra-nuptial and anti-matrimonial” (p. 75). “Edward Cracroft Lefroy” covers a biography of a homosexual writer and advocate of “muscular Christianity” who died young: His sympathy with youthful strength and beauty, his keen interest in boyish games and the athletic sports of young men, seem to have kept his nature always fresh and wholesome. These qualities were connected in a remarkable way with Hellenic instincts and an almost pagan delight in nature. But Lefroy’s temperament assimilated from the Christian and the Greek ideals only what is really admirable in both: discarding the asceticism of the one and the sensuousness of the other.

ESSAYS

In Shakespeare’s Predecessors in the English Drama (1884), Symonds follows the political theorist Herbert Spencer’s evolutionary theory, proposing that the poets before Shakespeare paved the way for the great bard, followed by an inevitable decline, but because the book is mainly a collection of lectures, it remains incoherent and has been dismissed as Symonds’ least successful publication. The two volumes of Essays, Speculative and Suggestive (1890) reveal Symonds’ interest in evolution, its applicability to art and literature, general principles of criticism, art and morality, art and democracy, art and music, and style. In his art criticism, as Whitney Davis has studied, Symonds attempted

(pp. 89–90)

“Clifton and a Lad’s Love” is a first-person narrative, à la William Wordsworth’s visit to Tintern Abbey, about powerful associations that a place conjures up about love (once again, for female pronouns, read male ones).

MEMORIES

to orient the traditional “idealism” of Winckelmannian aesthetics towards a “realism” more appropriate to contemporary experience. At the same time, he tried to accommodate the paradox that no “real” and morally satisfying homoeroticism actually existed at the present time and therefore only its ideal representation could suffice. Symonds had a special interest in images that had been produced, as he saw it, in a specifically homoerotic history.

Symonds kept diaries during his life, which he put into an autobiography. After Symonds’ death, the manuscript was given to the London Library with a fifty-year embargo and remained under lock and key until the 1980s, when Phyllis Grosskurth published it in part: “The manuscript is a lengthy document, far too long to make its publication in entirety practicable. Consequently, I have cut roughly one-fifth of the text—not to the detriment of the original, I believe. The omitted passages are confined mainly to Symonds’s

(p. 188)

In the title essay of In the Key of Blue (1893), Symonds describes his journey with a nineteen-

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS execrable poetry and to self-conscious nature descriptions quoted from his own letters” (p. 11). Sarah Heidt later showed that Grosskurth actually omitted one-third rather than one-fifth and that her editorial principles lack consistency. The Memoirs of John Addington Symonds is divided into three parts: childhood, boyhood, and adolescence; early manhood and formation of character; and maturity. As a young boy, Symonds’ favorite story was Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale of the ugly duckling. Deciding to pursue a literary career, Symonds sees himself in a great chain: his grandfather, father, and he himself correspond “to the succession of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, to the transition from early pointed Gothic to Decorated to Flamboyant architecture” (p. 56). In a long chapter on his literary evolution, Symonds gathers his intellectual qualities: “From nature I derived a considerable love of books, an active brain, a fairly extended curiosity, receptivity to ideas above the average, an aptitude for expression, sensibility to external objects in the world of things, and intense emotional susceptibility of a limited and rather superficial kind” (p. 215). In terms of his readings, he started out with the Elizabethan dramatists (Shakespeare’s predecessors, contemporaries, and successors), followed by an immersion in Whitman, Theocritus, Shelley, Wordsworth, Milton, Marlowe, Dante, and Sir Thomas Browne. At the same time, he never regarded literature as more than a diagoge, a pastime he never took too seriously. According to the chapter on religious thought, Symonds soon became a heretic: “having rejected dogmatic Christianity in all its forms, Broad Church Anglicanism, the gospel of Comte, Hegel’s superb identification of human thought with essential Being, and many minor nostrums offered in our time to sickening faith,” he became infatuated with Marcus Aurelius’ “cosmic enthusiasm” and fraternized with Cleanthes, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Walt Whitman, Charles Darwin, Baruch Spinoza, and Giordano Bruno (p. 247). Like his friend Edward Carpenter, he cherished

sion—ether and inorganic matter passing into plants and creatures of the sea and beasts, rising to men and women like myself, and onward from us progressing to the stages of lives unrealized by human reason—nothing but the naked, yet inebriating, vision of such a cosmos satisfied me as a possible object of worship. (p. 246)

Grosskurth’s volume terminates with Symonds’ case study (number 17) in Havelock Ellis’ Sexual Inversion and a number of letters. Symonds’ autobiography has attracted wide attention in the field of gay and lesbian studies. Symonds seems to identify with his sexual orientation well before homosexuality was “invented.” At the same time, as Paul Robinson contends, “He had so fully internalized the ideals of Victorian culture that the notion of sexual arousal in the beloved was positively distasteful to him. His boys seem never to have erections” (p. 20). Symonds never felt completely at ease with his sexuality.

LETTERS

Symonds had a wide circle of friends with whom he corresponded avidly: the classicist Benjamin Jowett; the writers Edward Carpenter, Algernon Swinburne, Robert Louis Stevenson and his wife Fanny Vandegrift Osbourne, Oscar Wilde and his lover Lord Alfred Douglas, Walt Whitman, Vernon Lee (pseudonym of Violet Paget); the philosopher Henry Sidgwick; the critics Arthur Symons and Edmund Gosse; the sexologists Havelock Ellis and Charles Kains-Jackson. Symonds’ letters have been collected in three volumes, 1844–1869, 1869–1884, and 1885– 1893; a fifty-page index helps locate specific references in this huge collection. (This edition now clearly supersedes the 1923 expurgated Letters and Papers of John Addington Symonds, edited by Horatio F. Brown.) Maybe Symonds’ most famous epistle is to Whitman (August 3, 1890), in which he wanted an answer to what exactly Whitman was depicting in his homoerotic poetry in Leaves of Grass:

nothing but the bare thought of a God-penetrated universe, and of myself as an essential part of it, together with all things that appear in their succes-

In your conception of Comradeship, do you contemplate the possible intrusion of those semi-sexual

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Symonds manuscripts was bequeathed to Edmund Gosse, who burned everything except the autobiography. In 1964 Phyllis Grosskurth published the first candid biography of Symonds; however, a more recent account can be found in the chapter “Friends Versus Friends” in Bart Schultz’s Henry Sidgwick (2004).

emotions and actions which no doubt do occur between men? I do not ask, whether you approve of them, or regard them as a necessary part of the relation? But I should much like to know whether you are prepared to leave them to the inclinations and the conscience of the individuals concerned? (vol. 3, p. 482; Symonds’ emphasis)

In his response of August 19, Whitman, after boasting of having fathered six illegitimate children (whom biographers have been unable to trace), angrily dismissed Symonds’ request as “gratuitous and quite at the time undreamed and unrecked possibility of morbid inferences—which are disavowed by me and seem damnable” (vol. 3, p. 493). Certain things are better left unsaid and Symonds should have known better.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Note: Unless indicated otherwise, if a reprint is given, citations in the text refer to that edition.

AFTERLIFE

STUDIES, ESSAYS,

After Symonds’ death, his friend and literary executor Horatio Brown published John Addington Symonds: A Biography, Compiled from His Papers and Correspondence (1895). Brown basically used vast excerpts from Symonds’ memoirs, which he supplemented with diaries, notebooks, and letters. Risqué passages, however, were ruthlessly expurgated and any mention of Symonds’ sexual orientation was carefully omitted, which was understandable at that time. According to Oliver Buckton, “One of the most important functions of the Oscar Wilde trials in 1895 would be to demonstrate that ostensibly ‘private’ texts, such as letters, along with published writings, could be used to incriminate the writer no less effectively than his sexual acts” (p. 62). Brown drops hints of a “rich, sensuous, artistic temperament” and “sweetness and affection,” but ludicrously he advocates that the “central” quality of Symonds’ nature was “religious” (p. xiv). Brown eventually destroyed many of Symonds’ papers. John Pemble, in Venice Rediscovered, laments that bonfire: “With the destruction of Brown’s archive were lost not only many details of Symonds’s life but a unique record of that network of homosexual relationships and sympathies whose existence, while so difficult to prove, is yet crucially significant in the history of Britain from the mid-Victorian age until the 1930s” (p. 68). After Brown’s death, what was left of the

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SKETCHES

An Introduction to the Study of Dante. London: Smith, Elder, 1872. Studies of the Greek Poets. Two series, London: Smith, Elder, 1873 and 1876; reprinted in one volume, New York and London: Harper & Brothers, 1900. Sketches in Italy and Greece. London: Smith, Elder, 1874. The Renaissance in Italy. 7 vols. London: Smith, Elder, 1875–1886; New York: Henry Holt, 1887–1888. Shelley. London: Macmillan, 1878. Sketches and Studies in Italy. London: Smith, Elder, 1879. Italian Byways. London: Smith, Elder, 1883. A Problem in Greek Ethics, Being an Inquiry into the Phenomenon of Sexual Inversion, Addressed Especially to Medical Psychologists and Jurists. Privately printed, 1883; reprinted London: no publisher [Leonard Smithers?], 1901. Shakespeare’s Predecessors in the English Drama. London: Smith, Elder, 1884. Sir Philip Sydney. London: Macmillan, 1886. Ben Jonson. English Worthies Series. London: Longmans, Green, 1886. Essays, Speculative and Suggestive. 2 vols. London: Chapman and Hall, 1890. A Problem in Modern Ethics, Being an Inquiry into the Phenomenon of Sexual Inversion, Addressed Especially to Medical Psychologists and Jurists. Privately printed, 1891; reprinted London: no publisher [Leonard Smithers?], 1896. The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti, Based on Studies in the Archives of the Buonarroti Family at Florence. 2 vols. London: John C. Nimmo, 1893; reprint (2 vols.), introduced and edited by Creighton E. Gilbert, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002.

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS The Letters of John Addington Symonds. Edited by Herbert M. Schueller and Robert L. Peters. 3 vols. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1967–1969.

In the Key of Blue and Other Prose Essays. London: Elkin Mathews & John Lane, 1893. Walt Whitman: A Study. London: John C. Nimmo, 1893. Giovanni Boccaccio As Man and Author. London: John C. Nimmo, 1895. Blank Verse. London: John C. Nimmo, 1895. With Havelock Ellis. Das konträre Geschlechtsgefühl. Translated by Dr. Hans Kurella. Leipzig: Georg H. Wigands Verlag, 1896. With Havelock Ellis. Sexual Inversion. London: Wilson and Macmillan, 1897. Male Love: A Problem in Greek Ethics and Other Writings. Edited by John Lauritsen. New York: Pagan Press, 1983. (Contains the full text of A Problem in Greek Ethics and excerpts from A Problem in Modern Ethics and Studies of the Greek Poets, plus three letters to Edward Carpenter.)

BIBLIOGRAPHIES Babington, Percy L. Bibliography of the Writings of John Addington Symonds. London: J. Castle, 1925; New York: Burt Franklin, 1968. Markgraf, Carl. “John Addington Symonds: An Annotated Bibliography of Writings About Him.” English Literature in Transition 18, no. 2:79–138 (1975). ———. “John Addington Symonds: Update of a Bibliography of Writings About Him.” English Literature in Transition 28, no. 1:59–78 (1985). Venables, Ian. “Appendix: Symonds’s Peccant Poetry.” In John Addington Symonds: Culture and the Demon Desire. Edited by John Pemble. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000. Pp. 178–185.

POETRY Many Moods: A Volume of Verse. London: Smith, Elder, 1878. New and Old: A Volume of Verse. London: Smith, Elder, 1880. Animi Figura. London: Smith, Elder, 1882. Vagabunduli Libellus. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, 1884. Gabriel: A Poem by John Addington Symonds, Now First Edited from the Original Manuscript. Edited by Robert L. Peters and Timothy d’Arch Smith. London: Michael de Hartington, 1974.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Ballam, J. D. “Renaissance Erotic in the Poetry of John Addington Symonds.” In “And Never Know the Joy”: Sex and the Erotic in English Poetry. Edited by C. C. Barfoot. Amsterdam, Netherlands: Rodopi, 2006. Pp. 273– 285. Binkley, Sam. “The Romantic Sexology of John Addington Symonds.” Journal of Homosexuality 40, no. 1: 79–103 (2000). Blanshard, Alastair. “Hellenic Fantasies: Aesthetics and Desire in John Addington Symonds’ A Problem in Greek Ethics.” Dialogos: Hellenic Studies Review 7:99–123 (2000).

MEMOIRS With Margaret Symonds. Our Life in the Swiss Highlands. London and Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black, 1892. The Memoirs of John Addington Symonds: The Secret Homosexual Life of a Leading Nineteenth-Century Man of Letters. Edited and introduced by Phyllis Grosskurth. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986.

TRANSLATIONS

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Booth, Howard J. “Male Sexuality, Religion and the Problem of Action: John Addington Symonds on Arthur Hugh Clough.” In Masculinity and Spirituality in Victorian Culture. Edited by Andrew Bradstock, Sean Gill, Anne Hogan, and Sue Morgan. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000. Pp. 116–133.

EDITIONS

The Sonnets of Michael Angelo Buonarroti and Tommaso Campanella. London: Smith, Elder, 1878. Wine, Women, and Song: Mediaeval Latin Students’ Songs. London: Chatto & Windus, 1884. The Life of Benvenuto Cellini. 2 vols. London: John C. Nimmo, 1888. (Alternative titles: The Life of Benvenuto Cellini [Written] by Himself, The Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini, and The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini.) The Memoirs of Count Carlo Gozzi. 2 vols. London: John C. Nimmo, 1890; reprint edited, revised, and abridged by Philip Horne, London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1962.

———. “Same-Sex Desire, Ethics and Double-Mindedness: The Correspondence of Henry Graham Dakyns, Henry Sidgwick and John Addington Symonds.” Journal of European Studies 32, nos. 2–3:283–301 (2002). Bristow, Joseph. Effeminate England: Homoerotic Writing After 1885. New York: Columbia University Press, 1995. ———. “Symonds’s History, Ellis’s Heredity: Sexual Inversion.” In Sexology in Culture: Labelling Bodies and Desires. Edited by Lucy Bland and Laura Doan. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Pp. 79–99. Brown, Horatio F. John Addington Symonds: A Biography, Compiled from His Papers and Correspondence. 2 vols. London: John C. Nimmo, 1895; 2d ed., 1 vol., London: Smith, Elder, 1903. Buckton, Oliver S. Secret Selves: Confession and Same-Sex

CORRESPONDENCE Letters and Papers of John Addington Symonds. Edited by Horatio F. Brown. London: John Murray; New York: Scribners, 1923.

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JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS Hammond, Paul. Love Between Men in English Literature. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996.

Desire in Victorian Autobiography. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998. Cady, Joseph. “’What Cannot Be’: John Addington Symonds’s Memoirs and Official Mapping of Victorian Homosexuality.” Victorian Newsletter 81:47–51 (spring 1992). Cohen, Ed. “The Double Lives of Man: Narration and Identification in the Late Nineteenth-Century Representation of Ec-centric Masculinities.” Victorian Studies 36, no. 3: 353–376 (1993). Croft-Cooke, Rupert. Feasting with Panthers: A New Consideration of Some Late Victorian Writers. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967. Dale, Peter Allan. “Beyond Humanism: J. A. Symonds and the Replotting of the Renaissance.” Clio 17, no. 2:109– 137 (1988). Da Silva, Stephen. “Papa, Postcards, Perfume, Phallic Keys: James, Symonds, and Late-Victorian Fictions of Homosexuality.” In Henry James Against the Aesthetic Movement: Essays on the Middle and Late Fiction. Edited by David Garrett Izzo and Daniel T. O’Hara. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland, 2006. Pp. 201–228. Davis, Whitney. “The Image in the Middle: John Addington Symonds and Homoerotic Art Criticism.” In After the Pre-Raphaelites: Art and Aestheticism in Victorian England. Edited by Elizabeth Prettejohn. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1999. Pp. 188–216. Dellamora, Richard, ed. Victorian Sexual Dissidence. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Dowling, Linda. Hellenism and Homosexuality in Victorian Oxford. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1994. Eribon, Didier. Insult and the Making of the Gay Self. Translated by Michael Lucey. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2004. Fone, Byrne R. S. A Road to Stonewall: Male Homosexuality and Homophobia in English and American Literature, 1750–1969. New York: Twayne, 1995. Fraser, Hilary. The Victorians and Renaissance Italy. Oxford: Blackwell, 1992. Grosskurth, Phyllis. The Woeful Victorian: A Biography of John Addington Symonds. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965. Hale, John. England and the Italian Renaissance: The Growth of Interest in Its History and Art. London: Faber & Faber, 1954; 4th ed., Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2005.

Heacox, Thomas L. “Idealized Through Greece: Hellenism and Homoeroticism in Works by Wilde, Symonds, Mann, and Forster.” Sexuality & Culture 8, no. 2:52–79 (spring 2004). Heidt, Sarah J. “‘Let JAS Words Stand’: Publishing John Addington Symonds’s Desires.” Victorian Studies 46, no. 1:7–31 (2003). Holmes, John. Dante Gabriel Rossetti and the Late Victorian Sonnet Sequence: Sexuality, Belief and the Self. Aldershot, U.K.: Ashgate, 2005. Jenkyns, Richard. The Victorians and Ancient Greece. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1980. Kaplan, Morris B. Sodom on the Thames: Sex, Love, and Scandal in Wilde Times. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2005. Koestenbaum, Wayne. Double Talk: The Erotics of Male Literary Collaboration. New York: Routledge, 1989. Law, John Easton. “John Addington Symonds and the Despots of Renaissance Italy.” In Victorian and Edwardian Responses to the Italian Renaissance. Edited by John E. Law and Lene Østermark-Johansen. Burlington, Vt.: Ashgate, 2005. Pp. 145–163. Pemble, John. Venice Rediscovered. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995. Pemble, John, ed. John Addington Symonds: Culture and the Demon Desire. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000. Peters, Robert L. “Athens and Troy: Notes on John Addington Symonds’ Aestheticism.” English Fiction in Transition 5, no. 5:14–26 (1962). Robinson, Paul. Gay Lives: Homosexual Autobiography from John Addington Symonds to Paul Monette. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Schultz, Bart. Henry Sidgwick, Eye of the Universe: An Intellectual Biography. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky. Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire. New York: Columbia University Press, 1985. Titlebaum, Richard. “John Addington Symonds as a Liberal Historian.” English Studies in Africa 18, no. 2:85–98 (1975).

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ARTHUR SYMONS (1865—1945)

Lydia Rainford to the Study of Browning, three years earlier— but others showed a markedly French influence, and it was Symons’ championing of symbolist and decadent poetics that was to define his literary reputation. Having moved to London, he joined the Rhymers’ Club, and fraternized with such other young poets as Ernest Dowson, Lionel Johnson, and William Butler Yeats who, like Symons, were eager to create a purer form of poetry, free from the burdens of materialism and morality. Symons published his definitive English analysis, “The Decadent Movement in Literature,” in Harper’s Magazine in 1893 (later revised and extended into a book, The Symbolist Movement in Literature) and his poetry in The Book of the Rhymers’ Club and the notorious The Yellow Book; and in 1896 he assumed editorship of the literary journal The Savoy. He traveled extensively in Europe, befriended Verlaine in Paris, and when in London, lived a life of moderate debauchery, pursuing dancers and actresses whom he reviewed in the popular press. His most famous volumes of poetry, Silhouettes (1892) and London Nights (1895), were inspired by the spirit of symbolist poetics and by his decadent life in London.

ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS was born in Milford Haven, Wales, on February 28, 1865, the son of the Reverend Mark Symonds, a Wesleyan minister, and of Lydia Pascoe Symons. His childhood was typical of a Victorian Nonconformist family, rather austere and steeped in religious teaching. They prayed morning and evening, attended church twice on Sundays, and prohibited the children from reading anything other than pious books. As Symons wrote later in “A Prelude to Life,” a fictionalized account of his early life, “We seemed to live in continual communication with the other world” (Collected Works, vol. 5, p. 12). The young Arthur seemed to have a greater sense of the “fear” than the “joy” of religion, and as he matured and went away to school he found his real passion was for literature. Urged on by his facility for learning languages, Symons broke away from the strictures of his childhood and began to read a vast array of European literature, developing particular enthusiasms for the work of Robert Browning, Algernon Charles Swinburne, D. G. Rossetti, George Meredith, and Walter Pater. He also discovered the work of the group of predominantly French poets––led by Paul Verlaine, Stéphane Mallarmé, and Arthur Rimbaud––who came to be known as the symbolists. Although Symons did not attend university, his talents as a translator and critic of poetry led him into a literary career. He published his first article, on Browning’s poetry, in 1882, at the age of seventeen, and gradually built up enough commissions to make a living. Symons’ first volume of poetry, Days and Nights, was well received in 1889. Many of the poems were indebted to Browning—Symons had published his first critical work, An Introduction

Symons met his future wife, Rhoda Bowser, a violinist studying at the Royal Academy of Music, in 1898, and after a fraught and doubtful courtship, they married in 1901. Their marriage endured until her death in 1936, but it was not particularly happy. Unsurprisingly, given Symons’ sexual reputation, Rhoda was always uncertain about his loyalty, while Symons lived in perpetual fear of losing her. Several of Symons’ friends, including W. B. Yeats, blamed marital troubles, alongside overwork, for Symons’ mental breakdown in 1908. The medical diagnosis of the time was “general paralysis,”

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ARTHUR SYMONS and after he had been rescued from Italy, where the madness struck, Symons was committed to an institution in East London. Though not expected to recover, he slowly regained lucidity over a period of two years. Yet he never regained his full critical faculties, and although he prolifically published articles, translations, and poems from the time of his recovery until his death, many of these pieces were revisions of earlier work. He died on January 22, 1945, at the age of seventy-nine.

translator of poetry and poetics and his involvement in literary groups in London, such as the Rhymers’ Club, that sought an aesthetic integrity equivalent to that of Verlaine and Mallarmé. Yeats summed up the mood and intention of the London literary scene in this period as a reaction to the content-laden precedents of “high” Victorian poetry: “Swinburne in one way, Browning in another, and Tennyson in a third, had filled their work with what I called ‘impurities,’ curiosities about politics, science, about history, about religion; and ѧ we must create once more the pure work” (Autobiographies, pp. 148–149).

LITERARY INFLUENCE AND REPUTATION

This envisioned return to “the pure work” meant a concentration on poetic form before anything else, and the pursuit of form as an expression and embodiment of experience. The most important English-speaking precedent for this enterprise was Walter Pater, whose Studies in the History of the Renaissance (1873) had defined the philosophy of the aesthetic doctrine. In the famous conclusion to this work, Pater described life as consisting of “unstable, flickering” impressions punctuated by fleeting moments of intense experience. Given their “awful brevity,” Pater exhorted pursuit of these moments, attempting to “maintain this ecstasy,” as the only “success in life.” Artistic endeavor was the surest route to this success: “Of such wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of art for art’s sake has most. For art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments’ sake” (p. 153).

The biggest problem facing any attempt to define Arthur Symons’ literary reputation is the variety of literary guises he assumed. He is best remembered as a critic and translator, but he also wrote poetry, drama, fiction, travel books, autobiographical pieces, and a psychological study of his own mental breakdown. The range of his endeavors, and the inevitable unevenness of their success, means he risked being remembered as something of a dilettante. An additional complication comes from the fact that Symons wrote at a time of swift literary transitions. So-called fin de siècle literature has come to be regarded as the “bridge” between the high-minded debates of the Victorian age and the radical experimentalism of high modernism; and although writers of this period could not have known the direction in which their culture was traveling, they seemed acutely conscious that they were confronting and embracing a significant change in aesthetic and moral outlook. Symons was such a central figure in the manifold attempts to define and describe these changes that in terms of literary history, he has come to be regarded as a cultural cipher––a mediator of other artists’ ideas––rather than an artist in his own right.

The pursuit of “art for art’s sake” (itself an echo of Théophile Gautier’s 1835 credo “L’Art pour L’Art”) became the goal that defined the writing of Symons and his friends, and it lay beneath the different guises—aestheticism, impressionism, decadence, symbolism–that poetry assumed throughout the 1890s. In spite of extended debates about the particular characteristics of these different “movements,” both at the time and in academic analyses since, all of them shared Pater’s aspiration to perceive and evoke moments of lived intensity. Whether in Yeats’s poems of the Celtic Twilight or in Dowson’s efforts to write “mere sound and music, with just a

THE SYMBOLIST MOVEMENT IN LITERATURE

Symons is best known for his critical work The Symbolist Movement in Literature (1899), which introduced the style and ideas of avant-garde continental writers to the English-speaking world. The book emerged from Symons’ work as a

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ARTHUR SYMONS today, interesting, beautiful, novel as it is, is really a new and beautiful and interesting disease” (ibid.). This description may seem out of kilter with the aspiration to fix the quintessence of things and achieve a perfection of form. However, in forging his characterization of decadence, Symons was picking up on several important features of the poetry: first, that the movement was forming its poetics as a specific reaction to what it regarded as the worn-out, “over-luxurious, over-inquiring” culture of the late nineteenth century (ibid., p. 73); second, that the concentration of these poets on perception and experience led to an exaggerated, even morbid sense of the fragility of these experiences; and third, that it led to disproportionate indulgence in sensation, which discounted the prevailing spiritual and moral climate.

suggestion of sense” (in Thornton, Poetry of the Nineties, p. 31), this meant rejecting the materiality (and morality) of conventional poetry for the sake of “true” form and feeling. Symons’ particular interpretation of these ideas was both clarified and complicated by his immersion in French poetry. His reputation as a poet was underpinned by his translations of Gautier, Charles Baudelaire, Villiers de L’IsleAdam, and Verlaine, and his meetings with Verlaine strengthened his conviction that the only path forward for English poetry was to follow the continental influence. Verlaine’s insistence on “la Nuance encor,” “to fix the last fine shade, the quintessence of things; to fix it fleetingly” (Symons, Selected Writings, p. 76), chimed perfectly with Symons’ literary ambitions, and not only did he develop his own poetic style in accord with this injunction, but he set about the detailed description and mediation of French poetics in English literary journals. The Symbolist Movement in Literature (1899) was the result, a revised and expanded version of his essay “The Decadent Movement in Literature,” which had been published six years earlier. As the change in title indicates, finding a term that encapsulated the styles and scope of this group of poets was difficult, and Symons himself commented that none of the names aligned with the new movement in European literature were “quite exact or comprehensive” (ibid., p. 72). In the first instance he chose the term “decadence” because it “broadly characterised” the sense or feeling that lay behind the impressionist and symbolist forms of the poetry he sought to describe. He specified this as “an intense selfconsciousness, a restless curiosity in research, an over-subtilizing refinement upon refinement, a spiritual and moral perversity” (ibid.).

Although Symons’ essay went on to discuss the formal and stylistic aspects of the movement’s poetry, his introductory diagnosis of the “new and beautiful and interesting disease” had more cultural resonance. Fairly quickly, the coterie of English poets who followed the poetic principles of impressionism and symbolism became known for their over-refinement, their tone of lassitude, and their devotion to sensual pleasures. Yeats expressed the prevailing sense of decline and fallenness in his description of the “Tragic Generation,” implying that the early deaths of contemporaries such as Ernest Dowson and Lionel Johnson were predestined because of their uncanny sensitivity to the waning of the world (Autobiographies, pp. 219–226). The idea of “decadence” was treated with less reverence in sections of the London press, where its poetic and philosophical foundations were largely ignored and the movement’s “moral perversity” was regarded as an outrage. The critical reception of The Yellow Book was a case in point. Its inclusion of authors as diverse as W. B. Yeats and Henry James, as well as such obvious decadent candidates as Lionel Johnson, Ernest Dowson, and Aubrey Beardsley, made it a definitive publication for fin de siècle writers. However, it was greeted with scandalized moralizing by the literary press and became representative of the debauched and depraved in modern society.

Symons related these characteristics to the Greek and Latin forms of decadence, but he stressed its novelty, claiming that it is “certainly not classic, nor has it any relation with that old antithesis of the Classic, the Romantic.” He continues, “If what we call classic is indeed the supreme art––those qualities of perfect simplicity, perfect sanity, perfect proportion, the supreme qualities––then this representative literature of

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ARTHUR SYMONS Indeed, by the time of the trials of Oscar Wilde in 1895, it was rumored that he was carrying a copy of The Yellow Book under his arm when he was arrested.

study of French writers and published it in book form in 1899, the title and apparent focus were altered: “The Decadent Movement in Literature” became The Symbolist Movement in Literature.

Symons did not escape the moral censure. His poem in the first issue of The Yellow Book (April 1894), “Stella Maris,” which confessed a sexual encounter with a prostitute, was picked out for particular condemnation. One critic asked, “Why should poetic art be employed to celebrate common fornication?” The subsequent publication of Symons’ London Nights in 1895 met with similar opprobrium. The review, entitled “Pah!” in the Pall Mall Gazette of September 2, 1895, commented disdainfully, “Mr Arthur Symons is a very dirty-minded man, and his mind is reflected in the puddle of his bad verses. It may be that there are other dirty-minded men who will rejoice in the jingle that records the squalid and inexpensive amours of Mr Symons, but our faith jumps to the hope that such men are not” (p. 4).

Symons was now dismissive of what he called the “half a mock-interlude” of decadence, which “diverted the critics while something more serious was in preparation” (p. 4). He still defies the popular moral compass of his time: symbolism is described as a “revolt against exteriority, against rhetoric, against a materialistic tradition,” a sideswipe at the leaden didacticism and elaborate decoration that for Symons typifies “acceptable” literature among the Victorian middleclasses. But gone are the references to decline and sickness, and in their place is an idealistic, semimystical vocabulary. Where decadence represented, simply, a “perversity of form,” symbolism represents a new “perfecting” of form. The aspirations of symbolism are to “eternal beauty” and “authentic speech” (pp. 4, 5). Symbolism regards literature as the means by which “the soul of things can be made visible”; it is akin to “a kind of religion, with all the duties and responsibilities of the sacred ritual” (p. 5).

Reactions such as this one provoked the aesthetes to defiant and defensive responses. On the one hand, they reasserted their belief that art should be free to treat any subject and be judged in its own terms. Yeats defended Symons’ poetic talents in his review of London Nights, and Symons himself put up a spirited defense in his preface to the second edition, accusing those who had condemned his book of “confusing moral and artistic judgments, and limiting art without aiding morality.” He declared, “I contend on behalf of the liberty of art, and I deny that morals may have any right of jurisdiction over it. Art may be served by morality, it can never be its servant” (Collected Works, vol. 1, pp. 165–166). On the other hand, there seemed to be a genuine fear that the serious aesthetic aims of this movement would be forgotten amidst the scandalous gossip of corrupted morals and depraved sexual behavior. This fear must have played into Symons’ decision to distance himself from the name, if not the beliefs, of decadence. When he assumed the editorship of The Savoy in 1896, his editor’s note insisted that this was not a publication intended to conform to one view, whether “Realist,” “Romanticist,” or “Decadent” (January 11, 1896), and when he extended his

Given the air of scandal surrounding “decadence,” it is difficult to know how to interpret this shift in tone and whether there was substance in Symons’ distinction between decadence and symbolism, beyond the change of name and the desire to resist possible trivialization of the movement. Certainly, except for the introduction, the content of The Symbolist Movement remains close to that of the earlier work and concentrates on the same group of writers. The distinction between the two works amounts to a question of emphasis. If the term “decadence” indicates a certain moral perversity and overly subtle concentration on sensation, then Symons’ portraits of Rimbaud and Verlaine are portraits of decadence: Rimbaud was “a revolter against morals as against prosody” (p. 37); Verlaine was “completely at the mercy of the most imperious of instincts, of passions, and of intoxications” (p. 50). However, the chapters on these poets also emphasize their decadence as an aspect of their intense capacity to experience life, which leads

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ARTHUR SYMONS tion to the continental avant-garde. Ezra Pound cited it as an influence, and the imagists’ manifesto for “direct” and unembellished poetry was indebted to Symons’ interpretations of French symbolism. T. S. Eliot stated that he owed Symons a “great debt” for introducing him to Jules Laforgue, Rimbaud, Verlaine, and Tristan Corbière, who were such a profound influence on his early poetry and criticism, and in the January 1930 issue of the Criterion, he went so far as to acknowledge that The Symbolist Movement in Literature was one of the books “which have affected the course of my life” (p. 357).

to an ability to transform their experience into the purest of language and forms. Rimbaud “could render physical sensation, of the subtlest kind, without making any compromise with language, forcing language to speak straight, taming it as one would tame a dangerous animal” (p. 40). Verlaine absorbed the visible world “through all his senses, as the true mystic absorbs the divine beauty. And so he created in verse a new voice for nature, full of the humble ecstasy with which he saw, listened, accepted” (pp. 48–49). What Symons shows here is how the “symbolist” elements of the poetry emerge from the “decadence” of the poet’s attitude and vision. Symons’ portraits are double-edged, acknowledging both the risks and aspirations of the poets’ dedication to aesthetic form. Like an antidote to conventional rhetoric, what he describes is both a cultural poison and a cultural cure. If “The Decadent Movement in Literature” examines the former, The Symbolist Movement in Literature champions and defends the latter.

THE ETHICS OF PERCEPTION

Thus far the picture of Symons that emerges is somewhat contradictory. He was an aesthete who argued that art should be judged for its beauty rather than for its morality, but he courted controversy by writing poetry about sex with strangers. He forged the most sustained analysis of literary decadence, but later he rejected the movement and rechristened it as symbolism, without changing the main thrust of his analysis. However, it is evident that some of these contradictions are rooted in Symons’ concern to capture all facets of the aesthetic strain of poetry, working through its impure depths as well as its pure aspirations. These vacillations of tone and focus are also present in his poetry. Symons wrote poetry over a period of fifty years, and given this chronological stretch, and his prolific productivity within it, there is inevitably some unevenness in his oeuvre. His early work, much of which was collected in Days and Nights (1889), bore the influence of Tennyson and Browning: “A Revenge” and “A Vigil in Lent” are clearly reworkings of such Browning dramatic monologues as “My Last Duchess” and “Andrea del Sarto,” and they convey Symons’ precocity as an analyst of poetic form rather than originality of expression. This is also true of some of his French-influenced writing. “Satiety” and “The Opium Smoker” are predictable studies in the tone and subject matter of Parisian decadence. The narrator of the latter poem, a sonnet, confesses how he “drowns deliciously” in

That Symons’ book outlived the scandals over immorality is testament more to the strength of his literary analysis than his wrestling with nomenclature. Recent critics of Symons, such as Karl Beckson, have stressed that he excels on the technique rather than on the theory of symbolism (Arthur Symons, p. 200). There is truth in this, because there is a strong sense that having identified the broad strain of the movement’s poetic direction, he is more interested in dissecting the individual styles and forms of a diverse group of poets. The portrait of Verlaine as a “man of sensation” conforms closely to Symons’ definition of a symbolist poet, but he is entirely happy to qualify his categorizations in other chapters, attending to the specificity of Stéphane Mallarmé’s peculiarly ascetic aestheticism, or Joris-Karl Huysmans’ “spiritual Naturalism.” It was this subtle translation of the quirks of style and form that best served to mediate the symbolist credo to the English-speaking world. The Symbolist Movement in Literature was highly influential, not only reinforcing the formal experiments of artists in Symons’ own generation, in particular W. B. Yeats, but serving as the text which introduced the next modern genera-

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ARTHUR SYMONS ous, and disproportionate in its examination of sensory experience. Yet there is also vibrancy to Symons’ writing that largely defies the listless stereotype of the decadent dandy, and if there is frequently a note of wistful melancholy, there is just as frequently giddy pleasure and a keen yearning to capture and record every sensation. Many of the poems in Silhouettes and London Nights are impressionistic in technique and focus on the brittle surface of metropolitan life. They capture moments of brilliance, usually under artificial lights, amidst the sensory confusion of the city. The poet persona stands at a remove, enervated and weary, recording the fleeting presences of the figures and shapes around him. This technique can be deceptive, because at first glance the result may seem simply superficial. In fact, although the poems are superficial insofar as they confine themselves to surface impressions, they are not simple; they are strenuously and complexly superficial. Symons’ dedication to the sweeping view of particular scenes allows a far clearer view of the subjects and objects that come under his gaze than would be possible if the poet were earnestly involved and pointing out profundity. R. K. R. Thornton has commented on Symons’ talent for “pictorial arrangement” and his “eighteenth-century ability to let juxtaposition do the commenting” (Poetry of the Nineties, p. 30). The swift and seemingly casual cataloging of objects and individuals, as in “Behind the Scenes: Empire,”

his drug, but he also catalogs his decline into penury and physical collapse: “This worn-out body like a tattered tent / This crust, of which the rats have eaten part” (Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 92). However, Days and Nights also contains glimmerings of brilliance, not least his “Scènes de la Vie Bohème: Episode of a Night of May,” a delightfully cruel evocation of modern ennui. The poem captures the impressions of the lanternlit scene, a perfect backdrop for an amorous encounter, but turns suddenly to a couple whose smiles have grown “chilly, as the best spring evenings do.” As the pair saunter around, she jarring his nerves, he boring her to the extent that she yawns twice (“prettily”) in the time of the poem. The gradual waning of any sense of fulfilling the romantic expectations of the evening is encapsulated in the random collection of things they mull over as they swill their Veuve Clicquot: They emptied glasses and admired the stars, The lanterns, night, the sea; Nature, the newest opera, the dog (So clever) who could shoulder arms and dance. (ibid., p. 56)

The stanzaic break––which gives enough time for another yawn––and the sudden bathos of the dog, is all that Symons needs to suggest the aimlessness of their communion. The economy of his verse here and the precision of his irony are worthy of Jules Laforgue but demonstrate that Symons is in full possession of the poetic moment.

Blonde, and bewigged, and winged with gold, The shining creatures of the air Troop sadly, shivering with cold. (Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 187)

It was with his second and third volumes of poetry, Silhouettes (1892) and London Nights (1895), that Symons really began to find his voice, and it is these collections that established him as a notable poet of the fin de siècle. In these poems we can begin to trace a specific tone that, while clearly emulating the poetic ideals of the continental aesthetes, also strives to capture the peculiarities of Symons’ own very English environment and poetic inheritance. This tone can, broadly speaking, be described as decadent, because it is highly self-conscious, restlessly curi-

or in “At the Cavour,” Wine, the red coals, the flaring gas, Bring out a brighter tone in cheeks That learn at home before the glass The flush that eloquently speaks. (ibid., p. 119)

encapsulate the jolting mixture of bright artifice, seediness, and pathos in his metropolitan environment without any need for further judgment or involvement on the part of the poet. Here the

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ARTHUR SYMONS cool-eyed detachment is as indebted to the Augustan English poets as to Laforgue. However, this authorial remoteness and apparent ease of form are not just ironic strategies that allow the emergence of unspoken truths but are the only means by which the distillation of sensations and events can take place. Symons’ many poems about dancers allow the visual impressions to twirl and revolve until they settle into patterns of color and movement: a kind of poetic choreography. Occasionally the shifting impressions crystallize in a perfect image. This is true of the poem “Pastels: Masks and Faces,” which traces the slightest of incidents in the least auspicious of settings:

tion at the Metro”: “The apparition of these faces in the crowd; /Petals on a wet, black bough.” Indeed, rather than a “domestication,” and in keeping with its proto-imagism, one could argue that it is a fulfillment of the poetic aspirations Symons had described in “The Decadent Movement in Literature,” where he had asserted that the art of the impressionist should “flash upon you in a new, sudden way so exact an image of what you have just seen” that it should seem as if the artist has thought “his picture upon the canvas” (Selected Writings, p. 73). Of symbolist art, he said that it should “flash upon you the ‘soul’ of that which can be apprehended only by the soul—the finer sense of things unseen, the deeper meaning of things evident.” “Pastels: Masks and Faces” unites both these flashes of inspiration in one perfect line.

The light of our cigarettes Went and came in the gloom: It was dark in the little room.

As Kenner’s comments about the “domestication” of the French influence indicate, the variation in tone and mood of Symons’ writing, and his impressionistic appreciation of the surface, have led some critics to imply that his poetry somehow trivialized the scope of aestheticism and symbolism. In The Critic’s Alchemy, Ruth Z. Temple commented that, unlike Baudelaire, there is “no hatred, no blasphemy, no acedia, no expense of spirit in a waste of shame” (p. 138), and rather less generously Norman Alford remarks in The Rhymers’ Club that Symons’ decadent poetry retained only the “superficial characteristics” of Baudelaire and Verlaine (pp. 62–63). Further back in the canon of criticism, T. S. Eliot argues in his “Baudelaire in our Time” that Symons misrepresented Baudelaire as a decadent, because Baudelaire’s engagement with sinfulness carried with it the full weight of the Christian belief in damnation. There is some credence in these comments, but there also seems to be a failure to recognize that Symons’ act of translation, from French decadence and symbolism to English, is not only a matter of language but of sensibility and context. The poems by Symons that are most directly influenced by Baudelaire, such as the two “Hallucination” poems, which can be found in volume 1 of the Collected Works, reveal that he is in fact acutely aware of Baudelaire’s heavy consciousness of sin, but

(ibid., p. 104)

These lines seem deliberately antipoetic in their flat statement of stasis and obscurity, and the sense of dislocation is reinforced by the arhythmical phrase “went and came,” an inversion of the expected order of words, “came and went.” The stanza promises little, and the subsequent stanza seems to continue in darkness: the word “dark” is repeated four times in the poem. And yet it is through this meticulous recording of gloom and inconsequence that the tiny glowing promise bursts into something remarkable. As if the lights of the cigarettes have ignited, there is suddenly “a flash, a glow / And a hand and ring I know,” And then, through the dark, a flush Ruddy and vague, the grace (A rose!) of her lyric face. (ibid.)

In the midst of haziness and shadows, a moment of lyricism unfolds (almost) naturally. In The Pound Era, Hugh Kenner calls this an “English domestication” of French symbolist verse (p. 183), but he also comments that, viewed as an anticipation of imagist poetry, it “corresponds exactly to what Imagist poems are often supposed to be,” particularly in its final stanza, which foreshadows Ezra Pound’s haiku “In a Sta-

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ARTHUR SYMONS Movement (1899), Symons describes the endeavor as a “sublime selfishness” (p. 94), a phrase that captures the intensity of the artist’s passionate response to the objective world. Typically Symons’ language here has a more worldly tinge than Pater’s. He is speaking not in abstract terms about “subjectivity” but in personal terms about the experience of artistic perception and creation. Symons frequently describes the relation between objective world and subjective perception as a kind of ethics of seduction. Writing admiringly in Studies on Modern Painters ( 1925) about the American painter James Whistler, for example, and the “stealth” of his approach to his art, Symons remarks that Whistler “treated nature as a gentleman treats a lady, and his fine manners were rewarded by exquisite revelations” (p. 34). The encounter with the “otherness” of the exterior world has, for Symons, an erotic charge that Pater’s philosophical account does not acknowledge.

given that Symons is a largely irreligious poet writing in a culture that lacks the Catholic sensibilities of the French poet, it should not be surprising that his moral vision is less absolutist. Moreover, the cross-fertilization of French with English influences in Symons’ own poetry meant that his enthusiasm for “spiritualizing the word” (Symbolist Movement, p. 75) was modified by a vein of thinking that sought to root itself in the Classical rather than Christian tradition. As for Walter Pater, who sought to retrieve an Epicurean emphasis on veridical perception, the “truth” of art was for Symons more a matter of the immediate than the metaphysical and lay in the affirmation of what is contingent and mutable. In his account of impressionistic writing in Dramatis Personae (1823) he comments: “It is the interesting heresy of a particular kind of art to seek truth before beauty; but in the impressionistic art concerned, as the art of painting is, with the revelation, the re-creation, of a colored and harmonious world, ѧ truth is a quality which can be attained only by him who seeks beauty before truth” (p. 343). This does not amount to an outright rejection of moral concerns. Rather it should be construed as an attempt to formulate a secular ethics of artistic conception, where concern for the nature of the exterior world is paramount. The artist must approach the objects of his experience with extreme care, allowing them to emerge and imprint themselves on his mind, in their own forms, rather than violating their integrity for the sake of some preconceived agenda or idea—the “facile orthodoxy” of established philosophies and religions that Pater had warned against in his conclusion to The Renaissance. To search for a singular, transcendent “truth” when one is faced with the “colored and harmonious world” risks trampling on its variety, so the only path to finding the “truth” of this world is to remain strenuously open to its multiplicity and mutability. Pater had described this artistic endeavor in idealized terms as a mediation between the objective world and the subjective mind, a “perpetual weaving and unweaving of ourselves” that gradually allowed the “hard gem-like flame” of the real to crystallize (p. 152). In The Symbolist

THE EROTICS OF PERCEPTION

Symons’ interest in erotic situations has been well noted, and has been at the root of his reputation as a “decadent” poet. Yet while the number of his poems describing casual liaisons and dancing girls undoubtedly speaks of his predilections—not to mention his job as a reviewer of music hall acts—his constant return to these subjects can also be thought of as a symptom of his desire to work through some of the tensions implicit in his secular aestheticism. In keeping with both the French and English strains of his aesthetic influences, Symons’ perpetual concern was to capture experience in all its lived intensity. As he says in his essay “The Choice,” which may be found in Studies in Prose and Verse: (1904) “Art begins when a man wishes to immortalize the most vivid moment he has ever lived” (pp. 290–291). However, even if the move to secularism means that fears of moral perversity become irrelevant, the seeking of experience and art for their own sakes is a dangerous enterprise, dangerous because in the flood of sensation and in the absence of some unifying logos, it becomes more and more dif-

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ARTHUR SYMONS face (“Her face’s wilful flash and glow” in “On the Heath” [ibid., p. 111]; “Powder and wig and pink and lace, / And those pathetic eyes of hers” in “Impression” [ibid., p. 108]), the woman usually remains anonymous, and there is no revelation of the inner self behind the external features. It is as if each of these images works as a motif that represents the difficulty of seducing momentary impressions into poetic revelation. The hovering sense of concealed significance is played out most knowingly, perhaps, in “White Heliotrope.” Its subject matter is typically decadent, recording the aftermath of a sexual encounter, and its sense of erotic longing is closely entwined with its pursuit of the poetic moment:

ficult to discern which impression will last. Symons defines the process of art as the making of a choice, “to escape from material reality into whatever form of ecstasy is our own form of spiritual existence” (p. 291), but this choice––the puzzle of how to crystallize objective and subjective experience into one vivid moment––is an anxious one. It is in the light of this puzzle and this choice that Symons’ preoccupation with the erotic can be understood. The vagaries of experience are such that attempts to capture particular moments are often thwarted, and the poet’s work becomes a desirous pursuit. Sometimes, like Whistler, he will tease perception into a kind of exquisite revelation, but for much of the time the sensations will simply pass as fleeting impressions, and significance will remain tantalizingly out of reach. Hence the troubled feeling that even in the midst of potentially ecstatic sensations, the essence of the experience may not be forthcoming, as he indicates in “Morbidezza”:

The feverish room and that white bed, The tumbled skirts upon a chair, The novel flung half-open, where Hat, hair-pins, puffs, and paints are spread. (ibid., p. 216)

The scene is postcoital, suggested not only by the intimate view of the room but by the words of spent physical action: “feverish,” “tumbled,” “flung,” and “spread.” The physical exchange is over in what is suggested as being a single sexual encounter (possibly with a prostitute, implying financial exchange as well), yet the poem records the experience in the present as the speaker tries to construct the visual elements in the scene, elements that are, as yet, in “tumbled” disorder. Even as the poem moves further into the scene, the visual sensations are still only incomplete glimpses, “flung half-open” like the novel:

Virginal in revealment, Your bosom’s wavering slope, Concealment, In fainting heliotrope, Of whitest white’s revealment. (Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 106)

This stanza’s structural wavering between “revealment” and “concealment” plays out the tension between the ethics and erotics of perception. The poet’s desire to wholly possess the moment and the woman is clear, but because the only way to catch the moment is to “unweave” himself and be receptive to the otherness of his poetic object, he does not have the power to force this possession. A symbol that would encapsulate the lovers’ experience remains elusive, and the poet and poem are left in an uneasy state of conditionality.

The mirror that has sucked your face Into its secret deep of deeps, And there mysteriously keeps Forgotten memories of grace; And you half dressed and half awake, Your slant eyes strangely watching me, And I, who watch you drowsily, With eyes that, having slept not, ache.

This uncertainty may also account for the recurrent images of a face in Symons’ poems, such as the one in “Pastel: Masks and Faces.” The face is, by tradition, the purveyor of the essence of the human subject, the eyes a window on the soul. Yet although Symons’ poems often revolve around the sudden sight of a woman’s

(ibid., p. 216)

There is no still point to the poem. The constant flitting between viewpoints and perspectives creates a dance of gazes that maintains the sense of

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ARTHUR SYMONS sense Symons has that his art is not necessarily a pure form. He may experience life with the utmost intensity, he may be able to turn the mundane into something beautiful, he may even find the perfect, vivid symbol to encapsulate an experience. Yet there is always the risk of failure in this translation: some loss of truth, forgetting of significance, or corruption of the authentic. The poetic symbol can conceal as well as reveal, and since its roots lie in the chaos of experience, the teasing anxiety that it may remain obscure is always present.

exchange between the lovers without allowing the act of perception, or the fixing of images, to take place. Neither person quite sees the other because of their drowsy or aching eyes, and what is seen is itself a hazy reflection. Not only have the lovers’ glances and the woman’s face been “sucked” into the mirror, but so have the “forgotten memories of grace,” an ambiguous phrase suggesting both the woman’s lost virtue and the physical grace of the sexual act. No means of recalling or reflecting upon what has happened seems to be reliable. The mirror is amnesiac, and the poet’s own powers to record the significance of the scene have been compromised and corrupted by his involvement in it. Nevertheless, some kind of focus is retrieved from the confusion in the final stanza. As the poet steps back out of the scene, the movement of the poem comes full circle:

THE DECADENT IN THE CITY

Like many of the decadents, Symons rejected the Romantic privileging of natural over man-made beauty and made his pursuit of beauty in the artificial environment of the city. Yet Symons’ preoccupation with the urban environment exceeded that of his contemporaries. In the vast majority of his travel writings Symons seeks to capture the essence of a particular European culture by immersing himself in the sights and sensations of their major cities. His poems are overwhelmingly urban, and in Silhouettes and London Nights in particular, he visits and revisits the same places: music halls, theaters, hotel rooms, gray waters, dark, inscrutable streets. The only poem dedicated to his future wife is entitled “Nora on the Pavement.” This exclusively urban focus reveals Symons as a loyal student of Baudelaire, the designated “flaneur” who wandered the streets of Paris, catching every sensation as it passed him by. However, as Symons’ prose description in Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands (1918) makes clear, the London of the turn of the century is a very different city, where sensations are blunted by mechanization:

This (need one dread? Nay, dare one hope?) Will rise, a ghost of memory, if Ever again my hankerchief Is scented with White Heliotrope. (Collected Works, p. 216)

The process of exchange, reflection, revelation, and concealment has completed itself and returned to the fleeting scent that gives the poem its title. After the sense of impressionistic confusion, Symons reveals his hand by showing the poem to be about its own composition. The sequence of sensations and perceptions triggered by the perfume is a retrospective unraveling of all the impressions the poet has chased into one expressive moment. It is a deconstruction and reconstruction of poetic experience. Thus it is surely no accident that the poem revolves around the scent of “white heliotrope” nor, indeed, that this scent lingers in more than one of Symons’ poems, because it is the perfect symbol of the poet’s perpetual work. Heliotrope is named after its properties in Greek mythology: the belief that, if thrown into water, the flower turns the sun’s rays to the color of blood; hence “trope,” “to turn.” Symons is tracing the risks and pleasures of “troping”: the “turning” of literal experience into words. The staging of this pursuit as an erotic encounter underscores the ironic

Noise and evil smells have filled the streets like tunnels in the daylight; it is a pain to walk in the midst of all these hurrying and clattering machines; the multitude of humanity, that “bath” into which Baudelaire loved to plunge, is scarcely discernible, it is secondary to the machines.ѧ London that was vast and smoky and loud, now stinks and reverberates; to live in it is to live in the hollow of a clanging bell, to breathe its air is to breathe the foulness of modern progress.

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ARTHUR SYMONS In random wayfare, as one meets The chance romances of the streets, The Juliet of a night?

London as it is now is the wreck and moral of civilisation. (p. 172)

What is particularly interesting about this description of London is how carefully it is poised between different moods and influences. The apocalyptic tone carries the Victorian fear of industrialization forward into a time when the machines have won. There are no more arguments to wage in the style of Thomas Carlyle or John Stuart Mill about Mammon or utilitarianism, for there is no means of resistance. The population is swamped by noise and speed. The individual grows more “civilised every day,” and to be “civilised” is to be enervated and enfeebled, alienated from nature and natural humanity. Yet even as Symons figures doom, he savors it. As a modern-day “flaneur” he is obliged to explore the sensations that alienation provokes. In this context another of the characteristics of Symons’ poetry emerges. His adaptation of nineteenth-century French poetics into the less “human,” more technology-swamped landscape of London creates a different set of experiences and perceptions. Impressions are even more fleeting, encounters with others are brief and anonymous. There is a continual sense of disconnection and detachment as the poet persona wanders around the city. His gaze is turned on made-up faces, lit by gaslights rather than moonlight, and obscured by the cloud of cigarette smoke in crowded rooms. Everything is half-seen and hazily remembered. The shift in poetic focus is subtle but significant, and the ritual of poetry it creates seems to move away from the transcendent “paradis artificiels,” to which Baudelaire’s art aspired, toward a more arbitrary exchange of sensations. A good example of this is the notorious “Stella Maris,” included in the 1895 edition of London Nights. The poem forms itself simultaneously as a confession of indiscretion and a construction of poetic experience. The speaker remembers one of his many “chance romances” with a prostitute and confesses it to himself, to the now absent woman, and to the reader:

(Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 203)

That the poem provoked scandalized reactions is not surprising, as it seems deliberately to invert all expectations of conventional love poetry. The “romance” is with a prostitute, called ironically, “Stella Maris,” “star of the sea,” a name usually associated with the Virgin Mary. Not only is the prostitute the opposite of the Virgin, but she constitutes the opposite of “romance” itself. Love does not, or should not, exist in the relationship with a prostitute; it is a financial and sexual arrangement, a passing exchange. Both “Romeo” and “Juliet,” unlike the original tragic couple, continue on their “random wayfare” after the transaction is completed. Even the poet is struck with the peculiarity of his poetic subject, both because the woman is one of many “Juliets” he has encountered and because his recollection of her is provoked by a natural setting, the antithesis of the prostitute’s usual urban context. An image of her face is conjured up in his memory as he stands looking out to sea. He sees The phantom of the lighthouse light, Against the sky, across the bay, Fade and return, and fade away, So surely do I see your eyes Out of the empty night arise. Child, you arise and smile to me Out of the night, out of the sea. (Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 203)

Why she should suddenly appear to him and what the significance of their brief liaison might have been are mysteries that the poem never solves. Yet what does emerge is a set of sensations and associations that gradually compose themselves into a moment of coherence. The fading and returning light of the lighthouse reminds him of her eyes, illuminating the darkness, and brings the uncertain memory of the woman from the poet’s “drowning past.” As the memory floats up into his conscious mind, it becomes imbued with watery qualities that seem to be both associations with his current context and metaphors for the workings of his unconscious, the realm of desires

Why is it I remember yet You, of all women one has met

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ARTHUR SYMONS and dreams. She is a figure of “oblivion” (the word is repeated throughout the poem), and as such she seems to assume different guises simultaneously: beguiling Nereid, innocent Stella, romantic muse, streetwalking Juliet. Her “true” form, and her significance to him, are only half revealed and remain tantalizingly out of reach.

exchanged for a set of poetic images that becomes composed and ordered. Something about this set of exchanges is ritualistic, but there seems to be little aspiration to the semireligious transcendence of the symbolist poetry that Symons so admired. What is conjured up has a certain beauty of its own, but it is contingent and fleeting. Indeed, if we think of the poem as being a reflection on its own “modern” poetics––the struggle to make a brief moment of coherence, a union of images, out of the “random wayfare” of city life––the theme of prostitution seems highly appropriate.

The poem’s progress enacts a kind of erotic dream, following a series of displaced images in the pursuit of its true object. As the poet journeys further into his past, to form the memory of “one night’s love,” he gradually comes closer to retrieving Stella’s form. Suddenly, like a phantom, he feels,

Much of the productive tension in this and other poems in Silhouettes and London Nights emerges from the clear sense of hard work to find beauty amidst the grimy, the seedy, and the opaque. In this context, the poetic is the work of retrieval rather than aspiration, and the peculiar mixture of melancholy and detachment that spells his “decadent” tone arises from the ephemeral and arbitrary nature of the experience captured. A more resonant truth or beauty (a lyric face, a lingering scent) may crystallize through the ritual of poetry, but it is only a temporary arrangement, and the process will have to be continually repeated. Thus it seems the specifically urban context and the peculiarly urban form of Symons’ poetry cannot be overemphasized. Indeed, Walter Benjamin’s analysis of the impact of modern technologies on the “mode of human sense perception” seems particularly apposite in relation to Symons’ writing. In his essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Benjamin figures the late-nineteenth-century aesthetic movement as a reaction to the perceived sense of “crisis” about modern technologies of reproduction and to the new secular ideologies. The movement’s insistence on aesthetic purity is a “theology of art,” a last-ditch attempt to replace art’s lost connection to religious ritual and notions of authenticity (p. 218). It is perhaps fruitful to think of the tensions in Symons’ writing as an embodiment of this crisis. On the one hand, Symons seems to be striving for a semireligious role for art and a purity of artistic perception. One the other hand, he seems acutely aware of the fragility and cor-

Your lips deliriously steal Along my neck, and fasten there; I feel the perfume of your hair, I feel your breast that heaves and dips, Desiring my desirous lips. (ibid., p. 204)

The poem seems to approach its climax, as he recalls the “rapture” of their physical union, but even as the moment comes it is strangely anticlimactic. No “meaning” is found in the encounter nor even any significant feeling: no ecstasy of spirit, no shame, no love, no hatred. She remains no more specific than the discrete parts of her body (lips, hair, breast) and retreats again to become the object of oblivion. The poem pauses, acknowledges, “That joy was ours, we passed it by,” then retraces its steps, journeying back to the present, and to the realization that ѧ roses fade, and loves are not, As dreams, immortal, though they seem Almost as real as a dream. (ibid., p. 205)

There is no center to this poem and, one could argue, no moral profundity. But its significance lies in its realization of the nature of erotic desire—its restlessness and mobility—and in its recognition of the arbitrary way in which memory prompts the poetic imagination. The experience recorded is simply a process of exchanges––of money, of kisses, of bodies, of sensations––but through their random associations and reverberations in the poet’s memory, these are, in turn,

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ARTHUR SYMONS particular interpretation of the “new and beautiful disease” of decadence was already heralding many of the preoccupations of modernism.

ruptibility of artistic perception. And both these reactions seem prompted by his sense of the profanity and dislocation of the modern urban environment. Symons is fascinated by the new forms things take as they flit past like a reel of film: a “fleeting Leonardo face, / Parisian Mona Lisa,” from “In an Omnibus” (Collected Works, vol. 1, p. 112); and “One bright delirious moment’s space, / And then she passed” from, “On the Heath” (ibid., p. 111). Yet he is also concerned that these new, mechanized images might not be as “real” as the more static, considered impressions of the premechanical age. For if sense impressions are so fleeting and their reproduction so automated, might they not begin to change the very nature of what can be seen, remembered, or imagined? Might not the relation between the objective world and the subject who perceives it also be compromised? In “London,” first published in 1908, the year of his mental breakdown, Symons wonders, “Is there not, in our aspect towards one another, something inevitably automatic? Do we see, in the larger part of those fellow-creatures whom our eyes rest on more than a smile, a gesture, a passing or a coming forward? Are they more real to us than the actors on a stage, the quivering phantoms of a cinematograph?” (Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands, p. 184).

BREAKDOWN AND CONFESSION

From 1903 to 1908, the years leading up to his mental breakdown, Symons’ work as an editor and mentor continued to thrive—he was a particular friend to the young James Joyce––but his creative efforts were less fruitful. He published his prose collection Spiritual Adventures in 1905 and his next volume of poems, The Fool of the World, in 1906, and his play of the same name was performed to some acclaim that year. Throughout this time he concentrated on playwriting, and his letters of the period demonstrate a belief that he was going to produce his most accomplished work yet. However, most of these plays, including his anticipated masterpiece, Tristan and Iseult (1917), were never performed. Symons’ travel writing in this time was more successful. It was in this period that he wrote the pieces that were collected in Cities (1903), Cities of Italy (1907), and London: A Book of Aspects (1908). It was while he and his wife Nora were visiting Bologna in September 1908 that madness struck. Details of what happened are sketchy, coming only from Nora’s letters and Symons’ own account of the episode, Confessions: A Study in Pathology (1930), both of which are skewed or evasive for different reasons. However, it seems that Symons’ behavior grew increasingly erratic during the trip; he became restless and aggressive; and at some point the couple quarreled. Nora tried to persuade Symons to return to London, but when he refused, she returned alone, partly out of fear for her own safety. Left alone in the Italian city, Symons’ sanity collapsed, and, intending to travel to Perugia, he instead boarded a train to “that malarious town Ferrara,” where he wandered the streets, hallucinating “the most horrible shapes and shadows” (Confessions, p. 16). Eventually, having walked for miles and slept in haystacks and cattle sheds, he was arrested and thrown into jail at the Ducal Castle. Only after Nora had enlisted the help of the Italian ambassador was Symons tracked down and

Anxiety about what is authentic and what is phantom recurs throughout Symons’ work, indicating that the uncertainties of the fin de siècle extend to questions of perception and identity as well as aesthetics and morality. It is in his meticulous pursuit of these questions that Symons’ writing seems startlingly modern. His heightened sense of the strangeness of encounters between the self and others and his close focus on the unreliable process of translating sensations into poetic images not only underscore his indebtedness to the French symbolists, but point forward to the experiments of T. S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Virginia Woolf, and James Joyce. They too diagnosed a new and peculiar feeling of alienation; they too traced connections between the speeded-up time of the machine age and a momentous shift in the form and “subject” of art. Beyond the arguments about morality, Symons’

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ARTHUR SYMONS into the layers of his psychosis, this morbidity and its medieval provocation are revealed as symptoms of a sense of his own sinfulness and a lurking fear of original sin. That a poet who had defended art from moral strictures and devoted so much effort to examining the poetics of sensuality should succumb to religious terror seems peculiarly ironic, but it appears that his madness stemmed, at least in part, from longsuppressed feelings of sexual guilt. In “A Prelude to Life,” Symons had written quite directly of his battle with the sexual repression of his youth. He remembered that his body had seemed “something remote, evil, mainly inexplicable; but nothing I had ever felt had meant so much to me.ѧ I reached stealthily after some stealthy delight of the senses, which I valued the more because it was a forbidden thing” (Collected Works, vol. 5, p. 23). In considering the roots of his breakdown, Symons returns to this battle and to the nightmares he had suffered as a result:

retrieved from his cell. Back in England he was certified insane and committed to Brooke House sanatorium in East London. His delusions continued into 1909, when, a month before Swinburne’s death, he believed he was in paradise to arrange for the poet’s reception. However, after a nearfatal bout of pneumonia, he gradually recovered his lucidity and returned home in 1910. Symons’ account of his breakdown makes for fascinating reading, not least because what he is trying to confess seems to resist the telling. The first sentence of his work recognizes an inherent impossibility in the task he is undertaking: “To trace, to retrace, to attempt to define or to divine the way in which one’s madness begins, the exact fashion in which it seizes on one, is as impossible as to divine why one is sane” (p. 1). The nature of his breakdown meant that he lost access to his reason, language, and identity, so the perpetual problem of the piece is that the experiences he seeks to describe cannot be translated reliably into words. In some passages he gives us the external view: the restless figure wandering without direction through the Italian countryside; the lunatic in the asylum cell, announcing to his wife that he is “the Pope in Rome.” In others he catalogs the details of his treatment, or mistreatment, at the hands of policemen, doctors, and asylum “keepers.” Yet the heart of his experience rarely emerges. Whenever the text approaches a particular moment of revelation it falls away into digression or quotations from other writers. His own style seems to have crumbled with his ego.

In those dreams of abstract horror there began to come a disturbing element of Sex. To me it was something remote, implacable; and there was an infinite curiosity, which I hardly even dared dream of satisfying, a curiosity which was like a fever. Above all, I was uneasy about myself.ѧ And then I was still more uneasy about hell. I felt the eternal flames seizing me, and some foretaste of their endlessness seemed to enter into my being. (Confessions, p. 6)

This “foretaste” of damnation haunts Symons as he declines into madness, and throughout his narration of his months of insanity there are coded descriptions of “primitive” libidinal desires, framed in biblical language. Symons writes of his sexual disinhibition and his attempts to escape incarceration in the nude. He describes his obsessive drawing of “figures of women reclining in impossible positions,” then his fixation on coloring “whirling and breathing masses of serpents which drifted before me like incense” (p. 54). He says, “I prided myself on my prodigious serpents coloured with all the colours I could contrive to accumulate upon them, hugely coiled and convulsed, and cruel, and, after that, on some of my coloured crucifixes into which I put all the passion of my Faith” (p. 56).

Nevertheless, by sifting through the digressions, it is possible to build a picture of the form, if not the cause, of Symons’ breakdown, and interestingly, its form is closely connected to his creative preoccupations. Once again he shows exaggerated interest in the psychic effects of the urban landscape, so that in the first instance, his breakdown is recorded almost as a symptom of the city of Bologna. What seems to provoke the final crisis is the looming medievalism of the architecture about him and the sense of decline and decay that it prompts in him: “the weight of so much, so ancient death began to weigh on me” (p. 13). However, as Symons digs further

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ARTHUR SYMONS significantly. His preoccupations with femmes fatales and decadent scenarios persisted, and there was an increasing note of nostalgia for the art and writing of a generation that had, by now, largely passed away. Poetic sequences such as “Studies in Strange Sins (After Beardsley’s Designs)” and “For Des Esseintes,” published in Love’s Cruelty (1923), are evocative descriptions of the work of artists of the decadent period, but they prove that Symons was caught in the literary past. Where his nostalgia worked more productively was in his criticism and journalism, because he called on his memories of key literary figures of the fin de siècle to forge illuminating portraits in prose. Between 1920 and 1932 he wrote and revised a series of collected articles on, amongst others, Baudelaire, Joseph Conrad, Swinburne, Thomas Hardy, Wilde, and Pater. He also continued to write for literary magazines, including Vanity Fair.

The obvious phallic imagery here needs little commentary, yet even if it was as much symptom as cause, his struggle to reconcile the excessive force of his erotic desires with the taboos of civilized society threatened his fragile sense of subjectivity. While the digressions in the text of Confessions speak of Symons’ loss of access to his own sense of self, the gaps and ellipses in this part of the narrative indicate a fear of voicing desires that society would consider improper, perhaps unspeakable. Symons’ poetry may have worked hard to escape the repressive religious doctrine and morality of his childhood, but it did not manage to sublimate his sexual pathologies.

LATE WORKS

Symons’ gradual recovery enabled his return to writing, but he could no longer work at his former pace and pitch. Thanks to the intervention of several friends in the literary establishment he received a Civil List pension, which supplemented his income from his writing projects. He published Knave of Hearts in 1913, a collection of poems written between 1894 and 1908. Other revisions and repackaging of old work followed: a collection of previously published articles, Colour Studies in Paris, in 1918; his collected travel writings, Cities and Sea Coasts and Islands, in 1919; and in the same year a revised edition of The Symbolist Movement in Literature. The revised text shows signs of what his biographer, Karl Beckson, calls Symons’ “chronic incoherence” following his breakdown (Arthur Symons, p. 1), because it adds essays on Honoré de Balzac, Prosper Mérimée, Gautier, Gustave Flaubert, Baudelaire, the Goncourts, Léon Cladel, and Emile Zola, several of whom Symons had described specifically as not being symbolists in the introduction: he had called Flaubert and Zola “material” writers of the “age of Science”; the Goncourts were “Impressionists.” If the literary distinctions had been difficult at the time of original writing, they eluded him more thoroughly now. Symons did write a considerable amount of new material in these years, but in terms of poetic output the quantity and quality declined

Symons published his final collection of poems, Jezebel Mort and Other Poems in 1931. Critical derision met this volume, not least because it contained thirty-three poems about his cats. In his final years Symons was a marginal figure, lightly satirized in John Betjeman’s poem “On Seeing an Old Poet at the Café Royal” (1942) as “very old and very grand” and muttering irrelevantly about “devilled whitebait.” If Yeats’s account of the “Tragic Generation” defined an enduring image of the group of young poets whose exaggerated sensitivity doomed them to early decline and death, Symons’ misfortune, at least in terms of his literary reputation, was that he outlived so many of his creative contemporaries and lived so far beyond his productive years. However, even by the time of his death, it was apparent how important his mediation between English and continental cultures had been, for literary modernism would not have had the same international focus without either The Symbolist Movement in Literature or his editorial roles in avant-garde publications. In a less ostentatious way, in spite of the sensationalist stereotype of the “naughty nineties,” Symons’ poetry and criticism helped to liberate literature from the Victorian preoccupation with religion and morality, and to forge a new aesthetics that

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ARTHUR SYMONS fitted the secular, urban experience of the modern age.

The Romantic Movement in English Poetry. London: Constable; New York: Riverside, 1909. Figures of Several Centuries. London: Constable; New York: Dutton, 1916. Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands. London: Collins Sons; New York: Brentano’s, 1918. Reprint, Evanston, Ill: Northwestern University Press, 1998. Colour Studies in Paris. London: Chapman and Hall; New York: Dutton, 1918. Studies in Elizabethan Drama. London: Heinemann; New York: Dutton, 1919. Charles Baudelaire: A Study. London: Mathews; New York: Dutton, 1920. Dramatis Personae. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1923; London: Faver & Gwyer, 1925. The Café Royal and Other Essays. Westminster: Beaumont, 1923. Studies on Modern Painters. New York: Rudge, 1925. Eleanora Duse. London: Mathews, 1926. Parisian Nights: A Book of Essays. London: Beaumont, 1926. A Study of Thomas Hardy. London: Sawyer, 1927. Studies in Strange Souls. London: Sawyer, 1929. Mes souvenirs. Chapelle-Réanville, Eure, France: Hours Press, 1929. From Toulouse-Lautrec to Rodin, with Some Personal Impressions. London: Lane, 1929; New York: King, 1930. Confessions: A Study in Pathology. New York: Fountain Press, 1930. Reprinted, New York: Haskell House, 1972. A Study of Oscar Wilde. London: Sawyer, 1930. Wanderings. London: Dent, 1931. A Study of Walter Pater. London: Sawyer, 1932.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF ARTHUR SYMONS POETRY Days and Nights. London and New York: Macmillan, 1889. Silhouettes. London: Matthews and Lane, 1892. Revised and enlarged, London: Smithers, 1896. London Nights. London: Smithers, 1895. Revised, 1897. Amoris Victima. London: Smithers; New York: Richmond, 1897. Images of Good and Evil. London: Heinemann, 1899. The Fool of the World and Other Poems. London: Heinemann, 1906; New York: John Lane, 1907. Knave of Hearts, 1894–1908. London: Heinemann; New York: John Lane, 1913. Lesbia and Other Poems. New York: Dutton, 1920. Love’s Cruelty. London: Secker, 1923; New York: Boni, 1924. Jezebel Mort and Other Poems. London: Heinemann, 1931.

PROSE An Introduction to the Study of Browning. London: Cassell, 1886. “The Decadent Movement in Literature.” Harper’s Magazine, November 1893, pp. 858–867. Studies in Two Literatures. London: Smithers, 1897. Aubrey Beardsley. London: Unicorn Press, 1898. Revised and enlarged, London: Dent, 1905. The Symbolist Movement in Literature. London: Heinemann, 1899. Revised, London: Constable, 1908. Revised and enlarged, New York: Dutton, 1919. Cities. London: Dent; New York: Pott, 1903. Plays, Acting and Music. London: Duckworth; New York: Dutton, 1903. Revised and enlarged, London: Constable; New York: Dutton, 1909. Studies in Prose and Verse. London: Dent; New York: Dutton, 1904. Spiritual Adventures. London: Constable; New York: Dutton, 1905. Studies in Seven Arts. New York: Dutton; London: Constable, 1906. Cities of Italy. London: Dent; New York: Dutton, 1907. William Blake. London: Constable; New York: Dutton, 1907. London: A Book of Aspects. Minneapolis: Privately printed for E. D. Brooks, 1908; London: Garland, 1909.

SONGS

AND

PLAYS

A Book of Twenty Songs. London: Dent, 1905. Tragedies. London: Heinemann; New York: Lane, 1916. Tristan and Iseult: A Play in Four Acts. London: Heinemann; New York: Brentano’s, 1917. The Toy Cart: A Play in Five Acts. Dublin: Maunsel, 1919; New York: Brentano’s, 1920. Cesare Borgia, Iseult of Brittany, The Toy Cart. New York: Brentano’s, 1920.

OTHER WORKS The Savoy: An Illustrated Monthly. 5 vols. Edited by Arthur Symons. London: Smithers, 1896. The Memoirs of Arthur Symons: Life and Art in the 1890s. Edited by Karl Beckson. University Park, Pa.: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1977. Arthur Symons: Selected Letters, 1880–1935. Edited by Karl Beckson and John M. Munro. Baskingstoke: Macmillan; Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1989.

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SELECTED WORKS

Poems. 2 vols. London: Heinemann; New York: Dodd, Mead, 1901. The Collected Works of Arthur Symons. 9 vols. London: Secker, 1924. Poetry and Prose. Edited by Roger Holdsworth. Cheadle: Carcanet, 1974. Selected Writings. Edited by Roger Holdsworth. Manchester: Carcanet, 1989.

Kenner, Hugh. The Pound Era. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971. Kermode, Frank. Romantic Image. London: Routledge and Paul, 1957. Lhombreaud, Roger. Arthur Symons: A Critical Biography. London: Unicorn Press, 1963. Pater, Walter. The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry. London: Macmillan, 1877. Reprint, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES

Pittock, Murray G. H. Spectrum of Decadence: The Literature of the 1890s. London: Routledge, 1993.

AND

Alford, Norman. The Rhymers’ Club: Poets of the Tragic Generation. New York: St. Martin’s, 1994. ———.Arthur Symons: A Bibliography. Greensboro, N.C.: ELT Press, 1990. ———.Arthur Symons: A Life. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987. ———.London in the 1890s: A Cultural History. New York: Norton, 1993. Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” In Illuminations, edited by Hannah Arendt. London: Fontana/Collins, 1973. Dowling, Linda. Language and Decadence in the Victorian Fin de Siècle. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. Eliot, T. S. “Baudelaire in Our Time.” In For Lancelot Andrewes: Essays on Style and Order. London: Faber & Gwyer, 1928; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Doran, 1929. ———. “Review of Peter Quennell’s Baudelaire and the French Symbolists.” Criterion 9, no. 35:357–359 (January 1930).

Pointner, Petra. A Prelude to Modernism: Studies on the Urban and Erotic Poetry of Arthur Symons. Heidelburg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2004. Temple, Ruth Z. The Critic’s Alchemy: A Study of the Introduction of French Symbolism to England. New Haven: College and University Press, 1953. Thornton, R. K. R., ed. Poetry of the Nineties. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970. ———. The Decadent Dilemma. London: Arnold, 1983. Welby, Thomas Earle. Arthur Symons: A Critical Study. London: Philpott; New York: Adelphi, 1925. Yeats, William Butler. “Four Years: 1887–1891.” In Autobiographies. Edited by William H. O’Donnell and Douglas N. Archibald. New York: Scribner, 1999, pp. 109–168. ––——. “The Tragic Generation.” In Autobiographies. Edited by William H. O’Donnell and Douglas N. Archibald. New York: Scribner, 1999, pp. 219–266.

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KATE THOMPSON (1956—)

Susan Butterworth magic, talking animals, shape-shifting, and Irish folk traditions. Her fantasy is often realistic; a vivid contemporary reality coexists with a matterof-fact acceptance of magic. Adventure and characters appeal to the imagination while including deeper undertones of the serious issues characteristic of the young adult problem novel. Setting is important in Thompson’s books. Contemporary Ireland is underlaid with Tír na n’óg, the parallel world of fairies and eternal youth. Real situations merge seamlessly with Irish folk traditions, a belief in magic held over from an earlier time and culture.

FANTASY LITERATURE MAY be defined as a form that is epic in scope, including fully realized other worlds with invented languages, a hero’s journey, and relevant moral themes. The genre is firmly rooted in the oral tradition of heroic epics, tales of magic and giants, fairies and shape-shifters. As a genre, fantasy or science fiction, especially children’s or young adult fantasy, allows the writer a certain freedom to concentrate on story and moral themes in a way that contemporary literary fiction tends to exclude. The importance of story cannot be overestimated in the genre; issues and ideas must be woven into a fabric composed primarily of a strong plot and compelling, inspiring characters with noble values, fighting the good fight against evil and doubt. Ever since the seminal work of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit (1937) and the Lord of the Rings trilogy (1954–1955), an adult readership has existed for a genre previously considered suitable only for children. Fantasy stories function on more than one level; adventure stories may be read for the inner as well as the outer journey and for their serious undertones. Science fiction, set in the future, is often really about the present.

YOUTH: HORSES AND TRAVEL

Kate Thompson was born November 10, 1956, in Halifax, Yorkshire, England. As the youngest of three siblings—her two brothers were six and eight years older—young Kate enjoyed her own company and her active imagination, making up stories to entertain herself. She and her father read Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy together, nurturing her love of fantasy. Both Thompson’s father, the Marxist historian E. P. Thompson, and her mother, Dorothy Thompson, were writers and pioneering social historians, members of the Communist party until 1956 and active in the peace and antinuclear movements during the cold war of the 1950s and 1960s. Thompson’s grandfather, Edward J. Thompson, was a novelist and poet, a friend of Jawaharlal Nehru and Mohandas Gandhi, and a biographer of the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore. Kate Thompson attended primary school in Halifax until the family moved to Leamington Spa in 1964. After finishing primary school there, she attended Leamington College for Girls. Then the family moved again, to Worcester, where she

The hero’s journey, sometimes made by a reluctant hero, is a quest that requires overcoming obstacles and discovery of personal strengths and courage in addition to the wise use of magic. The threads of the adventure often come together in fairly complex moral and political situations, and the hero’s return typically includes a gift or insight offered to the community. The journey and the related exploration of the nature of heroism are particularly apt to the bildungsroman, or young adult coming-of-age novel. All of these characteristics of fantasy literature can be found in the work of the novelist Kate Thompson: stories based on mythology and

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KATE THOMPSON time in Santiniketan, the college that was set up by India’s great poet, Rabindranath Tagore.

studied for her A levels at Worcester Technical College, finishing in 1975. She considered herself an outsider at school, partly from being a newcomer due to the family’s moves and partly because of her own inward-looking nature. The family had a holiday retreat in Wales, where Kate developed a love of the mountains, of walking, and of thinking. This character, the young girl who is happier living in her imagination and roaming the woods on her own than with her school friends, might describe Tess, the heroine of Thompson’s first three novels for children, the Switchers trilogy.

IRELAND: A WRITING CAREER

In 1984, Thompson moved to Inagh in County Clare, Ireland, with her partner Conor Minogue. Their two daughters were born there, Cliodhna on May 4, 1984, and Dearbhla on July 19, 1986. The couple ran a smallholding for ten years with goats, poultry, and a large vegetable garden. Smallholdings in the west of Ireland would later appear as settings in The New Policeman (2005) and Wild Blood (1999). And here, in the late 1980s, she began to write seriously. On the biographical page of Thompson’s website, she writes:

Thompson was a horsewoman from a young age, beginning to ride at the age of four. At the age of seven, she had her first pony. Her best memories of ponies, she writes, are of riding around the roads and tracks in Wales. As a teenager, she worked in a local horse dealer’s yard during holidays and weekends, and later she worked in a small racing yard. An empathy with animals is evident throughout Thompson’s novels, and in some instances the plot turns on the young hero’s skill with horses, notably in the cases of Jack in The Alchemist’s Apprentice (2002) and Michael in Annan Water (2004). After leaving school, Thompson continued to work with horses. She had a number of jobs in racing and hunting yards in England, and she spent a year in the United States working with racing quarter-horses. Feeling a need to interact with people, Thompson decided to study law and started coursework at the Polytechnic of Central London in 1979. She abandoned her law studies after a year and began to travel. Thompson spent a year in India in 1980–1981, falling in love with the people there and working as a volunteer at the Atheist Centre in Vijayawada, Andhra Pradesh, in addition to several other volunteer placements. Returning from India in 1981, Thompson moved to Ireland, first living in Dublin and then in her brother’s house in Mullingar before returning to India for another year in 1982–1983. On that second visit she did volunteer work at the Puna orphanage in Maharashtra, spent a month at the Satyananda Ashram in Uttar Pradesh taking a teachers’ training course in yoga, and then spent

From an early age I loved writing stories, and in my teens I wrote poetry and songs ѧ but I didn’t start writing seriously until the late eighties. I joined the North Clare Writers’ Workshop, which met every week in Ennistymon Library, and was soon producing poems and short stories on a regular basis. The workshop was an ideal environment. Although there were established writers in it there was no hierarchy, and the constructive criticism I received there gave me great encouragement and helped me to hone my craft.ѧ A year or so later I began to write full length novels, both for children and for adults. Switchers was published in Ireland in 1994 by Aran Press, but that company failed, and for a few years I was without a publisher. It took time and tenacity, but eventually I found a wonderful agent, Sophie Hicks of Ed Victor Ltd, and she soon got my publishing career on the move. (Thompson, 2006)

In 1994, the year Switchers was published in Ireland, Thompson, Minogue, and their two daughters moved to Kinvara, County Galway. In 1997, the year Switchers was published by Random House Children’s Books in London and Down Among the Gods was published by Virago, they built a house in Kinvara. Thompson’s publishing career was launched, and she has written a book a year since. Midnight’s Choice, the second book in the Switchers trilogy, was published in 1998, followed by the third book in the trilogy, Wild Blood, in 1999. Thompson and

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KATE THOMPSON extinction of the dinosaurs, are on the move southward, spreading cold and snow as they move. Tess and Kevin can save the world, according to Lizzie. They have powers beyond those of which they are aware. She urges them to find out what they can do. Tess hesitates, but Kevin is only two days away from his fifteenth birthday and needs to discover his potential. With time running out, a thrilling aerial battle against the Krools ensues, involving some dramatic shape-shifting and the clever use of pursuing government missiles. Alas, with the Krools defeated and the world saved from the encroaching ice age, Kevin is hit by government napalm and falls in flames to the burning forest below. Tess goes home, having lost her friend. She carries on, even allowing a few friends from school into her life, agreeing to her parents’ rules. Then one night she sees a beautiful bird outside her window. Kevin has become a phoenix, rising from his own ashes. The ending is very satisfying: surprising and sad when Kevin is killed, then surprising and glad when he reappears as a phoenix. Thompson’s empathy with the animal world is a strong element of the novel, along with the social issues and coming-of-age theme. The second book in the trilogy, Midnight’s Choice, opens exactly where Switchers left off, with the phoenix appearing outside Tess’s bedroom window. She joins him and is amazed at the peace and beauty of the gorgeous golden bird’s existence. Meanwhile, Algernon her white rat—normally dull, stupid, and timid, barely speaking or understanding the rat language—is compelled by a mysterious call that has gone out to all rats to gather. Switching into rat form, Tess follows him. The mysterious call has come from a boy/vampire whom Tess is sure must also be a Switcher. The phoenix is quite passive and has allowed itself to be caught and put on display in the zoo in Phoenix Park, Dublin. Tess goes out in search of the new Switcher, planning to ask him for help in freeing the phoenix. She finds Martin, a charming redhead with a great smile, who has a dark side. He sleeps all day and becomes a

Minogue separated amicably in 1999; both remained in Kinvara, sharing custody of their children. Down Among the Gods, Thompson’s novel for adults, based on the idea that the gods are still influencing human affairs, would preview the marriage of modern and ancient, real and imaginary that would find freedom and fertile ground for expression in her children’s books.

THE SWITCHERS TRILOGY

The Switchers trilogy establishes a number of Thompson’s themes. Thirteen-year-old Tess, who lives in Dublin with her parents, is a loner and outsider at school who has the ability to switch into animal form. Tess meets Kevin, who is nearly fifteen and is also a Switcher. While the novel is a fantasy about children who can switch into animal form at will, the setting and problems are realistic. The reader encounters issues of class: Tess is a privileged upper-class child who avoids Kevin at first because he is scruffy, obviously from the other side of the tracks. In fact, Kevin is homeless. But she gives in to Kevin’s request for help once she realizes he is also a Switcher. They take on the form of rats and are taken to a cottage outside Dublin, the home of wise Old Lizzie who was also a Switcher when she was young. An essential plot element in the trilogy is the awareness that the ability to switch is lost at age fifteen; at that point the young person must make a choice about what (or who) they want to be. Kevin is comfortable in the rat world; Tess is not, once again subtly revealing their class differences. Nevertheless, the two young people have fun together, becoming friends, the first real friend each has ever had. There are some delightful scenes as they become different animals—squirrels, owls, rats, goats— images of freedom and wordless communication. The imagined rat language is particularly creative and compelling. There is a problem in Tess and Kevin’s Ireland: a great cold has come over the Northern Hemisphere, unexplained and unusual. Lizzie explains that the Krools, huge jellyfish-like cold creatures who caused the first ice age and the

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KATE THOMPSON worry about Martin; as a boy he needs support in facing the grief and shock of his father’s death; as a vampire he would be a threat to the world. When the white rat returns, exhausted, he reports that the compelling force has gone. Thus the book ends, with Kevin and Tess’s friendship intact, and the news that Martin has given up his vampire nature. Furthermore, Tess’s parents have accepted her as a growing girl who needs more freedom and trust. The second book of the trilogy, like the first, is driven by the twists and turns of its compelling plot, the clever scenes involving the underappreciated rat, and its combination of mythic archetype and familiar adolescent behavior. Wild Blood takes the Switchers trilogy to a new level with the entrance of Irish folklore. This book is set in County Clare. Tess, within days of her fifteenth birthday, has been sent to spend part of her summer vacation with her cousins on her aunt and uncle’s farm. She is deeply concerned about the impending irrevocable decision about what form she will choose to remain in when she loses the power to switch. Of course she turns to Lizzie for advice, and as always Lizzie is enigmatic. “Maybe Clare is the best place you could be,” says Lizzie. “You has wild blood in your veins ѧ you might get a bit of help from your ancestors down that way” (Wild Blood, p. 9).

vampire at night. Tess is now fourteen; Martin is nearly fifteen. When Tess tells him that he has to decide at fifteen what he wants to be, he is decisive. He loves the power and freedom that he enjoys as a vampire. Tess is chilled by his vampire nature but asks him for his help. He agrees on the condition that Tess tries his lifestyle. She spends a night as a vampire and is drawn in by the power and freedom. At the same time, Tess is going through some adolescent rebellion, looking for more freedom to come and go without telling her parents everything. She has some fierce and realistic arguments with her mother and father, who are trying to give her more freedom but are surprised by her unexpected surliness. Now Tess is torn between the light and joy of the phoenix and the dark and power of the vampire. Her indecision and swings back and forth are realistic as adolescent moodiness and mythic as the fight between darkness and light. Tess meets Lizzie, the wise counselor, who urges her to act soon. Tess has several problems at this point: freeing Kevin-the-phoenix; deciding between the compelling poles of becoming a phoenix or a vampire; saving Martin, who is only days away from his fifteenth birthday, from becoming a vampire for eternity. She learns from Martin’s mother that he has been changed ever since his father died in an automobile accident that Martin had survived. Tess is still undecided, and compelled by Martin’s power. In a dramatic scene, thousands of rats erupt through the floor of the bird’s enclosure, compelled by Martin to kill the phoenix. The phoenix escapes the zoo and Tess follows; Martin/vampire appears, and an epic battle between good and evil, light and darkness, ensues. Tess has Martin/vampire by one hand and Kevin/phoenix by the other, and the battle rages within her. Finally she screams, “I just want to be human!” and the battle ends. Three teenagers lie exhausted on the grass. Martin runs off, and Kevin and Tess follow but do not find him (Midnight’s Choice, p. 207). Kevin admits that the life of the phoenix was wonderful but too perfect, boring in fact. He doesn’t mind having to be a boy forever. They

The family at the farm is not a happy one. Uncle Maurice is perpetually angry. Eleven-yearold Orla suffers from serious chronic asthma. Ten-year-old Brian and three-year-old Colm are in the background, though Brian works hard on the farm. Uncle Maurice is especially upset at the rats on the farm, which break into his cow feed, and he also resents the wild goats that break down his stone walls. Tess encounters a mysterious wood at the foot of a steep mountain crag, where she imagines a tall man with antlers and feels an unknown presence. Her cousins refer to an Uncle Declan, but her uncle Maurice angrily silences them. The children seem to know more than Tess gives them credit for. Submissive Aunt Deirdre explains briefly that Declan was Maurice’s twin brother who is dead.

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KATE THOMPSON children return home. Maurice agrees not to sell the woods. There is a strong environmental conservation theme at the end. But it’s not only the wild land that is being destroyed; it’s also the folklore and traditional home of the fairies. In the days of Maurice and Declan’s childhood in the rural west of Ireland, fairies and magic were an accepted part of life; fairies intermarried with humans, many of whom had fairy blood. Now that she has found her heritage, Tess is strongly tempted to join Declan and become a fairy. Kevin convinces Tess that she must remain a human, so that they can have some influence in the world that they love so much. As Switchers, they have learned to adapt and to meet whatever situation arises. Kevin decides to get off the street, get an education, and work to save wild places from being destroyed, to save their friends the animals, and the fairies too. And on another note, now that Maurice’s conflicts are resolved, family life is going to be much happier for Deirdre and the children, and Orla won’t need her inhaler any longer.

Uncle Maurice has spoken with an exterminator about ridding the farm of Tess’s rat friends, but he balks at the price. Tess has an idea. She calls her friend Kevin, who is now a homeless teenager but still able to speak the rat language. Kevin pretends to be an exterminator, leading the rats away from the farm, pied piper–like. Meanwhile Uncle Maurice has arranged to sell the wooded land to a developer. The children protest, but Maurice is adamant. There seems to be an irrational hatred and fear in Maurice. When they all go to show the land to the potential buyers, the children disappear. They appear to have been kidnapped by Kevin, who seems impossibly to have regained the ability to switch. Nothing makes sense. Aunt Deirdre urges Uncle Maurice to go to the police, but Maurice replies, “This is not police business.” It becomes clear that Declan actually disappeared into the woods at the age of fifteen, never to be seen again. Maurice knows something as well. With the help of one of her rat friends, Tess finds the children and Kevin imprisoned in a fairy sidhe. The children are all Switchers, in fact, and well-acquainted with Uncle Declan, a perpetual fifteen-year-old fairy, suffused with golden light. Declan has the ability to change form, and to change others, explaining Kevin’s apparent ability to switch. He has imprisoned the children and wishes to keep them permanently. Why? Because Maurice is threatening to sell the enchanted wood and allow the home of fairies to be destroyed. Maurice and Declan were both Switchers as children, and inseparable. They had decided to switch permanently to fairies at the age of fifteen. But while Declan switched, Maurice stayed human. Both felt abandoned and betrayed and angry: Declan because he is perpetually alone without his brother and Maurice because someone had to stay and take care of the farm and their mother. Declan urges Tess to switch into fairy form and they spend a wild night, riding the wind, making the lightning flash, dancing with other fairies. In the end, Maurice and Declan reconcile, each finally understanding the other’s decision. Having never talked, they have remained angry and resentful all these years. Declan lets the

THE MISSING LINK TRILOGY

In the Missing Link trilogy—The Missing Link (2000), Only Human (2001), and Origins (2003)—Thompson shifts to a first-person male narrator, thirteen-year-old Christie. Christie’s mom has remarried and saddled Christie with a fifteen-year-old stepbrother, Danny, who is disabled or autistic; he is clumsy and has out-ofcontrol episodes. His dad clearly cares for him but keeps him sedated and out of sight. Danny’s mom is Maggie, a scientist. The story takes place in the near future, a time of oil crisis and petrol rationing, with a war in the Persian Gulf in the background. A talking starling named Darling has been sent to bring Danny back to his mother in Scotland, and Christie, concerned for his stepbrother’s safety, decides to accompany them although he is reluctant and confused. In a parallel story, a homeless teenager named Tina meets a talking dog named Oggy. In Dublin, Darling and Oggy are reunited, both on the mission of collecting Danny for his mom, and Tina joins the

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KATE THOMPSON met Bernard, who claimed to have discovered the missing link, the gene that distinguished man from the apes, the source of intelligence and language. With this gene they created the talking animals. Maggie also genetically modified Danny, Sandy, and Colin, her own children. There were failures, the specimens Christie discovered, and they are at a crossroads in their work. The missing link seems to have appeared from somewhere. They suspect that some other form of more advanced life may have existed somewhere and genetically modified early man to create an intelligent species. The book ends in a scene with Maggie taking Danny to the seashore in winter and throwing him into the water. Here Danny finally enters his element. He is a dolphin boy. The Missing Link is a compelling book, with an ending that is somewhat ambiguous, leaving some questions unanswered. In style and craft and use of realistic problems and themes, The Missing Link rises to another level above the Switchers books. Kate Thompson is honing her craft, getting better and better. Only Human, book 2 of the trilogy, jumps immediately into the people and life in Fourth World, a utopian self-sufficient community in a deteriorating world. The style is intelligent and charming, realistic yet imaginative. Once again the narrator is Christie, who is “Only Human,” not genetically enhanced. The novel includes the adventure of searching for the missing link in Nepal and Tibet, and portrays encounters with the mythological yeti, the last of her race. We see the appeal of the missing link gene; the intelligent talking animals are all civilized and captivating. But there’s a dark side: the experimentation on human babies that failed. And Danny, Colin, and especially Sandy, whose appearance is so odd that she can’t be seen in town, have difficulties fitting into the human world. The locals in town resent Fourth World’s selfsufficiency and the rumors of strange and unnatural experiments and mad scientists.

two boys. Trying to keep Danny from panicking and having one of his episodes, Christie is forced to follow along with Danny and Darling’s plans and keep moving toward Scotland, always planning to get them turned back toward home at the earliest opportunity. The journey to Scotland is long, made complicated by the difficulties of transportation due to the oil crisis, but with Tina’s streetwise skills and the help of the two talking animals they manage to keep moving toward Fourth World, Maggie’s home. The journey is one of self-discovery for both boys. Early on Danny says, “Mother is going to show me what I am.” These are important, revealing words. Christie has discovered that Danny can be calmed by holding his breath, which he can do for many minutes. Periodically Christie phones home but is cut off or has to run after Danny or becomes resentful of his parents. The experienced reader of Thompson’s work will have encountered a similar tension when Tess left her home and parents without a word in Switchers. The adolescent’s absence is upsetting to the parents, but Tess, and Danny and Christie, are on a journey, a mission, and must keep moving. This theme, of the compelling nature of both the interior and the exterior journey, reappears in later Thompson novels. The group arrives at their destination at last. They find a self-sufficient homestead centered on gardening and eating good whole foods. Tina is immediately at home and happy, as is Danny, but Christie is disturbed by many questions. Danny’s sister, Sandy, is amazingly strong and can jump astonishingly. Some new pups are being taught to talk. Bernard, Sandy’s father, and Colin, her brother, are on a mission to find remains of prehistoric man. Discovering that there is a forbidden lab in the compound, Christie is determined to find out what is happening. When Christie finds the underground lab, he is horrified by some frightening specimens in jars including a feathered baby, and he determines to get out and expose Maggie to the authorities. So Maggie explains. She and Maurice, both interested in genetic engineering, established Fourth World. After Maurice left with Danny, Maggie

The story ends with an invasion by the locals, a discussion of the morality of continuing to experiment, and the possibility that humankind is the experiment of some other intelligent race of beings. At the novel’s end, Maggie is pregnant.

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KATE THOMPSON She and Bernard have promised not to continue to experiment on their own children, but they are not to be trusted. Christie has been entrusted with a mysterious stone—the yeti’s stone—and the reader is left with a sense of foreboding. What will happen next in this world where being only human may or may not be enough?

The other thread running through the narrative of Origins is that of Christie’s diary. He references events in the previous book Only Human in which he, Bernard, and Colin traveled to Tibet in search of the source of the missing link gene and befriended the last yeti. Christie has been given a stone from the yeti. At Fourth World, the situation has become more desperate. Shortages and the oil war have become worse. The compound has been threatened by hostile villagers. The household is digging in, creating a survival bunker in the underground lab. The climax of Christie’s story is the end of the Old World. The climax of Nessa and Farral’s story is the dawn of hope for a new and more peaceful New World, with a connection and appreciation of cultural differences among all the races. Origins has the tone of an origin myth, and it is well constructed, complex and subtle. After a while the reader realizes that the two threads will come together, but the suspense is perfect. The outcome is both expected and unexpected. The clues are all there, and yet all is not obvious. The Missing Link trilogy taken as a whole is intelligent and issue-oriented; Thompson does not talk down to young readers. The ecology and scientific ethics themes are woven into compelling plots with vivid characters. The imagined world is close enough to reality to seem possible, and many of the personal qualities of the young characters create a link to the young readers.

The answer to this question is gradually revealed in book 3 of the trilogy. Origins consists of two interweaving narratives that come together at the end. One is Christie’s diary, written at Fourth World in our near future, which is the distant past to the other thread of the story, the narrative of Nessa, a Cat, and Farral, a Dog. The Cat and Dog societies have coexisted for the most part peacefully but have an ancient enmity due to what they believe are two completely different natures. The stories are complex. In the story’s present, there are Cats and Dogs, talking intelligent beings whose societal structures, religion, and origin myths come from their separate gods, Atticus and Ogden, and these beings also seem to have some instincts and characteristics of animals. The world of the Cats and Dogs includes “gifted” or talking animals, as well as mute animals, and there is also a species known as Grunts, somewhat human or like the Cats and Dogs, but without intelligence or the ability to speak. As the story opens, Nessa is on the run. War seems certain to break out between Cats and Dogs, and ancient prejudices have been revived. She befriends a talking bird and is joined by Farral, a Dog who is trying to break away from the ancient enmity. While Nessa is reluctant, Farral convinces her that they should exchange stories and try to explore their differences as well as their similarities. The power of language is a theme; the final words of the book are: “What harm can a story do us?”

MYTHIC JOURNEYS

While working on the Switchers trilogy, Thompson also wrote two adult novels: Thin Air (1999) and An Act of Worship (2000). After that, in a period of extraordinary productivity, Thompson produced not only the Missing Link trilogy but also a quartet of award-winning stand-alone fantasy novels: The Beguilers (2001), her first Children’s Books Ireland Bisto award winner, followed by The Alchemist’s Apprentice (2002), which won a second CBI Bisto award; Annan Water (2004), the winner of an unheard of third Bisto; and The New Policeman (2005), which won not only a fourth Bisto but the Whitbread Children’s Book of the Year.

Nessa and Farral encounter Grunts and realize that Cats and Dogs have uncanny similarities with this species as well. Led by two talking birds they begin a journey in search of the legendary Talking Grunts, overcoming obstacles and learning to love each other and look forward to a world without conflict.

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KATE THOMPSON loses her own individual will and personality and becomes one with all energy and emotion. She survives the ordeal and emerges with the reward, the beguiler. But what she learns is that, by taking advantage of the shallow cheerfulness that the chuffies can offer, her society is responsible for an imbalance, creating an unmitigated sorrow in the form of the beguilers. “I came to understand something about my society’s responsibility in the whole, strange situation. By trying to avoid distress, by allowing the chuffies to soak up all our sorrow and anger and upset, we created the beguilers” (p. 142).

The mythological tone and journey theme of Origins are echoed in The Beguilers and again in The Alchemist’s Apprentice. While both the Switchers trilogy and Missing Link trilogy are set in Ireland and Scotland, recognizable places in an imaginable near future, The Beguilers is set in a completely imaginary time and place, a fantasy society with its own social order, customs, laws, and beings. For this reason, and because of its reflective, dreamy tone and the distilled coming-of-age journey of the seeker Rilka, The Beguilers has the feeling of a myth or legend to a greater degree than the more realistic trilogies that precede it. While all of Thompson’s young adult novels had been well-received, it was this work that won Thompson’s first major award, the CBI Bisto Book of the Year. As The Beguilers opens, it is clear that a young girl is about to come of age, to offer a Great Intention. The first-person narrator lives in a traditional society where the “traditions of the village are sacred and change is resisted rather than welcomed” (Beguilers, p. 11). The form of the novel is the hero’s journey. The young narrator, Rilka, is a seeker. Once Rilka offers her Great Intention, to catch a beguiler, the mysterious night creatures that the villagers fear lead to madness and death, she is offered advice by a wise elder and given magical gifts. In the imagined society, humans are accompanied by chuffies, somewhat like dogs, helpful creatures whose function is to absorb distressing emotions and soothe humans. Rilka is allergic to chuffies and is therefore different from the others. She has become more independent and more aware of her own feelings. Rilka discovers that the beguiler—a luminous formless being whose cry is shocking, terrifying, full of bitter pain and despair—is essentially the transformed essence or soul of the worn-out chuffies, who, having absorbed so much pain, now wish to capture a human soul and reclaim back what is owed.

Rilka realizes that she has a responsibility to return to the village with her knowledge. The return journey is difficult, but with Marik’s help she accomplishes the hero’s return home, bringing not only knowledge from her journey but also a gift for the community, a new source of water for the drought-stricken village. Rilka gains a new respect from the community, a kindred spirit in Marik, and a new awareness of her own strength and power. The book has the tone and simplicity of a legend. Like Thompson’s preceding books, it can be enjoyed on a number of levels and leaves the reader with something to think about. The Alchemist’s Apprentice is set in an historical time: London 1720. Jack, fourteen years old, is an unfortunate orphan apprenticed to a blacksmith. The story is another coming-of-age journey. Jack runs away from the blacksmith and finds an unusual object in the river. He receives advice from a wise woman and travels to the alchemist Jonathan Barnstable in hopes of selling the strange pot. The object turns out to be a philosopher’s egg, an alchemist’s sacred vessel, and a strong symbol throughout the book. Should the vessel be broken to reveal the alchemist’s gold within? Or will it disappoint, like cracking a rotten egg? Jack has much to learn and nothing to return to, so he agrees to stay on and become the alchemist’s apprentice. The alchemy metaphor pervades as the alchemist explains that the desired end is indeed gold: “But which matters more? Gold in the hand or gold in the spirit?” (p. 75). Thompson continually reinforces the idea of

Rilka is on a quest, which she believes is to capture and bring back a beguiler. For this, she is shunned by her community. One person, the blind young porter Marik, believes in her. She makes the difficult journey to the frightening cloud mountain, where chuffies go to die. There she

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KATE THOMPSON alchemy is both a philosophical and spiritual quest. The alchemist sends Jack out on a quest to find his prima material, the necessary stone that each must find for himself, and Jack’s series of adventures echoes the hero’s journey of mythology or the adventures of the reluctant hero Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit. Jack has an affinity for animals; he especially loves horses, and when he saves a lost thoroughbred from sinking into a quagmire on the moors, he is given wealth and education and the duke’s daughter in marriage as a reward. He develops an appetite for material things, but when he is rejected by Eleanor, the duke’s daughter, because she refuses to be traded for a horse, Jack realizes that wealth only leads to desiring more and more. Typically, Thompson slips a social theme into the story, the condemnation of materialism. Jack returns to the alchemist and takes a dramatic interior journey in a scene that is reminiscent of Rilka’s epiphany on the Cloud Mountain. Alone in the alchemist’s laboratory, Jack journeys in his mind through distant memories and the recent past to gain an understanding of the universal significance of the alchemist’s symbols. Thompson completes the metaphor of the philosopher’s egg—inner peace is the gold that is hidden within—and Jack completes his coming-of-age journey. The metaphor of the gold of the spirit is simple and beautiful. The tone of the novel is as charming and simple as a folktale, a hero’s journey with classic elements of both the coming-of-age novel and the fantasy novel.

Since then she has been buying old instruments and repairing them for resale. She has a dedicated workshop in her house, and she says that she finds the pastime a pleasant change from the mental efforts of writing. In 2004–2005 she completed a master of arts degree in Irish traditional music performance at the University of Limerick. The title of Thompson’s 2004 book, Annan Water, is taken from a traditional ballad. The plot is inspired by the lyrics of that song, which are gradually revealed as the protagonist Michael recalls snatches of the song. The scene is Scotland. Fifteen-year-old Michael works in the family business, a horse dealer’s yard. He is a proficient horseman but has neglected his schoolwork and feels at a dead end. His younger sister was killed in a riding accident a year earlier. Michael, his mother, and his father work so hard that they have no time for family life, and still they barely can make ends meet. Michael rides a gray mare down a forgotten green lane and discovers Annie, a troubled girl who cuts herself for reasons that have to do with her father in prison but that are not explained. Annie lives with her wheelchair-ridden mother on the other side of a dark and foreboding river, which turns out to be the Annan Water of the old song. Michael begins to give Annie riding lessons, and he is charmed by her enthusiasm and cheerfulness around the yard. The two young people become each other’s best and only friend, and things seem to be moving in a positive direction for them both. But there are dark secrets and memories in both their pasts that cannot be ignored, like the dark river and the old song that causes Michael so much distress. Things fall apart quickly as Michael’s neglect of school and an unreported accident with the farm lorry catch up with him, and the sad memory of his younger sister’s death catches up with the family. The book’s message seems to be: you can’t run away. Or can you? Annie’s father is returning from prison and the dark secret that is never revealed catches up with her. She phones Michael only to say that she is leaving home. Michael rides desperately on the gray mare to the river, which is swollen with a rainstorm, and tries to cross on

TRADITIONAL IRISH MUSIC

In 1999, Thompson began playing Irish traditional music. Kinvara, she has said, was a wonderful place to learn, because at that time there were traditional sessions in the pubs five nights a week. She also traveled farther afield with a pair of friends, and her life became a series of late-night music sessions. She became increasingly fascinated by the Irish fiddle, as well as the music, and following what she describes as a year or two of persistent nagging, she persuaded a local violin maker to take her on as a kind of unofficial apprentice.

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KATE THOMPSON horseback to catch up with Annie. Neither Michael nor Annie is found, though the dead horse washes up farther downstream. Annan Water is notable for its unusual setting, the family dealer’s yard, and for the theme of the unhappy working family, which was also seen in Wild Blood. Another variation on this theme appears in The New Policeman, a novel that also further develops the traditional music theme. Above all, Annan Water is notable for its ambiguity, the lack of resolution, the unanswered questions. The moment of enlightenment in this novel doesn’t lead to resolution. Michael had been gray, without purpose. Whether he lives or dies, he has become vivid, made a decision, and faced his fears. The New Policeman is set in Kinvara, a setting deliberately based on Thompson’s home. As she explains in her author’s note, a fundraising auction was held in Kinvara and she was asked to donate a promise to put someone’s name in her next book. The winning bidder was a local publisher of guidebooks and maps. She met the publisher at a music session at the local pub, just as the new policeman would in the novel. Their discussion “just fell short of an argument,” she writes. “In my opinion I was only required to use her name for a character of my choice, but she was convinced that I was under obligation to write a book which actually contained herѧover the next few weeks and months I realized that she had unwittingly planted the seed of an idea, which fused with other ideas already knocking around in my head and eventually became The New Policeman” (p. 435). Not only is the character of Anne Korff based on the local publisher, but the unconventional family— unmarried parents raising their children on a small farm holding—could certainly have its roots in Thompson’s own family life.

for more time for her birthday, J.J. sets out to see what he can do. The parallel story of the new policeman is interwoven with the Liddy family story. The new policeman in town is somewhat inept, can’t quite remember why he became a policeman, and tends to mysteriously disappear. He is a fine fiddler, however. There’s some mystery in the family: J.J.’s grandfather and great-grandfather had been involved in disappearances. J.J.’s grandfather left behind his very fine fiddle. J.J.’s great-grandfather had an argument with a priest over a flute and dancing. According to J.J.’s mother, the priest disapproved not only of the music and dancing, saying it led to immoral behavior, but also of the lasting belief in magic and the fairy folk. Music, according to the old beliefs, was given to the Irish by the fairies. Both the priest and the flute disappeared, and there were some who believed that J.J.’s grandfather had killed the priest. A local publisher named Anne Korff, who functions as the wise woman giving advice in this hero’s journey, has an idea for J.J. She knows where the time is going, but doesn’t know how to stop it. She takes him to an old souterrain, an underground room in an ancient ring fort that is the passage between two parallel worlds, Kinvara and Tír na n’óg, the land of eternal youth. J.J. sets off on the familiar hero’s journey to an unknown land to bring back a prize, the gift of time, to his family and community. In Tír na n’óg he meets Aengus óg, a young man of exceptional beauty and musical talent. When J.J. asks if he might buy some time, the inhabitants say, “Take it, and welcome.” But how? It seems that time is passing in the land of no time. There’s a leak in the seal between the two worlds. Music is meant to leak through, but not time. At the sessions in Tír na n’óg, J.J. plays like a native. The fairy rhythms seem to be in his blood. But the time leak is urgent, and J.J. is determined to find it. When he finds the leak, he also finds the answer to the disappearance of the priest and his great-grandfather’s flute. Hidden in a souterrain high on the Liddy land, between worlds, the priest has been using the flute’s hollow bore to puncture the time membrane and rid Ireland of the fairies. For not only have the fair-

J.J. Liddy, fifteen years old, is an accomplished traditional Irish fiddler and dancer. He lives on a working farm with his mother, father, and sister. Traditional ceili dancing has been a part of the life of the Liddy farm for generations. But now, there is never enough time. Everyone in Kinvara notices this. When J.J.’s mother asks

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KATE THOMPSON Laurie is close to her thirteen-year-old brother Alex and his good friend Javed, a nonpracticing Muslim from Shasakstan who believes that one’s religion should be kept to oneself. Organized religion leads to fundamentalism, he feels, and he is concerned that Islamic fundamentalism is on the rise in Shasakstan, where the terrorist Osama Bin Laden is believed to be hiding. According to Javed’s mother, it’s only a matter of time until the present government, which is unpopular with the majority because of its close ties with America, will be overthrown by fundamentalists.

ies corrupted Irish life with their music and dancing, according to the priest, but they have charmed and seduced human girls and left them with children born out of wedlock, children who are part fairy. J.J. is able to stop the time leak, to the relief of all, and he brings the flute back home with him. The last thing he realizes is that Aengus Og is his missing grandfather, and that he truly has the blood of the sidhe in his veins. Aengus Og is also the new policeman, who has been vaguely looking for the time leak on the human side. Aengus Og returns to Tír na n’óg and neither the new policeman nor Anne Korff are ever seen in Kinvara again. But J.J. has become a superb musician, tuned in to the music of the fairies. Each chapter of The New Policeman ends with a transcription of a related traditional tune. Thompson has added a glossary of Irish words, a bibliography of old Irish legends, and notes on the music.

Laurie is concerned about the ethics of the squirrel project, but Dad is immersed in the pure science of the project. Laurie, telling the tale in hindsight, believes that the horsemen, whatever they represent, have him in their power and that he will never be able to turn back. A thread related to the sport of cricket runs through the novel, as well as a thread of Laurie’s fears. Laurie’s mom is a physiotherapist for the England team, and all three young people are avid cricketers, but Laurie has been afraid to return to the game since breaking her elbow a year earlier. When Javed’s dad surprises them with a trip to Shasakstan for an important international series—Mum will be there with the England team—Laurie chooses not to go. She has an uneasy fear for their safety, in spite of Javed’s family’s assurance that they will be staying with relatives and perfectly safe.

THE FOURTH HORSEMAN: GLOBAL POLITICS

The Fourth Horseman (2006) is more overtly political than any of Thompson’s previous novels. Returning to the theme of genetic engineering, the novel is somewhat reminiscent of the Missing Link trilogy but is more compact and metaphoric, structured around the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. The time is the present, in Worcester, England. Laurie, fifteen years old, is the first-person narrator. Laurie’s father is a specialist in viruses and has taken a job for a mysterious and elusive employer, working to save the red squirrel by creating a virus that will kill the dominant gray squirrels but will not harm the red squirrel. At the lab, which has been remarkably well furnished and well hidden, Laurie and her father see two apparitions of horsemen, the White Emperor and the Red Rebel. What can they mean? Why do they seem to have a mesmerizing effect on her father? When a terrorist attack on nearby Birmingham is reported in the news, Laurie believes that the vision is a warning, somehow related to the attack. But why should the horsemen appear to Laurie and her dad, and what is the connection with the squirrel project?

Sure enough, something goes wrong. While Javed’s father, Manir, the boys, and Mum with the cricket team are in Shasakstan, the Islamists take over and demand release of Islamist prisoners and removal of all foreign troops from the Middle East. Airports are closed. Shasakstan can’t simply be bombed by the Americans, like Afghanistan and Iraq, because Shasakstan has nuclear weapons. Is this what the horsemen were warning them of? Mum, the cricket team, and the boys are able to get out on the last flight, but Manir is left behind, unable to return to England. Thus in The Fourth Horseman, Thompson has intertwined the global situation, terrorism and politics in the Middle East, with the local

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KATE THOMPSON situation, Laurie’s concern about the ethics of the lab, genetic engineering, and the squirrel virus. When the third horseman appears, the three teens finally realize they are seeing the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, a signal that the end of the world is at hand. The fourth horseman is Death who can kill with disease or with the beasts of the earth, and that is where Dad and the squirrel project come in. Javed figures it out: genocide! If a tiny genetic difference can be found in animals, it can be done with humans, and used to kill “them” and not “us” if the information falls into the wrong hands. Then all four horses appear. The fourth is riderless. The fourth horseman of the Apocalypse is to be Dad. The realization is chilling. Laurie finds her courage and the teens burn the lab down. The horses vanish. Who was behind the project? The government, perhaps. Would they have used the genetic weapon? Coming so soon after the Shasakstan crisis, the teens think they would. The crisis is not resolved; it is likely that others are working on genetic warfare. But as long as the fourth horse has no rider, the Apocalypse remains in the future where it belongs. And having looked the Apocalypse in the face, Laurie feels confident that she can rejoin the cricket team and face whatever ball comes her way. While Thompson is not a political writer, she addresses some big themes in her books: ecology, genetic engineering, war, and religion in Origins; the war on terror in The Fourth Horseman. The social activism thread in Thompson’s family is carried on in her young adult fantasy. A variety of social issues are examined: class discrimination, homelessness, dysfunctional families, disillusionment with contemporary materialism.

The Last of the High Kings (2007) is a sequel to The New Policeman. J.J. Liddy is a grown man in his forties, married and a father, still living on the family homestead. His fairy blood and his youthful stay in Tír na n’óg have made him a superb traditional musician. He is discontented, however; he spends too much time away from his family and his roots in the land. He would like to spend less time touring and more time as a craftsman, a builder and restorer of old instruments. His life is complicated by his four children, one of whom, Jenny, is particularly eccentric. She refuses to go to school, won’t wear shoes, and prefers to spend her time roaming the hills in the company of a certain white goat. Once again, the plot is complex. The stone beacon on the hillside above the Liddy land is the site of an archaeological dig. It is haunted by Ireland’s ancient and legendary past, however, something that only Jenny knows. The beacon is in fact guarded by the ghost of the son of one of Ireland’s ancient high kings, who had sacrificed his life in an epic battle between mankind and ancient magical beings, the prehuman inhabitants of the world. A fragile peace had been brokered by the fairies of Tír na n’óg long ago, a peace that the ghost has been protecting for long generations. In another plot thread, the frail elderly Mikey Cullen has been befriended by J.J.’s young son Donal. It is Mikey’s final wish to climb to the beacon one last time before he dies. Mikey is deeply bound to the land and to Ireland’s traditional past. The bond between Donal and Mikey is strong, and Donal is determined to help him reach the beacon. The Last of the High Kings is clever, charming, and suspenseful as the threads of the plot come together, bringing myth, legend, magic, past, and present to a dramatic climax. Jenny is a fairy changeling, the daughter of Aengus Óg, whom J.J. and his wife have agreed to raise in exchange for some of the legendary chiming maple, the material of the fairy’s superb fiddles. Jenny’s goat friend is a puca, an ancient mythical creature, who (in a strong ecological subtheme) desires a return to a time when the earth was green and free and less populated. Mikey is in

PRESERVING TRADITION IN THE CONTEMPORARY WORLD

Thompson’s keen interests tend to be reflected in her work. Love, respect, and empathy for animals is a strong thread. Traditional music is a theme in Annan Water and The New Policeman, along with the question of how to preserve tradition in the contemporary world.

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KATE THOMPSON The extraordinary appeal of Thompson’s books to adults as well as children rests not on her plots, though the plots certainly make them appealing, but on her ideas and on her willingness to encourage children and young adults to question. She is an intelligent writer who never condescends or patronizes her readers.

fact the last of the line of Ireland’s ancient high kings, who has promised his ancestor, the boy ghost’s father, that he will replace the boy as guardian of the beacon. In a dramatic final scene, most of the conflicts are resolved in a daring plan organized by Jenny and carried out with the help of Aengus Og. J.J. gets his chiming maple and his wish to farm his land again; Mikey reaches the beacon and keeps his promise to the high king; Donal inherits Mikey’s land and legacy; Jenny resolves her identity; the earth is saved from the vengeance of the pucas. The ending is bittersweet, however. Jenny, the fairy child reflects: “She had kept her side of the deal but, true to her kind, she had tricked him as well ѧ so the human race was still free to go about destroying the beautiful planet that the pucas had made” (pp. 307–308). The Last of the High Kings, like so many of Thompson’s books, is haunting, lovely, leaving a mood that stays with the reader after the last page is turned and the covers are closed. Once her daughters were grown and away from home, and she was in a position to take her work anywhere, Thompson was free to travel again. She spent the second half of 2006 in Australia, based in Melbourne, bush walking, riding, and exploring the central desert region. She next spent a three-month residency in Bristol, U.K., from May to July 2007, researching environmental and ecological matters for an arts and ecology program.

Thompson’s work is notable for its intelligence and ideas and for its compelling combination of the real and the imagined. Her books are distinguished by well-constructed, complex and subtle plots; suspense; compelling characters with complex motivations; and a strong sense of place and connections with mythology and traditional Irish magic. The juxtaposition of the coming-ofage journey and the hero’s journey give the work depth and connect it to the tradition of the British fantasy novel as well as to the classic bildungsroman, the novel of youth growing into self-knowledge. Finally, her refusal to offer easy answers encourages young adults growing up in complex times to ask questions and accept ambiguous, uncertain outcomes.

Selected Bibliography WORKS OF KATE THOMPSON

FANTASY AND IDEAS

SWITCHERS TRILOGY Switchers. London: Bodley Head, 1997; New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 1998. Midnight’s Choice. London: Bodley Head, 1998; New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 1999. Wild Blood. London: Bodley Head, 1999; New York: Hyperion Books for Children, 2000.

Thompson doesn’t write with a particular age group in mind. She is aware of the appeal of her books to adults, although they are published as books for young adults and feature young protagonists solving the problems of young adulthood. Most of the emails she gets from readers are from adults, she has said, but she finds the genre of children’s books useful because of the wide palette it offers for the exploration of ideas. Thompson’s books offer a balanced mix of plot, character, and ideas, fantasy and reality, presented in an intelligent manner. The style is charming and simple, the tales engrossing. She is a fine storyteller.

MISSING LINK TRILOGY The Missing Link. London: Bodley Head, 2000. Published in the United States as Fourth World. New York: Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2005. Only Human. London: Bodley Head, 2001; New York: Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2006. Origins. London: Bodley Head, 2003; New York: Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2007.

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KATE THOMPSON OTHER NOVELS

FOR

CHILDREN

AND

YOUNG ADULTS

An Act of Worship. London: Sceptre, 2000. (Novel for adults.)

The Beguilers. London: Bodley Head, 2001; New York: Dutton Children’s Books, 2001. The Alchemist’s Apprentice. London: Bodley Head, 2002. Annan Water. London: Bodley Head, 2004. The New Policeman. London: Bodley Head, 2005; New York: Greenwillow, 2007. The Fourth Horseman. London: Bodley Head, 2006. The Last of the High Kings. London: Bodley Head, 2007.

CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL STUDIES Battersby, Eileen. “Poised in a Land Between Worlds.” The Irish Times, January 21, 2006. Coghlan, Valerie, and Siobhán Parkinson, eds. Irish Children’s Writers and Illustrators 1986–2006. Dublin: Children’s Books Ireland, 2007. Dunbar, Robert. “Kate Thompson.” In Irish Children’s Writers and Illustrators 1986- 2006. Valerie Coghlan and Siobhan Parkinson, eds. Dublin: Children’s Books Ireland and Church of Ireland College of Education Publications, 2007. Pp. 133–143. Rabinovitch, Dina. “Author of the Month: Kate Thompson.” The Guardian (London), January 24, 2006.

OTHER WORK There Is Something. Bellingham, Wash.: Signpost Press, 1992. (Poems.) Down Among the Gods. London: Virago, 1997. (Novel for adults.) Thin Air. London: Sceptre, 1999. (Novel for adults.)

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MASTER INDEX The following index covers the entire British Writers series through Supplement XIV. All references include volume numbers in boldface roman numerals followed by page numbers within that volume. Subjects of articles are indicated by boldface type.

A.

Couleii Plantarum Libri Duo (Cowley), II: 202 A. D. Hope (Hart), Supp. XII: 123 “A. G. A. V.” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 A la recherche du temps perdu (Proust), Supp. IV: 126, 136 A la recherche du temps perdu (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173–175 A Laodicean (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 112, 114 “A Propos of Lady Chatterley’s Lover” (Lawrence), IV: 106; VII: 91 “Aaron” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 179 Aaron’s Rod (Lawrence), VII: 90, 94, 106–107; Retro. Supp. II: 230 Abaft the Funnel (Kipling), VI: 204 “Abasement of the Northmores, The” (James), VI: 69 “Abbé Delille and Walter Landor, The” (Landor), IV: 88n, 92–93 Abbess of Crewe, The (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 201, 210 “Abbey Mason, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 Abbey Theatre, VI: 212, 218, 307, 309, 316; VII: 3, 6, 11 Abbey Walk, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Abbot, The (Scott), IV: 39 Abbott, C. C., V: 379, 381 ABC Murders, The (Christie), Supp. II: 128, 130, 135 “ABC of a Naval Trainee” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 “Abomination, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 273 Abyssophone (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Abdelazer; or, The Moor’s Revenge (Behn), Supp. III: 27, 36 Abercrombie, Lascelles, II: 247 “Abercuawg,” Supp. XII: 284, 287 Aberdeen Free Press, Supp. XII: 203 “Abernethy” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “Abiding Vision, The” (West), Supp. III: 442 Abinger Harvest (Forster), VI: 411, 412; Supp. II: 199, 223 “Abir” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129 “Abject Misery” (Kelman), Supp. V: 244 Ableman, Paul, Supp. IV: 354 Abolition of Man, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 255, 257 Abortive (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 About the House (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13

“About Two Colmars” (Berger), Supp. IV: 85 “Above the Dock” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 134, 136 “Abraham Men” (Powys), VIII: 250 Abridgement of the History of England, An (Goldsmith), III: 191 Abridgement of the Light of Nature Pursued, An (Hazlitt), IV: 139 Abroad; British Literary Traveling Between the Wars (Fussell), Supp. IV: 22 Absalom and Achitophel (Dryden), II: 292, 298–299, 304 “Absalom, My Son” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Absence” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 “Absence” (Thompson), V: 444 “Absence, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 287–288 “Absence, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 Absence of War, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 294, 297–298 “Absences” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 Absent Friends (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2–3, 10, 13, 14 Absent in the Spring (Christie), Supp. II: 133 Absentee, The (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 154, 160–161, 165 “Absent–Minded Beggar, The” (Kipling), VI: 203 “Absent–Mindedness in a Parish Choir” (Hardy), VI: 22 Abstract of a Book Lately Published, A: A Treatise of Human Nature . . . (Hume), Supp. III: 230–231 Absurd Person Singular (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 5–6, 9 “Abt Vogler” (Browning), IV: 365, 366, 370 Abuses of Conscience, The (Sterne), III: 135 Academy (periodical), VI: 249 “Academy, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 331 Academy Notes (Ruskin), V: 178 Acceptable Sacrifice, The (Bunyan), II: 253 Acceptance World, The (Powell), VII: 347, 348, 350 “Access to the Children” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 “Accident, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4, 5 Accident (Bennett), VI: 250 Accident (Pinter), Supp. I: 374, 375; Retro. Supp. I: 226

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“Accident” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228 Accidental Man, An (Murdoch), Supp. I: 227 “Accidents” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “Accompanist, The” (Desai), Supp. V: 65 “According to His Lights” (Galsworthy), VI: 276–277 “Account, The” (Cowley), II: 197 Account of Corsica, An (Boswell), III: 236, 239, 243, 247 Account of the European Settlements in America, An (Burke), III: 205 Account of the Growth of Popery and Arbitrary Government, An (Marvell), I: 207–208, 219; Retro. Supp. II: 266–268 Account of the Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson . . . by Himself, An (Johnson), III: 122 Account of the Life of Mr. Richard Savage, An (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 142 Account of the Settlement at Port Jackson, Supp. IV: 348 Account Rendered (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 Ace of Clubs (Coward), Supp. II: 155 “Aceldama” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 78 Achilles (Gay), III: 55, 66, 67 Achilles in Scyros (Bridges), VI: 83 “Achronos” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 Ackroyd, Peter, Supp. VI: 1–15 “Acid” (Kelman), Supp. V: 245 Acis and Galatea (Gay), III: 55, 67 Acre of Land, The (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 “Across the Estuary” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “Across the Moor” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Across the Plains (Stevenson), V: 389, 396 “Act, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161–162 Act of Creation, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 37, 38 Act of Grace (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 “Act of Reparation, An” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Act of Terror, An (Brink), Supp. VI: 55– 56, 57 Act of Worship, An (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 291 Act Without Words I (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 55, 57 Act Without Words II (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 55, 57 Actaeon and Diana (Johnson), I: 286

ACTE−AEST Acte (Durrell), Supp. I: 126, 127 Actions and Reactions (Kipling), VI: 204 Acton, John, IV: 289, 290; VI: 385 “Actor’s Farewell, The” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 81 “Acts of Restoration” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 107 “Ad Amicam”sonnets (Thompson), V: 441 Ad Patrem (Milton), Retro. Supp. II: 272 Adam and Eve and Pinch Me (Coppard), VIII: 85, 88, 89, 91–93 “Adam and Eve and Pinch Me” (Coppard), VIII: 90 Adam and Eve and Pinch Me (Rendell), Supp. IX: 189, 195 Adam and the Sacred Nine (Hughes), Supp. I: 357, 363 Adam Bede (Eliot), V: xxii, 2, 191–192, 194, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 104–106 “Adam Pos’d” (Finch), Supp. IX: 68 “Adam Tempted” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Adams, Henry, VI: 65 Adam’s Breed (Hall), Supp. VI: 120, 122, 128 “Adam’s Curse” (Yeats), III: 184; VI: 213 “Adam’s Dream” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207– 208 “Adapting Nice Work for Television” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 373, 381 Adcock, Fleur, Supp. XII: 1–16 “Adders’ Brood” (Powys), VIII: 248, 249 Addison, Joseph, II: 195, 200; III: 1, 18, 19, 38–53, 74, 198; IV: 278, 281, 282 “Additional Poems” (Housman), VI: 161 “Address to the Deep” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 161 Address to the Deil (Burns), III: 315, 317 Address to the Irish People, An (Shelley), IV: 208; Retro. Supp. I: 245 “Address to the Ocean” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 152, 153 “Address to the Unco Guid” (Burns), III: 319 “Addy” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 12 Adéle: Jane Eyre’s Hidden Story (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Adelphi, Supp. XIII: 191 Adepts of Africa, The (Williams, C. W. S.), see Black Bastard, The “Adieu to Fancy” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204 “Adina” (James), VI: 69 Administrator, The (MacNeice), VII: 401 Admirable Bashville, The (Barker), VI: 113 Admiral Crichton, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 9, 14–15 Admiral Guinea (Stevenson), V: 396 “Admonition on a Rainy Afternoon” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Adolphe (Constant), Supp. IV: 125, 126, 136 Adonais (Shelley), I: 160; VI: 73; IV: xviii, 179, 196, 205–206, 207, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 255

Adonis and the Alphabet (Huxley), VII: 206–207 Adonis, Attis, Osiris: Studies in the History of Oriental Religion (Frazer), Supp. III: 175, 180 Adoption Papers, The (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99, 100, 102–103, 108 “Adoption Papers, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102–103 Adored One, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 5, 9 Adorno, Theodor, Supp. IV: 29, 82 “Adrian and Bardus” (Gower), I: 54 “Advanced Lady, The” (Mansfield), VII: 172 Advancement of Learning, An (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 122 Advancement of Learning, The (Bacon), I: 261–265; II: 149; IV: 279 Advantages Proposed by Repealing the Sacramental Test, The (Swift), III: 36 “Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 173 “Adventure of Charles Wentworth” (Brontë), V: 118–119 “Adventure of the Abbey Grange, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 168, 173, 176 “Adventure of the Blanched Soldier, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 168 “Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 173 “Adventure of the Bruce–Partington Plans, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 170, 175 “Adventure of the Copper Beeches, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 168 “Adventure of the Creeping Man, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 165 “Adventure of the Devil’s Foot, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 167, 176 “Adventure of the Empty House, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 160 “Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 170 “Adventure of the Golden Pince–Nez, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 175 “Adventure of the Illustrious Client, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 169 “Adventure of the Lion’s Mane, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 168–169 “Adventure of the Missing Three–Quarter, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 165, 171 “Adventure of the Norwood Builder, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 169, 170, 173 “Adventure of the Retired Colourman, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 172 “Adventure of the Second Stain, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 175, 176 “Adventure of the Six Napoleons, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 170–171, 174–175 “Adventure of the Speckled Band, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 165–166 “Adventure of the Sussex Vampire, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 169 “Adventure of the Three Garridebs, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 165 “Adventure of Wisteria Lodge, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 168 Adventure Story (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 316–317

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Adventures Aboard the Maria Celeste (Carey), Supp. XII: 52 Adventures in the Skin Trade (Thomas), Supp. I: 182 Adventures of Caleb Williams, The (Godwin), III: 332, 345; IV: 173 Adventures of Covent Garden, The (Farquhar), II: 352, 354, 364 Adventures of Eovaai, Princess of Ijaveo, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135, 141– 142, 146 Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom, The (Smollett), see Ferdinand Count Fathom Adventures of Harry Richmond, The (Meredith), V: xxiii, 228, 234 Adventures of Johnny Walker, Tramp, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 93 Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, The (Smollett), see Peregrine Pickle Adventures of Philip on His Way Through the World, The (Thackeray), V: 19, 29, 35, 38 Adventures of Robina, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Adventures of Roderick Random, The (Smollett), see Roderick Random Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves, The (Smollett), see Sir Launcelot Greaves Adventures of the Black Girl in Her Search for God, The (Shaw), VI: 124, 127, 129 Adventures of Ulysses, The (Lamb), IV: 85 “Adventurous Exploit of the Cave of Ali Baba, The” (Sayers), Supp. III: 340 Advice: A Satire (Smollett), III: 152n, 158 Advice to a Daughter (Halifax), III: 40 “Advice to a Discarded Lover” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 5 Advice to a Son (Osborne), II: 145 Advocateship of Jesus Christ, The (Bunyan), II: 253 A. E. Housman (Gow), VI: 164 A. E. Housman: A Divided Life (Watson), VI: 164 A. E. Housman: An Annotated Handlist (Sparrow), VI: 164 AE. See Russell, George William “Aeaea” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 17 Ælfric of Eynsham, Abbot, Retro. Supp. II: 297–298 Aeneid (tr. Douglas), III: 311 Aeneid (tr. Surrey), I: 116–119 Aeneid of Virgil, The (tr. Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 Aeneids of Virgil, Done into English Verse, The (Morris), V: 306 Aeneis (Dryden), II: 290, 293, 297, 301 “Aerial Views” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 221 Aeschylus, IV: 199 “Aesculapian Notes” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Aesop (Vanbrugh), II: 324, 332, 336 “Aesop and Rhodopè” (Landor), IV: 94 Aesop’s Fables (Behn), Supp. III: 37 “Aesthetic Apologia, An” (Betjeman), VII: 357–358 “Aesthetic Poetry” (Pater), V: 356, 357

AETH−ALAS Aethiopian History (Heliodorus), I: 164 Affair, The (Snow), VII: xxi, 324, 329– 330 “Affection in Education” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 43–44 “Affliction” (Herbert), II: 125, 127; Retro. Supp. II: 179 “Affliction” (Vaughan), II: 187–188 Affliction (Weldon), Supp. IV: 531, 532– 533 “Affliction of Childhood, The” (De Quincey), IV: 152–153, 154 “Afon Rhiw” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 African Elegy, An (Okri), Supp. V: 359 “African Socialism: Utopian or Scientific?” (Armah), Supp. X: 2 African Stories (Lessing), Supp. I: 240, 243 African Witch, The (Cary), VII: 186 “After a Childhood away from Ireland” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 “After a Death” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254 “After a Journey” (Hardy), VI: 18; Retro. Supp. I: 118 “After an Operation” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 “After a Romantic Day” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 118 After Bakhtin (The Art of Fiction: Illustrated from Classic and Modern Texts) (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366–367 “After Civilization” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38 “After Closing Time” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “After Dunkirk” (Lewis), VII: 445 “After Eden” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 After Hannibal (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 357, 365–366 “After Her Death” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254 After Julius (Howard), Supp. XI: 138, 139, 142–144, 145, 147, 148 After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 392–394, 400 “After Long Ages” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38 “After Long Silence” (Yeats), VI: 212inline“After Lucretius” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26 After Magritte (Stoppard), Supp. I: 443, 444–445, 447, 451; Retro. Supp. II: 346–347 After Many a Summer (Huxley), VII: xviii, 205 “After Rain” (Thomas), Supp. III: 406 After Rain (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505 “After Seeing Actors Rehearsing in the Cimetière du Père Lachaise” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 131 After Strange Gods (Eliot), VI: 207; VII: 153 After the Ark (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 After the Ball (Coward), Supp. II: 155 After the Dance (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 310–311, 312, 318 After the Death of Don Juan (Warner), Supp. VII: 376, 377

“After the funeral” (Thomas), Supp. I: 176, 177 “After the Irish of Aodghan O’Rathaille” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 “After the Swim” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 93 “After the Vision” (Warner), Supp. XI: 298 “After the War” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70–71 “After Viewing The Bowling Match at Castlemary, Cloyne 1847” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67–68 “After Viking” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 14 After–Dinner Joke, The (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 “Afterflu Afterlife, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42–43 Aftermath, The (Churchill), VI: 359 “Afternoon” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 “Afternoon Dancing” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503–504 “Afternoon in Florence” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210 Afternoon Men (Powell), VII: 343–345 Afternoon Off (Bennett), VIII: 27 “Afternoon Visit” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 “Afternoons” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281 “Afterthought, An” (Rossetti), V: 258 “Afterwards” (Hardy), VI: 13, 19; Retro. Supp. I: 119 Against a Dark Background (Banks), Supp. XI: 1, 12–13 “Against Absence” (Suckling), II: 227 “Against Coupling” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 5 “Against Dryness” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 216, 218, 219, 221 Against Entropy (Frayn), see Towards the End of Morning “Against Fruition” (Cowley), II: 197 “Against Fruition” (Suckling), II: 227 Against Hasty Credence (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Against Religion (Wilson), Supp. VI: 297, 305–306, 309 “Against Romanticism” (Amis), Supp. II: 3 “Against the Sun” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 88, 94 Against Venomous Tongues (Skelton), I: 90 Agamemnon (Seneca), II: 71 Agamemnon (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 424 Agamemnon, a Tragedy Taken from Aeschylus (FitzGerald), IV: 349, 353 Agamemnon of Aeschylus, The (tr. Browning), IV: 358–359, 374 Agamemnon of Aeschylus, The (tr. MacNeice), VII: 408–409 Agate, James, Supp. II: 143, 147 Age of Anxiety, The (Auden), VII: 379, 388, 389–390; Supp. IV: 100; Retro. Supp. I: 11 Age of Bronze, The (Byron), IV: xviii, 193 Age of Indiscretion, The (Davis), V: 394 Age of Iron (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 85

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Age of Longing, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 25, 27, 28, 31–32, 35 Age of Reason, The (Hope), Supp. VII: 164 Age of Shakespeare, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Age of the Despots, The (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 249, 255–256 Age of the Rainmakers, The (Harris), Supp. V: 132 Agents and Patients (Powell), VII: 345– 346 Aglaura (Suckling), II: 226, 238 Agnes Grey (Brontë), V: xx, 129–130, 132, 134–135, 140–141, 153; Supp. IV: 239; Retro. Supp. I: 52, 54–55 “Agnes Lahens” (Moore), VI: 98 Agnostic’s Apology, An (Stephen), VI: 289 “Agonies of Writing a Musical Comedy” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 451 “Agnus Dei” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful (Paton), Supp. II: 353–355 “Ah, what avails the sceptred race” (Landor), IV: 88 “Ahoy, Sailor Boy!” (Coppard), VIII: 97 Aids to Reflection (Coleridge), IV: 53, 56 Aiken, Conrad, VII: 149, 179; Supp. III: 270 Aimed at Nobody (Graham), Supp. VII: 106 Ainger, Alfred, IV: 254, 267 Ainsi va la monde (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202, 205 Ainsworth, Harrison, IV: 311; V: 47 “Air” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 267 Air and Angels (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 125 “Air and Angels” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 “Air Disaster, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Air Show, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224–225 “Aire and Angels” (Donne), II: 197 Airship, The (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35 “Aisling” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67 “Aisling” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 418–419 “Aisling Hat, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 286, 288, 289 Aissa Saved (Cary), VII: 185 “Akbar’s Bridge” (Kipling), VI: 201 Akerman, Rudolph, V: 111 Akhenaten Adventure, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 198 Akhmatova, Anna, Supp. IV: 480, 494 “Al Som de l’Escalina” (Eliot), VII: 152 Alaham (Greville), Supp. XI: 110, 120 Alamanni, Luigi, I: 110–111 Alamein to Zem–Zem (Douglas), VII: xxii, 441 Alarcos (Disraeli), IV: 306, 308 Alaric at Rome (Arnold), V: 216 “Alas, Poor Bollington!” (Coppard), VIII: 94–95 “Alaska” (Armitage), VIII: 5 Alastair Reid Reader, An: Selected Poetry and Prose (Reid), Supp. VII: 333, 336

ALAS−AMAD Alastor (Shelley), III: 330, 338; IV: xvii, 195, 198, 208, 217; Retro. Supp. I: 247 Albatross, and Other Stories, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118–119 “Albatross, The” (Hill), Supp. XIV: 115, 118–119 “Albergo Empedocle” (Forster), VI: 399, 412 Albert’s Bridge (Stoppard), Supp. I: 439, 445 Albigenses, The (Maturin), VIII: 201, 207, 208 “Albinus and Rosemund” (Gower), I: 53–54 Albion! Albion! (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 111 “Albion & Marina” (Brontë), V: 110 Albion and Albanius (Dryden), II: 305 Album, The (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 157 Album Verses (Lamb), IV: 83, 85 Alcazar (Peele), see Battle of Alcazar, The Alcestis (Euripides), IV: 358 Alchemist, The (Jonson), I: 304–341, 342; II: 4, 48; Retro. Supp. I: 163 “Alchemist in the City, The” (Hopkins), V: 362 Alchemist’s Apprentice, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 291, 292–293 “Alchemy of Happiness, The” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 163 Alcott, Louisa May, Supp. IV: 255 Aldington, Richard, VI: 416; VII: xvi, 36, 121 Aldiss, Brian, III: 341, 345; Supp. V: 22 Aldous Huxley (Brander), VII: 208 Alentejo Blue (Ali), Supp. XIII: 6–10, 11 Alexander, Peter, I: 300n, 326 Alexander, William (earl of Stirling), I: 218; II: 80 “Alexander and Zenobia” (Brontë), V: 115 Alexander Pope (Sitwell), VII: 138–139 Alexander Pope (Stephen), V: 289 Alexander Pope as Critic and Humanist (Warren), II: 332n Alexander’s Feast; or, The Power of Musique (Dryden), II: 200, 300, 304 Alexanders saga, VIII: 237, 242 Alexandria: A History and Guide (Forster), VI: 408, 412 Alexandria Quartet (Durrell), Supp. I: 94, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 104–110, 113, 122 “Alfieri and Salomon the Florentine Jew” (Landor), IV: 91 “Alford” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 78–79 Alfred (Thomson and Mallet), Supp. III: 412, 424–425 Alfred Lord Tennyson: A Memoir (Tennyson), IV: 324, 338 Alfred the Great of Wessex, King, Retro. Supp. II: 293, 295–297 Algernon Charles Swinburne (Thomas), VI: 424 Ali, Monica, Supp. XIII: 1–12 Ali the Lion: Ali of Tebeleni, Pasha of Jannina, 1741–1822 (Plomer), Supp. XI: 225

Alice (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 228, 230– 233 Alice Fell (Tennant), Supp. IX: 235, 236 Alice in Wonderland (Carroll), see Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Alice Sit–by–the–Fire (Barrie), Supp. III: 8, 9 Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Carroll), V: xxiii, 261–265, 266–269, 270–273 Alice’s Adventures Under Ground (Carroll), V: 266, 273; see Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland “Alicia’s Diary” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Alien, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Alien (Foster), III: 345 “Alien Corn, The” (Maugham), VI: 370, 374 Alien Sky, The (Scott), Supp. I: 261–263 “Alien Soil” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 221, 229 All About Mr. Hatterr (Desani), Supp. IV: 445 “All Alone” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 “All blue and bright, in glorious light” (Brontë), V: 115 “All Day It Has Rained” (Lewis), VII: 445 All Day on the Sands (Bennett), VIII: 27 “All Flesh” (Thompson), V: 442 All Fools (Chapman), I: 235, 238, 244 All for Love (Dryden), II: 295–296, 305 All for Love (Southey), IV: 71 All Hallow’s Eve (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 281, 282, 284, 285 All My Eyes See: The Visual World of G. M. Hopkins (ed. Thornton), V: 377n, 379n, 382 All My Little Ones (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 All Ovid’s Elegies (Marlowe), I: 280, 291, 293 “All philosophers, who find” (Swift), IV: 160 All Quiet on the Western Front (Remarque), VII: xvi All Religions Are One (Blake), III: 292, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 35 “All Roads Lead to It” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228 “All Saints: Martyrs” (Rossetti), V: 255 “All Souls Night” (Cornford), VIII: 112 All That Fall (Beckett), Supp. I: 58, 62; Retro. Supp. I: 25 All the Conspirators (Isherwood), VII: 310 “All the hills and vales along” (Sorley), VI: 421–422 “All the Inventory of Flesh” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 All the Usual Hours of Sleeping (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 All the Year Round (periodical), V: 42 “All Things Ill Done” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 23–24 All Trivia (Connolly), Supp. III: 98 “All Washed Up” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 All What Jazz: A Record Diary, 1961– 1968 (Larkin), Supp. I: 286, 287–288

302

Allan Quatermain (Haggard), Supp. III: 213, 218 “Allegiance, An” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315 Allegory of Love: A Study in Medieval Tradition (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 249–250, 265 Allen, John, IV: 341, 349–350, 352 Allen, Walter Ernest, V: 219; VI: 257; VII: xvii, xxxvii, 71, 343 Allestree, Richard, III: 82 Allott, Kenneth, IV: 236; VI: xi, xxvii, 218 Allott, Miriam, IV: x, xxiv, 223n, 224, 234, 236; V: x, 218 All’s Well That Ends Well (Shakespeare), I: 313, 318 All You Who Sleep Tonight (Seth), Supp. X: 283–284, 288 “Allusion to the Tenth Satire of the Second Book of Horace” (Rochester), II: 259 Almayer’s Folly (Conrad), VI: 135–136, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 70–71 Almeria (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 158 Almond Tree, The (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 293–294 “Almond Tree, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 293–294, 302 “Almswoman” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42 “Aloe, The” (Mansfield), VII: 173–174 Alone (Douglas), VI: 293, 294, 297, 304, 305 “Along the Terrace” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74–75 Alpers, Antony, VII: 176 “Alphabetical Catalogue of Names . . . and Other Material Things Mentioned in These Pastorals, An” (Gay), III: 56 Alphabetical Order (Frayn), Supp. VII: 60 “Alphabets” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 131 Alphonsus, King of Aragon (Greene), VIII: 139–140 Alps and Sanctuaries (Butler), Supp. II: 114 “Alps in Winter, The” (Stephen), V: 282 Alroy (Disraeli), IV: 296, 297, 308 “Altar, The” (Herbert), II: 128 “Altar of the Dead, The” (James), VI: 69 “Altarwise by owl–light” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174–176 Alteration, The (Amis), Supp. II: 12–13 “Alternative to Despair, An” (Koestler), Supp. I: 39 Althusser, Louis, Supp. IV: 90 Alton, R. E., I: 285 Alton Locke (Kingsley), V: vii, xxi, 2, 4; VI: 240 “Altruistic Tenderness of LenWing the Poet, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 Altus Prosator (tr. Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 169 Alvarez, A., II: 125n Alvíssmál, VIII: 231 Amadeus (Shaffer), Supp. I: 326–327 Amadis of Gaul (tr. Southey), IV: 71 Amado, Jorge, Supp. IV: 440

AMAL−ANGE Amalgamemnon (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 99, 110–111, 112 Amateur Emigrant, The (Stevenson), V: 389, 396 “Amateur Film–Making” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 Amazing Marriage, The (Meredith), V: 227, 232, 233, 234 Ambarvalia: Poems by T. Burbidge and A. H. Clough, V: 159–160, 161, 170 Ambassadors, The (James), VI: 55, 57– 59; Supp. IV: 371 “Amber Bead, The” (Herrick), II: 106 Amber Spyglass, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 151, 153, 157–158 Amberley, Lady, V: 129 “Ambiguities” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 Ambition and Other Poems (Davies), Supp. XI: 102 Ambler, Eric, Supp. IV: 1–24 Amboyna (Dryden), II: 305 “Ambush” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 Amelia (Fielding), III: 102–103, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 81, 89–90 “Amen” (Rossetti), V: 256 Amendments of Mr. Collier’s False and Imperfect Citations (Congreve), II: 339, 340, 350 America. A Prophecy (Blake), III: 300, 302, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 39, 40–41 America I Presume (Lewis), VII: 77 American, The (James), VI: 24, 28–29, 39, 67 “American Dreams” (Carey), Supp. XII: 54, 55, 56 American Ghosts and Other World Wonders (Carter), Supp. III: 91 American Journal of Religious Psychology, Supp. XIII: 44 American Notes (Dickens), V: 42, 54, 55, 71 American Scene, The (James), VI: 54, 62–64, 67 American Senator, The (Trollope), V: 100, 102 American Visitor, An (Cary), VII: 186 American Wake (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67–69–71, 72, 75 “American Wife, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 “Americans in My Mind, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 316 “Ametas and Thestylis Making Hay– Ropes” (Marvell), II: 211 Aminta (Tasso), II: 49 “Amir’s Homily, The” (Kipling), VI: 201 Amis, Kingsley, Supp. II: 1–19; Supp. IV: 25, 26, 27, 29, 377; Supp. V: 206 Amis, Martin, Supp. IV: 25–44, 65, 75, 437, 445 “Among All Lovely Things My Love Had Been” (Wordsworth), IV: 21 Among Muslims: Everyday Life on the Frontiers of Pakistan (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 135, 144 “Among School Children” (Yeats), VI: 211, 217 Among the Believers: An Islamic Journey (Naipaul), Supp. I: 399, 400–401, 402

Among the Cities (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 183 “Among the Ruins” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Among the Walls (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Amores (tr. Marlowe), I: 276, 290 Amoretti and Epithalamion (Spenser), I: 124, 128–131 Amorous Cannibal, The (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 319, 320–321 “Amorous Cannibal, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 319 Amorous Prince, The; or, The Curious Husband (Behn), Supp. III: 26 “Amos Barton” (Eliot), V: 190 “Amour de l’impossible, L’” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Amours de Voyage (Clough), V: xxii, 155, 156, 158, 159, 161–163, 165, 166– 168, 170 Amphytrion; or, The Two Sosias (Dryden), II: 296, 305 “Ample Garden, The” (Graves), VII: 269 Amrita (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 224–226 “Amsterdam” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Amusements Serious and Comical (Brown), III: 41 “Amy Foster” (Conrad), VI: 134, 148 An Duanaire: An Irish Anthology, Poems of the Dispossessed, 1600–1900 (Kinsella), Supp. V: 266 An Giall (Behan), Supp. II: 71–73 Anacreontiques (Johnson), II: 198 “Anactoria” (Swinburne), V: 319–320, 321 “Anahorish” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 125, 128 Anand, Mulk Raj, Supp. IV: 440 “Anarchist, An” (Conrad), VI: 148 Anathemata, The (Jones), Supp. VII: 167, 168, 169, 170, 175–178 Anatomy of Exchange–Alley, The (Defoe), III: 13 Anatomy of Frustration, The (Wells), VI: 228 Anatomy of Melancholy (Burton), II: 88, 106, 108; IV: 219 Anatomy of Oxford (eds. Day Lewis and Fenby), Supp. III: 118 Anatomy of Restlessness: Selected Writings, 1969–1989 (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157, 160; Supp. IX: 52, 53, 61 “Ancestor” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 “Ancestor to Devotee” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12–13 Ancestors (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 41–42, 45, 46 “Ancestors” (Cornford), VIII: 106 Ancestral Truths (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170–172 Anchises: Poems (Sisson), Supp. XI: 257 “Anchored Yachts on a Stormy Day” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 Ancient Allan, The (Haggard), Supp. III: 222 Ancient and English Versions of the Bible (Isaacs), I: 385 “Ancient Ballet, An” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261

303

“Ancient Historian” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 Ancient Lights (Ford), VI: 319, 320 “Ancient Mariner, The” (Coleridge), III: 330, 338; IV: viii, ix, 42, 44–48, 54, 55; Retro. Supp. II: 53–56 “Ancient Sage, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Ancient to Ancients, An” (Hardy), VI: 13 “And country life I praise” (Bridges), VI: 75 “And death shall have no dominion” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos (Berger), Supp. IV: 94, 95 And Then There Were None (Christie), see Ten Little Niggers And What if the Pretender Should Come? (Defoe), III: 13 Anderson, Lindsay, Supp. IV: 78 Anderson, Sherwood, VII: 75 Anderton, Basil, II: 154, 157 André Gide: His Life and Work (tr. Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 “Andrea del Sarto” (Browning), IV: 357, 361, 366; Retro. Supp. II: 27–28 “Andrea del Sarto” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271 Andrea of Hungary, and Giovanna of Naples (Landor), IV: 100 Andreas, Retro. Supp. II: 301 “Andrey Satchel and the Parson and Clerk” (Hardy), VI: 22 Androcles and the Lion (Shaw), VI: 116, 124, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 322 “Andromeda” (Hopkins), V: 370, 376 Andromeda Liberata (Chapman), I: 235, 254 Ane Prayer for the Pest (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 Anecdotes (Spence), II: 261 “Anecdotes, The” (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 Anecdotes of Johnson (Piozzi), III: 246 Anecdotes . . . of Mr. Pope . . . by the Rev. Joseph Spence (ed. Singer), III: 69, 78 Anecdotes of Sir W. Scott (Hogg), Supp. X: 111 Angel and Me: Short Stories for Holy Week (Maitland), Supp. XI: 177 “Angel and the Sweep, The” (Coppard), VIII: 92 Angel at the Gate, The (Harris), Supp. V: 137, 139 Angel Maker: The Short Stories of Sara Maitland (Maitland), Supp. XI: 165, 176 Angel Pavement (Priestley), VII: xviii, 211, 216–217 “Angel with Lute” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 81 “Angelica” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 12 Angelina (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 208 Angels and Insects (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 151, 153–154 Angels and Insects (film), Supp. IV: 153 “Angels at the Ritz” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 Angels at the Ritz (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504

ANGL−APOL “Angle” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 90 “Angle–Land” (Jones), Supp. VII: 176 Anglican Essays (Sisson), Supp. XI: 255 Anglo–Italian Review (periodical) VI: 294 “Anglo–Saxon, The” (Golding), Supp. I: 78 Anglo–Saxon Attitudes (Wilson), Supp. I: 154, 155, 156, 159–160, 161, 162, 163 Anglo–Saxon Chronicle, Retro. Supp. II: 296, 297, 298, 307 Angrian chronicles (Brontë), V: 110–111, 120–121, 122, 124–125, 126, 135 “Anima and Animus” (Jung), Supp. IV: 10–11 Anima Poetae: From the Unpublished Notebooks (Coleridge), IV: 56 Animadversions upon the Remonstrants Defense Against Smectymnuus (Milton), II: 175 Animal Farm (Orwell), VII: xx, 273, 278, 283–284; Supp. I: 28n, 29; Supp. IV: 31 Animal Lover’s Book of Beastly Murder, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 179 “Animals” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 Animal’s Arrival, The (Jennings), Supp. V: 208 Animated Nature (Goldsmith), see History of the Earth .. . . Animi Figura (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252, 253 Ann Lee’s (Bowen), Supp. II: 81 Ann Veronica: A Modern Love Story (Wells), VI: 227, 238 “Anna, Lady Braxby” (Hardy), VI: 22 Anna of the Five Towns (Bennett), VI: xiii, 248, 249, 252, 253, 266 Annals of a Publishing House (Oliphant), Supp. X: 221 Annals of Chile, The (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 428–432 Annals of the Five Senses (MacDiarmid), 302 Annan, Noel, V: 284, 290 Annan Water (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 291, 293–294, 296 Anne Brontë (Gérin), V: 153 “Anne Killigrew” (Dryden), II: 303 Anne of Geierstein (Scott), IV: 39 Annie, Gwen, Lily, Pam, and Tulip (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 222 Annie John (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 223–225, 229, 230 Anniversaries (Donne), I: 361–362, 364, 367; Retro. Supp. II: 88 Anniversary, The (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 157 “Anniversary” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Anno Domini” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 Annotations of Scottish Songs by Burns (Cook), III: 322 Annual Register (periodical), III: 194, 205 Annunciation, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 “Annunciation, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 212

“Annunciation, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 Annunciation in a Welsh Hill Setting (Jones), Supp. VII: 180 “Annunciations” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 15 Annus Domini (Rossetti), V: 260 “Annus Mirabilis” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 Annus Mirabilis: The Year of Wonder (Dryden), II: 292, 304 “Anorexic” (Boland), Supp. V: 49 Another Death in Venice (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 111–112, 117 “Another Grace for a Child” (Herrick), II: 114 Another Mexico (Greene), see Lawless Roads, The Another Part of the Wood (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 17–19 Another September (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Another September” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Ansell” (Forster), VI: 398 Anstey, Christopher, III: 155 “Answer, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 287 “Answer, The” (Wycherley), II: 322 Answer from Limbo, An (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 141, 142, 148, 150 “Answer to a Paper Called ’A Memorial of true Poor Inhabitants’” (Swift), III: 35 Answer to a Poisoned Book (More), Supp. VII: 245 Answer to a Question That No Body Thinks of, An (Defoe), III: 13 “Answer to Davenant” (Hobbes), II: 256n “Answers” (Jennings), Supp. V: 206 “Answers to Correspondents: Girls Own, 1881” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 “Ant, The” (Lovelace), II: 231 Ant and the Nightingale or Father Hubburd’s Tales, The (Middleton), II: 3 “Ant–Lion, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 105–106 Antal, Frederick, Supp. IV: 80 “Antecedents of History, The” (Russell), VIII: 277 Antechinus: Poems 1975–1980 (Hope), Supp. VII: 159 “Antheap, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 242 “Anthem for Doomed Youth” (Owen), VI: 443, 447, 448, 452; Supp. IV: 58 “Anthem of Earth, An” (Thompson), V: 448 “Anthologia Germanica” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 116, 121, 123 Anthology of War Poetry, An (ed. Nichols), VI: 419 Anthony Trollope: A Critical Study (Cockshut), V: 98, 103 Antic Hay (Huxley), VII: 198, 201–202 “Anti–Christ; or, The Reunion of Christendom” (Chesterton), VI: 340–341 Anticipations of the Reaction of Mechanical and Scientific Progress upon Human Life and Thought (Wells), VI:

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227, 240 Anti–Coningsby (Disraeli), IV: 308 Anti–Death League, The (Amis), Supp. II: 14–15 Antidotes (Sisson), Supp. XI: 262 Antigua, Penny, Puce (Graves), VII: 259 “Antigua Crossings” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220, 221 “Anti–Marriage League, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 221–222 Anti–Pamela; or, Feign’d Innocence Detected (Haywood), Supp. XII: 136 “Antipodes” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Antipodes (Malouf), Supp. XII: 217–218 Antipodes, The (Brome), Supp. X: 49, 56, 58–61, 63 Antiquarian Prejudice (Betjeman), VII: 358, 359 Antiquary, The (Scott), IV: xvii 28, 32– 33, 37, 39 “Antique Scene, The” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 102 Anti–Thelyphthora (Cowper), III: 220 Antonina; or, The Fall of Rome (Collins), Supp. VI: 92, 95 Antonio and Mellida (Marston), II: 27– 28, 40 Antonioni, Michelangelo, Supp. IV: 434 Antonio’s Revenge (Marston), II: 27–29, 36, 40 Antony and Cleopatra (Sedley), II: 263, 271 Antony and Cleopatra (Shakespeare), I: 318, 319–320; II: 70; III: 22; Supp. IV: 263 Antony and Octavus. Scenes for the Study (Landor), IV: 100 Ants, The (Churchill), Supp. IV: 180– 181 “Antwerp” (Ford), VI: 323, 416 “Anxious in Dreamland” (Menand), Supp. IV: 305 “Any Other Enemy” (Nye), Supp. X: 204–205 “Any Saint” (Thompson), V: 444 “Anybody’s Alphabet” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291 Anything for a Quiet Life (Middleton and Webster), II: 21, 69, 83, 85 Anzac Sonata, The (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294, 298, 302 Apartheid and the Archbishop: The Life and Times of Geoffrey Clayton, Archbishop of Cape Town (Paton), Supp. II: 343, 356, 357–358 “Apartheid in Its Death Throes” (Paton), Supp. II: 342 “Ape, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 325 Apes of God, The (Lewis), VII: xv, 35, 71, 73, 74, 77, 79 “Aphasia in Childhood” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 16–17 Aphorisms on Man (Lavater), III: 298 Aphrodite in Aulis (Moore), VI: 88, 95, 99 Apocalypse (Lawrence), VII: 91; Retro. Supp. II: 234 “Apollo and the Fates” (Browning), IV: 366 “Apollo in Picardy” (Pater), V: 355, 356

APOL−ARNO “Apollonius of Tyre” (Gower), I: 53 “Apologia pro Poemate Meo” (Owen), VI: 452 Apologia pro Vita Sua (Newman), Supp. VII: 289, 290, 291, 294, 295, 296, 298, 299–300 Apologie for Poetry (Sidney), see Defence of Poesie, The Apologie for the Royal Party, An . . . By a Lover of Peace and of His Country (Evelyn), II: 287 Apology Against a Pamphlet Call’d A Modest Confutation of the Animadversions upon the Remonstrant Against Smectymnuus, An (Milton), II: 175 “Apology for Plainspeaking, An” (Stephen), V: 284 Apology for Poetry, An (Sidney), Retro. Supp. I: 157 “Apology for Smectymnuus” (Milton), Retro. Supp. II: 269 Apology for the Bible (Watson), III: 301 Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, An (Fielding), see Shamela “Apology for the Revival of Christian Architecture in England, A” (Hill), Supp. V: 189, 191–192 Apology for the Voyage to Guiana (Ralegh), I: 153 “Apology to Crickets” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Apophthegms (Bacon), I: 264, 273 “Apostasy, The” (Traherne), II: 191 Apostles, The (Moore), VI: 88, 96, 99 Apostes, The (Cambridge Society), IV: 331; V: 278; VI: 399 “Apotheosis of Tins, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 172 “Apparition of His Mistresse Calling Him to Elizium, The” (Herrick), II: 113 Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs, An (Burke), III: 205 Appeal to England, An (Swinburne), V: 332 Appeal to Honour and Justice, An (Defoe), III: 4, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 66, 67 Appeal to the Clergy of the Church of Scotland, An (Stevenson), V: 395 “Appius and Virginia” (Gower), I: 55 Appius and Virginia (R. B.), I: 216 Appius and Virginia (Webster), II: 68, 83, 85 Apple Broadcast, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Apple Cart, The: A Political Extravaganza (Shaw), VI: 118, 120, 125–126, 127, 129 “Apple Picking” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 177 “Apple Tragedy” (Hughes), Supp. I: 351, 353 “Apple Tree, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 138 “Apple Tree, The” (Galsworthy), VI: 276 “Apple Tree, The” (Mansfield), VII: 173 Applebee, John, III: 7 Appley Dapply’s Nursery Rhymes (Potter), Supp. III: 291 Apollonius of Tyre, Retro. Supp. II: 298

Apology for Poetry, An (Sidney), Retro. Supp. II: 332–334, 339 “Appraisal, An” (Compton–Burnett), VII: 59 Appreciations (Pater), V: 338, 339, 341, 351–352, 353–356 “Apprehension, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 270 “Apprentice” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “April” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 188 “April Epithalamium, An” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 263 April Love (Hughes), V: 294 April Shroud, An (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 113–114 “Apron of Flowers, The” (Herrick), II: 110 Apropos of Dolores (Wells), VI: 240 “Aquae Sulis” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 “Aquarium” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 “Aquarius” (Armitage), VIII: 12 “Arab Love Song” (Thompson), V: 442, 445, 449 “Arabella” (Thackeray), V: 24 “Arabesque—The Mouse” (Coppard), VIII: 88 “Arabian” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 125 Arabian Nights, The, III: 327, 335, 336; Supp. IV: 434 “Araby” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 172 Aragon, Louis, Supp. IV: 466 “Aramantha” (Lovelace), II: 230, 231 Aran Islands, The (Synge), VI: 308–309; Retro. Supp. I: 291–294 Aran Trilogy (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 240, 242–243, 245 Ararat (Thomas), Supp. IV: 484 Aratra Pentelici (Ruskin), V: 184 Arbuthnot, John, III: 19, 34, 60 “Arcades” (Milton), II: 159 Arcadia (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 19, 22, 24–25, 30 Arcadia (Sidney), I: 161, 163–169, 173, 317; II: 48, 53–54; III: 95; Retro. Supp. II: 330–332, 340 Arcadia (Stoppard), Retro. Supp. II: 355–356 Arcadian Rhetorike (Fraunce), I: 164 “Archdeacon Truggin” (Powys), VIII: 256 Archeology of Love, The (Murphy), Supp. V: 317 Archer, William, II: 79, 358, 363, 364; V: 103, 104, 113 Architectural Review (periodical), VII: 356, 358 Architecture in Britain: 1530–1830 (Reynolds), II: 336 Architecture, Industry and Wealth (Morris), V: 306 “Arctic Summer” (Forster), VI: 406 Arden of Feversham (Kyd), I: 212, 213, 218–219 Arden, John, Supp. II: 21–42 “Ardour and Memory” (Rossetti), V: 243 Ardours and Endurances (Nichols), VI: 423 “Are You Lonely in the Restaurant” (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 323

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Area of Darkness, An (Naipaul), Supp.I, 383, 384, 387, 389, 390, 391–392, 394, 395, 399, 402 “Arena” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Arendt, Hannah, Supp. IV: 306 Areopagitica (Milton), II: 163, 164, 169, 174, 175; IV: 279; Retro. Supp. II: 277–279 Areté: The Arts Tri–Quarterly, Supp. XIII: 174, 175 Aretina (Mackenzie), III: 95 “Argonauts of the Air, The” (Wells), VI: 244 Argonauts of the Pacific (Malinowski), Supp. III: 186 Argufying (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 181 Argument . . . that the Abolishing of Christianity .. . . May . . . be Attended with some Inconveniences, An (Swift), III: 26, 35 “Argument of His Book, The” (Herrick), II: 110 Argument Shewing that a Standing Army . . . Is Not Inconsistent with a Free Government, An (Defoe), III, 12 Ariadne Florentina (Ruskin), V: 184 Ariel Poems (Eliot), VII: 152 Arians of the Fourth Century, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 291 Arion and the Dolphin (Seth), Supp. X: 288 Aristocrats (Friel), Supp. V: 122 Aristomenes: or, The Royal Shepherd (Finch), Supp. IX: 74–76 Aristophanes, V: 227 Aristophanes’ Apology (Browning), IV: 358, 367, 370, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 30 Aristos, The: A Self–Portrait in Ideas (Fowles), Supp. I: 293–294, 295, 296 Ark, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227– 229 Arky Types (Maitland and Wandor), Supp. XI: 165, 170 “Armada, The” (Macaulay), IV: 283, 291 Armadale (Collins), Supp. VI: 91, 93– 94, 98–100, 101, 103 Armah, Ayi Kwei, Supp. X: 1–16 Armitage, Simon, VIII: 1–17 Arms and the Covenant (Churchill), VI: 356 Arms and the Man (Shaw), VI: 104, 110, 120; Retro. Supp. II: 313 Arms and the Women: An Elliad (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 122 Armstrong, Isobel Mair, V: xi, xxvii, 339, 375 Armstrong, William, V: xviii, xxxvii Armstrong’s Last Goodnight (Arden), Supp. II: 29, 30 Arnold, Matthew, IV: 359; V: viii–xi, 14, 156–158, 160, 203–218, 283, 285, 289, 342, 352–353; works, III: 23, 174, 277; V: 206–215; literary criticism, I: 423; III: 68, 277; IV: 220, 234, 323, 371; V: 160, 165–169, 352, 408; Supp. II: 44, 57; Retro. Supp. I: 59 Arnold, Thomas, V: 155–156, 157, 165, 207, 208, 277, 284, 349

ARNO−ASTO Arnold Bennett (Lafourcade), VI: 268 Arnold Bennett (Pound), VI: 247, 268 Arnold Bennett (Swinnerton), VI: 268 Arnold Bennett: A Biography (Drabble), VI: 247, 253, 268; Supp. IV: 203 Arnold Bennett: A Last Word (Swinnerton), VI: 268 Arnold Bennett and H. G. Wells: A Record of a Personal and Literary Friendship (ed. Wilson), VI: 246, 267 Arnold Bennett in Love (ed. and tr. Beardmore and Beardmore), VI: 251, 268 Arnold Bennett: The AEvening Standard”Years (ed. Mylett), VI: 265n, 266 Arouet, Françoise Marie, see Voltaire Around Theatres (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 54, 55 “Aromatherapy” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Arragonian Queen, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 “Arraheids” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 Arraignment of London, The (Daborne and Tourneur), II: 37 Arraignment of Paris (Peele), I: 197–200 “Arrangements” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 “Arrest of Oscar Wilde at the Cadogan Hotel, The” (Betjeman), VII: 356, 365–366 Arrival and Departure (Koestler), Supp. I: 27, 28, 30–31 “Arrivals” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 Arrivants, The: A New World Trilogy (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 34, 36– 40, 41, 42, 44, 45 Arrow in the Blue (Koestler), Supp. I: 22, 25, 31, 34, 36 Arrow of Gold, A (Conrad), VI: 134, 144, 147 Ars Longa, Vita Brevis (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 29 Ars Poetica (Horace), Retro. Supp. I: 166 “Arsehole” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 “Arsonist” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Art and Action (Sisson), Supp. XI: 253 “Art and Criticism” (Harris), Supp. V: 140 “Art and Extinction” (Harrison), Supp. V: 156 Art & Lies: A Piece for Three Voices and a Bawd (Winterson), Supp. IV: 542, 547, 552–553, 554–555, 556, 557 “Art and Morality” (Stephen), V: 286 Art and Reality (Cary), VII: 186 Art and Revolution: Ernst Neizvestny and the Role of the Artist in the U.S.S.R. (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 88 “Art and Science” (Richards), Supp. II: 408–409 “Art and the Class Struggle” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 87 Art History and Class Consciousness (Hadjinicolaou), Supp. IV: 90 “Art McCooey” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 190 Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery (Winterson), Supp. IV: 541, 542, 544, 557 Art of Angling, The (Barker), II: 131

Art of Being Ruled, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 75, 76 Art of Creation: Essays on the Self and Its Powers, The (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46–47 “Art of Dying, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35–38 Art of English Poetry, The (Puttenham), I: 94, 146, 214 Art of Fiction, The (James), VI: 46, 67 Art of Fiction, The (Kipling), VI: 204 Art of Fiction, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 381 “Art of Fiction, The” (Woolf), VII: 21, 22 Art of Love, The (Ovid), I: 237–238 “Art of Malingering, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 18 “Art of Reading in Ignorance, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 132 Art of Sinking in Poetry, The (Pope), IV: 187 Art of the Big Bass Drum, The (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 Art of the Novel, The (James), VI: 67 “Art Work” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 155 “Arthur Snatchfold” (Forster), VI: 411 Article of Charge Against Hastings (Burke), III: 205 “Articles of Inquiry Concerning Heavy and Light” (Bacon), I: 261 Articulate Energy (Davie), Supp. VI: 114 “Artifice of Versification, An” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77 Artificial Princess, The (Firbank), Supp. II: 199, 205, 207–208 Artist Descending a Staircase (Stoppard), Retro. Supp. II: 349 Artist of the Floating World, An (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 301, 304, 306, 309–311 “Artist to His Blind Love, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Artistic Career of Corky, The” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 459 “Artistic Temperament of Stephen Carey, The” (Maugham), VI: 373 “Artists, The” (Thackeray), V: 22, 37 “Artists and Value” (Kelman), Supp. V: 257 Arts and Crafts Movement, The (Naylor), VI: 168 “Arundel Tomb, An” (Larkin), Supp. I: 280 “As a Woman of a Man” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38 As I Saw the USA (Morris), see Coast to Coast As I Was Saying Yesterday: Selected Essays and Reviews (Beer), Supp. XIV: 12 As If By Magic (Wilson), Supp. I: 163– 165, 166 “As It Should Be” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 170 “As kingfishers catch fire” (Hopkins), V: 371 “As Our Might Lessens” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 88

306

“As So Often in Scotland” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 97 “As the Greeks Dreamed” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 39 “As the Team’s Head–Brass” (Thomas), VI: 425; Supp. III: 405 As You Like It (Shakespeare), I: 278, 312; III: 117; Supp. IV: 179 “Ascent into Hell” (Hope), Supp. VII: 153 Ascent of F6, The (Auden and Isherwood), VII: 312, 380, 383, 385; Retro. Supp. I: 7 Ascent to Omai (Harris), Supp. V: 135, 136, 138 “Ash Grove, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 402 Ashenden (Maugham), VI: 371; Supp. IV: 9–10 Ashford, Daisy, V: 111, 262 Ashley, Lord, see Shaftesbury, seventh earl of Ash–Wednesday (Eliot), VII: 144, 150, 151–152 Ashworth, Elizabeth, Supp. IV: 480 Asiatic Romance, An (Sisson), Supp. XI: 251 “Aside” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Asimov, Isaac, III: 341 “Ask Me No More” (Tennyson), IV: 334 “Askam Unvisited” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “Askam Visited” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Asking Around (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 298 Asking for the Moon (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 “Asleep” (Owen), VI: 455 Asolando (Browning), IV: 359, 365, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 31 “Aspects” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188 Aspects of E. M. Forster (Stallybrass), VI: 413 Aspects of Religion in the United States of America (Bird), Supp. X: 23 Aspects of the Novel (Forster), V: 229; VI: 397, 411, 412; VII: 21, 22; Retro. Supp. II: 149 “Aspens” (Thomas), Supp. III: 406 Aspern Papers, The (James), VI: 38, 46–48 “Asphodel” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219– 220 Asquith, Herbert, VI: 417 Asquith, Raymond, VI: 417, 428 “Ass, The” (Vaughan), II: 186 “Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 Assassins, The (Shelley), Retro. Supp. I: 247 Assignation, The; or, Love in a Nunnery (Dryden), II: 305 “Assisi” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 189–190, 194–195 “Assunta 2” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 173 “Astarte Syriaca“(Rossetti), V: 238, 240 Astonished Heart, The (Coward), Supp. II: 152

ASTO−AUST Astonishing the Gods (Okri), Supp. V: 347, 349, 353, 359, 360–361 “Assault, The” (Nichols), VI: 419 Assembling a Ghost (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Assumption” (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 17 Astraea Redux. A Poem on the Happy Restoration . . . of . . . Charles the Second (Dryden), II: 292, 304 Astride the Two Cultures (Koestler), Supp. I: 36 “Astronomy” (Housman), VI: 161 Astronomy of Love, The (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292, 298, 302 Astrophel (collection), I: 160 Astrophel. A Pastoral Elegy (Spenser), I: 126; IV: 205 Astrophel and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 Astrophel and Stella (Sidney), I: 161, 169–173; Retro. Supp. II: 334–339, 340–341 Astrophil and Stella (Greville), Supp. XI: 111 Asylum Dance, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24–25 “Asylum Dance, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24 Asylum Piece and Other Stories (Kavan), Supp. VII: 210–211, 212, 214 “At a Calvary near the Ancre” (Owen), VI: 450, 451 “At a Potato Digging” (Heaney), Supp. II: 270 “At a Warwickshire Mansion” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “At Bedtime” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294 “At Castle Boterel” (Hardy), VI: 18 “At Christ Church, Greyfriars” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 44 “At Coruisk” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 “At East Coker” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 “At Falkland Place” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “At First Sight” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 At Freddie’s (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 96, 98, 101, 103–104 “At Grass” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 “At Great Hampden” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 At Home: Memoirs (Plomer), Supp. XI: 223, 226 “At Isella” (James), VI: 69 “At Laban’s Well” (Coppard), VIII: 95 At Lady Molly’s (Powell), VII: 348 “At Last” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220–221 “At Last” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 “At Lehmann’s” (Mansfield), VII: 172, 173 “At Rugmer” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 44 “At Senlis Once” (Blunden), VI: 428 At Swim–Two–Birds (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 323–326, 332, 336, 338 At the Aviary (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78–79 “At the Ball” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 “At the Bay” (Mansfield), VII: 175, 177, 179, 180

At the Bottom of the River (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225 “At the British War Cemetery, Bayeux” (Causley), VII: 448 “At the Cavour” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 272 “At the Centre” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 “At the Crossroads” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “At the Edge of a Birchwood” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76–77 “At the Edge of the Wood” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 “At the End” (Cornford), VIII: 106 “At the End” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 292 “At the End of the Passage” (Kipling), VI: 173–175, 183, 184, 193 “At the Funeral of Robert Garioch” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218–219 “At the Grave of Henry James” (Auden), VII: 380; Retro. Supp. I: 2 “At the Great Durbar” (Steel), Supp. XII: 268 “At the Great Wall of China” (Blunden), VI: 429 “At the ’Mermaid’” (Browning), IV: 35 “At the Head Table” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 “At the Musical Festival” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 “At the Sale” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 220 “At the White Monument” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228–229, 237 Atalanta in Calydon (Swinburne), IV: 90; V: xxiii, 309, 313, 318, 321–324, 331, 332; VII: 134 “Atheism” (Bacon), III: 39 “Atheist, The” (Powys), VIII: 249 Atheist’s Tragedy, The (Tourneur), II: 29, 33, 36, 37, 38–40, 41, 70 Athenaeum (periodical), IV: 252, 254, 262, 310, 315; V: 32, 134; VI: 167, 234, 374; VII: 32 “Athene’s Song” (Boland), Supp. V: 39 Athenian Mercury (newspaper), III: 41 “Atlantic” (Russell), VIII: 291 “Atlantic” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 Atlantic Monthly (periodical), VI: 29, 33 “Atlantis” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10 Atlas (periodical), V: 144 Atrocity Exhibition, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 19, 21, 25 “Attack” (Sassoon), VI: 431 “Attempt at Jealousy, An” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 Attempt to Describe Hafod, An (Cumberland), IV: 47 Attenborough, Richard, Supp. IV: 455 Atterbury, Francis, III: 23 “Attic, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175 Attlee, Clement, VI: 358 “Attracta” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 “Atumpan” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 38, 39 Atwood, Margaret, Supp. IV: 233 “Aubade” (Empson), Supp. II: 191 “Aubade” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “Aubade” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228

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“Aubade” (Sitwell), VII: 131 Aubreiad (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 253, 258, 259, 261–262 Aubrey, John, I: 260; II: 45, 46, 205– 206, 226, 233 “Auction” (Murphy), Supp. V: 317 “Auction of the Ruby Slippers, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 443 Auden, W. H., I: 92, IV: 106, 208; V: 46; VI: 160, 208; VII: xii, xviii, xix– xx, 153, 379–399, 403, 407; Supp. II: 143–144, 190, 200, 213, 267, 481– 482, 485, 486, 493, 494; Supp. III: 60, 100, 117, 119, 123, 131; Supp. IV: 100, 256, 411, 422, 423; Retro. Supp. I: 1–15 “Audenesque for an Initiation” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 37 “Auditors In” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 195–196 “Audley Court” (Tennyson), IV: 326n “Auguries of Innocence” (Blake), III: 300 “August for the People” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7 August Is a Wicked Month (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 “August Midnight, An” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 “August 1914” (Rosenberg), VI: 434 Augusta Triumphans; or, The Way to Make London the Most Flourishing City . . . (Defoe), III: 14 Augustan Ages, The (Elton), III: 51n Augustan Lyric (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 Augustans and Romantics (Butt and Dyson), III: 51n Augustus Does His Bit (Shaw), VI: 120 “Auld Enemy, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 “Auld Lang Syne” (Burns), III: 321 Auld Licht Idylls, When a Man’s Single (Barrie), Supp. III: 2, 3 Ault, Norman, III: 69, 78 “Aunt and the Sluggard, The” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 447–448, 455, 457 “Aunt Janet’s Armistice” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 136 “Aunt Janet’s Museum” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 136 Aunt Judy’s (periodical), V: 271 Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455 Aunt’s Story, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 134–136, 148 Aureng–Zebe (Dryden), II: 295, 305 Aurora Floyd (Braddon), VIII: 35, 38, 42–44, 48 Aurora Leigh (Browning), IV: xxi, 311, 312, 314–315, 316–318, 321 Aus dem Zweiten Reich [From the Second Reich] (Bunting), Supp. VII: 4 Ausonius, II: 108, 185 “Auspicious Occasion” (Mistry), Supp. X: 138 Austen, Alfred, V: 439 Austen, Cassandra, Retro. Supp. II: 13–14

AUST−BAGP Austen, Jane, III: 90, 283, 335–336, 345; IV: xi, xiv, xvii, 30, 101–124; V: 51; Supp. II: 384; Supp. IV: 154, 230, 233, 236, 237, 319; Retro. Supp. II: 1–16, 135 Austen–Leigh, J. E., III: 90 Austerlitz (Sebald), VIII: 295, 305–307 Austin, J. L., Supp. IV: 115 “Australia” (Hope), Supp. VII: 153 Australia and New Zealand (Trollope), V: 102 Australian Nationalists, The: Modern Critical Essays (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 3 VIII: 21, 320 Austri’s effort (þórðarson), VIII: 235 “Auteur Theory” (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 “Author of ’Beltraffio,’ The,” (James), VI: 69 “Author to the Critical Peruser, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 274 “Author Upon Himself, The” (Swift), III: 19, 32 Authoress of the Odyssey, The (Butler), Supp. II: 114–116 Authorized Version of the Bible, see King James Version Author’s Apology, The (Bunyan), II: 246n Author’s Farce, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Autobiographical Essay” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284 “Autobiographical Reflections on Politics” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247 Autobiographical Writings (Newman), Supp. VII: 289, 290 Autobiographies (Symons), Supp. XIV: 268, 269 Autobiographies (Thomas), Supp. XII: 281, 286 Autobiographies (Yeats), V: 301, 304, 306, 404; VI: 317 “Autobiographies, The” (James), VI: 65 “Autobiography” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 270 “Autobiography” (MacNeice), VII: 401 Autobiography (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 114 “Autobiography” (Reid), Supp. VII: 325 Autobiography (Russell), VII: 90 “Autobiography” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 280–281 Autobiography, An (Muir), Supp. VI: 197, 198–200, 201, 205 Autobiography, An (Trollope), V: 89, 90– 93, 96, 101, 102 Autobiography and Letters of Mrs. M. O. W. Oliphant (Oliphant), Supp. X: 212–213, 223 Autobiography and Other Essays, An (Trevelyan), VI: 383, 386, 388 “Autobiography of a River, The” (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 99 Autobiography of a Supertramp (Davies), Supp. III: 398; Supp. XI: 88, 90–91, 92 Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, The (Stein), Supp. IV: 557 Autobiography of Edward Gibbon, The (ed. Smeaton), III: 229n Autobiography of My Mother, The (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 229–230

Autonomous Region, The: Poems and Photographs from Tibet (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 139–142, 143 Autumn (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 5, 6 “Autumn” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 134, 136, 142 “Autumn” (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 221 Autumn (Thomson), Supp. III: 414–415, 416, 417, 420 “Autumn Evening” (Cornford), VIII: 102, 103, 112 Autumn Journal (MacNeice), VII: 412 Autumn Midnight (Cornford), VIII: 104, 105, 109 “Autumn Morning at Cambridge” (Cornford), VIII: 102, 103, 107 “Autumn 1939” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 “Autumn 1942” (Fuller), VII: 430–431 “Autumn on Nan–Yueh” (Empson), Supp. II: 191–192 Autumn Sequel (MacNeice), VII: 407, 412, 415 “Autumn Sunshine” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 “Autumn Walk” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 “Autumnall, The” (Donne), II: 118 Available for Dreams (Fuller), Supp. VII: 68, 79, 80, 81 Avatars, The (Russell), VIII: 277, 285, 290–291, 292 Ave (Moore), VI: 99 “Ave Atque Vale” (Swinburne), V: 314, 327 “Ave Imperatrix” (Kipling), VI: 201 Aveling, Edward, VI: 102 Avignon Quintet (Durrell), Supp. I: 100, 101, 118–121 “Avising the bright beams of those fair eyes” (Wyatt), I: 110 Avoidance of Literature, The: Collected Essays (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247, “Avoirdupois” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19 Avowals (Moore), VI: 97–98, 99 “Awake, my heart, to be loved” (Bridges), VI: 74, 77 Awakened Conscience, The (Dixon Hunt), VI: 167 “Awakening, The” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 39 Awakening Conscience, The (Holman Hunt), V: 45, 51, 240 “Away with the Birds” (Healy), Supp. IX: 107 Awesome God: Creation, Commitment and Joy (Maitland), Supp. XI: 164, 165 Awfully Big Adventure, An (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 18, 23–24 Awkward Age, The (James), VI: 45, 56, 67 “Axeing Darkness / Here Below” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 94 “Axel’s Castle” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 Ayala’s Angel (Trollope), V: 100, 102 Ayckbourn, Alan, Supp. V: 1–17 Ayesha: The Return of She (Haggard), Supp. III: 214, 222 Aylott & Jones (publishers), V: 131

308

“Ayrshire Farm” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71, 72

“Baa, Baa Black Sheep” (Kipling), VI: 166 “Babby” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 76 Babees Book, The (Early English Poems and Treatises on Manners and Meals in Olden Time) (ed. Furnival), I: 22, 26 Babel Tower (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 141, 149–151 “Babes” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Babes in the Darkling Wood (Wells), VI: 228 “Baby Nurse, The” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 5, 9 “Baby’s cradle with no baby in it, A” (Rossetti), V: 255 Babylon Hotel (Bennett), see Grand Babylon Hotel, The “Babysitting” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 126 Bachelors, The (Spark), Supp. I: 203, 204 Back (Green), Supp. II: 254, 258–260 “Back of Affluence” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “Back to Cambo” (Hartley), Supp. VII: 124 Back to Methuselah (Shaw), VI: 121– 122, 124; Retro. Supp. II: 323 “Backfire” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 “Background Material” (Harrison), Supp. V: 155 Background to Danger (Ambler), Supp. IV: 7–8 Backward Look, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 217 Backward Place, A (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 229 Backward Son, The (Spender), Supp. II: 484, 489 Backwater (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 182–183 Bacon, Francis, I: 257–274; II: 149, 196; III: 39; IV: 138, 278, 279; annotated list of works, I: 271–273; Supp. III: 361 Bad Boy (McEwan), Supp. IV: 400 “Bad Dreams in Vienna” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Bad Five Minutes in the Alps, A” (Stephen), V: 283 “Bad Girl, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 Bad Land: An American Romance (Raban), Supp. XI: 236, 239, 241 “Bad Night, A” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 14 Bad Sister, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 229, 230, 231–234, 235–236, 238, 239, 240 “Back” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 Bagehot, Walter, IV: 289, 291; V: xxiii, 156, 165, 170, 205, 212 “Baggot Street Deserta” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 259–260 Bagman, The; or, The Impromptu of Muswell Hill (Arden), Supp. II: 31, 32, 35 “Bagpipe Music” (MacNeice), VII: 413

BAIL−BASH Bailey, Benjamin, IV: 224, 229, 230, 232–233 Bailey, Paul, Supp. IV: 304 Baillie, Alexander, V: 368, 374, 375, 379 Bainbridge, Beryl, Supp. VI: 17–27 Baines, Jocelyn, VI: 133–134 Baird, Julian, V: 316, 317, 318, 335 “Bairns of Suzie: A Hex” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 “Bairnsang” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141– 142 “Baite, The” (Donne), IV: 327 Bajazet (tr. Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 132– 134 Bakerman, Jane S., Supp. IV: 336 “Baker’s Dozen, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 243 Bakhtin, Mikhail, Supp. IV: 114 “Balakhana” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 284 “Balance, The” (Waugh), Supp. VI: 271 Balance of Terror (Shaffer), Supp. I: 314 Balaustion’s Adventure (Browning), IV: 358, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 30 “Balder Dead” (Arnold), V: 209, 216 Baldrs draumar, VIII: 231 Baldwin, Stanley, VI: 353, 355 Bale, John, I: 1, 3 Balfour, Arthur, VI: 226, 241, 353 Balfour, Graham, V: 393, 397 Balin; or, The Knight with Two Swords (Malory), I: 79 Ball and the Cross, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 Ballad at Dead Men’s Bay, The (Swinburne), V: 332 “Ballad of Bouillabaisse” (Thackeray), V: 19 “Ballad of Death, A” (Swinburne), V: 316, 317–318 Ballad of Jan Van Hunks, The (Rossetti), V: 238, 244, 245 “Ballad of Kynd Kittok, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 126 “Ballad of Life, A” (Swinburne), V: 317, 318 Ballad of Peckham Rye, The (Spark), Supp. I: 201, 203–204 Ballad of Reading Gaol, The (Wilde), V: xxvi, 417–418, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 372–373 Ballad of Sylvia and Ted, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239, 240 “Ballad of the Investiture 1969, A” (Betjeman), VII: 372 “Ballad of the Long–legged Bait” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177 “Ballad of the Red–Headed Man” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 “Ballad of the Three Spectres” (Gurney), VI: 426 “Ballad of the Two Left Hands” (Dunn), Supp. X: 73 “Ballad of the Underpass” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 6 “Ballad of the White Horse, The” (Chesterton), VI: 338–339, 341 “Ballad of Villon and Fat Madge, The” (tr. Swinburne), V: 327 Ballad Poetry of Ireland, The (ed. Duffy), Supp. XIII: 127

“Ballad upon a Wedding, A” (Suckling), II: 228–229 Ballade du temps jadis (Villon), VI: 254 “Ballade of Barnard Stewart, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 118 Ballade of Truthful Charles, The, and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 Ballade on an Ale–Seller (Lydgate), I: 92 Ballads (Stevenson), V: 396 Ballads (Thackeray), V: 38 Ballads and Lyrical Pieces (Scott), IV: 38 Ballads and Other Poems (Tennyson), IV: 338 Ballads and Poems of Tragic Life (Meredith), V: 224, 234 Ballads and Sonnets (Rossetti), V: xxiv, 238, 244, 245 Ballads of the English Border (Swinburne), V: 333 Ballard, J. G., III: 341; Supp. V: 19–34 Ballast to the White Sea (Lowry), Supp. III: 273, 279 “Ane Ballat of Our Lady” (Dunbar). See “Hale, sterne superne” Balliols, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 Ballot (Smith), Supp. VII: 351 “Ballroom of Romance, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 “Bally Power Play” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272 Ballygombeen Bequest, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 32, 35 Balthazar (Durrell), Supp. I: 104–105, 106, 107 Balzac, Honoré de, III: 334, 339, 345; IV: 153n; V: xvi, xviii, xix–xxi, 17, 429; Supp. IV: 123, 136, 238, 459 “Bamboo: A Ballad for Two Voices” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 226 Bamborough, J. B., Retro. Supp. I: 152 Bananas (ed. Tennant), Supp. IX: 228– 229 Banco: The Further Adventures of Papillon (tr. O’Brian), Supp. XII: 252 Bancroft, John, II: 305 Bandamanna saga, VIII: 238, 241 “Bangor Requium” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 “Banim Creek” (Harris), Supp. V: 132 Banished Misfortune (Healy), Supp. IX: 96, 103–106 Banks, Iain, Supp. XI: 1–15 Banks, John, II: 305 “Bann Valley Eclogue” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 134 Banshees of Inisheer, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 243 “Barbara of the House of Grebe” (Hardy), VI: 22; Retro. Supp. I: 117 Barbara, pseud. of Arnold Bennett “Barbarian Catechism, A” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 324 “Barbarian Pastorals” (Dunn), Supp. X: 72 Barbarians (Dunn), Supp. X: 71–73, 77 “Barbarians” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 90 Barbauld, Anna Laetitia, III: 88, 93 “Barber Cox and the Cutting of His Comb” (Thackeray), V: 21, 37

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Barcellona; or, The Spanish Expedition under . . . Charles, Earl of Peterborough (Farquhar), II: 353, 355, 364 Barchester Towers (Trollope), V: xxii, 93, 101 “Bard, The” (Gray), III: 140–141 Bardic Tales (O’Grady), Supp. V: 36 “Bards of Passion . . .” (Keats), IV: 221 “Bare Abundance, The” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 89 Bare Abundance, The: Selected Poems, 1975–2001 (Dutton), Supp. XII: 83, 86, 88, 89–99 Barker, Granville, see Granville Barker, Harley Barker, Sir Ernest, III: 196 Barker, Pat, Supp. IV: 45–63 Barker, Thomas, II: 131 Barker’s Delight (Barker), see Art of Angling, The Barksted, William, II: 31 “Barley” (Hughes), Supp. I: 358–359 “Barn, The” (Welch), Supp. IX: 268 Barnaby Rudge (Dickens), V: 42, 54, 55, 66, 71 Barnes, William, VI: 2 Barnes, Julian, Supp. IV: 65–76, 445, 542 “Barney Game, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 113 “Barnfloor and Winepress” (Hopkins), V: 381 “Barnsley Cricket Club” (Davie), Supp. VI: 109 Barrack–Room Ballads (Kipling), VI: 203, 204 Barrel of a Pen: Resistance to Repression in Neo–Colonial Kenya (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 225 Barreca, Regina, Supp. IV: 531 Barren Fig Tree, The; or, The Doom . . . of the Fruitless Professor (Bunyan), II: 253 Barrett, Eaton Stannard, III: 335 Barrie, James M., V: 388, 392; VI: 265, 273, 280; Supp. III: 1–17, 138, 142 Barry Lyndon (Thackeray), V: 24, 28, 32, 38 Barrytown Trilogy, The (Doyle), Supp. V: 78, 80–87, 88, 89 Barsetshire novels (Trollope), V: 92–96, 98, 101 Bartas, Guillaume du, II: 138 Bartered Bride, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 150 Barth, John, Supp. IV: 116 Barthes, Roland, Supp. IV: 45, 115 Bartholomew Fair (Jonson), I: 228, 243, 324, 340, 342–343; II: 3; Retro. Supp. I: 164 Bartlett, Phyllis, V: x, xxvii Barton, Bernard, IV: 341, 342, 343, 350 Barton, Eustace, Supp. III: 342 “Base Details” (Sassoon), VI: 430 Basement, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 371, 373, 374; Retro. Supp. I: 216 “Basement Room, The” (Greene), Supp. I: 2 Bashful Lover, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 185

BASI−BEHI Basic Rules of Reason (Richards), Supp. II: 422 Basil: A Story of Modern Life (Collins), Supp. VI: 92, 95 Basil Seal Rides Again (Waugh), VII: 290 “Basking Shark” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Bate, Walter Jackson, Retro. Supp. I: 185 Bateman, Colin, Supp. V: 88 Bateson, F. W., IV: 217, 323n, 339 Bath (Sitwell), VII: 127 Bath Chronicle (periodical), III: 262 “Bath House, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 268–269 Bath–Intrigues: In Four Letters to a Friend in London (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Bathurst, Lord, III: 33 “Bats’ Ultrasound” (Murray), Supp. VII: 281 Batsford Book of Light Verse for Children (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 Batsford Book of Verse for Children (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 “Battalion History, A” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 35 Battenhouse, Roy, I: 282 “Batter my heart, three person’d God“ (Donne), I: 367–368; II: 122 “Batterer” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 4 Battiscombe, Georgina, V: xii, xxvii, 260 “Battle Hill Revisited” (Murphy), Supp. V: 323 Battle of Alcazar, The (Peele), I: 205, 206 Battle of Aughrim, The (Murphy), Supp. V: 321–324 “Battle of Aughrim, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 317, 321–322 “Battle of Blenheim, The” (Southey), IV: 58, 67–68 Battle of Brunanburh, The, Retro. Supp. II: 307 Battle of Life, The (Dickens), V: 71 Battle of Maldon, The, Retro. Supp. II: 307 Battle of Marathon, The (Browning), IV: 310, 321 Battle of Shrivings, The (Shaffer), Supp. I: 323–324 Battle of the Books, The (Swift), III: 17, 23, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 276, 277 “Battle of the Goths and the Huns, The”, See Hlo¸ðskviða Baucis and Philemon (Swift), III: 35 Baudelaire, Charles III: 337, 338; IV: 153; V: xiii, xviii, xxii–xxiii, 310–318, 327, 329, 404, 405, 409, 411; Supp. IV: 163 Baum, L. Frank, Supp. IV: 450 Baumann, Paul, Supp. IV: 360 Baumgartner’s Bombay (Desai), Supp. V: 53, 55, 66, 71–72 Bay (Lawrence), VII: 118 Bay at Nice, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 293 Bayley, John, Supp. I: 222 Bayly, Lewis, II: 241 “Baymount” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328

“Bay–Tree, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 “Be It Cosiness” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 46 Be my Guest! (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 “Be still, my soul” (Housman), VI: 162 Beach, J. W., V: 221n, 234 “Beach of Fales, The” (Stevenson), V: 396; Retro. Supp. I: 270 Beachcroft, T. O., VII: xxii Beaconsfield, Lord, see Disraeli, Benjamin “Bear in Mind” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 29 Beardsley, Aubrey, V: 318n, 412, 413 “Beast in the Jungle, The” (James), VI: 55, 64, 69 Beastly tales from Here and There (Seth), Supp. X: 287–288 Beasts and Super–Beasts (Saki), Supp. VI: 245, 251 Beasts’ Confession to the Priest, The (Swift), III: 36 Beasts Royal (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 249 Beatrice (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 Beattie, James, IV: 198 Beatty, David, VI: 351 Beau Austin (Stevenson), V: 396 Beauchamp’s Career (Meredith), V: xxiv, 225, 228–230, 231, 234 Beaumont, Francis, II: 42–67, 79, 82, 87 Beaumont, Joseph, II: 180 Beaumont, Sir George, IV: 3, 12, 21, 22 Beauties and Furies, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 463–464 Beauties of English Poesy, The (ed. Goldsmith), III: 191 “Beautiful Lofty Things” (Yeats), VI: 216; Retro. Supp. I: 337 “Beautiful Sea, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 Beautiful Visit, The (Howard), Supp. XI: 137–138, 140–141, 148–149 “Beautiful Young Nymph Going to Bed, A” (Swift), III: 32, 36; VI: 256 “Beauty” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401–402 “Beauty and Duty” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 Beauty and the Beast (Hughes), Supp. I: 347 Beauty in a Trance, II: 100 Beauty Queen of Leenane, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 234, 235–236, 238, 239, 241 Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, The (Armah), Supp. X: 1–6, 12–13 Beauvoir, Simone de, Supp. IV: 232 Beaux’ Stratagem, The (Farquhar), II: 334, 353, 359–360, 362, 364 “Beaver Ridge” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 113–114 “Because of the Dollars” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Because the pleasure–bird whistles” (Thomas), Supp. I: 176 Becket (Tennyson), IV: 328, 338 Beckett, Samuel, Supp. I: 43–64; Supp. IV: 99, 106, 116, 180, 281, 284, 412, 429; Retro. Supp. I: 17–32 Beckford, William, III: 327–329, 345; IV: xv, 230

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Bed Among the Lentils (Bennett), VIII: 27–28 “Bedbug, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 151 Beddoes, Thomas, V: 330 Beddoes, Thomas Lovell, Supp. XI: 17–32 Bedford–Row Conspiracy, The (Thackeray), V: 21, 37 “Bedroom Eyes of Mrs. Vansittart, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 500 Bedroom Farce (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 12, 13, 14 Beds in the East (Burgess), Supp. I: 187 Bedtime Story (O’Casey), VII: 12 “Bedtime Story for my Son” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 227–228, 236 Bee (periodical), III: 40, 179 Bee Hunter: Adventures of Beowulf (Nye), Supp. X: 193, 195 “Bee Orchd at Hodbarrow” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 “Beechen Vigil” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 121 Beechen Vigil and Other Poems (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 120–121 “Beehive Cell” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Beekeepers, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 “Beeny Cliff” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 118 Beer, Patricia, Supp. XIV: 1–15 Beerbohm, Max, V: 252, 390; VI: 365, 366; Supp. II: 43–59, 156 “Before Action” (Hodgson), VI: 422 “Before Dark” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75 Before Dawn (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 315 “Before Her Portrait in Youth” (Thompson), V: 442 “Before I knocked” (Thomas), Supp. I: 175 Before She Met Me (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67–68 “Before Sleep” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Before the Knowledge of Evil (Braddon), VIII: 36 “Before the Mirror” (Swinburne), V: 320 “Before the Party” (Maugham), VI: 370 Beggars (Davies), Supp. XI: 87, 88 Beggars Banquet (Rankin), Supp. X: 245–246, 253, 257 Beggar’s Bush (Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Beggar’s Opera, The (Gay), III: 54, 55, 61–64, 65–67; Supp. III: 195; Retro. Supp. I: 80 “Beggar’s Soliloquy, The” (Meredith), V: 220 Begin Here: A War–Time Essay (Sayers), Supp. III: 336 “Beginning, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52 Beginning of Spring, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 98, 106 “Beginnings of Love, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 42 Beguilers, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 291, 292 Behan, Brendan, Supp. II: 61–76 Behind the Green Curtains (O’Casey), VII: 11

BEHI−BEYO “Behind the Scenes: Empire” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 272 Behn, Aphra, Supp. III: 19–33 “Behold, Love, thy power how she despiseth” (Wyatt), I: 109 “Being Boring” (Cope), VIII: 80 Being Dead (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 21, 23, 27–29 “Being Stolen From” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 “Being Treated, to Ellinda” (Lovelace), II: 231–232 “Beldonald Holbein, The” (James), VI: 69 “Beleaguered City, A“ (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 Belfast Confetti (Carson), Supp. XIII: 53, 54, 57–59 “Belfast vs. Dublin” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 “Belief” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 96 Belief and Creativity (Golding), Supp. I: 88 Belief in Immortality and Worship of the Dead, The (Frazer), Supp. III: 176 Believe As You List (Massinger), Supp. XI: 185 Belin, Mrs., II: 305 Belinda (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 157– 158, 162 Belinda, An April Folly (Milne), Supp. V: 298–299 Bell, Acton, pseud. of Anne Brontë Bell, Clive, V: 345 Bell, Currer, pseud. of Charlotte Brontë Bell, Ellis, pseud. of Emily Brontë Bell, Julian, Supp. III: 120 Bell, Quentin, VII: 35; Retro. Supp. I: 305 Bell, Robert, I: 98 Bell, Vanessa, VI: 118 Bell, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 222, 223– 224, 226, 228–229 “Bell of Aragon, The” (Collins), III: 163 “Bell Ringer, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 “Belladonna” (Nye), Supp. X: 198 Bellamira; or, The Mistress (Sedley), II: 263 Belle Assemblée, La (tr. Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 “Belle Heaulmière” (tr. Swinburne), V: 327 “Belle of the Ball–Room” (Praed), V: 14 Belloc, Hilaire, VI: 246, 320, 335, 337, 340, 447; VII: xiii; Supp. IV: 201 Belloc, Mrs. Lowndes, Supp. II: 135 Bellow, Saul, Supp. IV: 26, 27, 42, 234 Bells and Pomegranates (Browning), IV: 356, 373–374 Belmonte, Thomas, Supp. IV: 15 Below Loughrigg (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 “Below The Devil’s Punchbowl” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66 Belsey, Catherine, Supp. IV: 164 Belton Estate, The (Trollope), V: 100, 101 “Bench of Desolation, The” (James), VI: 69

Bend for Home, The (Healy), Supp. IX: 95, 96, 98–100, 101, 103, 106 Bend in the River, A (Naipaul), Supp. I: 393, 397–399, 401 Bender, T. K., V: 364–365, 382 Bending of the Bough, The (Moore), VI: 87, 95–96, 98 Benedict, Ruth, Supp. III: 186 Benjamin, Walter, Supp. IV: 82, 87, 88, 91 Benlowes, Edward, II: 123 Benn, Gotfried, Supp. IV: 411 “Bennelong” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 319–320 Bennett, Alan, VIII: 19–34 Bennett, Arnold, VI: xi, xii, xiii, 226, 233n, 247–268, 275; VII: xiv, xxi; Supp. III: 324, 325; Supp. IV: 229, 230–231, 233, 239, 241, 249, 252; Retro. Supp. I: 318 Bennett, Joan, II: 181, 187, 201, 202; V: 199, 201 Benson, A. C., V: 133, 151; Supp. II: 406, 418 Benstock, Bernard, Supp. IV: 320 “Bent Font, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 Bentham, Jeremy, IV: xii, xv, 50, 130– 133, 278, 295; V: viii Bentley, Clerihew, IV: 101 Bentley, E. C., VI: 335 Bentley, G. E., Jr., III: 289n, 307 Bentley, Richard, III: 23 Bentley’s Miscellany (periodical), V: 42 Benveniste, Émile, Supp. IV: 115 “Benvolio” (James), VI: 69 Beowulf, I: 69; Supp. VI: 29–44; Retro. Supp. II: 298, 299, 305–306, 307 Beowulf (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 160–162 “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics” (Tolkien), Supp. II: 521 Beppo (Byron), IV: xvii, 172, 177, 182– 184, 186, 188, 192 Bequest to the Nation, A (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 320 Berdoe, Edward, IV: 371 Bérénice (Racine), II: 98 Bergerac, Cyrano de, see Cyrano de Bergerac Bergonzi, Bernard, VII: xxi, xxxvii; Supp. IV: 233, 364 “Berkeley and ’Philosophic Words’” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107 Berkeley, George, III: 50 Berlin Noir (Kerr), Supp. XII: 186, 187– 191, 192, 193, 194, 199 Berlin stories (Isherwood), VII: 309, 311–312 “Bermudas” (Marvell), II: 208, 210, 211, 217 Bernard, Charles de, V: 21 Bernard, Richard, II: 246 Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell: Their Correspondence (ed. Dent), VI: 130 Bernard Shaw’s Letters to Granville Barker (ed. Purdom), VI: 115n, 129 Bernard Shaw’s Rhyming Picture Guide . . . (Shaw), VI: 130

311

“Bertie Changes His Mind” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 458 Bertram; or, The Castle of St. Aldobrand; A Tragedy in Five Acts (Maturin), VIII: 201, 205–207 Bertrams, The (Trollope), V: 101 Besant, Annie, VI: 103, 249 Beside the Ocean of Time (Brown), Supp. VI: 64, 67–68 Bessie Smith (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101, 103–105 “Best Friend, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 99 Best of Defoe’s Review, The (ed. Payne), III: 41 Best of Enemies, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Best of Roald Dahl, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 209 “Best of the Young British Novelists, The“ (Granta special issue), Supp. IV: 304 Best Wine Last: An Autobiography through the Years 1932–1969, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 268, 271–272, 273, 275–276 “Bestre” (Lewis), VII: 77 Bethell, Augusta, V: 84 Betjeman, John, VII: xxi–xxii, 355–377 Betrayal (Pinter), Supp. I: 377 Betrayal, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 121, 131, 132 Betrayal of the Left, The (Orwell), VII: 284 “Betrayer, The” (Cornford), VIII: 112 Betrothed, The (Scott), IV: 39 Better Class of Person, A (Osborne), Supp. I: 329 Better Dead (Barrie), Supp. III: 2 “Better Resurrection, A” (Rossetti), V: 254 Between (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 98, 99, 104, 105, 108–109, 112 Between Here and Now (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288–289 “Between Mouthfuls” (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 11 Between the Acts (Woolf), VII: 18, 19, 22, 24, 26; Retro. Supp. I: 308, 321 “Between the Conceits” (Self), Supp. V: 402–403 Between the Iceberg and the Ship (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 257, 259, 264 Between the Lines: Yeats’s Poetry in the Making (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 291 “Between the Lotus and the Robot” (Koestler), Supp. I: 34n Between These Four Walls (Lodge and Bradbury), Supp. IV: 365 “Between Two Nowheres” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Between Us Girls (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 366–367, 372 “Bevel, The” (Kelman), Supp. V: 245 “Beware of Doubleness” (Lydgate), I: 64 “Beware of the Dog” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 209 Beyle, Marie Henri, see Stendhal Beyond (Richards), Supp. II: 421, 426, 428–429

BEYO−BLAC Beyond Good and Evil (Nietzsche), IV: 121; V: xxv; Supp. IV: 50 “Beyond Howth Head” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 170, 175 Beyond Personality (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 Beyond Reductionism: New Perspectives in the Life Sciences (Koestler), Supp. I: 37, 38 Beyond the Bone (Hill), see Urn Burial Beyond the Fringe (Bennett et al.), VIII: 19, 21, 22 Beyond the Mexique Bay (Huxley), VII: 201 “Beyond the Pale” (Kipling), VI: 178– 180 “Beyond the Pale” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 “Beyond Words” (Okri), Supp. V: 360 BFG, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 204, 207, 225 “Bhut–Baby, The” (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 Bhutto, Benazir, Supp. IV: 444, 455 Bhutto, Zulfikar Ali, Supp. IV: 444 Biala, Janice, VI: 324 “Bianca Among the Nightingales” (Browning), IV: 315 Biathanatos (Donne), I: 370; Retro. Supp. II: 96–97 Bible, see English Bible Bible in Spain, The; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures on the Peninsula (Borrow), Supp. XII: 17–18, 18–20, 31 Bibliography of Henry James, A (Edel and Laurence), VI: 66 Bickerstaff, Isaac, pseud. of Sir Richard Steele and Joseph Addison Bicycle and Other Poems (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219 Big Bazoohley, The (Carey), Supp. XII: 54 Big Day, The (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 354, 357 “Big Deaths, Little Deaths” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 492 Big Fellow, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 216 Big H, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 150, 164 Big House, The (Behan), Supp. II: 70–71 “Big House in Ireland, A” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 6 “Big Milk” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102 Big Toys (White), Supp. I: 131, 151 “Bigness on the Side of Good” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 Bill for the Better Promotion of Oppression on the Sabbath Day, A (Peacock), IV: 170 Billy Liar (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 266, 269–273, 274–275, 279 Billy Liar on the Moon (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 273 Bim, Supp. XII: 35, 43 “Bindi Mirror, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Bingo (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 433–434

“Binsey Poplars” (Hopkins), V: 370, 371 Binyon, Laurence, VI: 416, 439 Biographia Literaria (Coleridge), IV: xvii, 4, 6, 18, 25, 41, 44–45, 50, 51, 52–53, 56; Retro. Supp. II: 62–64 “Biographical Notice of Ellis and Acton Bell” (Brontë), V: 131, 134, 152, 153 “Biography” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 279 Bird, Isabella, Supp. X: 17–32 “Bird and Beast” (Rossetti), V: 258 “Bird Auction, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 284 “Bird in the House” (Jennings), Supp. V: (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 “Bird in the Tree, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 Bird of Night, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 117, 122–123 Bird of Paradise, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 99 Bird of Paradise (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230 “Bird Poised to Fly, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Bird Study” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 “Birds” (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Birds, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 143, 147, 148 Birds, The (film), III: 343; Supp. III: 143 “Birds at Winter Nightfall” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 Birds, Beasts and Flowers (Lawrence), VII: 90, 118, 119; Retro. Supp. II: 233–234 Birds Fall Down, The (West), Supp. III: 440, 444 Birds in Tiny Cages (Comyns), VIII: 56, 59–60 Birds of Heaven (Okri), Supp. V: 359, 360 “Birds of Paradise” (Rossetti), V: 255 Birds of Paradise, The (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 263–266, 268 Birds of Passage (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 156, 157 Birds of Prey (Braddon), VIII: 47 Birds Without Wings (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65–66, 68, 69, 77–78 Birthday Letters (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 202, 216–218 Birkenhead, Lord (F. E. Smith), VI: 340– 341 Birmingham Colony, VI: 167 Birney, Earle, Supp. III: 282 Birrell, A., II: 216 Birth by Drowning (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 222–223 Birth of Manly Virtue, The (Swift), III: 35 “Birth of the Squire, The” (Gay), III: 58 Birth of Tragedy, The (Nietsche), Supp. IV: 3, 9 “Birth Place” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Birth–Bond, The” (Rossetti), V: 242 Birthday (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57 “Birthday, A” (Mansfield), VII: 172, 173 “Birthday, A” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 “Birthday, A” (Rossetti), V: 252

312

Birthday Boys, The (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 24–25, 26 Birthday Party (Milne), Supp. V: 309 Birthday Party, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 367, 369–370, 373, 380; Retro. Supp. I: 216–217, 224 “Birthdays” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 “Birthing” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 50–51 “Birthplace, The” (James), VI: 69 “Birthright” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Birthstone (Thomas), Supp. IV: 479, 480–481, 492 “Bishop Blougram’s Apology” (Browning), IV: 357, 361, 363 “Bishop Burnet and Humphrey Hardcastle” (Landor), IV: 91 “Bishop Orders His Tomb at St. Praxed’s Church, The” (Browning), IV: 356, 370, 372 Bishop’s Bonfire, The (O’Casey), VII: xvii 10 “Bishop’s Fool, The” (Lewis), VII: 80 Bishton, John, Supp. IV: 445 Bit o’ Love, A (Galsworthy), VI: 280 “Bit of Honesty, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 Bit of Singing and Dancing, A (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118 “Bit of Young Life, A” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 Bit Off the Map, A (Wilson), Supp. I: 155 “Bit Off the Map, A” (Wilson), Supp. I: 155, 157, 161 “Bitch” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 220 Bitter Fame (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 263 Bitter Lemons (Durrell), Supp. I: 104, 111–113 “Bitter Salvage” (Warner), Supp. XI: 298 Bitter Sweet (Coward), Supp. II: 142, 146, 147 Bjarnar saga Hítdœlakappa, VIII: 239 Black Album, The (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 153–155, 158–159 Black and Blue (Rankin), Supp. X: 243– 245, 253–254 Black and Silver (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57 “Black and Tans,”VII: 2 Black and the Red, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 210 Black and White (Collins), Supp. VI: 102 “Black and White Minstrel Show, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Black Arrow, The (Stevenson), V: 396 Black Bastard, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 279 Black Book, The (Durrell), Supp. I: 93, 94, 96, 97–100, 118, 122, 123 Black Book, The (Middleton), II: 3 Black Book, The (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 251–252 “Black Bottom” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99, 103 Black Bryony (Powys), VIII: 250 Black Comedy (Shaffer), Supp. I: 317, 318, 321–322, 324 Black Daisies for the Bride (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Black Dog, The (Coppard), VIII: 94–95, 97 “Black Dog, The” (Coppard), VIII: 90, 94

BLAC−BLUE Black Dogs (McEwan), Supp. IV: 389, 390, 398, 404–406 Black Dwarf, The (Scott), IV: 39 “Black Goddess, The” (Graves), VII: 261, 270 Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234–235 “Black Guillemot, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 Black Hermit, The (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 214, 222–223 Black Hill, On the (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 56−57, 59 Black House, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 Black Knight, The (Lydgate), see Complaint of the Black Knight, The Black Lamb and Grey Falcon (West), Supp. III: 434, 438–439, 445 “Black Lace Fan My Mother Gave Me, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 46–47 “Black Madonna, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 242–243 “Black March” (Smith), Supp. II: 469 Black Marina (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Black Marsden (Harris), Supp. V: 138– 139 Black Mass (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 429 “Black Mass, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “Black Mate, The” (Conrad), VI: 135, 148 Black Mischief (Waugh), VII: 290, 294– 295 “Black Mountain Poets: Charles Olson and Edward Dorn, The” (Davie), Supp. VI: 116 “Black Peril” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 218 Black Prince, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 226, 228, 229–230 Black Robe (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 144, 145, 151, 152–153 Black Robe, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 102–103 Black Spiders (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129– 131, 133, 134, 143 “Black Spiders” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 130 Black Swan Green (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 194, 206–208 “Black Takes White” (Cameron), VII: 426 Black Tower, The (James), Supp. IV: 319, 320, 325, 327–328 “Black Virgin” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 288 “Blackberry–Picking” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 123 “Blackbird in a Sunset Bush” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Blackeyes (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229 Black–out in Gretley (Priestley), VII: 212, 217 “Blackness” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 221, 223, 229 Blackstone, Bernard, VII: xiv, xxxvii Blackstone, Sir William, III: 199 “Blackthorn Spray, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 296–297 Blackwood, Caroline, Supp. IX: 1–16

Blackwood’s (periodical), IV: xvii, 129, 145, 269–270, 274; V: 108–109, 111, 137, 142, 190, 191 Blair, Robert, III: 336 Blair, Tony, Supp. IV: 74 Blake (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 10, 11 Blake, Nicholas (pseud.), see Day Lewis, Cecil Blake, Robert, IV: 296, 304, 306–308 Blake, William, II: 102, 115, 258; III: 174, 288–309, 336; IV: 178; V: xiv– xvi, xviii, 244, 316–317, 325, 329– 330, 403; V: viii, 163; VI: viii; VII: 23–24; Supp. II: 523, 531; Supp. IV: 188, 410, 448; Retro. Supp. I: 33–47 Blake, William (neé Blech), Supp. IV: 459, 461 Blake’s Chaucer: The Canterbury Pilgrims (Blake), III: 307 “Blake’s Column” (Healy), Supp. IX: 105 “Blakesmoor in H––shire” (Lamb), IV: 76–77 Blandings Castle (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 453 “Blank” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 64 “Blank, A” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 278 Blank Cheque, The (Carroll), V: 274 Blank Verse (Lloyd and Lamb), IV: 78, 85 Blasphemers’ Banquet, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Blast (periodical), VII: xiii, 72 Blasted (Kane), VIII: 147, 148, 149, 151–155, 156, 157, 158, 159 Blasting and Bombardiering (Lewis), VII: 72, 76, 77 Blather (periodical), Supp. II: 323, 338 Blatty, William Peter, III: 343, 345 Bleak House (Dickens), IV: 88; V: 4, 42, 47, 53, 54, 55, 59, 62–66, 68, 69, 70, 71; Supp. IV: 513 “Bleak Liturgies” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 Bleeding Hearts (Rankin), Supp. X: 245 “Bleik” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26 Blenheim (Trevelyan), VI: 392–393 “Blessed Among Women” (Swinburne), V: 325 “Blessed Are Ye That Sow Beside All Waters: A Lay Sermon“ (Coleridge), IV: 56 Blessed Body (More), Supp. VII: 245 “Blessed Damozel, The” (Rossetti), V: 236, 239, 315 Blessing, The (Mitford), Supp. X: 151, 158, 161, 163–165 “Blighters” (Sassoon), VI: 430 “Blind, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 Blind Beggar of Alexandria, The (Chapman), I: 234, 243 Blind Date (film; Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Blind Fireworks (MacNeice), VII: 411 Blind Love (Collins), Supp. VI: 103 “Blind Love” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 325– 327 Blind Love and Other Stories (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313, 325 Blind Mice, The (Friel), Supp. V: 115

313

Blind Stitch, The (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 72, 74, 75 “Blinded Bird, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 Blindness (Green), Supp. II: 249–251 Bliss (Carey), Supp. XII: 52–53, 55–56, 57, 58, 62 “Bliss” (Mansfield), VII: 174 “Blisse” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 270 Blithe Spirit (Coward), Supp. II: 154– 155, 156 “Blizzard Song” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 494 Bloch, Robert, III: 342 Blomberg, Sven, Supp. IV: 88 “Blood” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 27 Blood (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117, 120– 123, 124 “Blood” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 122 “Blood” (Murray), Supp. VII: 273, 281, 282 Blood and Family (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270, 271 Blood Doctor, The (Rendell), Supp. IX: 200–201, 203 “Blood–feud of Toad–Water, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 246 Blood Hunt (Rankin), Supp. X: 245 “Blood Is the Water” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 316–317 Blood of the Bambergs, The (Osborne), Supp. I: 335 Blood Red, Sister Rose (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 Blood, Sweat and Tears (Churchill), VI: 349, 361 Blood Sympathy (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 123 Blood Will Tell (Christie), see Mrs. McGinty’s Dead “Bloodlines” (Motion), Supp. VII: 263 “Bloody Chamber, The” (Carter), Supp. III: 88 Bloody Chamber and Other Stories, The (Carter), Supp. III: 79, 87, 88–89 “Bloody Cranesbill, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 “Bloody Men” (Cope), VIII: 76 “Bloody Son, The” (Swinburne), V: 321 Bloom, Harold, III: 289n, 307; V: 309, 316, 329, 402 Bloomfield, Paul, IV: xii, xxiv, 306 Bloomsbury: A House of Lions (Edel), VII: 39 Bloomsbury Group, The (Johnstone), VI: 413 Blot in the Scutcheon, A (Browning), IV: 374 “Blow, The” (Hardy), VI: 17 Blow Your House Down (retitled Liza’s England; Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 50–53, 57 “Bloweth Where it Listeth” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 “Blucher and Sandt” (Landor), IV: 92 Bludy Serk, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 “Blue Apron, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Blue at the Mizzen (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 257, 259

BLUE−BOSE “Blue bell is the sweetest Flower, The” (Brontë), V: 134 “Blue Boat, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 “Blue Closet, The” (Morris), IV: 313 Blue Djinn of Babylon, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 198 “Blue Dress, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 “Blue Eyes” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Blue Flower, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 95, 96, 98, 99, 100, 107–108 “Blue Lenses, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 147 Blue Remembered Hills and Other Plays (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229, 231–237 “Bluebeard’s Ghost” (Thackeray), V: 24, 38 Blunden, Edmund, IV: xi, xxiv, 86, 210, 254, 267, 316; VI: 416, 427–429, 439, 454; VII: xvi; Supp. XI: 33–48 Blunderer, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 170 Blyton, Enid, Supp. IV: 434 Boarding House, The (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501, 506–507, 511 “Boarding School Reminiscences” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 150 Boas, F. S., I: 218, 275 Boat, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 123, 127, 128 “Boat House, Bank Ground, Coniston, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Boat of Fate, The (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 272–273 Boat That Mooed, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Boating for Beginners (Winterson), Supp. IV: 541, 542, 545–547, 555 “Bob Hope Classic Show (ITV) and ’Shelley Among the Ruins,’ Lecture by Professor Timothy Webb—both Saturday evening, 26.9.81” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “Bob Robinson’s First Love” (Thackeray), V: 24, 38 “Bob’s Lane” (Thomas), Supp. III: 394, 405 Boccaccio, Giovanni, II: 292, 304; Supp. IV: 461 Body, The (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 163 Body Below (film; Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Body in the Library (Christie), Supp. II: 131, 132 Body Language (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 11 Body Snatcher, The (Stevenson), V: 396 “Body’s Beauty” (Rossetti), V: 237 Boehme, Jacob, IV: 45 “Boeotian Count, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 275 Boethius, I: 31, 32; II: 185 Bog of Allen, The (Hall), Supp. II: 322 Bog People, The (Glob), Retro. Supp. I: 128 “Bogey Wife, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 142 “Bogland” (Heaney), Supp. II: 271–272 “Bogy Man, The” (Coppard), VIII: 96 “Bohemians, The” (Gurney), VI: 427

Boiardo, Matteo, IV: 231 Boileau, Nicolas, IV: 92, 93 Boke of Eneydos, The (Skelton), I: 82 Boklund, Gunnar, II: 73 Boland, Eavan, Supp. V: 35–52 Bold, Alan, Supp. IV: 256 Böll, Heinrich, Supp. IV: 440 “Bombers” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 127 “Bombing Practice” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Bonadventure, The: A Random Journal of an Atlantic Holiday (Blunden), Supp. XI: 36 “Bonaly” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Bond, Edward, Supp. I: 421–436; Supp. IV: 182 “Bond” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 92 Bond Honoured, A (Osborne), Supp. I: 335–336, 337–338 Bondman, The: And Antient Storie (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184, 185 Bonduca (Fletcher), II: 45, 58, 60, 65 “Bone Elephant, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 262 “Bones of Contention” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 225 “Bonfire Under a Black Sun” (O’Casey), VII: 13 Bonnefon, Jean de, II: 108 “Bonny Broukit Bairn, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 205–206 Boodle, Adelaide, V: 391, 393, 397 “Book, The” (Vaughan), II: 187 “Book Ends” (Harrison), Supp. V: 153– 154 Book for Boys and Girls, A; or, Country Rhimes for Children (Bunyan), II: 253 Book of Ahania, The (Blake), III: 307; Retro. Supp. I: 44 Book of Answers, A (Hope), Supp. VII: 164 Book of Balaam’s Ass, The (Jones), Supp. VII: 170 Book of Common Praise, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 291 Book of Ireland, A (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 213 Book of Irish Verse (ed. Yeats), Supp. XIII: 114–115 Book of Los, The (Blake), III: 307 Book of Margery Kempe, The (Kempe), Supp. XII: 167–168, 169–171, 172, 173, 174, 175–181, 182 Book of Matches (Armitage), VIII: 1, 6–8 “Book of Matches” (Armitage), VIII: 8 Book of Mortals, A: Being a Record of the Good Deeds and Good Qualities of What Humanity Is Pleased to Call the Lower Animals (Steel), Supp. XII: 274 “Book of Nature” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 262 Book of Nonsense, A (Lear), V: xx, 76, 82–83, 87 Book of Prefaces, The (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 92 “Book of Settlements, The”, See Landnámabók Book of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere, The (Malory), I: 70–71, 77;

314

Retro. Supp. II: 249–250 Book of Snobs, The (Thackeray), V: 24– 25, 28, 38 Book of Spells, A (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170, 176, 177 Book of the Church, The (Southey), IV: 71 Book of the Duchess, The (Chaucer), I: 29, 31, 43, 54; Retro. Supp. II: 36–38 “Book of the Icelanders, The” (Ari), See Íslendingabók Book of Thel, The (Blake), III: 302, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 35–36 Book of Tristram de Lyonesse (Malory), Retro. Supp. II: 248 Book of Urizen, The (Blake), see First Book of Urizen, The Book of Victorian Narrative Verse, A (ed. Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276 Book of Voyages, A (ed. O’Brian), Supp. XII: 249 Booke of Balettes, A (Wyatt), I: 97 Books and Persons: Being Comments on a Past Epoch (Bennett), VI: 265, 267 Books Do Furnish a Room (Powell), VII: 352 “Books for the Bairns” (Stead), Supp. XIII: 243 Books of Bale (Arden), Supp. II: 41 “Books of the Ocean’s Love to Cynthia, The” (Ralegh), I: 147, 148, 149 Bookshop, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 95, 97, 100, 101–102 Boon (Wells), VI: 227, 239–240, 333 Border Antiquities (Scott), IV: 38 Border Ballads (Swinburne), V: 333 “Border Campaign, The” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 134 Borderers, The (Wordsworth), III: 338; IV: 3, 5–6, 25 “Borderland, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 223 Borderline (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 156– 157 Borderline Ballads (Plomer), Supp. XI: 226 Borges, Jorge Luis, Supp. IV: 558 Borges: A Reader (tr. Reid), Supp. VII: 332 “Borgia, thou once wert almost too august” (Landor), IV: 98 “Boris Is Buying Horses” (Berger), Supp. IV: 93 Born Guilty (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 123 Born in Exile (Gissing), V: 425, 428, 429–430, 437 “Born 1912” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Born 1925: A Novel of Youth (Brittain), Supp. X: 46 “Born Yesterday” (Larkin), Supp. I: 278 Borough, The (Crabbe), III: 273–274, 275, 280, 281, 283–285, 286 Borrow, George, Supp. XII: 17–32 Borstal Boy (Behan), Supp. II: 61–63, 64, 69, 70, 72, 73 Bosch, Hieronymus, Supp. IV: 199, 249 “Boscombe Valley Mystery, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 171 “Bosegran” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 134– 135

BOST−BRID Bostock, Anya, Supp. IV: 87 Bostonians, The (James), VI: 39–41, 67 Boswell, James, III: 54, 107, 110–115, 117, 119–122, 234–251; IV: xv, xvi, 27, 88n, 280; Retro. Supp. I: 145– 149 “Boswell and Rousseau” (Leigh), III: 246n Boswell for the Defence 1769–1774 (ed. Pottle and Wimsatt), III: 249 Boswell in Extremis 1776–1778 (ed. Pottle and Weis), III: 249 Boswell in Holland 1763–1764 (ed. Pottle), III: 249 Boswell in Search of a Wife 1766–1769 (ed. Brady and Pottle), III: 249 Boswell: Lord of Auchinleck 1778–1782 (ed. Pottle and Reed), III: 249 Boswell on the Grand Tour: Germany and Switzerland 1764 (ed. Pottle), III: 249 Boswell on the Grand Tour: Italy . . . 1765–1766 (ed. Brady and Pottle), III: 249 Boswell: The Ominous Years 1774–1776 (ed. Pottle and Ryskamp), III: 249 Boswelliana . . . Memoir and Annotations by the Rev. Charles Rogers (Rogers), III: 249 Boswell’s Book of Bad Verse (ed. Werner), III: 249 Boswell’s London Journal 1762–1763 (ed. Pottle), III: 249 Boswell’s Notebook, 1776–1777 (Boswell), III: 244, 249 “Botany Bay Eclogues” (Southey), IV: 60 Bothie of Tober–na–Vuolich, The (Clough), V: 155, 156, 158, 159, 161– 164, 166, 167, 169, 170 Bothie of Toper–na–Fuosich, The (Clough), V: 170 Bothwell (Swinburne), V: 314, 330, 331, 332 Botticelli, Sandro, V: 345 Bottle Factory Outing, The (Bainbridge), Supp. VI:18–20, 24, 27 “Bottle Imp, The” (Stevenson), V: 396 Bottle in the Smoke, A (Wilson), Supp. VI: 304, 307 “Bottle of Ink, A” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 296 Bottle’s Path and Other Stories (Powys), VIII: 249, 255 Boucicault, Dion, V: 415; VII: 2 Bouge of Court, The (Skelton), I: 83, 84–85 Boughner, D. C., I: 186 “Bourgeois Psychology” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 45 Boursault, Edme, II: 324, 332 Bow Down (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 “Bow in the Cloud, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 215 Bowen, Elizabeth, Supp. II: 77–95; Supp. IV: 151, 500, 514 Bowen, Stella, VI: 324 Bowen’s Court (Bowen), Supp. II: 78, 84, 91 “Bower, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 Bowers, Fredson, II: 44

Bowles, Caroline, IV: 62, 63 “Bowling Alley and the Sun, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love America, The” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 373 Bowra, C. M., VI: 153 Bowra, Maurice, V: 252–256, 260 “Box of Ghosts, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 Boy and the Magic, The (tr. Fry), Supp. III: 195 Boy book see (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117 Boy Comes Home, The (Milne), Supp. V: 299 “Boy from Birnam, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 Boy Hairdresser, The (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 364, 367 Boy in the Bush, The (Lawrence), VII: 114; Retro. Supp. II: 230–231 Boy: Tales of Childhood (Dahl), Supp. IV: 204, 205, 206, 208, 225 Boy Who Followed Ripley, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171 “Boy Who Talked with Animals, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 223, 224 Boy Who Taught the Beekeeper to Read, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 126 Boy with a Cart, The; Cuthman, Saint of Sussex (Fry), Supp. III: 191, 194, 195, 196 Boyd, H. S., IV: 312 Boyer, Abel, II: 352 Boyfriends and Girlfriends (Dunn), Supp. X: 67–69 “Boyhood” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 Boyhood: Scenes from Provincial Life (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 77–78 Boyle, Robert, III: 23, 95 “Boys, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 Boys’ Own Magazine, Supp. XIII: 234 “Boys’ Weeklies” (Orwell), Supp. III: 107 Boys Who Stole the Funeral, The: A Novel Sequence (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 284–286 “Boys with Coats” (Dunn), Supp. X: 71 Bradbrook, M. C., I: xi, 292, 329; II: 42, 78; VII: xiii–xiv, xxxvii, 234 Bradbury, Ray, III: 341 Bradbury, Malcolm, Supp. IV: 303, 365 Braddon, Mary Elizabeth, V: 327; VIII: 35–52 Bradley, A. C., IV: 106, 123, 216, 235, 236 Bradley, F. H., V: xxi, 212, 217 Bradley, Henry, VI: 76 Brady, F., III: 249 Braine, John, Supp. IV: 238 Brand (Hill), Supp. V: 199, 200–201 Brander, Laurence, IV: xxiv; VII: xxii Brantley, Ben, Supp. IV: 197–198 Branwell Brontë (Gerin), V: 153 Branwell’s Blackwood’s (periodical), V: 109, 123 Branwell’s Young Men’s (periodical), see Branwell’s Blackwood’s Brass Butterfly, The (Golding), Supp. I: 65, 75 “Brassneck” (Armitage), VIII: 5

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Brassneck (Hare and Brenton), Supp. IV: 281, 282, 283, 284–285, 289 Brathwaite, Kamau (Edward), Supp. XII: 33–48 Brave and Cruel (Welch), Supp. IX: 267–269 “Brave and Cruel” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267, 269 “Brave Girl” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 41 Brave New World (Huxley), III: 341; VII: xviii, 200, 204 Brave New World Revisited (Huxley), VII: 207 “Bravest Boat, The” (Lowry), Supp. III: 281 Brawne, Fanny, IV: 211, 216–220, 222, 226, 234 Bray, Charles, V: 188 Bray, William, II: 275, 276, 286 Brazil (Gilliam), Supp. IV: 442, 455 “Breach, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 Bread of Truth, The (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284, 285 “Bréagh San Réilg, La” (Behan), Supp. II: 73 “Break My Heart” (Golding), Supp. I: 79 “Break of Day in the Trenches” (Rosenberg), VI: 433, 434 “Breake of day” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 88 Breakfast on Pluto (McCabe), Supp. IX: 127, 135–136, 138 “Breaking” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 66 “Breaking Ground” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 271 Breaking News (Carson), Supp. XIII: 65–66 “Breaking the Blue” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 287 Breath (Beckett), Supp. I: 60; Retro. Supp. I: 26 Brecht, Bertolt, II: 359; IV: 183; VI: 109, 123; Supp. II: 23, 25, 28; Supp. IV: 82, 87, 180, 194, 198, 281, 298 “Bredon Hill” (Housman), VI: 158 Brendan (O’Connor), Supp. II: 63, 76 Brendan Behan’s Island (Behan), Supp. II: 64, 66, 71, 73, 75 Brendan Behan’s New York (Behan), Supp. II: 75 Brennoralt (Suckling), see Discontented Colonel, The Brenton, Howard, Supp. IV: 281, 283, 284, 285 Brethren, The (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Breton Walks” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 168, 172 Brett, Raymond Laurence, IV: x, xi, xxiv, 57 “Brick” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 58 Brick Lane (Ali), Supp. XIII: 2–6, 7, 10, 11–12 “Brick Red” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 64 Brickfield, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 131–132 Bricks to Babel (Koestler), Supp. I: 37 Bridal of Triermain, The (Scott), IV: 38 “Bride and Groom” (Hughes), Supp. I: 356

BRID−BROW “Bride in the 30’s, A” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 8 Bride of Abydos, The (Byron), IV: xvii, 172, 174–175, 192 Bride of Frankenstein (film), III: 342 Bride of Lammermoor, The (Scott), IV: xviii, 30, 36, 39 Brides of Reason (Davie), Supp. VI: 106–107 “Brides, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Bride’s Prelude, The” (Rossetti), V: 239, 240 Brides’ Tragedy, The (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 17, 20–22, 29 Brideshead Revisited (Waugh), VII: xx– xxi, 290, 299–300; Supp. IV: 285 Bridge, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 6–7 “Bridge, The” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 126–127 Bridge, The (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135, 143 “Bridge, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143, 144 “Bridge, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “Bridge for the Living” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “Bridge of Sighs, The” (Hood), IV: 252, 261, 264–265 Bridges, Robert, II: 160; V: xx, 205, 362–368, 370–372, 374, 376–381; VI: xv, 71–83, 203 Brief History of Moscovia . . . , A (Milton), II: 176 Brief Lives (Aubrey), I: 260 Brief Lives (Brookner), Supp. IV: 131– 133 Brief Notes upon a Late Sermon . . . (Milton), II: 176 Briefing for a Descent into Hell (Lessing), Supp. I: 248–249 Briggflatts (Bunting), Supp. VII: 1, 2, 5, 7, 9–13 Bright, A. H., I: 3 “Bright Building, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 109, 110–111 “Bright–Cut Irish Silver” (Boland), Supp. V: 49–50 Bright Day (Priestley), VII: 209, 218– 219 “Bright Star!” (Keats), IV: 221 Brighton Rock (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 3, 7–9, 11, 19; Retro. Supp. II: 153– 155 “Brigid’s Girdle, A” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 “Brilliance” (Davie), Supp. VI: 113 “Brilliant Career, A” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 170 Brimstone and Treacle (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 232, 234 “Bring Back the Cat!” (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 Bring Larks and Heroes (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345, 347, 348–350 “Bringing to Light” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269–270 Brink, Andre, Supp. VI: 45–59 Brinkmanship of Galahad Threepwood, The (Wodehouse), see Galahad at Blandings

Brissenden, R. F., III: 86n Bristow Merchant, The (Dekker and Ford), II: 89, 100 Britain and West Africa (Cary), VII: 186 Britannia (periodical), V: 144 Britannia (Thomson), Supp. III: 409, 411, 420 Britannia Rediviva: A Poem on the Birth of the Prince (Dryden), II: 304 “Britannia Victrix” (Bridges), VI: 81 “British Church, The” (Herbert), I: 189 British Dramatists (Greene), Supp. I: 6, 11 “British Guiana” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38 British History in the Nineteenth Century (Trevelyan), VI: 390 British Magazine (periodical), III: 149, 179, 188 British Museum Is Falling Down, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 363, 365, 367, 369–370, 371 British Women Go to War (Priestley), VII: 212 Briton (Smollett), III: 149 Brittain, Vera, II: 246; Supp. X: 33–48 Britten, Benjamin, Supp. IV: 424 Brittle Joys (Maitland), Supp. XI: 165, 174–175 “Broad Bean Sermon, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 275 “Broad Church, The” (Stephen), V: 283 Broadbent, J. B., II: 102, 116 Broadcast Talks (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 “Broagh” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 128 “Brodgar Poems” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 Broken Bridge, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151, 153 Broken Chariot, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411, 421 Broken Cistern, The (Dobrée), V: 221, 234 “Broken heart, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 90 Broken Heart, The (Ford), II: 89, 92, 93– 98, 99, 100 “Broken Type, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 “Broken Wings, The” (James), VI: 69 Brome, Richard, II: 87; Supp. X: 49–64 Brontë, Anne, IV: 30; V: xviii, xx, xxi, 105, 106, 108, 110, 112–119, 122, 126, 128–130, 131, 132, 134–135, 140– 141, 145, 150, 153; Supp. III: 195; Supp. IV: 239; Retro. Supp. I: 55–56 Brontë, Branwell, V: xvii, 13, 105, 106, 108–112, 117–119, 121–124, 126, 130, 131, 135, 141, 145, 150, 153 Brontë, Charlotte, III: 338, 344, 345; IV: 30, 106, 120; V: xvii, xx–xxii, 3, 13– 14, 20, 68, 105–107, 108–112, 113– 118, 119–126, 127, 129, 130–140, 144, 145–150, 152, 286; Supp. III: 144, 146; Supp. IV: 146, 471; Retro. Supp. I: 58–61 Brontë, Emily, III: 333, 338, 344, 345; IV: ix, xvii, xx–xxi, 13, 14, 105, 106, 108, 110, 112–117, 118, 122, 130, 131, 132–135, 141–145, 147, 150, 152– 153, 254; Supp. III: 144; Supp. IV: 462, 513; Retro. Supp. I: 56–58

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Brontë, Patrick, V: 105–108, 109, 122, 146, 151 Brontë Poems (ed. Benson), V: 133, 151 Brontë Sisters, Retro. Supp. I: 49–62 Brontë Story, The: A Reconsideration of Mrs. Gaskell’s “Life of Charlotte Brontë“ (Lane), V: 13n, 16 Brontës, The, Their Lives, Friendships and Correspondence (ed. Wise and Symington), V: 117, 118, 151 Brontës of Haworth, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Brontës’ Web of Childhood, The (Ratchford), V: 151 “Bronze Head, The” (Yeats), VI: 217 Bronze Horseman: Selected Poems of Alexander Pushkin (tr. Thomas), Supp. IV: 495 Brooke, Arthur, I: 305 Brooke, Jocelyn, VII: xviii, xxxvii; Supp. II: 202, 203 Brooke, Rupert, VI: xvi, 416, 419–420, 439; VII: 35; Supp. II: 310; Supp. III: 45–61 Brooke Kerith, The. A Syrian Story (Moore), VI: xii, 88, 89, 93–94, 99 Brooke–Rose, Christine, Supp. IV: 97– 118 Brookner, Anita, Supp. IV: 119–137 Brooks, C., IV: 323n, 339 “Brooksmith” (James), VI: 48, 69 “Broon’s Bairn’s Black, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Brophy, Brigid, IV: 101 “Brother Fire” (MacNeice), VII: 414 Brotherly Love: A Sermon (Swift), III: 36 “Brothers” (Hopkins), V: 368–369 Brothers and Sisters (Compton–Burnett), VII: 61, 66, 67, 69 Brother’s Keeper (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 Brown, Charles, IV: 211, 221, 231–233 Brown, E. K., V: 211–212, 217 Brown, Ford Madox, V: 248 Brown, George Mackay, Supp. VI: 61–73 Brown, John, II: 245, 253, 254 Brown, Tom, III: 41 Brown Owl, The (Ford), VI: 320 Brownbread (Doyle), Supp. V: 77, 87–88 Browne, Moses, II: 142 Browne, Sir Thomas, II: 145–157, 185, 345n; III: 40 “Brownie” (Gissing), V: 437 “Brownie of Black Haggs, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 Brownie of Bodsbeck and Other Tales, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 111–113, 117 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, IV: xvi, xix–xxii, 310–322, 356, 357; Retro. Supp. II: 23–24 Browning, Robert, IV: viii, xii, xiii, xix– xxiii, 240, 248, 252, 254, 311–312, 314, 318–319, 352, 354–375; V: xxv, 209, 287, 315, 330; VI: 336; Supp. IV: 139; Retro. Supp. II: 17–32 Browning Box, The; or, The Life and Works of Thomas Lovell Beddoes as Reflected in Letters by His Friends and Admirers (Beddoes)

BROW−BYE Browning: “Men and Women”and Other Poems: A Casebook (ed. Watson), IV: 375 Browning Version, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 307, 315–316 Browning’s Essay on Chatterton (ed. Smalley), IV: 374 Browning’s Major Poetry (Jack), IV: 375 “Bruno” (Warner), Supp. VII: 381 “Bruno’s Revenge” (Carroll), V: 270 “Brutal Sentimentalist, A” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 220 “Brute, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Brutus (Pope), III: 71–72 Brutus’s Orchard (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73–74 Bryan, Michael, see Moore, Brian Bryce, James, IV: 289 Brydon, Diana, Supp. IV: 459, 462 Bryskett, Lodowick, I: 124 Bubble, The (Swift), III: 35 Bucer, Martin, I: 177 Buchan, John, Supp. II: 299, 306; Supp. IV: 7 Buchanan, Robert, V: 238, 245 “Bucket and the Rope, The” (Powys), VIII: 254–255 Buckhurst, Lord, see Dorset, earl of (Charles Sackville) Buckingham, duke of (George Villiers), II: 206, 255, 294 Buckle, G. E., IV: 306–308 “Buckles of Superior Dosset, The” (Galsworthy), VI: 270 Bucolic Comedies (Sitwell), VII: 131, 132 “Bucolics” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 Buddha of Suburbia, The (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 157, 159 Budgell, Eustace, III: 48 Buffon, Georges–Louis, Supp. II: 106, 107, 108; III: 189 Buff (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74 “Bugle Call” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 “Bugler ’s First Communion, The” (Hopkins), V: 368–369 Builder, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 275, 276 “Building, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 280, 282, 283 “Build–Up” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Bujak and the Strong Force” (Amis), Supp. IV: 40 “Buladelah–Taree Song Cycle, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276–277 Bulgakov, Mikhail, Supp. IV: 445 “Bull” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188 “Bull: A Farce” (Self), Supp. V: 405–406 Bull from the Sea, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 180–181 “Bull Ring, The” (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 “Bull That Thought, The” (Kipling), VI: 189, 190 “Bulldog”Drummond series (Sapper), Supp. IV: 500 “Bulletin” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 98 Bullett, Gerald, V: 196, 199, 200 Bulwer–Lytton, Edward, III: 340, 345; IV: 256, 295, 311; V: 22, 47 Bundle, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423

Bundle of Letters, A (James), VI: 67, 69 “Bungalows, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 226 Bunting, Basil, Supp. VII: 1–15 Bunyan, John, I: 16; II: 240–254; III: 82; V: 27 “Buoyancy” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 40 Buoyant Billions: A Comedy of No Manners in Prose (Shaw), VI: 127, 129 Burbidge, Thomas, V: 159 Burckhardt, Jakob, V: 342 “Burden of Itys, The” (Wilde), V: 401 “Burden of Ninevah, The” (Rossetti), V: 240, 241 “Burden of the Sea, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 161 Bürger, Gottfried August, IV: 44, 48 Burger’s Daughter (Gordimer), Supp. II: 225, 228, 230, 231, 232, 234–237, 241, 242, 243 Burgess, Anthony, Supp. I: 185–198; Supp. IV: 4, 13, 234, 449 “Burghers, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Burial Mound” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 77 “Burial of the Dead, The” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 126 “Burial of the Rats, The” (Stoker), Supp. III: 382 Buried Alive (Bennett), VI: 250, 252, 257, 266 Buried Day, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 116, 128 Buried Harbour, The: Selected Poems of Giuseppe Ungaretti (ed. Hart), Supp. XI: 130 “Buried Life, The” (Arnold), V: 210 “Buried Treasure” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 Burke, Edmund, III: 185, 193–206, 274; IV: xii–xvi, 54, 127, 130, 133, 136– 138, 271, 275; VI: 356; Supp. III: 371, 467, 468, 470 Burke, Kenneth, Supp. IV: 114 Burke and Bristol, 1774–1780 (Barker), III: 196 “Burleigh” (Macaulay), IV: 279 Burlington Magazine, Supp. IV: 121 “Burma Casualty” (Lewis), VII: 447 Burmann, Peter, III: 96 Burmese Days (Orwell), VII: 276, 278 Burn, The (Kelman), Supp. V: 243, 249, 250–251 Burne–Jones, Edward, IV: 346; V: 236, 293–296, 302, 318n, 355; VI: 166; Supp. V: 98, 99 Burney, Charles, Supp. III: 65–67 Burney, Frances, Supp. III: 63–78 Burning Cactus, The (Spender), Supp. II: 488 Burning Elvis (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25, 28–29, 30 “Burning Elvis” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 28 Burning of the Brothel, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 “Burning Times, The” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 176 “Burning Want” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283–284

317

Burning World, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 24 “Burns Ayont Auld Reekie/Burns Beyond Edinburgh” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 69 Burnshaw, Stanley, Supp. IV: 460, 473 Burnside, John, Supp. XIII: 13–33 Burnt Diaries (Tennant), Supp. IX: 228, 229, 239 Burnt Ones, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 136, 143 Burnt–Out Case, A (Greene), Supp. I: 7, 13, 15, 16, 18; Retro. Supp. II: 162 “Burrington Combe” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 261 Burroughs, William S., Supp. V: 26 Busconductor Hines, The (Kelman), Supp. V: 242, 246–247 “Bush–Baby, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 Business, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 13 Business of Good Government, The (Arden), Supp. II: 29 Busker, The (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 Busman’s Honeymoon (Sayers), Supp. III: 335, 336, 347–348 “Busted Scotch” (Kelman), Supp. V: 249 “Busy” (Milne), Supp. V: 302 “But at the Stroke of Midnight” (Warner), Supp. VII: 381 “But For Lust” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134 ...but the Clouds (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 29 “Butcher, The” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164–165 Butcher Boy, The (McCabe), Supp. IX: 127, 128, 129–133, 135, 137, 138 Butcher’s Dozen (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Butler, Samuel, Supp. II: 97–119 Butor, Michel, Supp. IV: 115 “Butterflies” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 391 Butterfly Tattoo, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 151, 153 “Buzzard and Alder” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 261 “By Achmelrich Bridge” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 182 By and Large (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 “By Ferry to the Island” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 212 “By the burn” (Kelman), Supp. V: 250– 251 By Jeeves (Ayckbourn and Webber), Supp. V: 3 “By Leave of Luck” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 24 By Night Unstarred (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 189 By Still Waters (Russell), VIII: 286 “By the Fire–Side” (Browning), Retro. Supp. II: 23–24 By the Line (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 “By the Sea” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 By Way of Introduction (Milne), Supp. V: 300 Byatt, A. S.(neé Antonia Drabble), Supp. IV: 139–156, 229 Bye–Bye, Blackbird (Desai), Supp. V: 55, 60–62

BYLO−CAPT “Bylot Island” (Armitage), VIII: 4 “Byre” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188, 190, 194 Byron, George Gordon, Lord, III: 329; IV: x, xi, 46, 61, 91, 129, 132, 168, 171–194, 198–199, 202, 206, 215, 281, 299; V: 111–112, 247, 324; Supp. III: 356, 365; and Coleridge, IV: 46, 48; and Hazlitt, IV: 129; and Shelley, IV: 159, 172, 176–177, 179, 181, 182, 198–199, 202, 206; Retro. Supp. I: 250–251; and Southey, IV: 61, 184– 187; literary style, III: 336, 337–338; IV: viii, ix, xi, 129, 281; V: 17, 116; VII: xix “Byron” (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 “Byron” (Macaulay), IV: 281 Byron, Robert, Supp. IV: 157 Byron and the Ruins of Paradise (Gleckner), IV: 173, 194 Byron in Italy (Quennell), IV: 194 Byron: The Years of Fame (Quennell), IV: 194 Byronic Hero, The Types and Prototypes (Thorslev), IV: 173, 194 Byron’s Conspiracy (Chapman), I: 249– 251 Byron’s Tragedy (Chapman), see Tragedy of Byron, The “Byzantium” (Yeats), VI: 215; Retro. Supp. I: 336–337 C (Reading), VIII: 265, 266–268, 269, 271, 273

“C. G. Jung’s First Years” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 269 C. H. Sisson (Sisson), Supp. XI: 252 Cab at the Door, A (Pritchett), Supp. III: 311, 312 Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The (film), III: 342 Cadenus and Vanessa (Swift), III: 18, 31, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 283–284 “Caedmon” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Caesar and Cleopatra (Shaw), VI: 112; Retro. Supp. II: 316–317 Caesar and Pompey (Chapman), I: 252– 253 Caesar Borgia (Lee), II: 305 Caesar: The Life Story of a Panda Leopard (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 249, 252 “Caesarean” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 109– 110 Caesar’s Fall (Drayton, Middleton, Munday, Webster, et al.), II: 68, 85 Caesar’s Wife (Maugham), VI: 369 “Cage of Sand” (Ballard), Supp. V: 24 Cage Without Grievance (Graham), Supp. VII: 105, 107–109, 112 “Caged Skylark, The” (Hopkins), Retro. Supp. II: 190 Cagliostro, Alessandro di, III: 332 Cahier d’un retour au pays natal (Césaire), Supp. IV: 77 Cain (Byron), IV: xviii, 173, 177, 178– 182, 193 Caitaani mu˜tharaba–in? (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 212, 215, 216, 221–222, 224 Cakes and Ale (Maugham), VI: 367, 371, 374, 377

“Cakes of Baby” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 45 Calderón de la Barca, Pedro, II: 312n, 313n; IV: 206, 342, 349 Caleb Field: A Tale of the Puritans (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 Caleb Williams (Godwin), see Adventures of Caleb Williams, The Caledonia (Defoe), III: 13 “Caledonian Antisyzygy, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 214 “Calendar–Flush, A” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 24 Calendar of Love, A (Brown), Supp. VI: 64 Calendar of Modern Letters (periodical), VII: 233 “Calenture” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 “Caliban upon Setebos” (Browning), IV: 358, 364, 370, 372; Retro. Supp. II: 26 “Calidore” (Keats), IV: 214 Caliph’s Design, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 75n Call for the Dead (le Carré), Supp. II: 299, 305–307, 308, 311 Called to Be Saints (Rossetti), V: 260 Call–Girls, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 28n, 32 “Calling of Arthur, The” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 282 Callista: A Tale of the Third Century (Newman), Supp. VII: 299 “Calm, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 86 “Calmative, The” (Beckett), Supp. I: 50, 59; Retro. Supp. I: 21 Calvin, John, I: 241 Calvino, Italo, Supp. IV: 558 “Calypso” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 41 “Camberwell Beauty, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 312, 327–328, 329 Camberwell Beauty and Other Stories, The (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313, 327 Cambises (Preston), I: 122, 213–214 “Cambridge” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Cambridge (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 386, 388–390 “Cambridge Autumn” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature, III: 51, 52 “Cambridgeshire” (Cornford), VIII: 106 “Cambridgeshire Childhood, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 Cambyses (Preston), see Cambises Camden, William, Retro. Supp. I: 152– 153 Cameron, Norman, VII: 421, 422, 426; Supp. IX: 17&endash32 “Cameronian Preacher’s Tale, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 Camilla; or, A Picture of Youth (Burney), Supp. III: 64, 65, 68, 72, 73–75, 76 Cammaerts, Emile, V: 262, 274 “Camouflage” (Longley), VIII: 168 Camp, The (Sheridan), III: 253, 264 Camp One (Dutton), Supp. XII: 87–88, 95 Campaign, The (Addison), III: 46

318

Campaspe (Lyly), I: 198, 199–200 Campbell, Ian, IV: xii, xxiv, 250 Campbell, Joseph, VII: 53 Campbell, Roy, IV: 320; VII: 422, 428; Supp. III: 119 Campbell, Sue Ellen, Supp. IV: 336 Campbell’s Kingdom (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Campensis, Joannes, I: 119 Camus, Albert, Supp. IV: 259 Can You Find Me: A Family History (Fry), Supp. III: 192, 193 Can You Forgive Her? (Trollope), V: 96, 101 “Can You Remember?” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 Canaan (Hill), Supp. V: 192–194 “Canacee” (Gower), I: 53–54, 55 “Canal Bank Walk” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 197 Canal Dreams (Banks), Supp. XI: 8, 9 Canavans, The (Gregory), VI: 315 “Canberra Remnant” (Murray), Supp. VII: 273 “Cancer Hospital, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Candida (Shaw), III: 263; VI: 108, 110– 111, 113; Retro. Supp. II: 313–314 Candidate, The (Crabbe), III: 286 “Candidate, The” (Gray), III: 142 Candide (tr. Cameron, N.), Supp. IX: 28 Candide (Voltaire), IV: 295; Supp. IV: 221 “Candle Indoors, The” (Hopkins), V: 370 Candle of Vision, The (Russell), VIII: 277, 278–280, 288, 292 “Candles, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Candy Floss Tree, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218–219 “Canoes, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 67 Canning, George, IV: 132, 164 Canon of Thomas Middleton’s Plays, The (Lake), II: 1, 21 Canopus in Argos, Archives (Lessing), Supp. I: 250–253 “Canterbury Cathedral” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Canterbury Tales, The (Chaucer), I: 1, 2, 20–47; Retro. Supp. I: 45; Retro. Supp. II: 45–49, 125 Canticle of the Rose, The (Sitwell), VII: xvii, 130, 137 “Canto 45” (Pound), Supp. IV: 114, 115 Cantos (Pound), V: 317n; Supp. IV: 100, 115 Cantos of Mutability (Spenser), I: 140 Cap, The, and, The Falcon (Tennyson), IV: 338 “Cap and Bells, The” (Keats), IV: 217 Cape of Storms: The First Life of Adamastor (Brink), Supp. VI: 54–55, 57 Capell, Edward, I: 326 Caprice (Firbank), Supp. II: 201, 204, 205, 211–213 Captain, The (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 65 Captain Brassbound’s Conversion (Shaw), VI: 110; Retro. Supp. II: 317

CAPT−CAT O Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65, 68–69, 74– 76, 78 Captain Fantom (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117 “Captain Henry Hastings” (Brontë), V: 122, 123–124, 135, 138, 151 Captain Lavender (McGuckian), Supp. V: 280, 287–289 “Captain Lavender” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 289 “Captain Nemo” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 “Captain Parry” (Hood), IV: 267 Captain Patch (Powys), VIII: 258 “Captain Rook and Mr. Pigeon” (Thackeray), V: 21, 37 Captain Singleton (Defoe), III: 8, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 72 Captains Courageous (Kipling), VI: 204 “Captain’s Doll, The” (Lawrence), VII: 90 Captive Lion and Other Poems, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 98 Captives, The (Gay), III: 60–61, 67 Captivity (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 200, 210 Car, Thomas, II: 181 Caravaggio, Michelangelo Merisi da, Supp. IV: 95, 262 “Carboniferous” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 Carceri d’invenzione (Piranesi), III: 325 Card, The (Bennett), VI: 250, 258–259, 266; Supp. III: 324, 325 Card, The (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Card Castle (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 Cardenio (Fletcher and Shakespeare), II: 43, 66, 87 “Cards” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105 Cards on the Table (Christie), Supp. II: 131, 135 “Care” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327 “Careless Lover, The” (Suckling), II: 227 “Careless Talk” (Bowen), Supp. II: 93 Careless Widow and Other Stories, A (Pritchett), Supp. III: 328, 329 Caretaker, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 367, 368, 369, 372–374, 379, 380, 381; Retro. Supp. I: 224–225 Carew, Thomas, I: 354; II: 222–225, 237 Carey, John, V: ix, xxvii, 39, 62, 73 Carey, Peter, Supp. XII: 49–64 Carlingford, Lord, see Fortescue, Chichester “Carlow Village Schoolhouse” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Carlyle, A. J., III: 272n Carlyle, Jane, IV: 239, 240 Carlyle, R. M., III: 272n Carlyle, Thomas, IV: xii, 38, 41–42, 70, 231, 238–250, 266n, 273, 289, 295, 301–302, 311, 324, 341–342; V: vii, ix, xii, 3, 5, 165, 182, 213n, 285, 319 “Carlyon Bay Hotel” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Caramanian Exile, The” (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118, 125, 126 “Carmen Becceriense, Cum Prolegomenis et Commentario Critico, Edidit H. M. B.“(Beerbohm), Supp. II: 44

Carmen Deo Nostro, Te Decet Hymnus, Sacred Poems, Collected (Crashaw), II: 180, 181, 184, 201 “Carmen Mortis” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 89 Carmen Triumphale, for the Commencement of the Year 1814 (Southey), IV: 71 “Carmilla” (Le Fanu), III: 340, 345; Supp. III: 385–836 Carmina V (Herrick), II: 108 Carn (McCabe), Supp. IX: 127, 128– 129, 137, 138 Carnal Island, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77–78, 81 “Carnal Knowledge” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 258 Carnall, Geoffrey Douglas, IV: xxiv, 72, 156 Carnival Trilogy, The (Harris), Supp. V: 135, 136, 138, 140–141 “Carol” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214–215 “Carol on Corfu” (Durrell), Supp. I: 123–124, 126 Caroline (Maugham), VI: 369 “Caroline Vernon” (Brontë), V: 112, 122, 123, 124, 125, 138, 151 Carpenter, Edward, VI: 407, 408; Supp. XIII: 35–52 “Carpenter, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130, 131 “Carpenter’s Shed” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Carr, John Dickson, Supp. IV: 285 “Carrickfergus” (MacNeice), VI: 401 Carrington, Charles, VI: 166 “Carrion Comfort” (Hopkins), V: 374 Carroll, Lewis, V: xi, xix, xxii, xxvi, 86, 87, 261–275; Supp. IV: 199, 201 Carry On, Jeeves (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455, 461, 462 Carson, Ciaran, Supp. XIII: 53–67 “Cart, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 Carter, Angela, III: 341, 345; Supp. III: 79–93; Supp. IV: 46, 303, 459, 549, 558 Carter, Frederick, VII: 114 Cartoons: The Second Childhood of John Bull (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 51 Cartwright, John, IV: 103 Cartwright, William, II: 134, 185, 222, 237, 238 Cary, Joyce, VII: xvii, 185–196 Caryl Churchill, A Casebook (King), Supp. IV: 194–195 “Casa d’Amunt” (Reid), Supp. VII: 329 Casa Guidi Windows (Browning), IV: 311, 314, 318, 321 “Casadh Súgaín Eile” (Behan), Supp. II: 68 Casanova (Miller), Supp. XIV: 179, 180, 182, 184–186, 188–189, 191 Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant (Powell), VII: 348–349 Cascando (play, Beckett), Supp. I: 60 “Cascando” (poem, Beckett), Supp. I: 44 Case, A. E., III: 25, 36 Case for African Freedom, The (Cary), VII: 186

319

“Case for Equality, The” (Drabble), Supp. IV: 31, 233 Case is Alter’d, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 156–157 Case is Altered, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 217–219 “Case of Bill Williams, The” (Kavan), Supp. VII: 210 Case of Conscience Resolved, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Case of Elijah, The (Sterne), III: 135 Case of General Ople and Lady Camper, The (Meredith), V: 230–231, 234 “Case of Identity, A” (Doyle), Supp. II: 171 Case of Ireland . . . Stated, The (Molyneux), III: 27 Case of the Abominable Snowman, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Case of the Midwife Toad, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 38 Case of Walter Bagehot, The (Sisson), Supp. XI: 250 Cashel Byron’s Profession (Shaw), VI: 102, 103, 105–106, 109–110, 113, 129 Casino Royale (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 90–93, 95–96, 97 “Cask of Amontillado, The” (Poe), III: 339 “Cassandra” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 174 Cassinus and Peter (Swift), Retro. Supp. I: 284 Cast in the Fire (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 65–67–71 “Castalian Spring” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 134 “Castaway, The” (Cowper), III: 218–219 “Casting of the Bell, The” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 Casting Off (Howard), Supp. XI: 145, 147, 148 Castle, The (Kafka), III: 340, 345; Supp. IV: 439 Castle Corner (Cary), VII: 186 Castle Dangerous (Scott), IV: 39 Castle of Indolence, The (Thomson), III: 162, 163, 171, 172; Supp. III: 412, 425–428 Castle of Otranto, The (Walpole), III: 324, 325–327, 336, 345; IV: 30; Supp. III: 383–384 Castle of the Demon, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 116 Castle Rackrent (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 154–155; Supp. IV: 502 Castle Richmond (Trollope), V: 101 Castle–Croquet (Carroll), V: 274 “Castles” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne, The (Radcliffe), IV: 35 Casualties of Peace (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 “Casualty” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 130 Casuarina Tree, The (Maugham), VI: 370, 371 “Cat in the Tree, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “Cat on a Turkey Plate” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229

CAT–−CHAN “Cat–Faith” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 Cat Nappers, The (Wodehouse), see Aunts Aren’t Gentlemen Cat on a Houseboat (Desai), Supp. V: 55, 62 Catalans, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Catarina to Camoens” (Browning), IV: 314 Catcher in the Rye, The (Salinger), Supp. IV: 28 Catepillar Stew (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 Catharine and Petruchio, I: 327; see also Taming of the Shrew, The Cather, Willa, Supp. IV: 151 Catherine (Thackeray), V: 22, 24, 28, 37 Cathleen ni Houlihan (Yeats and Gregory), VI: 218, 222, 309; VII: 4 Catholic Church, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 292 “Catholic Church and Cultural Life, The” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 376 “Catholic Homilies” (Ælfric of Eynsham), Retro. Supp. II: 297–298 “Catholic Novel in England from the Oxford Movement to the Present Day, The” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364 Catholic Reaction, The (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 259 Catholics (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 143, 151, 152 Cathures (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160, 164, 170 Catiline (Jonson), I: 345–346; Retro. Supp. I: 161, 164 Cato (Addison), III: 46 Catriona (Stevenson), V: 387, 396; Retro. Supp. I: 267 Cat’s Cradle Book, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 369, 381–382 Catullus, II: 108; IV: 327; Supp. IV: 491 Caudwell, Christopher, Supp. III: 120; Supp. IX: 33&endash48 Caught (Green), Supp. II: 254–256 Cause Célèbre (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 318, 321 Cause For Alarm (Ambler), Supp. IV: 8–9 Causeries du lundi (Sainte–Beuve), III: 226 Causley, Charles, VII: 422, 434–435 “Caught in a Hurry” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Causeway (Longley ed.), VIII: 165–166 Caution to Stir up to Watch Against Sin (Bunyan), II: 253 Cavafy, C. P., VI: 408 Cavalcade (Coward), VI: 264; Supp. II: 147, 149, 150–151 Cave, Edward, III: 107 Cave and the Spring, The: Essays in Poetry (Hope), Supp. VII: 155, 163 Cave Birds (Hughes), Supp. I: 351, 356– 357, 363 Cavendish, George, I: 114 “Caverns of the Grave I’ve Seen, The” (Blake), III: 305 Cawelti, John, Supp. IV: 7 Caxton, William, I: 67, 82; Retro. Supp. II: 242–2

Cayley, Charles Bagot, V: 250–251, 253, 259 Ceausescu, Nicolae, Supp. IV: 195, 196 Cecil Rhodes (Plomer), Supp. XI: 221 Cecilia; or, Memoirs of an Heiress (Burney), Supp. III: 63, 64, 67, 70, 71, 72 Cefalû (Durrell), Supp. I: 100, 101 “Ceix and Alceone” (Gower), I: 53–54 “Celadon and Lydia” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 200 Celan, Paul, Supp. V: 189–190, 199–200 Celebrations (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Celebrations and Elegies (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 “Celestial Omnibus” (Forster), Supp. I 153 Celestial Omnibus, The (Forster), VI: 399 Celestials, Supp. IV: 344–345 Celibate Lives (Moore), VI: 95 Celibates (Moore), VI: 87, 91, 95 Cellular Pathologie (Virchow), V: 348 Celt and Saxon (Meredith), V: 234 “Celtic Twilight” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 Celtic Twilight, The, Men and Women, Ghouls and Faeries (Yeats), VI: 221 Cement Garden, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 392–393, 400, 407 Cenci, The (Shelley), III: 338; IV: xviii, 202, 208; Supp. IV: 468; Retro. Supp. I: 254 “Censored, Banned, Gagged” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 237 “Censors and Unconfessed History” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 237 “Centaur Within, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315 “Centaurs, The” (Longley), VIII: 168, 169, 171 “Centenary of Charles Dickens, The” (Joyce), V: 41 Centlivres, Susanna, Supp. III: 70 Centuries of Meditations (Traherne), II: 189n, 190, 192–193, 202; Supp. XI: 263, 264, 265–266, 269–273 Century of Roundels, A (Swinburne), V: 332 Century Was Young, The (Aragon), Supp. IV: 466 Century’s Daughter, The (retitled Liza’s England, Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 53–56 “Ceremony after a fire raid” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 “Certain Mercies” (Graves), VII: 265 Certain Noble Plays of Japan (Yeats), VI: 218 Certain Satires (Marston), II: 25 Certaine Learned and Elegant Workes of the Right Honourable Fulke, Lord Brooke, Written in His Youth and Familiar Exercise with Sir Philip Sidney (Greville), Supp. XI: 106, 107– 117 Cervantes, Miguel de, IV: 190 Césaire, Aimé, Supp. IV: 77 Cestus of Aglaia, The (Ruskin), V: 180– 181, 184

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Cetywayo and His White Neighbours (Haggard), Supp. III: 213, 214, 216– 217 “Ceud Mile Failte” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 Chabot, Admiral of France (Chapman), I: 252–253 Chadourne, Marc, III: 329 “Chaffinch Map of Scotland, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 166 “Chair that Will sat in, I sat in the best, The” (FitzGerald), IV: 341 Chain of Voices, A (Brink), Supp. VI: 51–52, 57 “Chalet” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Chalk Giants, The (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 272–273 Chalkhill, John, II: 133 Chalmers, Alan, see Upward, Edward Chamber Music (Joyce), VII: 41, 42; Retro. Supp. I: 171 Chamberlain, Neville, VI: 353, 355–356 “Chambermaid’s Second Song, The” (Yeats), VI: 215 Chambers, E. K., I: 299; II: 187; IV: 41, 57 Chambers, R. W., I: 3; Retro. Supp. I: 143 “Chamois, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 143, 147 Champion (periodical), III: 97–98, 105 “Champion of the World, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214, 223 Chance (Conrad), VI: 144, 146; Supp. IV: 250; Retro. Supp. II: 82 “Chance, The” (Carey), Supp. XII: 54, 55 Chance Encounters (Hope), Supp. VII: 152 Chancer, A (Kelman), Supp. V: 242, 247–249 Chances, The (Fletcher), II: 65 Chandler, Edmund, V: 354, 359 Chandler, Raymond, Supp. II: 130, 135 “Chanel” (Durrell), Supp. I: 125 “Change” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89 Change for the Better, A (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118 “Change of Policy, A” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 329 Change the Name (Kavan), Supp. VII: 212 “Changed Man, A” (Hardy), VI: 22 Changed Man, A, The Waiting Supper, and Other Tales (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 “Changeling, The” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 140 Changeling, The (Middleton and Rowley), II: 1, 3, 8, 14–18, 21, 93 “Changing Face of Fiction, The” (Weldon), Supp. IV: 522, 533 Changing Places: A Tale of Two Campuses (Lodge), Supp. IV: 363, 365, 371, 372–375, 376, 377, 385 Changing Room, The (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 416–417 “Channel Passage, A” (Brooke), Supp. III: 53 Channel Passage, A, and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333

CHAN−CHIL Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345, 347–348, 350–352, 360 Chant of the Celestial Sailors, The (Pater), V: 357 “Chant–Pagan” (Kipling), VI: 203 Chants for Socialists (Morris), V: 306 Chaos and Night (Montherlant), II: 99n “Chapel Organist, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Chaperon, The” (James), VI: 69 Chapman, George, I: 232–256, 278, 288; II: 30, 37, 47, 55, 70, 71, 85; IV: 215, 255–256 Chapman, John, V: 189 Chapman, R. W., III: 249 Chappell, E., II: 288 “Chaps” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74 Character and Opinions of Dr. Johnson, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Character of a Trimmer (Halifax), III: 40 “Character of a Virtuous Widow” (Webster), II: 77 Character of England, A, as It Was Lately Presented . . . (Evelyn), II: 287 “Character of Holland, The” (Marvell), II: 211, 219 “Character of Mr. Burke” (Hazlitt), IV: 136 Character of Robert Earl of Salisbury, The (Tourneur), II: 37, 41 Characterismes of Vertues and Vice (Hall), II: 81 Characteristicks (Shaftesbury), III: 44 “Characteristics” (Carlyle), IV: 241 Characteristics: In the Manner of Rochefoucault’s Maxims (Hazlitt), IV: 132, 139 “Characters” (Dickens), V: 46 Characters (Theophrastus), III: 50 Characters (Webster), II: 68, 81 “Characters of Dramatic Writers Contemporary with Shakespeare” (Lamb), IV: 79, 80 Characters of Love, The: A Study in the Literature of Personality (Bayley), Supp. I: 222, 224 Characters of Shakespeare’s Plays (Hazlitt), I: 329; IV: xvii, 129, 139 “Characters of the First Fifteen” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Charge Delivered to the Grand Jury, A (Fielding), III: 105 “Charge of the Light Brigade, The” (Tennyson), IV: xxi, 325 Charioteer, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 172, 176–178, 187 “Charity” (Cowper), III: 212 Charles, Amy, Retro. Supp. II: 174 “Charles Augustus Milverton” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 Charles Darwin, 1809–1882: A Centennial Commemoration (ed. Chapman), Supp. XI: 195 Charles Dickens (Swinburne), V: 333 Charles Dickens: A Critical Study (Gissing), V: 424, 435, 437 Charles I (Shelley), IV: 206 “Charles Lamb” (De Quincey), IV: 148

Charles Lamb and His Contemporaries (Blunden), IV: 86 “Charles Lamb, to those who know thee justly dear” (Southey), IV: 85 “Charles Maurras and the Idea of the Patriot King” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 246 Charley Is My Darling (Cary), VII: 186, 188, 189, 190–191 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Dahl), Supp. IV: 202–203, 207, 222– 223 Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator (Dahl), Supp. IV: 207 “Charlotte Brontë as a Critic of Wuthering Heights” (Drew), V: 153 Charlotte Brontë, 1816–1916: A Centenary Memorial (ed. Wood), V: 152 “Charlotte Brontë in Brussels” (Spielman), V: 137n Charlotte Brontë: The Evolution of Genius (Gérin), V: 111, 152 Charlotte Mew and Her Friends (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 98–99 “Charm Against Amnesia, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 Charmed Circle, A (Kavan), Supp. VII: 203, 205, 206–207 Charting the Journey (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Chartism (Carlyle), IV: xix, 240, 244– 245, 249, 250; V: viii Chase, The, and William and Helen (Scott), IV: 29, 38 Chaste Maid in Cheapside, A (Middleton), II: 1, 3, 6–8, 10, 21 Chaste Wanton, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276–277 Chastelard (Swinburne), V: 313, 330, 331, 332 Chatterton (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 7–8 Chatterton, Thomas, IV: iv, 228; V: 405; Supp. IV: 344 Chatwin, Bruce, Supp. IV: 157–177, Supp. IX: 49–63 Chaucer, Geoffrey, I: 2, 15, 16, 19–47, 49, 60, 67, 126; II: 70, 292, 302, 304; IV: 189; V: 298, 303; Supp. IV: 190; Retro. Supp. II: 33–50, 125 Châtiments, Les (Hugo), V: 324 “Cheap in August” (Greene), Supp. I: 16 “Chearfulness” (Vaughan), II: 186 “Cheat, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 “Cheek, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 157– 158 Cheery Soul, A (White), Supp. I: 131, 150 “Cheery Soul, A” (White), Supp. I: 143 Chekhov, Anton, VI: 372 “Chekhov and Zulu” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 445 “Chemotherapy” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Cherry Orchard, The (tr. Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 “Cherry–ripe” (Herrick), II: 115 “Cherry Stones” (Milne), Supp. V: 302– 303 “Cherry Tree, The” (Coppard), VIII: 94

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“Cherry Tree, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 271 “Cherry Tree, In December” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75 “Chest” (Self), Supp. V: 403 Chest of Drawers, A (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 Chester Nimmo trilogy (Cary), VII: 186, 191, 194–195; see also Prisoner of Grace, Except the Lord, Not Honour More Chester, Robert, I: 313 Chesterton, G. K., IV: 107; V: xxiv, 60, 262, 296, 383, 391, 393, 397; VI: 200, 241, 248, 335–345; VII: xiii Chettle, Henry, I: 276, 296; II: 47, 68 “Chevalier” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 73 Chiaroscuro (Kay), Supp. XIII: 100 “Chief Characteristic of Metaphysical Poetry, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 8 Chief of Staff (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 “Chief Petty Officer” (Causley), VII: 434 “Chiffonier, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “Child, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 113 “Child and the Shadow, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210 Child Christopher and Goldilind the Fair (Morris), V: 306 “Child Dying, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 “Child in the House, The” (Pater), V: 337, 357 Child in Time, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 389, 390, 400–402, 404, 406, 407 “Child Lovers” (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Child of God” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105 Child of Misfortune (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 130–131 Child of Queen Victoria and Other Stories, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214– 215 Child of Storm (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Child of the Jago, The (Morrison), VI: 365–366 “Child with Pillar Box and Bin Bags” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 137 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (Byron), III: 337, 338; IV: x, xvii, 172, 175–178, 180, 181, 188, 192; V: 329 “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came” (Browning), IV: 357; VI: 16 “Childe–hood” (Vaughan), II: 188, 189, 190 Childermass (Lewis), VII: 71, 79, 80–81 “Childhood” (Clare), Supp. XI: 52–53 “Childhood” (Cornford), VIII: 112 “Childhood” (Muir), Supp. VI: 204–205 “Childhood Incident” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Childhood of Edward Thomas, The (Thomas), Supp. III: 393 “Childish Prank, A” (Hughes), Supp. I: 353 “Children, Follow the Dwarfs” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214 Children of Dynmouth, The (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501, 510–511 “Children of Freedom” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38

CHIL−CHRO Children of Men, The (James), Supp. IV: 320, 338–339, 340 “Children of Odin” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 Children of the Chapel (Gordon), V: 313 “Children of the Zodiac, The” (Kipling), VI: 169, 189, 191–193 Children of Violence (Lessing), Supp. I: 238, 243–246 Children’s Encyclopedia (Mee), Supp. IV: 256 “Child’s Christmas in Wales, A” (Thomas), Supp. I: 183 “Child’s Calendar, A” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 Child’s Garden of Verses, A (Stevenson), V: 385, 387, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 264 Child’s History of England, A (Dickens), V: 71 Child’s Play: A Tragi–comedy in Three Acts of Violence With a Prologue and an Epilogue (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 115– 116 Chimeras, The (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173 Chimes, The (Dickens), V: 42, 64, 71 “Chimney Sweeper” (Blake), III: 297; Retro. Supp. I: 36, 42 China. A Revised Reprint of Articles from Titan . . . (DeQuincey), IV: 155 China Diary (Spender), Supp. II: 493 “China for Lovers” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 Chinamen (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57–58 “Chinese Button, The” (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 103 “Chinese Gordon on the Soudan” (Stead), Supp. XIII: 238–239 “Chinese Letters” (Goldsmith), see Citizen of the World, The “Chinese Lobster, The” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 155 Chinese Love Pavilion, The (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 263 Chinese Pictures (Bird), Supp. X: 31 Chinese Tower, The (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 “Chinoiserie” (Reading), VIII: 273 “Chip of Glass Ruby, A” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 “Chippenham” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 Chit–chat (periodical), III: 50 Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (film, Dahl), Supp. IV: 213 Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Fleming), Supp. IV: 212–213 Chitty–Chitty–Bang–Bang (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 Chivers, Thomas Holley, V: 313 “Chloe” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Chloe (Meredith), V: 231n, 234 Chloe Marr (Milne), Supp. V: 310 “Choice, The” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 274–275 Choice of Ballads, A (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Choice of George Herbert’s Verse, A (ed. Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 Choice of Kipling’s Prose, A (Maugham), VI: 200, 204

Choice of Wordsworth’s Verse, A (ed. Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 “Choir School” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Chomei at Toyama (Bunting), Supp. VII: 4, 6–7 Chomsky, Noam, Supp. IV: 113–114 “Chorale” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 Chorus of Disapproval, A (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 9–10, 14 “Chorus Sacerdotum” (Greville), Supp. XI: 108, 117–118 “Chorus Tartaorum” (Greville), Supp. XI: 117–118 Christ a Compleat Saviour in His Intercession (Bunyan), II: 253 Christ and Satan, Retro. Supp. II: 301 Christ in the Cupboard (Powys), VIII: 255 Christ Stopped at Eboli (Levi), VI: 299 “Christ Surprised” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 “Christ upon the Waters” (Newman), Supp. VII: 298 Christabel (Coleridge), II: 179; III: 338; IV: ix, xvii, 29, 44, 48–49, 56, 218, 313; Retro. Supp. II: 58–59 Christe’s Bloody Sweat (Ford), II: 88, 100 “Christening” (Murphy), Supp. V: 322 Christian Behaviour (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 Christian Behaviour . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 Christian Captives, The (Bridges), VI: 83 Christian Dialogue, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Christian Ethicks (Traherne), II: 190, 191, 201; Supp. XI: 263, 264, 265, 267, 277–279 Christian Hero, The (Steele), III: 43, 44, 53 Christian Morals (Browne), II: 149, 153, 154, 156; III: 40 Christie, Agatha, III: 341; Supp. II: 123– 135; Supp. III: 334; Supp. IV: 500 Christina Alberta’s Father (Wells), VI: 227 Christina Rossetti (Packer), V: 251, 252– 253, 260 Christina Rossetti: A Divided Life (Battiscombe), V: 260 Christina Stead (Brydon), Supp. IV: 463 Christina Stead: A Biography (Rowley), Supp. IV: 459 “Christine’s Letter” (Coppard), VIII: 96 “Christmas” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 “Christmas Antiphones” (Swinburne), V: 325 “Christmas at Sea” (Stevenson), V: 396 Christmas at Thompson Hall (Trollope), V: 102 Christmas Books (Dickens), V: 71 Christmas Carol, A (Dickens), V: xx, 42, 56–57, 71 “Christmas Carol, A” (Swinburne), V: 315 “Christmas Childhood, A” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 194 Christmas Comes But Once a Year (Chettle, Dekker, Heywood, Webster),

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II: 68, 85 &ldaquo;Christmas Day At Home” (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 121 “Christmas Day in the Workhouse” (Wilson), Supp. I: 153, 157 “Christmas Eve” (Nye), Supp. X: 202, 205 Christmas Eve and Easter Day (Browning), Retro. Supp. II: 25–26 “Christmas Garland Woven by Max Beerbohm, A” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45 Christmas Garland, A (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45, 49 Christmas His Masque (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Christmas Holiday (Maugham), VI: 377 “Christmas Life, The” (Cope), VIII: 80 “Christmas Midnight, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 “Christmas 1987” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226 “Christmas Oratorio, A” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10–11 Christmas Pudding (Mitford), Supp. X: 154–155 “Christmas Storms and Sunshine” (Gaskell), V: 15 Christmas–Eve and Easter–Day (Browning), IV: 357, 363, 370, 372, 374 Christopher, John, Supp. V: 22 Christopher and His Kind (Isherwood), VII: 318 “Christopher At Birth” (Longley), VIII: 167 Christopher Columbus (MacNeice), VII: 406 “Christopher Columbus and Queen Isabella of Spain Consummate Their Relationship” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 452 Christopher Homm (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247–248, 249 “Christopher Marlowe” (Swinburne), V: 332 Christopher Marlowe in Relation to Greene, Peele and Lodge (Swinburne), V: 333 Christ’s Hospital, A Retrospect (Blunden), IV: 86 “Christ’s Hospital Five–and–Thirty Years Ago“(Lamb), IV: 42, 76 “Chronicle, The” (Cowley), II: 198 Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck, The (Ford), see Perkin Warbeck chronicle history, I: 73 Chronicle of Carlingford series (ed. Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 98 Chronicle of Friendships, A, 1873–1900 (Low), V: 393, 397 Chronicle of Queen Fredegond, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Chronicle of the Cid (tr. Southey), IV: 71 “Chronicle of the Drum, The” (Thackeray), V: 17, 38 Chronicle of Youth: War Diary, 1913– 1917 (Brittain), Supp. X: 47 Chronicles (Hall), II: 43 Chronicles of Barset (Trollope), Supp. IV: 231

CHRO−CLER Chronicles of Carlingford (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214, 219 Chronicles of Clovis, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 240–243, 245, 249 Chronicles of Narnia, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 247, 248, 259–261 Chronicles of the Canongate (Scott), IV: 39 Chroniques (Froissart), I: 21 “Chronopolis” (Ballard), Supp. V: 22 “Chrysalides” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 Chrysalids, The (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 290–291, 292 Chrysaor (Landor), IV: 96 Church, Dean R. W., I: 186 Church and Queen. Five Speeches, 1860– 1864 (Disraeli), IV: 308 “Church–floore, The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 178–179 “Church Going” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 279, 280, 285 “Church Service” (Vaughan), II: 187 “Church Windows, The” (Herbert), II: 127 “Churche–Floore, The” (Herbert), II: 126 Church in Crisis, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 305 “Churches of Northern France, The” (Morris), V: 293, 306 “Church’s Year Book” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 264, 274 Churchill, Caryl, Supp. IV: 179–200 Churchill, Lady Randolph, VI: 349 Churchill, Winston, III: 27; VI: xv, 261, 274, 347–362, 369, 385, 392; Supp. III: 58–59; speeches, VI: 361 Churchill by His Contemporaries (ed. Eade), VI: 351n, 361 “Church–monuments” (Herbert), II: 127 “Church–warden and the Curate, The” (Tennyson), IV: 327 “Churl and the Bird, The” (Lydgate), I: 57 Chymist’s Key, The (tr. Vaughan), II: 185, 201 Cibber, Colley, I: 327; II: 314, 324–326, 331, 334, 337 Cicadas, The (Huxley), VII: 199 “Cicero and His Brother” (Landor), IV: 90, 91 Ciceronianus (Harvey), I: 122 Ciceronis Amor: Tullies Love (Greene), VIII: 135, 143 “Cinders” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 133, 135– 136, 140, 141, 146 Cinkante balades (Gower), I: 56 Cinque Ports, The (Ford), VI: 238, 332 Cinthio, Giraldi, I: 316; II: 71 Circe (Davenant), II: 305 “Circe” (Longley), VIII: 167 “Circe Truggin” (Powys), VIII: 249 Circle, The (Maugham), VI: 369 “Circle of Deception” (Waugh), Supp. VI: 275 “Circled by Circe” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 “Circuit of the World, The”, See Heimskringla Circular Billiards for Two Players (Carroll), V: 273

“Circulation, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 267 “Circus, A” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74–75 “Circus Animals’ Desertion, The” (Yeats), V: 349; VI: 215; Supp. III: 102; Retro. Supp. I: 338 “Circus Wheel” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Citation and Examination of William Shakespeare . . . (Landor), IV: 100 Cities (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172 “Cities, The” (Russell), VIII: 291 Cities, Plains and People (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 “Citizen” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 Citizen of the World, The; or, Letters from a Chinese Philosopher . . . (Goldsmith), III: 177, 179, 185, 188– 189, 191 Cities and Sea–Coasts and Islands (Symons), Supp. XIV: 276–277, 279, 281 Cities of Italy (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 Cities (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 City Madam, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 183, 184, 185, 186, 190–192 “City of Brass, The” (Kipling), VI: 203 “City Sunset, A” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 136 “City Ways” (Amis), Supp. II: 2 City Witt: or, The Woman Wears the Breeches, The (Brome), Supp. X: 62 City Wives’ Confederacy, The (Vanbrugh), see Confederacy, The Civilisation: Its Cause and Cure (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40–41 “Civilised, The,” (Galsworthy), VI: 273, 274, 276 Civilization in the United States (Arnold), V: 216 Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy, The (Burckhardt), V: 342 Civitatis Amor (Middleton), II: 3 Cixous, Hélène, Supp. IV: 99, 117, 232, 547, 558 “Clachtoll” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Clancy, Laurie, Supp. IV: 348 Clapp, Susannah, Supp. IV: 164 Clara (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117, 127– 130 Clara Florise (Moore), VI: 96 Clare, John, IV: 260; Supp. XI: 49–65 Clare Drummer (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313 Clarel (Melville), V: 211 “Clarence Mangan” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Clare’s Ghost” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 44 “Clarice of the Autumn Concerts” (Bennett), VI: 266 Clarissa (Richardson), III: 80–81, 85– 89, 91, 92, 95; VI: 266; Supp. III: 30–31; Supp. IV: 150; Retro. Supp. I: 81 “Clarissa“: Preface, Hints of Prefaces and Postscripts (ed. Brissenden), III: 86n “Clarissa Harlowe Poem, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Clarissa Oakes (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 258–259

323

Clark, Kenneth, III: 325, 346 Clark, Sir George, IV: 290 Clarke, Charles Cowden, IV: 214, 215 Clarke, Herbert E., V: 318n Clarke, Samuel, II: 251 Clarkson, Catherine, IV: 49 “Class Front of Modern Art, The” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 87 Classic Irish Drama (Armstrong), VII: 14 Classical Tradition, The: Greek and Roman Influence on Western Literature (Highet), II: 199n Classics and Commercials (Wilson), Supp. II: 57 Claude Lorrain’s House on the Tiber (Lear), V: 77 Claudius novels (Graves), VII: xviii, 259 Claudius the God and His Wife Messalina (Graves), VII: 259 “Claud’s Dog” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214 Claverings, The (Trollope), V: 99–100, 101 “Clay” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 104–105, 106 Clay. Whereabouts Unknown (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 Clayhanger (Bennett), VI: 248, 250, 251, 257–258 Clayhanger series(Bennett), VI: xiii, 247, 248, 250, 251, 257–258 Clea (Durrell), Supp. I: 103, 104, 106, 107 “Clean Bill, A” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Cleaned Out” (Motion), Supp. VII: 263 “Cleaning Out the Workhouse” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 291 Cleanness (Gawain–Poet), Supp. VII: 83, 84, 98–99 Cleansed (Kane), VIII: 148, 151, 152, 156, 158–159, 160 Clear Horizon (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 186, 187, 191 Clear Light of Day (Desai), Supp. V: 53, 55, 62, 65–67, 68, 73 Clear State of the Case of Elizabeth Canning, A (Fielding), III: 105 “Clearances” (Heaney), Supp. II: 279– 280; Retro. Supp. I: 131 “Clearances” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 134 “Clearing” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 “Cleator Moor” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “Cleggan Disaster, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 319–320 Cleomenes, The Spartan Hero (Dryden), II: 296, 305 “Cleon” (Browning), IV: 357, 360, 363 Cleopatra (Daniel), I: 162 Cleopatra (Haggard), Supp. III: 213, 222 “Cleopatra” (Swinburne), V: 332 “Clergy, The” (Wilson), Supp. VI: 305 Clergyman’s Daughter, A (Orwell), VII: 274, 278 “Clergyman’s Doubts, A” (Butler), Supp. II: 117 Clergymen of the Church of England (Trollope), V: 101 “Cleric, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 279

CLER−COLL Clerk, N. W., see Lewis, C. S. Clerk’s Prologue, The (Chaucer), I: 29 Clerk’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 34; Supp. IV: 190 Cleveland, John, II: 123 “Clicking of Cuthbert, The” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 462 Clifford, J. L., III: 244n Clifford, W. K., V: 409n “Clifton and a Lad’s Love” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 “Clinical World of P. D. James, The” (Benstock), Supp. IV: 320 Clio: A Muse (Trevelyan), VI: 383–384 Clishbotham, Jedidiah, pseud. of Sir Walter Scott “Clive” (Browning), IV: 367 “Clock (for Albert Ayler)” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 44 “Clock Ticks at Christmas, A” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Clocks, The” (Christie), Supp. II: 135 Clockwork; or, All Wound Up (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151, 152 Clockwork Orange, A (Burgess), Supp. I: 190–191 Clockwork Testament, The; or, Enderby’s End (Burgess), Supp. I: 189 Clodd, Edward, V: 429 Cloning of Joanna May, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 535, 536 “Clopton Hall” (Gaskell), V: 3 “Clorinda and Damon” (Marvell), II: 210, 211 Clorinda Walks in Heaven (Coppard), VIII: 89, 93–94 “Clorinda Walks in Heaven” (Coppard), VIII: 88, 97 “Close of Play” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Close Quarters (Golding), Retro. Supp. I: 104 Close Up, Supp. XIII: 191 Closed Eye, A (Brookner), Supp. IV: 120, 133 Closing the Ring (Churchill), VI: 361 “Clothes Pit, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “Cloud, The” (Fowles), Supp. I: 304 “Cloud, The” (Shelley), IV: 196, 204 Cloud Atlas (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 194, 195, 196, 197, 200–206, 207 Cloud Howe (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 106, 110–111, 112 Cloud Nine (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 180, 188–189, 198 CloudCuckooLand (Armitage), VIII: 1, 11–14 “Clouds” (Brooke), VI: 420 Clouds (Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 “Cloud–Sculptors of Coral–D, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 Clouds of Witness (Sayers), Supp. III: 338, 339 “Cloud’s Swan Song, The” (Thompson), V: 443 Clough, Arthur Hugh, IV: 371; V: ix, xi, xviii, xxii, 7, 155–171, 207, 208n, 209, 211, 212 “Club in an Uproar, A” (Thackeray), V: 25

Clubbable Woman, A (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 110, 112–113 Clune, Frank, Supp. IV: 350 Cnut, King, Retro. Supp. II: 293 Co–operation and Nationality (Russell), VIII: 286, 287 Coakley, Thomas P., Supp. IV: 350 “Coal, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 38 Coal Face (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7 “Coast, The” (Fuller), VII: 431 Coast to Coast: An Account of a Visit to the United States (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175, 181–182, 184 Coasting (Raban), Supp. XI: 227, 228– 232 “Coat, A” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330 “Coat of Many Colors, A” (Desai), Supp. V: 53 Cobbett, William, VI: 337 Cobra Verde (film), Supp. IV: 168 Coburn, Kathleen, IV: 52, 55–57 Cocaine Nights (Ballard), Supp. V: 31– 32, 34 “Cock: A Novelette” (Self), Supp. V: 404–405 Cock and Bull (Self), Supp. V: 404–406 Cock and the Fox, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 137–138, 147 Cock and the Jasp, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 137 “Cock Crows” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 211 “Cock o’ the North” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 68 Cock–a–Doodle Dandy (O’Casey), VII: xviii, 9–10 Cockatoos, The (White), Supp. I: 132, 147 Cockburn, Alexander, Supp. IV: 449 “Cockcrow” (Herrick), II: 114 “Cock–crowing” (Vaughan), II: 185 Cockrill, Maurice, Supp. IV: 231 “Cockroach” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 140 Cockshut, A. O. J., V: 98, 100–101, 103 Cocktail Party, The (Eliot), VII: 158, 159, 160–161; Retro. Supp. II: 132 “Coda” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 Coda (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 Code of the Woosters, The (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 459–460 “Codham, Cockridden, and Childerditch” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 Coelum Britannicum . . . (Carew), II: 222 Coetzee, J(ohn) M(ichael), Supp. VI: 75–90 Coffin for Dimitrios, A (Ambler), Supp. IV: 9–11, 12 “Coffin on the Hill, The” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267–268 Coggan, Donald, archbishop of Canterbury, I: vi Cohen, Francis, IV: 190 Cohn, Ruby, Retro. Supp. I: 215 Co–Incidence of Flesh (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Colasterion: A Reply to a Nameless Answer Against the Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce (Milton), II: 175 Colburn, Henry, IV: 254, 293; V: 135 “Cold, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380

324

“Cold, clear, and blue, The morning heaven” (Brontë), V: 115 Cold Coming, A (Harrison), Supp. V: 150 “Cold Coming, A” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161–163 Cold Heaven (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 143, 144, 151–152 “Cold in the earth” (Brontë), V: 114, 133, 134 Cold Lazarus (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 228, 240–241 Colenso, Bishop John William, V: 283 Coleridge, Derwent, IV: 48–49, 52 Coleridge, Hartley, IV: 44; V: 105, 125 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, III: 338; IV: viii–xii, 41–57, 59, 75–78, 82, 84, 115, 204, 253, 257, 281; V: 244; Retro. Supp. II: 51–67; and De Quincey, IV: 143, 144, 150; and Hazlitt, IV: 125– 130, 133–134, 137, 138; and Peacock, IV: 161–162, 167; and Wordsworth, IV: 3–4, 6, 15, 128; at Christ’s Hospital, IV: 75–78, 82; critical works, II: 42, 119n, 155, 179, 249–250, 298; III: 174, 281, 286; IV: 4, 6, 18, 96, 253, 257; Retro. Supp. II: 172; literary style, II: 154; III: 336, 338; IV: viii, xi, 18, 180; V: 62, 361, 447; Pater’s essay in “ppreciations, V: 244, 340– 341; Supp. IV: 425, 426–427 “Coleridge” (Mill), IV: 50, 56 “Coleridge” (Pater), V: 338, 340–341, 403 Coleridge on Imagination (Richards), Supp. II: 422–423, 429 Coleridge’s Miscellaneous Criticism (ed. Raysor), IV: 46 Coleridge’s Shakespearean Criticism (ed. Raysor), IV: 51, 52, 56 Colette, Supp. III: 86; Supp. IV: 136 “Coleum; or, The Origin of Things” (Bacon), I: 267 Colin Clout (Skelton), I: 84, 86, 87, 91–92 Colin Clout’s Come Home Again (Spenser), I: 124, 127–128, 146–147 “Collaboration” (James), VI: 48, 69 Collaborators, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 “Collar, The” (Herbert), II: 120–121, 216; Retro. Supp. II: 180 “Colleagues, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 252–253 Collected Essays (Greene), Supp. I: 9 Collected Essays, Papers, etc. (Bridges), VI: 83 Collected Ewart 1933–1980, The (Ewart), VII: 423, Supp. VII: 35, 36, 37, 38, 41, 43 Collected Impressions (Bowen), Supp. II: 78, 82 Collected Later Poems, 1988–2000 (Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 Collected Letters (Cowen), VI: 448 Collected Papers on Analytical Psychology (Jung), Supp. IV: 3, 4 Collected Plays (Maugham), VI: 367 Collected Plays (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311, 312, 318 Collected Poems (Amis), Supp. II: 15

COLL−COMÁ Collected Poems (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1–2, 4, 5 Collected Poems (Brooke), Supp. III: 55–56 Collected Poems (Bunting), Supp. VII: 6, 13–14 Collected Poems (Cameron), Supp. IX: 18, 24, 31 Collected Poems (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 37 Collected Poems (Cornford), VIII: 104, 112, 114 Collected Poems (Davies), Supp. XI: 89, 96 Collected Poems (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 78 Collected Poems (Durrell), Supp. I: 124– 126 Collected Poems (Empson), Supp. II: 179, 181, 192 Collected Poems (Ford), VI: 323, 332 Collected Poems (Jennings), Supp. V: 216 Collected Poems (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185, 187, 192 Collected Poems (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 203 Collected Poems (Mahon), Supp. VI: 165–167, 169–170, 172–177 Collected Poems (Morgan Supp. IX: 157, 158, 160–161, 163 Collected Poems(Muir), Supp. VI: 201, 204–205, 208 Collected Poems (Murray), Supp. VII: 271, 273, 275, 277, 278, 279, 281, 283, 284 Collected Poems(Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213–214, 217–219 Collected Poems (Nye), Supp. X: 200, 202–205 Collected Stories (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 214, 216, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228 Collected Poems (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 131, 136, 137, 142, 144, 145 Collected Poems (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213, 214, 216, 222 Collected Poems (Raine), Supp. XIII: 172 Collected Poems (Russell), VIII: 277, 2887 Collected Poems (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 217–231 Collected Poems, The (Seth), Supp. X: 279, 281, 284 Collected Poems (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 Collected Poems (Sisson), Supp. XI: 243, 245, 246, 248, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259 Collected Poems (Smith), Supp. II: 464 Collected Poems (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209, 211, 214, 217, 219, 221 Collected Poems (Thomas), Supp. I: 169, 170, 171, 175, 179, 184; Supp. III: 393 Collected Poems (Warner), Supp. VII: 371, 372, 373 Collected Poems (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330

Collected Poems 1909–1962 (Muir), Supp. VI: 205 Collected Poems 1928–1985 (Spender), Supp. II: 486, 493 Collected Poems 1930–1965 (Hope), Supp. VII: 153, 155, 156, 157, 159, 162, 164, 165 Collected Poems, 1945–1990 (Thomas), Supp. XII: 279, 280, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288–289, 290, 292 Collected Poems 1950–1970 (Davie), Supp. VI: 105–106, 108, 110, 114 Collected Poems, 1953–1985 (Jennings), Supp. V: 211, 216, 218 Collected Poems 1955–1995 (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254, 256–257, 260–262, 264–265 Collected Poems, 1956–1994 (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273, 274 Collected Poems 1980–1990 (Ewart), Supp. VII: 35, 43, 44, 46 Collected Poems of A. E. Coppard (Coppard), VIII: 91, 98 Collected Poems of Robert Louis Stevenson (ed. Smith), V: 393 Collected Poetry of Malcolm Lowry, The (ed. Scherf), Supp. III: 283 Collected Stories (Carey), Supp. XII: 54 Collected Stories (Maugham), VI: 370 Collected Stories (Thomas), Supp. I: 180, 181–182, 183 Collected Tales of A. E. Coppard, The (Coppard), VIII: 85, 89, 97 Collected Translations (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 169 Collected Translations (Sisson), Supp. XI: 252 Collected Verse, The (Carroll), V: 270, 273 Collected Works (Smith), Supp. VII: 340 Collected Works of Arthur Symons, The (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267, 270, 272, 273, 275, 276, 277, 279, 280 Collected Works of Izaak Walton (Keynes), II: 134 Collected Works of James Clarence Mangan: Poems (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119–120, 122, 125 Collected Works of James Clarence Mangan: Prose (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 113–118, 120–127, 129 Collected Writings of T. E. Hulme (Hulme), Supp. VI: 134–136, 139– 146 Collection, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 373, 374, 375 “Collection, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 315 Collection of Meditations and Devotions in Three Parts, A (Traherne), II: 191, 201 Collection of Original Poems, A (Boswell), III: 247 Collection of Poems 1955–1988, A (Nye), Supp. X: 193–194, 197, 202–205 Collection Three (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 Collection Two (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219

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“Collective Invention, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 317 Collector, The (Fowles), Supp. I: 291, 292, 293, 294–295, 297, 307, 310 Collector, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 227–228 “Collector Cleans His Picture, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Collectors, The” (Mistry), Supp. X: 139 “College Garden, The” (Bridges), VI: 82 “College in the Reservoir, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235–236 “College Magazine, A” (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 261 Collier, Jeremy, II: 303, 325, 331–332, 338, 340, 356; III: 44 Collier, John Payne, I: 285; IV: 52, 56 Collier’s Friday Night, A (Lawrence), VII: 89, 121 Collingwood, R. G., VI: 203 Collingwood, S. D., V: 270, 273, 274 Collins, Michael, VI: 353 Collins, Phillip, V: 46, 73 Collins, Wilkie, III: 334, 338, 340, 345; V: xxii–xxiii, 42, 62; Supp. III: 341; Supp. VI: 91–104 Collins, William, II: 68, 323n; III: 160– 176, 336; IV: 227 Collinson, James, V: 249 Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society (Southey), see Sir Thomas More; or, Colloquies on the Progress . .. . Colman, George, IV: 271 Colombe’s Birthday (Browning), IV: 374 “Colonel Fantock” (Sitwell), VII: 133 Colonel Jack (Defoe), III: 5, 6, 7, 8, 13 Colonel Quaritch, V. C. (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 Colonel Sun (Markham), Supp. II: 12 “Colonel’s Lady, The” (Maugham), VI: 370 Color of Blood, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 142, 144–145, 151, 152–153 “Color of Herring, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 331 Color Studies in Paris (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 “Colour Machine, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 Colour of Rain, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 228, 229, 239 Coloured Countries, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 272 “Colouring In” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101, 107 “Colours of Good and Evil” (Bacon), see “Examples of the Colours of Good and Evil“ “Colubriad, The” (Cowper), III: 217–218 “Columban” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 76 “Columba’s Song” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 170 “Columbus in Chains” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 223, 224 Colvin, Sidney, V: 386, 389–396 “Coma Berenices” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 491 “Comála” (Macpherson), VIII: 188

COMB−COMP “Combat, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 200, 207 “Combat, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 292 Come and Go (Beckett), Supp. I: 60 Come and Welcome, to Jesus Christ (Bunyan), II: 253 Come Dance with Kitty Stobling and Other Poems (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 193 “Come, Fool” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 Comedians, The (Greene), Supp. I: 10, 13, 15–16; Retro. Supp. II: 162–164 “Comedy” (Fry), Supp. III: 201 “Comedy Of, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220–221, 223 Comedy of Dante Alighieri, The (tr. Sayers), Supp. III: 333, 336, 350 Comedy of Errors, The (Shakespeare), I: 302, 303, 312, 321 “Come–on, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 72 Comet, Supp. XIII: 116, 120 “Comet, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 Comfort of Strangers, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 396–398, 400, 402 Comfortable Words to Christ’s Lovers (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 155 “Comforters, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219 Comforters, The (Spark), Supp. I: 199, 200, 201–202, 213 Comic Annual, The (Hood), IV: 251, 252, 253–254, 258, 259, 266 “Comic Cuts” (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 Comic Romance of Monsieur Scarron, The (tr. Goldsmith), III: 191 Comical Revenge, The (Etherege), II: 266, 267–268, 271 Comicall Satyre of Every Man Out of His Humour, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 158, 159–160 “Coming” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 “Coming, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 “Coming Day, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 262 Coming Day and Other Stories, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 262 “Coming Down Through Somerset” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 211–212 “Coming Home” (Bowen), Supp. II: 81, 82 Coming of Gabrielle, The (Moore), VI: 96, 99 “Coming of the Anglo–Saxons, The” (Trevelyan), VI: 393 “Coming of the Cat, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 Coming of the Kings, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 347 “Coming Struggle for Power, The” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 90 “Coming to Visit” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 Coming Up for Air (Orwell), VII: 281– 282 “Commemoration of King Charles the I, martyr’d on that day (King), Supp. VI:162

Commendatory Verses Prefixed to Heywood’s Apology for Actors (Webster), II: 85 Commendatory Verses Prefixed to . . . Munday’s Translation of Palmerin . . . (Webster), II: 85 “Comment on Christmas, A” (Arnold), V: 216 Commentaries of Caesar, The (Trollope), V: 102 Commentarius solutus (Bacon), I: 263, 272 “Commentary” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 9 “Commentary on Galatians, A” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Commentary on Macaulay’s History of England, A (Firth), IV: 290, 291 Commentary on the “Memoirs of Mr. Fox“ (Landor), IV: 100 Commentary on the Collected Plays of W. B. Yeats (Jeffares and Knowland), VI: 224; VI: 224 Commentary on the Complete Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, A (Mariani), V: 373n, 378n 382 Comming of Good Luck, The (Herrick), II: 107 Commitments, The (Doyle), Supp. V: 77, 80–82, 93 “Committee Man of ’The Terror,’ The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Commodore, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 259, 260–261 Common Asphodel, The (Graves), VII: 261 “Common Breath, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Common Chorus, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 “Common Entry” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Common Grace, A (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187, 194 Common Knowledge (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 13, 14–16 Common Pursuit (Leavis), VII: 234, 246 Common Reader, The (Woolf), VII: 22, 28, 32–33 Common Sense of War and Peace, The: World Revolution or War Unending (Wells), VI: 245 Commonplace and Other Short Stories (Rossetti), V: 260 Commonplace Book of Robert Herrick, II: 103 “Commonsense About the War” (Shaw), VI: 119, 129 Commonweal (periodical), V: 302 Commonweal, The: A Song for Unionists (Swinburne), V: 332 “Commonwealth Literature Does Not Exist” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 454–455 Communication Cord, The (Friel), Supp. V: 124–125 Communicating Doors (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 9, 11, 12 Communication to My Friends, A (Moore), VI: 89, 99 “Communion” (Coppard), VIII: 88, 93

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“Communism in the Universities” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 86–87 “Communist to Others, A” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 8 “Communitie” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89 Companion to the Theatre, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Companions of the Day (Harris), Supp. V: 136, 138 Company (Beckett), Supp. I: 62; Retro. Supp. I: 29 “Company of Laughing Faces, A” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 “Company of Wolves, The” (Carter), Supp. III: 88 Compassion: An Ode (Hardy), VI: 20 “Compassionate Fool, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 24–25 Compendium of Authentic and Entertaining Voyages, A (Smollett), IV: 158 “Competition, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 71 “Complaint of a Schoolmistress, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 150 Complaint of Chaucer to His Purse (Chaucer), I: 31 Complaint of the Black Knight, The (Lydgate), I: 57, 60, 61, 65 Complaint of Venus, The (Chaucer), I: 31 Complaints (Spenser), I: 124 Compleat Angler, The (Walton), II: 131– 136, 137–139, 141–143 Compleat English Gentleman, The (Defoe), III: 5, 14 Compleat Gard’ner, The; or, Directions for . . . Fruit–Gardens and Kitchen– Gardens . . . (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 Compleat Tradesman, The (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 63 Compleat Vindication of the Licensers of the Stage, A (Johnson), III: 121; Retro. Supp. I: 141–142 “Complement, The” (Carew), II: 223– 224 Complete Clerihews of Edward Clerihew Bentley (Ewart), Supp. VII: 43, 46 Complete Collected Essays (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313, 315 Complete Collected Stories (Pritchett), Supp. III: 312 Complete Collection of Genteel and Ingenious Conversation, A (Swift), III: 29, 36 Complete Doctor Stories, The (Dutton), Supp. XII: 82, 85 Complete English Tradesman, The (Defoe), III: 5, 14 Complete History of England . . . (Smollett), III: 148, 149, 158 Complete Indian Housekeeper & Cook, The: Giving the Duties of Mistress and Servants, the General Management of the House, and Practical Recipes for Cooking in All Its Branches (Steel), Supp. XII: 265, 267 Complete Little Ones (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 Complete Plays, The (Behan), Supp. II: 67, 68, 69, 70, 73, 74 Complete Plays (Kane), VIII: 149

COMP−CONS Complete Plays of Frances Burney, The (ed. Sabor), Supp. III: 64 Complete Poems (Muir), Supp. VI: 204 Complete Poems (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen, The (Stallworthy), VI: 458, 459; Supp. X: 292 Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, The (ed. Hatfield), V: 133, 152 Complete Poems of Hugh MacDiarmid, 1920–1976, The (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 201 Complete Poems of W. H. Davies, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 93, 95 “Complete Poetical Works of T.E. Hulme” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 136 Complete Saki, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 240 Complete Short Stories (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313 “Complete Stranger” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82 Complete Works of John Webster, The (ed. Lucas), II: 70n “Complicated Nature, A” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 500 Complicity (Banks), Supp. XI: 3–4, 5, 7, 12 “Composing Room, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 69, 70 “Compound Fracture” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99 Compton–Burnett, Ivy, VII: xvii, 59–70; Supp. IV: 506 Comte, Auguste, V: 428–429 Comus (Milton), II: 50, 159–160, 166, 175; Retro. Supp. II: 273–275 Comyns, Barbara, VIII: 53–66 “Con Men, The” (Reading), VIII: 267 “Concealment, The” (Cowley), II: 196 “Conceit Begotten by the Eyes” (Ralegh), I: 148, 149 Concept of Nature in Nineteenth–Century Poetry, The (Beach), V: 221n “Concentration City, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Concerned Adolescent, The” (Cope), VIII: 77 “Concerning Geffray Teste Noir” (Morris), V: 293 Concerning Humour in Comedy (Congreve), II: 338, 341, 346, 350 “Concerning the Beautiful” (tr. Taylor), III: 291 Concerning the Eccentricities of Cardinal Pirelli (Firbank), Supp. II: 202, 220– 222 “Concerning the regal power” (King), Supp. VI: 158 Concerning the Relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal . . . (Wordsworth), IV: 24 Concerning the Rule of Princes (tr. Trevisa), see De Regimine Principum “Concert at Long Melford Church,” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 3 “Concert Party: Busseboom” (Blunden), VI: 428 Conciones ad Populum (Coleridge), IV: 56

Concluding (Green), Supp. II: 260–263 Concordance to the Poems of Robert Browning, A (Broughton and Stelter), IV: 373 Concrete Garden, The (Dutton), Supp. XII: 83, 89, 97 Concrete Island (Ballard), Supp. V: 27, 28 Condemned Playground, The: Essays 1927–1944 (Connolly), Supp. III: 107–108 “Condition of England, The” (Masterman), VI: viii, 273 Condition of the Working Class in England in 1844, The (Engels), IV: 249 “Condition of Women, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 “Condolence Visit” (Mistry), Supp. X: 140 Conduct of the Allies, The (Swift), III: 19, 26–27, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 274, 275 “Coney, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 422 Confederacy, The (Vanbrugh), II: 325, 336 Confederates, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346, 348 Conference of Pleasure, A (Bacon), I: 265, 271 Confessio amantis (Gower), I: 48, 49, 50–56, 58, 321 Confession of My Faith, A, . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Confessional Poetry” (Harrison), Supp. V: 153 Confessions (St. Augustine), Supp. III: 433 Confessions: A Study in Pathology (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279–281 Confessions of a Justified Sinner (Tennant), Supp. IX: 231–232 “Confessions of a Kept Ape” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 394 Confessions of a Young Man (Moore), VI: 85–86, 87, 89, 91, 96 Confessions of an English Opium–Eater (De Quincey), III: 338; IV: xviii, 141, 143, 148–149, 150–153, 154, 155 Confessions of an Inquiring Spirit (Coleridge), IV: 53, 56 Confessions of an Irish Rebel (Behan), Supp. II: 63, 64–65, 71, 75, 76 “Confessions of an Only Child” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Confessor, a Sanctified Tale, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 Confidence (James), VI: 67 Confidence Man, The (Melville), Supp. IV: 444 Confidential Agent, The (Greene), Supp. I: 3, 4, 7, 10; Retro. Supp. II: 155– 156 Confidential Chats with Boys (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 119, 121– 122 Confidential Clerk, The (Eliot), VII: 161– 162; Retro. Supp. II: 132 “Confined Love” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89

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Confines of Criticism, The (Housman), VI: 164 “Confirmation, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “Confirmation Suit, The” (Behan), Supp. II: 66–67 “Conflict, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 120, 126 Confusion (Howard), Supp. XI: 145, 146, 147, 148 Confusions (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 11 Confutation of Tyndale’s Answer (More), Supp. VII: 245 Congreve, William, II: 269, 289, 302, 304, 325, 336, 338–350, 352; III: 45, 62 Coningsby (Disraeli), IV: xii, xx, 294, 300–303, 305, 307, 308; V: 4, 22 Conjugal Lewdness; or, Matrimonial Whoredom (Defoe), III: 14 “Conjugation” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 79–80 “Conjugial Angel, The” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 153 “Conjuror, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Conn, Stewart, Supp. XIII: 69–82 Connell, John, VI: xv, xxxiii “Connoisseur” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192–193 Connolly, Cyril, VI: 363, 371; VII: xvi, 37, 138, 310; Supp. II: 156, 199, 489, 493; Supp. III: 95–113 Connolly, T. L., V: 442n, 445, 447, 450, 451 “Connor Girls, The” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339–340 Conny–Catching (Greene), VIII: 144 Conquest, Robert, Supp. IV: 256 Conquest of Granada by the Spaniards, The (Dryden), II: 294, 305 “Conquest of Syria, The: If Complete” (Lawrence), Supp. II: 287 Conquest of the Maya, The (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Conrad, Joseph, VI: xi, 133–150, 170, 193, 242, 270, 279–280, 321; VII: 122; Retro. Supp. II: 69–83; list of short stories, VI: 149–150; Supp. I: 397–398; Supp. II: 290; Supp. IV: 5, 163, 233, 250, 251, 302, 403 Conrad in the Nineteenth Century (Watt), VI: 149 “Conrad’s Darkness” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 397, 402, 403 Conrad’s Prefaces to His Works (Garnett), VI: 149 “Conquistador” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 Conscience of the Rich, The (Snow), VII: 324, 326–327 “Conscious” (Owen), VI: 451 Conscious and Verbal (Murray), Supp. VII: 271, 286–287 “Conscious Mind’s Intelligible Structure, The: A Debate” (Hill), Supp. V: 183 “Conscript” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 Conscription for Ireland: A Warning to England (Russell), VIII: 288 “Conscriptions: National Service 1952– 1954” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222

CONS−CORR Consequently I Rejoice (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 Conservationist, The (Gordimer), Supp. II: 230–231, 232, 239 “Consider” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 5 Consider (Rossetti), V: 260 Consider Phlebas (Banks), Supp. XI: 1, 10, 11–12 Consider the Lilies (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209–210 Considerations Touching the Likeliest Means to Remove Hirelings out of the Church (Milton), II: 176 “Considering the Snail” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 262–263 “Consolation” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Consolation of Philosophy (Boethius), I: 31; Retro. Supp. II: 36, 296–297 Consolations (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79, 80, 81 Consolidator, The (Defoe), III: 4, 13 Constance (Durrell), Supp. I: 119, 120 “Constant” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Constant, Benjamin, Supp. IV: 125, 126, 136 Constant Couple, The; or, A Trip to the Jubilee (Farquhar), II: 352, 356–357, 364 Constant Wife, The (Maugham), VI: 369 “Constantine and Silvester” (Gower), I: 53–54 Constantine the Great (Lee), II: 305 “Constellation” (Kelman), Supp. V: 255 “Constellation, The” (Vaughan), II: 186, 189 Constitutional (periodical), V: 19 Constitutional History of England, The (Hallam), IV: 283 Constructing Postmodernism (McHale), Supp. IV: 112 “Construction for I. K. Brunel” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158 Constructions (Frayn), Supp. VII: 51, 53, 58, 64 Contacts (Carey), Supp. XII: 51 “Contemplation” (Thompson), V: 442, 443 “Contemporaries” (Cornford), VIII: 105 Contemporaries of Shakespeare (Swinburne), V: 333 Contemporary Authors Autobiography Series (ed. Sarkissian), Supp. XI: 243, 244, 245, 249, 250, 251, 252 “Contemporary Film of Lancasters in Action, A” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 44 “Contemporary Sagas”, See Samtíðarsögur Continent (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 19, 20–23 Continual Dew (Betjeman), VII: 365 Continuation of the Complete History, A (Smollett), III: 148, 149, 158 Continuous: 50 Sonnets from “The School of Elegance“ (Harrison), Supp. V: 150 Contractor, The (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 416–417, 418 Contrarini Fleming (Disraeli), IV: xix, 292–293, 294, 296–297, 299, 308

Contrary Experience, The (Read), VI: 416 “Contrasts” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 Contre–Machiavel (Gentillet), I: 283 “Controversial Tree of Time, The” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 43 Conundrum (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 171– 174, 179, 184 “Convenience” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Convergence of the Twain, The” (Hardy), II: 69; VI: 16; Retro. Supp. I: 119–120 “Conversation of prayer, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 “Conversation, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272; Supp. IV: 273 “Conversation with a Cupboard Man” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 392 “Conversation with Calliope” (Hope), Supp. VII: 162–163 Conversation with My Younger Self (Plomer), Supp. XI: 223 Conversations at Curlow Creek, The (Malouf), Supp. XII: 229–230 Conversations in Ebury Street (Moore), V: 129, 153; VI: 89, 98, 99 Conversations of James Northcote, Esq., R. A. (Hazlitt), IV: 134, 140 “Conversations with Goethe” (Lowry), Supp. III: 286 ConVERSations with Nathaniel Mackey (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 46inline“Conversion” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 136 “Conversion” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 “Conversions” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21 “Convert, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123, 124 “Convict and the Fiddler, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 Convivio (Dante), I: 27 Cook, D., III: 322 Cook, Eliza, IV: 259, 320 Cook, J. D., V: 279 Cooke, W., III: 184n “Cool Web, The” (Graves), VII: 266 “Coole Park” (Yeats), VI: 212; Retro. Supp. I: 336 “Coole Park and Ballylee” (Yeats), VI: 215; Retro. Supp. I: 336 Cooper, Lettice Ulpha, V: x, xxvii, 397, 398 Cooper, William, VII: xxi, xxxvii “Co–ordination” (Forster), VI: 399 Coover, Robert, Supp. IV: 116 Cope, Wendy, VIII: 67–84 Copeland, T. W., III: 245n, 250 Copenhagen (Frayn), Supp. VII: 63–64 Coppard, A. E., VIII: 85–99 “Coppersmith” (Murphy), Supp. V: 325 Coppy of a Letter Written to . . . Parliament, A (Suckling), II: 238 Coral Island, The (Ballantyne), Supp. I: 68; Retro. Supp. I: 96 Corbett, Sir Julian, I: 146 Cordelia Gray novels (James) Supp. IV: 335–337

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“Corinna’s Going a–Maying” (Herrick), II: 109–110 “Coriolan” (Eliot), VII: 152–153, 158 Coriolanus (Shakespeare), I: 318; II: 70 Coriolanus (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 423 Corke, Helen, VII: 93 Corker’s Freedom (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 84, 85 Corkery, Daniel, Supp. V: 37, 41 “Cork’s Gold Vessel” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67 “Cornac and His Wife, The” (Lewis), VII: 77, 78 Corneille, Pierre, II: 261, 270, 271 Cornelia (Kyd), I: 162, 220 Cornélie (Garaier), I: 220 Cornelius: A Business Affair in Three Transactions (Priestley), VII: 224 Corner That Held Them, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 376, 377–378 “Corner of the Eye, The” (Longley), VIII: 169 “Cornet Love” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 291 “Cornet Player Who Betrayed Ireland, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 214 Cornford, Frances, VIII: 101–115 Cornford, John, Supp. XIII: 83–97 Cornhill (periodical), V: xxii, 1, 20, 279; VI: 31 “Cornish April” (Cornford), VIII: 106 “Cornish Heroic Song for Valda Trevlyn” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 214 Corno di Bassetto, pseud. of George Bernard Shaw Cornwall, Barry, IV: 311 Cornwall, David John Moore, see le Carré, John Cornwallis, Sir William, III: 39–40 Coronation Everest (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175, 179 “Coronet, The” (Marvell), II: 113, 211, 216 Coronet for His Mistress Philosophy, A (Chapman), I: 234 “Corposant” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 “Corpse and the Flea, The” (Powys), VIII: 255 “Corregidor” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Correspondence (Flaubert), V: 353 Correspondence (Swift), III: 24 Correspondence of James Boswell and John Johnston . . . (ed. Walker), III: 249 Correspondence . . . of James Boswell Relating to the “Life of Johnson,”The (ed. Waingrow), III: 249 Correspondence of James Boswell with . . . the Club, The (ed. Fifer), III: 249 Correspondences (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254, 256, 257–260, 261 Corrida at San Feliu, The (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 263, 266 “Corridor, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 Corridors of Power (Snow), VII: xxvi, 324, 330–331 Corrigan (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 7–8, 13–14, 16

CORR−CREA “Corruption” (Vaughan), II: 185, 186, 189 Corsair, The (Byron), IV: xvii, 172, 173, 175, 192; see also Turkish tales Corson, James C., IV: 27, 38–40 “Corymbus for Autumn” (Thompson), V: 442 “Cosmologist” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Cosmopolitans (Maugham), VI: 370 “Cost of Life” (Motion), Supp. VII: 265, 266 “Costa Pool Bums” (Warner), Supp. XI: 294 “Cottage at Chigasaki, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 47 “Cottage Hospital, The” (Betjeman), VII: 375 Cotter’s England (Stead), Supp. IV: 473– 476 “Cotter’s Saturday Night, The” (Burns), III: 311, 313, 315, 318 Cottle, Joseph, IV: 44, 45, 52, 56, 59 Cotton, Charles, II: 131 134, 137 Coué, Emile, VI: 264 “Could Be” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Council of the Seven Deadly Sins, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214–215 Count Belisarius (Graves), VII: xviii, 258 Count Julian (Landor), IV: 89, 96, 100 Count Karlstein (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 149–150 Count Robert of Paris (Scott), IV: 39 “Countdown” (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 4, 11 Counter–Attack (Sassoon), VI: 430, 431 “Counter Attack” (Stallworthy), Supp. X 298 Counterblast (McLuhan), VII: 71n Counterclock World (Dick), Supp. IV: 41 Counterparts (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72, 74 Counterpoint (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 “Counterpoint in Herbert” (Hayes), Retro. Supp. II: 181 Countess Cathleen, The (Yeats), VI: 87; Retro. Supp. I: 326 Countess Cathleen and Various Legends and Lyrics, The (Yeats), VI: 211, 309 Countess of Pembroke, I: 161, 163–169, 218 Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia, The (Sidney), see Arcadia “Countess of Pembroke’s Dream” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 “Country Bedroom, The” (Cornford), VIII: 105 “Country Bedroom” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 Country Comets (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 120–121 “Country Dance” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 “Country Dance” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 “Country for Old Men, A” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 224 Country Girls, The (O’Brien), Supp. V: 333–336 Country Girls Trilogy and Epilogue, The (O’Brien), Supp. V: 338

“Country House” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185–186, 194 Country House, The (Galsworthy), VI: 271, 272, 273, 275, 278, 282 Country House, The (Vanbrugh), II: 325, 333, 336 “Country Kitchen” (Dunn), Supp. X: 78 Country Life, (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3 “Country Measures” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 “Country Music” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 110 “Country of the Blind, The” (Wells), VI: 234 Country of the Blind, The, and Other Stories (Wells), VI: 228, 244 “Country Sunday” (Coppard), VIII: 88 “Country Walk, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 Country–Wife, The (Wycherley), I: 243; II: 307, 308, 314–318, 321, 360 “Coup: A Story, A” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 167 “Coup de Poing” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 68–69 “Courage Means Running” (Empson), Supp. II: 191 Courier (periodical), IV: 50 Course of Lectures on the English Law,A: Delivered at the University of Oxford 1767–1773 (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 143 Court and the Castle, The (West), Supp. III: 438 “Court of Cupid, The” (Spenser), I: 123 “Court Revolt, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257 Courte of Venus, The (Wyatt), I: 97 “Courter, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 438 “Courtesies of the Interregnum” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 277 “Courtship of Ossian, The” (Macpherson), VIII: 186 Courtyards in Delft (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173 “Courtyards in Delft” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 Cousin Henry (Trollope), V: 102 “Cousin Maria” (James), VI: 69 Cousin Phillis (Gaskell), V: 1, 2, 4, 8, 11, 15 Cousin Rosamund: A Saga of the Century (West), Supp. III: 443 Cousine Bette (Balzac), V: xx, 17 “Cousins, The” (Burne–Jones), VI: 167, 169 Covent Garden Drolery, The (Behn), Supp. III: 36 Covent Garden Journal, The (periodical), III: 103–104; Retro. Supp. I: 81 Covent Garden Tragedy, The (Fielding), III: 97, 105 “Coventry” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 39–40 Cover Her Face (James), Supp. II: 127; Supp. IV: 321–323 Coverdale, Myles, I: 377 “Covering End” (James), VI: 52, 69 Coward, Noël, Supp. II: 139–158 Cowasjee, S., VII: 4 Cowell, Edward, IV: 342–346

329

Cowley, Abraham, II: 123, 179, 194–200, 202, 236, 256, 259, 275, 347; III: 40, 118; Retro. Supp. I: 144 Cowper, William, II: 119n, 196, 240; III: 173, 207–220, 282; IV: xiv–xvi, 93, 184, 281 “Cowper’s Grave” (Browning), IV: 312, 313 “Cows on Killing Day, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 282 “Cowyard Gates” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 Cox, Charles Brian, VI: xi, xxxiii “Cox’s Diary” (Thackeray), see “Barber Cox and the Cutting of His Comb“ Coxcomb, The (Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Coxhead, Elizabeth, VI: xiv, xxxiii “Coxon Fund, The” (James), VI: 69 Coyle, William, pseud. of Thomas Keneally C. P. Snow (Karl), VII: 341 Crab Apple Jelly (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 “Crab Feast, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Crabbe, George, III: 272–287, 338; IV: xv, xvii, 103, 326; V: 6; VI: 378 Crace, Jim, Supp. XIV: 17–33 Crack, The (Tennant), see Time of the Crack, The Cracking India (Sidhwa), Supp. V: 62 “Craggy Country” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 76–77 Craig, Hardin, I: 187, 326 Craig, W. J., I: 326 Craigie, Mrs., VI: 87 “Craigie Hill” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71, 72 “Craigvara House” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 “Cramond Island” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 130 Crampton Hodnet (Pym), Supp. II: 364– 366, 370 Crane, Stephen, VI: 320; Supp. IV: 116 Cranford (Gaskell), V: xxi, 1–4, 8–10, 11, 14, 15 Crank, Supp. XIII: 187 “Crankshaft” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283 “Crapy Cornelia” (James), VI: 69 Crash (Ballard), Supp. V: 19, 27, 28, 33–34 Crashaw, Richard, II: 90–91, 113, 122, 123, 126, 179–184, 200–201; V: 325 Crave (Kane), VIII: 148, 150–151, 159– 160 “Craven Arms” (Coppard), VIII: 90 “Craving for Spring” (Lawrence), VII: 118 Crawford, Robert, Supp. XI: 67–84 “Crawford’s Consistency” (James), VI: 69 “Creation” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46–47 Creative Element, The (Spender), Supp. II: 491 Creative Uses of Homosexuality in E. M. Forster, Ronald Firbank, and L. P. Hartley, The (Mistry), Supp. X: 120–

CREA−CUPI 121 “Creative Writer ’s Suicide, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 “Creative Writing: Can It/Should It Be Taught?” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 381 “Creator in Vienna” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 Creators of Wonderland (Mespoulet), V: 266 Crediting Poetry (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 125 “Credits” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 Creed or Chaos? and Other Essays in Popular Theology (Sayers), Supp. III: 336 Creighton, Joan, Supp. IV: 244 “Creosote” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 “Cricket Match, 1908” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 Cripple of Inishmaan, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 240–241, 242–243, 245 Cricket Country (Blunden), Supp. XI: 37 Cricket on the Hearth, The (Dickens), V: 71 Crime in Kensington (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35 Crime of the Century, The (Amis), Supp. II: 12 Crime Omnibus (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70 Crime Times Three (James), Supp. IV: 323, 324, 325 Crimes (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 “Criminal Ballad“(Hughes), Supp. I: 354 Criminal Case, A (Swinburne), V: 333 “Criminal Mastermind Is Confined, The” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36 Criminal Minded (Rankin), Supp. X: 257 Crimson in the Tricolour, The (O’Casey), VII: 12 “Crinoline” (Thackeray), V: 22 “Crippled Aunt” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 “Crippled Bloom” (Coppard), VIII: 90 Crisis, The, a Sermon (Fielding), III: 105 Crisis Examined, The (Disraeli), IV: 308 Crisis in Physics, The (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 43, 45–46 Crist, Retro. Supp. II: 303 Criterion (periodical), VI: 248; VII: xv 143, 165 Critic (periodical), V: 134 Critic, The (Sheridan), III: 253, 263–266, 270 “Critic, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 367 “Critic as Artist, The” (Wilde), V: 407, 408, 409 Critical and Historical Essays (Macaulay), IV: xx, 272, 277, 278– 282, 291 Critical Bibliography of Katherine Mansfield, The (Mantz), VII: 182 Critical Essays (Orwell), VII: 282 Critical Essays of the Seventeenth Century (Spingarn), II: 256n Critical Essays on George Eliot (Hardy), V: 201 Critical Essays on the Poetry of Tennyson (ed. Killham), IV: 323n, 338, 339

Critical Observations on the Sixth Book of the Aeneid (Gibbon), III: 233 Critical Review (periodical), III: 147– 148, 149, 179, 188 Critical Strictures on the New Tragedy of Elvira . . . (Boswell, Dempster, Erskine), III: 246 Critical Studies of the Works of Charles Dickens (Gissing), V: 437 “Criticism of Life, A” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 163 Criticism on Art: And Sketches of the Picture Galleries of England (Hazlitt), IV: 140 Crito (Plato), Supp. IV: 13 Croker, J. W., IV: 280 Crome Yellow (Huxley), VII: 197, 200 Cromwell (Carlyle), see Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches Cromwell (Storey), Supp. I: 418 Cromwell’s Army (Firth), II: 241 Cronica tripertita (Gower), I: 50 Crook, Arthur, Supp. IV: 25 Crooked House (Christie), Supp. II: 125 Croquet Castles (Carroll), V: 274 Cross, John Walter, V: 13, 198, 200 Cross, Wilbur L, III: 125, 126, 135 Cross Channel (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 75–76 “Crossing, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101 “Crossing alone the nighted ferry” (Housman), VI: 161 Crossing the Border: Essays on Scottish Literature (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 162 “Crossing the Loch” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 140–141 “Crossing the Peak” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 230 Crossing the River (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 386, 390–391 Crotchet Castle (Peacock), IV: xix, 165– 166, 169, 170 Crow (Hughes), Supp. I: 350–354, 363; Retro. Supp. II: 206–208 “Crow Alights” (Hughes), Supp. I: 352 “Crow Blacker than Ever” (Hughes), Supp. I: 353 “Crow Hears Fate Knock on the Door” (Hughes), Supp. I: 350 “Crow on the Beach” (Hughes), Supp. I: 352; Retro. Supp. II: 207 Crow Road, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 5 “Crow Tyrannosaurus” (Hughes), Supp. I: 352 “Crowdieknowe” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 205 “Crown and Country” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101 “Crow’s Account of the Battle” (Hughes), Supp. I: 353 “Crow’s Last Stand” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 207–208 “Crow’s Song of Himself” (Hughes), Supp. I: 353 “Crowd of Birds and Children, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110 Crowley, Aleister, VI: 374; Supp. II: 204 Crowley, Robert, I: 1, 3

330

Crown of All Homer’s Works, The (Chapman), I: 236 Crown of Life, The (Gissing), V: 437 Crown of the Year (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Crown of Wild Olive, The (Ruskin), V: 184 “Crowning of Offa, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 195 Crowning Privilege, The (Graves), VII: 260, 268 “Crowson” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Croy. Ee. Gaw. Lonker. Pit.” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 Cruel Sea, The (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 “Cruelty and Love” (Lawrence), VII: 118 Cruelty of a Stepmother, The, I: 218 “Cruiskeen Lawn” (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 323, 329–333, 336 Crusader Castles (Lawrence), Supp. II: 283, 284 Crux Ansata: An Indictment of the Roman Catholic Church (Wells), VI: 242, 244 “Cry Hope, Cry Fury!” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 “Cry of the Children, The” (Browning), IV: xx 313 “Cry of the Human, The” (Browning), IV: 313 Cry of the Owl, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 173 Cry, The Beloved Country (Paton), Supp. II: 341, 342, 343, 344, 345–350, 351, 354 Cry, the Peacock (Desai), Supp. V: 54, 58–59, 75 “Cryptics, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Crystal and Fox (Friel), Supp. V: 118– 119 Crystal World, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 24, 25–26, 34 “Crystals Like Blood” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 215 C. S. Lewis (Wilson), Supp. VI: 304, 305 Cuala Press, VI: 221 “Cub” (Reading), VIII: 268 Cub, at Newmarket, The (Boswell), III: 247 Cuckold in Conceit, The (Vanbrugh), II: 337 “Cuckoo, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 399–400 Cuckoo in the Nest, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 Cuirassiers of the Frontier, The (Graves), VII: 267 “Culture” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 94 Culture and Anarchy (Arnold), III: 23; V: 203, 206, 213, 215, 216 Culture and Society (Williams), Supp. IV: 380 Cumberland, George, IV: 47 Cumberland, Richard, II: 363; III: 257 Cumberland and Westmoreland (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 223 Cunningham, William, VI: 385 “Cup Too Low, A” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39–40 “Cupid and Psyche” (tr. Pater), V: 351

CUPI−DARK “Cupid; or, The Atom” (Bacon), I: 267 Cupid’s Revenge (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 46, 65 Curate in Charge, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219–220 “Curate’s Friend, The” (Forster), VI: 399 “Curate’s Walk; The,” (Thackeray), V: 25 “Cure, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 Cure at Troy, The (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 131 Cure for a Cuckold, A (Rowley and Webster), II: 69, 83, 85 Curiosissima Curatoria (Carroll), V: 274 Curious Fragments (Lamb), IV: 79 “Curious if True” (Gaskell), V: 15 Curious Relations (ed. Plomer), Supp. XI: 221 “Curiosity” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 “Curiosity and Scandal” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149 Curlew River: A Parable for Church Performance (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 “Curse, The” (Healy), Supp. IX: 103– 104 Curse of Eve, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 276 Curse of Kehama, The (Southey), IV: 65, 66, 71, 217 Curse of Minerva, The (Byron), IV: 192 Curtain (Christie), Supp. II: 124, 125, 134 Curtis, Anthony, VI: xiii, xxxiii, 372 Curtis, L. P., III: 124n, 127n Curtmantle (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 206– 207, 208 “Custom” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 Custom of the Country, The (Fletcher [and Massinger]), II: 66, 340 “Custom–House, The” (Hawthorne), Supp. IV: 116 “Customs” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74 Cut by the County (Braddon), VIII: 49 “Cut Grass” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 Cut–Rate Kingdom, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Cutting Trail” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 93–94 Cyclopean Mistress, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 “Cygnet, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 “Cygnus A.” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490, 491 Cymbeline (Shakespeare), I: 322 Cymbeline Refinished (Shaw), VI: 129 “Cynddylan on a Tractor” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 “Cynic at Kilmainham Jail, A” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 Cynthia’s Revels (Jonson), I: 346; Retro. Supp. I: 158, 160 “Cypress and Cedar” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161 Cyrano de Bergerac, III: 24 Cyrano de Bergerac (tr.. Fry), Supp. III: 195 Cyril Connolly: Journal and Memoirs (ed. Pryce–Jones), Supp. III: 96, 97, 112 “Cyril Tourneur” (Swinburne), V: 332

D. G. Rossetti: A Critical Essay (Ford), VI: 332 “D. G. Rossetti as a Translator” (Doughty), V: 246 D. H. Lawrence: A Calendar of His Works (Sugar), VII: 104, 115, 123 D. H. Lawrence: Novelist (Leavis), VII: 101, 234–235, 252–253 Da Silva da Silva’s Cultivated Wilderness (Harris), Supp. V: 139, 140 Daborne, Robert, II: 37, 45 Dad’s Tale (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 “Daedalus” (Reid), Supp. VII: 331 “Daedalus; or, The Mechanic” (Bacon), I: 267 Daemon of the World, The (Shelley), IV: 209 Daffodil Murderer, The (Sassoon), VI: 429 “Daffodil Time” (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 Dahl, Roald, Supp. IV: 201–227, 449 Daiches, David, V: ix Daily Graphic (periodical), VI: 350 Daily Life of the Aztecs (tr. O’Brian), Supp. XII: 252 Daily Mail, Supp. XIII: 265 Daily Mirror, Supp. XIII: 265 Daily News (periodical), VI: 335 Daily Worker (periodical), VI: 242 Daisy Miller (James), VI: 31–32, 69 Dale, Colin (pseud., Lawrence), Supp. II: 295 Dali, Salvador, Supp. IV: 424 Dalinda; or, The Double Marriage (Haywood), Supp. XII: 144 Dalkey Archive, The (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 322, 337–338 Dallas, Eneas Sweetland, V: 207 “Dalziel’s Ghost” (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 114 Damage (film, Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 292 Damage (play, Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 292 “Damnation of Byron, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 159 Dampier, William, III: 7, 24 “Danac” (Galsworthy), see Country House, The Danae (Rembrandt), Supp. IV: 89 Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 10–13 Danby, J. F., II: 46, 53, 64 “Dance, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 Dance of Death, The, I: 15 “Dance of Death, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Dance of Death, The (Strindberg), Supp. I: 57 “Dance the Putrefact” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Dance to the Music of Time, A (Powell), VII: xxi, 343, 347–353; Supp. II: 4 Dancing Hippo, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 257 Dancing Mad (Davies), Supp. XI: 92 “Dancing Shoes” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226 Dancourt, Carton, II: 325, 336 “Dandies and Dandies” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 46

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Dangerous Corner (Priestley), VII: 223 Dangerous Love (Okri), Supp. V: 349, 359, 360 Dangerous Play: Poems 1974–1984 (Motion), Supp. VII: 251, 254, 255, 256–257, 264 Daniel, Retro. Supp. II: 301 Daniel, Samuel, I: 162 Daniel Deronda (Eliot), V: xxiv, 190, 197–198, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 115– 116 Daniel Martin (Fowles), Supp. I: 291, 292, 293, 304–308, 310 D’Annunzio, Gabriele, V: 310 “Danny Deever” (Kipling), VI: 203 Danny, the Champion of the World (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214, 223 “Dans un Omnibus de Londre” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Dante Alighieri, II: 75, 148; III: 306; IV: 93, 187; Supp. IV: 439, 493; Retro. Supp. I: 123–124 Dante and His Circle (Rossetti), V: 245 “Dante and the Lobster” (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 19 “Dante at Verona” (Rossetti), V: 239, 240 “Dante ... Bruno. Vico ... Joyce” (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 17 Dante’s Drum Kit (Dunn), Supp. X: 78–80 “Dantesque and Platonic Ideals of Love, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 “Dantis Tenebrae” (Rossetti), V: 243 Danvers, Charles, IV: 60 Daphnaida (Spenser), I: 124 “Daphne” (Sitwell), VII: 133 “’Daphne with Her Thighs in Bark’ [Ezra Pound]” (Boland), Supp. V: 39 “Daphnis, an Elegiac Eclogue” (Vaughan), II: 185 “Daphnis and Chloe” (Marvell), II: 209, 211, 212 “Daphnis and Chloe” (tr. Moore), VI: 89 D’Arcy, Margaretta, Supp. II: 21, 29, 30, 31, 32–38, 39, 40–41 “Darcy in the Land of Youth” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 Darcy’s Utopia (Weldon), Supp. IV: 528– 529, 531 Dark–Adapted Eye, A (Rendell), Supp. IX: 201–203 “Dark Angel, The,” (Johnson), VI: 211 Dark As the Grave Wherein My Friend Is Laid (Lowry), Supp. III: 274–275, 279, 280, 283–284 “Dark Crossroads, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “Dark Dialogues, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 114 Dark Flower, The (Galsworthy), VI: 274 Dark Frontier, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 1, 3, 5–7 Dark Is Light Enough, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 203–204, 207 Dark Labyrinth (Durrell), see Cefalû “Dark Lady, The” (Russell), VIII: 290 Dark Lady of the Sonnets, The (Shaw), VI: 115, 129 Dark Matter (Kerr), Supp. XII: 197–198 Dark Night’s Work, A (Gaskell), V: 15

DARK−DEAD Dark Places of the Heart (Stead), see Cotter’s England “Dark Rapture” (Russell), VIII: 290 “Dark Rosaleen” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118, 128 Dark Side of the Moon, The (anon.), Supp. IV: 100 Dark Sisters, The (Kavan), Supp. VII: 205, 207 Dark Tide, The (Brittain), Supp. X: 37, 41 “Dark Times” (Harrison), Supp. V: 156– 157 Dark Tower, The (MacNeice), VII: 407, 408 Darker Ends (Nye), Supp. X: 193, 200– 202, 204 “Darkling Thrush, The” (Hardy), VI: 16; Retro. Supp. I: 119 Dark–Eyed Lady (Coppard), VIII: 89 Darkness at Noon (Koestler), V: 49; Supp. I: 22, 24, 27, 28, 29–30, 32, 33; Supp. IV: 74 Darkness Visible (Golding), Supp. I: 83– 86; Retro. Supp. I: 101–102 Darling, You Shouldn’t Have Gone to So Much Trouble (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 15 Darwin, Charles, Supp. II: 98, 100, 105– 107, 119; Supp. IV: 6, 11, 460; Supp. VII: 17–31 Darwin, Erasmus, Supp. II: 106, 107; Supp. III: 360 “Darwin Among the Machines” (Butler), Supp. II: 98, 99 Darwin and Butler: Two Versions of Evolution (Willey), Supp. II: 103 “Darwin and Divinity” (Stephen), V: 284 Das Leben Jesu (tr. Eliot), V: 189, 200 Daughter of Jerusalem (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163, 165–166 Daughter of the East (Bhutto), Supp. IV: 455 “Daughter of the House” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 87 Daughter–in–Law, The (Lawrence), VII: 119, 121 Daughters and Sons (Compton–Burnett), VII: 60, 63, 64–65 “Daughters of the Late Colonel, The” (Mansfield), VII: 175, 177, 178 “Daughters of the Vicar” (Lawrence), VII: 114 “Daughters of War” (Rosenberg), VI: 434 Davenant, Charles, II: 305 Davenant, Sir William, I: 327; II: 87, 185, 196, 259 Davenport, Arnold, IV: 227 David, Jacques–Louis, Supp. IV: 122 David and Bethsabe (Peele), I: 198, 206– 207 “David Balfour” (Stevenson), see Catriona David Copperfield (Dickens), V: xxi, 7, 41, 42, 44, 59–62, 63, 67, 71 David Lodge (Bergonzi), Supp. IV: 364 Davideis (Cowley), II: 195, 198, 202 Davidson, John, V: 318n Davie, Donald, VI: 220; Supp. IV: 256; Supp. VI: 105–118

Davies, Peter Ho, Supp. XIV: 35–48 Davies, W. H., Supp. III: 398 Davies, William H., Supp. XI: 85–103 Davis, Clyde Brion, V: 394 Davis, H., III: 15n, 35 Davy, Sir Humphry, IV: 200; Supp. III: 359–360 Dawkins, R. M., VI: 295, 303–304 “Dawn” (Brooke), Supp. III: 53 “Dawn” Cornford), VIII: 102, 103 Dawn (Haggard), Supp. III: 213, 222 “Dawn at St. Patrick” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 “Dawn on the Somme” (Nichols), VI: 419 “Dawnings of Genius” (Clare), Supp. XI: 49 Dawn’s Left Hand (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 186–187, 190–191 Dawson, Christopher, III: 227 Dawson, W. J., IV: 289, 291 “Day Dream, A” (Brontë), V: 142 Day Lewis, Cecil, V: 220, 234; VI: x, xxxiii, 454, VII: 382, 410; Supp. III: 115–132 Day of Creation, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 29 “Day of Days, At” (James), VI: 69 “Day of Forever, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 “Day of the Ox” (Brown), Supp. VI: 69 “Day of the Rabblement, The” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 170 Day of the Scorpion, The (Scott), Supp. I: 260, 267 Day of the Triffıds, The (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 281, 283–290, 292 Day Out, A (Bennett), VIII: 26–27 “Day They Burned the Books, The” (Rhys), Supp. II: 401 “Day We Got Drunk on Cake, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 500 Day Will Come, The (Braddon), VIII: 49 Day Will Dawn, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311 Daydreamer, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 406–407 Daylight Moon and Other Poems, The (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 271, 279– 280, 281 Daylight on Saturday (Priestley), VII: 212, 217–218 Days and Nights (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267, 271–272 Days with Walt Whitman, with Some Notes on His Life and Work (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36 Day’s Work, The (Kipling), VI: 204 De arte graphica (tr. Dryden), II: 305 De augmentis scientiarium (Bacon), I: 260–261, 264; see also Advancement of Learning, The de Beer, E. S., II: 276n, 287 De Bello Germanico: A Fragment of Trench History (Blunden), Supp. XI: 35, 38–39 De Bernières, Louis, Supp. XII: 65–80 De casibus virorum illustrium (Boccaccio), I: 57, 214 De doctrina christiana (Milton), II: 176

332

De genealogia deorum (Boccaccio), I: 266 “De Grey: A Romance” (James), VI: 25– 26, 69 De Guiana Carmen Epicum (Chapman), I: 234 “’De Gustibus—’” (Browning), IV: 356– 357 De inventione (Cicero), I: 38–39 “De Jure Belli ac Pacis” (Hill), Supp. V: 192 de la Mare, Walter, III: 340, 345; V: 268, 274; VII: xiii; Supp. III: 398, 406 de Man, Paul, Supp. IV: 114, 115 De Profundis (Wilde), V: 416–417, 418, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 371–372 De Proprietatibus Rerum (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX: 243, 247, 251–252 De Quincey, Thomas, III: 338; IV: ix, xi–xii, xv, xviii, xxii, 49, 51, 137, 141–156, 260, 261, 278; V: 353 De Quincey Memorials (ed. Japp), IV: 144, 155 “De Quincey on ’The Knocking at the Gate’” (Carnall), IV: 156 De re publica (Cicero), Retro. Supp. II: 36 De Regimine Principum (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX 252, 255 De rerum natura (tr. Evelyn), II: 275, 287 De sapientia veterum (Bacon), I: 235, 266–267, 272 de Selincourt, E., IV: 25 De tranquillitate animi (tr. Wyatt), I: 99 De tristitia Christi (More), Supp. VII: 245, 248 “De Wets Come to Kloof Grange, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240–241 Deacon Brodie (Stevenson), V: 396; Retro. Supp. I: 260 “Dead Cat, On a” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 38 “Dead, The” (Brooke), VI: 420; Supp. III: 57–58, 59; Retro. Supp. I: 19, 172 “Dead, The” (Joyce), VII: xiv, 44–45; Supp. II: 88; Supp. IV: 395, 396 Dead Air (Banks), Supp. XI: 4–5, 13 “Dead and Alive” (Gissing), V: 437 Dead Babies (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 29–31 “Dead Bride, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 189 “Dead Love” (Swinburne), V: 325, 331, 332 Dead Man Leading (Pritchett), Supp. III: 311, 312, 313, 314 “Dead Man’s Dump” (Rosenberg), VI: 432, 434 Dead Meat (Kerr), Supp. XII: 187, 193– 194, 196 “Dead on Arrival” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Dead One, The” (Cornford), VIII: 106 “Dead Painter, The” (Cornford), VIII: 106 Dead School, The (McCabe), Supp. IX: 133–135, 137, 138–139 Dead Sea Poems, The (Armitage), VIII: 1, 8–11, 15

DEAD−DEFI Dead Secret, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 92, 95 Dead Souls (Rankin), Supp. X: 245, 255 “Dead–Beat, The” (Owen), VI: 451, 452 Deadlock (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 184–185 “Deadlock in Darwinism, The” (Butler), Supp. II: 108 Deadheads (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 115 Dealings with the Firm of Dombey and Son . . . (Dickens), see Dombey and Son Dean, L. F., I: 269 “Dean Swift Watches Some Cows” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 Deane, Seamus, Supp. IV: 424 Dear Brutus (Barrie), Supp. III: 5, 6, 8, 9, 11–14, 138 “Dear Bryan Wynter” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 Dear Deceit, The (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 98, 99, 102–103 Dearest Emmie (Hardy), VI: 20 “Death” (Macpherson), VIII: 181 “Death and Doctor Hornbook” (Burns), III: 319 “Death and Dying Words of Poor Mailie, The” (Burns), IV: 314, 315 Death and the Princess (Cornford), VIII: 103–104 “Death and the Professor” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Death Bed” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “Death by Water” (Eliot), VII: 144–145; Retro. Supp. II: 128 “Death Clock, The” (Gissing), V: 437 Death Comes as the End (Christie), Supp. II: 132–133 “Death in Bangor” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 “Death in Ilium” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Death in the Clouds (Christie; U.S. title, Death in the Air), Supp. II: 131 “Death in the Desert, A” (Browning), IV: 358, 364, 367, 372; Retro. Supp. II: 26 Death in Venice (Mann), Supp. IV: 397 Death of a Dormouse (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 119 Death of a Naturalist (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 269–270, 271; Supp. IV: 412; Retro. Supp. I:123, 124, 126–127 Death of a Salesman (Miller), VI: 286 “Death of Alexander the Great, The” (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 “Death of a Scientific Humanist, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 114 “Death of a Tsotsi” (Paton), Supp. II: 345 “Death of a Tyrant” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Death of an Expert Witness (James), Supp. IV: 319, 328–330 “Death of an Old Lady” (MacNeice), VII: 401 “Death of an Old Old Man” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 210 “Death of Bernard Barton” (FitzGerald), IV: 353

Death of Christopher Marlowe, The (Hotson), I: 275 Death of Cuchulain, The (Yeats), VI: 215, 222 “Death of King George, The” (Betjeman), VII: 367 Death of Oenone, The, Akbar’s Dream, and Other Poems (Tennyson), IV: 338 “Death of Oscur, The” (Macpherson), VIII: 183 “Death of Simon Fuge, The” (Bennett), VI: 254 Death of Sir John Franklin, The (Swinburne), V: 333 “Death of the Duchess, The” (Eliot), VII: 150 Death of the Heart, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 78, 79, 82, 84, 90–91 “Death of the Lion, The” (James), VI: 69 “Death of Marilyn Monroe, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 164–165 “Death of the Rev. George Crabbe” (FitzGerald), IV: 353 Death of Wallenstein, The (Coleridge), IV: 56 Death of William Posters, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409, 410, 414, 421–422, 423 “Death stands above me, whispering low” (Landor), IV: 98 Death Takes the Low Road (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 116–117 “Death, the Cat” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106 “Death the Drummer” (Lewis), VII: 79 Death–Trap, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 250 Death Under Sail (Snow), VII: 323 “Deathbeds” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “Death–Mask of John Clare, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 44 Deaths and Entrances (Thomas), Supp. I: 177–178 “Death’s Chill Between” (Rossetti), V: 252 Death’s Duel (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 98 Death’s Jest–Book (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 122 Death’s Jest–Book; or, The Fool’s Tragedy (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 17, 18, 22, 24, 25–28, 29, 30–31 “Deathshead” (Hare), Supp. IV: 283 Debates in Parliament (Johnson), III: 108, 122 Debits and Credits (Kipling), VI: 173, 204 “Deborah’s Parrot, a Village Tale” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 “Debt, The” (Kipling), VI: 201 Debut, The (Brookner; first published as A Start in Life), Supp. IV: 122, 123– 124, 131 “Decadent Movement in Literature, The” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267, 270, 271, 273 Decameron (Boccaccio), I: 313; Supp. IV: 461; Retro. Supp. II: 45–46 “Decapitation of Is” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 “Decay of Lying, The” (Wilde), V: 407– 408; Retro. Supp. II: 366–367 “Deceased, The” (Douglas), VII: 440

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“December” (Clare), Supp. XI: 59 “December’s Door” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “Decency” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 29 “Deception Bay” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Deceptions” (Larkin), Supp. I: 278 Deceptive Grin of the Gravel Porters, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39–40 Declaration (Maschler), Supp. I: 237, 238 Declaration of Rights (Shelley), IV: 208 Decline and Fall (Waugh), VII: 289–290, 291; Supp. II: 218 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, The (Gibbon), III: 109, 221, 225–233 “Decline of the Novel, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 202 Decline of the West, The (Spengler), Supp. IV: 12 Decolonizing the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature (Ngu˜gı˜), Supp. V: 56; VIII: 215, 223, 225 “Décor” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 Decorative Art in America: A Lecture (Wilde), V: 419 “Dedicated Spirits, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 “Dedication” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260 “Dedicatory Letter” (Ford), VI: 331 Deep Blue Sea, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII:309, 315, 317–318 Deep Water (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171– 172 “Deepe Groane, fetch’d at the Funerall of that incomparable and Glorious Monarch, Charles the First, King of Great Britaine, France, and Ireland,&c., A” (King), Supp. VI: 159–161 “Deer” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 Deer on the High Hills (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 212 Deerfield Series, The: Strength of Heart (Fallon), Supp. XII: 113–114 Defeat of Youth, The (Huxley), VII: 199 “Defence of an Essay of ’Dramatick Poesie’” (Dryden), II: 297, 305 “Defence of Criminals: A Criticism of Morality” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 Defence of English Commodities, A (Swift), III: 35 Defence of Guenevere, The (Morris), V: xxii, 293, 305–306, 312 Defence of Poesie, The (Sidney), I: 161– 163, 169, 170, 173; Retro. Supp. II: 332–334, 339 “Defence of Poetry, A” (Shelley), IV: 168–169, 204, 208, 209; Retro. Supp. I: 250 Defence of the Doctrine of Justification, A, . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Defense of Cosmetics, A” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45, 53 Defense of Curates (tr. Trevisa), see Defensio Curatorum Defensio Curatorum (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX: 252, 253–254 “Definition of Love, The” (Marvell), II: 208, 211, 215

DEFO−DEVL Defoe, Daniel, II: 325; III: 1–14, 24, 39, 41–42, 50–53, 62, 82; V: 288; Supp. III: 22, 31; Retro. Supp. I: 63–77 “Deformed Mistress, The” (Suckling), II: 227 Deformed Transformed, The (Byron), IV: 193 “Degas’s Laundresses” (Boland), Supp. V: 39–40 Degeneration (Nordau), VI: 107 Degrees of Freedom: The Novels of Iris Murdoch (Byatt), Supp. IV: 145 Deighton, Len, Supp. IV: 5, 13 “Deincarnation” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 78 Deirdre (Russell), VIII: 284, 287 Deirdre (Yeats), VI: 218 Deirdre of the Sorrows (Synge), Retro. Supp. I: 301–302 “Dejection” (Coleridge), IV: 41, 49, 50; Retro. Supp. II: 61 Déjuner sur l’herbe (Manet), Supp. IV: 480 Dekker, Thomas, I: 68, 69; II: 3, 21, 47, 71, 89, 100; Retro. Supp. I: 160 Delahunt, Meaghan, Supp. XIV: 49–63 Delanty, Greg, Supp. XIV: 65–79 “Delay” (Jennings), Supp. V: 208 “Delay Has Danger” (Crabbe), III: 285 Delight (Priestley), VII: 212 “Delight in Disorder” (Herrick), II: 104 Delillo, Don, Supp. IV: 487 “Deluding of Gylfi, The”, See Gylfaginning “Demephon and Phillis” (Gower), I: 53–54 Demeter, and Other Poems (Tennyson), IV: 338 “Demeter and Persephone” (Tennyson), IV: 328 “Demo” (Murray), Supp. VII: 284 “Democracy” (Lawrence), VII: 87–88 “Demolishers, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 165 “Demon at the Walls of Time, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 170 Demon in My View, A (Rendell), Supp. IX: 195 Demon Lover, The (Bowen; U.S. title, Ivy Gripped the Steps), Supp. II: 77, 92, 93 Demon of Progress in the Arts, The (Lewis), VII: 74 “Demonstration” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “Demonstration, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 270 Demos (Gissing), V: 432–433, 437 Denham, Sir John, II: 236, 238 “Deniall” (Herbert), II: 127, 128; Retro. Supp. II: 180–181 Denis Duval (Thackeray), V: 27, 34, 36, 38 Dennis, John, II: 69, 310, 338, 340 Dennis, Nigel, III: 23, 37 “Dennis Haggarty’s Wife” (Thackeray), V: 23–24 “Dennis Shand” (Rossetti), V: 239 Denry the Audacious (Bennett), see Card, The Dent, Arthur, II: 241, 246

Dental Record, Supp. XIII: 188 Denzil Quarrier (Gissing), V: 437 Deor, Retro. Supp. II: 304 “Departing Ship” (Hart), Supp. XI: 122– 123 Departmental Ditties (Kipling), VI: 168, 204 Departure, The (Hart), Supp. XI: 122– 124 “Depression, A” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 Der Rosenkavalier (Strauss), Supp. IV: 556 Derham, William, III: 49 Derrida, Jacques, Supp. IV: 115 Derry Down Derry, pseud. of Edward Lear Dervorgilla (Gregory), VI: 315 Des Imagistes: An Anthology (ed. Pound), Supp. III: 397 Desai, Anita, Supp. IV: 440; Supp. V: 53–76 Desani, G. V., Supp. IV: 443, 445 Descartes, René, Supp. I: 43–44 Descent into Hell (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 281–282 “Descent into the Maelstrom, The” (Poe), III: 339 Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, On the (Darwin), Supp. VII: 17, 19, 25–28 “Descent of Odin, The” (Gray), III: 141 Descent of the Dove, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 284 Descent of the Gods, The (Russell), VIII: 278–279, 288, 289 “Description of a City Shower, A” (Swift), III: 30 “Description of an Author’s Bedchamber” (Goldsmith), III: 184 Description of Antichrist and His Ruin, A (Bunyan), II: 253 “Description of the Morning, A” (Swift), III: 30; Retro. Supp. I: 282–283 Description of the Scenery of the Lakes in the North of England, A (Wordsworth), IV: 25 Description of the Western Islands (Martin), III: 117 Descriptive Catalogue of Pictures . . . , A (Blake), III: 305, 307 Descriptive Sketches (Wordsworth), IV: xv, 1, 2, 4–5, 24 “Desecration” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 236 “Desert, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 Desert Highway (Priestley), VII: 227– 228 “Deserted Garden, The” (Browning), IV: 312 Deserted Parks, The (Carroll), V: 274 Deserted Village, The (Goldsmith), III: 177, 180, 185, 186–187, 191, 277 Design for Living (Coward), Supp. II: 151–152, 156 “Desirable Mansions” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “Desire” (Hart), Supp. XI: 125 Desolation Island (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256–257

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Desperate Remedies (Hardy), VI: 2, 19– 20; Retro. Supp. I: 111–112 “Despite and Still” (Graves), VII: 268 “Despondency, an Ode” (Burns), III: 315 Destinations (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172, 183 “Destinie” (Cowley), II: 194, 195, 198 “Destiny and a Blue Cloak” (Hardy), VI: 20 “Destroyers in the Arctic” (Ross), VII: 433 Destructive Element, The (Spender), Supp. II: 487–488, 489, 491 Detained: A Writer’s Prison Diary (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 216, 221, 223, 224 “Deus Ex–Machina” (Kunzru), Supp. XIV: 176 “Developing Worlds” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 80 “Development” (Browning), IV: 365 Development of Christian Doctrine, The (Newman), V: 340 Development of Creole Society in Jamaica, 1770–1820, The (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 35 “Development of Genius, The” (Browning), IV: 310 Devices and Desires (James), Supp. IV: 320, 331–333 “Devil, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 284 “Devil and the Good Deed, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 Devil and the Lady, The (Tennyson), IV: 338 Devil Is an Ass, The: A Comedie (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Devil of a State (Burgess), Supp. I: 187 Devil of Dowgate, The (Fletcher), II: 67 Devil on the Cross (Ngu˜gı˜). See Caitaani mu˜tharaba–in? Devil, The World and the Flesh, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364 Devil to Pay, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 336, 349 “Devil–Dancers, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 “Devil’s Advice to Story–tellers, The” (Graves), VII: 259, 263 “Devils and the Idols, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 Devil’s Disciple, The (Shaw), VI: 104, 105, 110, 112; Retro. Supp. II: 316 “Devil’s Due, The” (Swinburne), V: 332 Devil’s Elixir, The (Hoffmann), III: 334, 345 Devil’s Footprints, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 27 “Devil’s Jig, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 204– 205 Devil’s Larder, The (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 29–30 Devil’s Law–Case, The (Webster), II: 68, 82–83, 85 Devils of Loudon, The (Huxley), VII: 205–206 Devil’s Walk, The (Coleridge and Southey), IV: 56, 208 Devil’s Walk, The (Shelley), IV: 208 Devlin, Christopher, V: 372, 373, 381

DEVO−DIRE Devolving English Literature (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71, 82, 83 “Devoted Friend, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 365 Devotions upon Emergent Occasions and severall steps in my Sicknes (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 97–98 Devout Trental for Old John Clarke (Skelton), I: 86 Dhomhnaill, Nuala Ní, Supp. V: 40–41 Diabolical Principle and the Dithyrambic Spectator (Lewis), VII: 72, 76, 83 “Dialect” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 20–21 Dialectic of the Enlightenment (Adorno), Supp. IV: 29 Dialogue between a Lord and a Clerk on Translation (Trevisa), Supp. IX: 246, 248–249 Dialogue between a Soldier and a Clerk (tr. Trevisa), see Dialogus inter Militem et Clericum Dialogue Between the Devil, The Pope, and the Pretender, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Dialogue Between the Resolved Soul and Created Pleasure, A” (Marvell), II: 208, 211, 216 “Dialogue Between the Soul and Body, A” (Marvell), II: 208, 211, 216 “Dialogue Between the Two Horses, The” (Marvell), II: 218 “Dialogue Between Thyrsis and Dorinda, A” (Marvell), II: 211 Dialogue Concerning Heresies, The (More), Supp. VII: 244 Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, A (More), Supp. VII: 245, 247–248 “Dialogue of Self and Soul” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 191 “Dialogue of Self and Soul, A” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 336 “Dialogue on Dramatic Poetry” (Eliot), VII: 157; Retro. Supp. II: 131–132 Dialogue with Death (Koestler), Supp. I: 23–24 Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (Hume), Supp. III: 240, 242–243 Dialogues of the Dead (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 122 Dialogus inter Militem et Clericum (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX: 252–253, 254 Diamond of Jannina, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 221 Diamond Smugglers, The (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 Diamonds Are Forever (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 94, 97 Diana (Montemayor), I: 164, 302 Diana of the Crossways (Meredith), V: xxv, 227, 232–233, 234 Diana Trelawny (Oliphant), Supp. X: 217 “Diaphanéité” (Pater), V: 345, 348, 356 Diaries (Warner), Supp. VII: 382 Diaries of Jane Somers, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 253–255 Diaries of Lewis Carroll, The (ed. Green), V: 264, 274 Diaries, Prayers, and Annals (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 143

Diarmuid and Grania (Moore and Yeats), VI: 87, 96, 99 Diary (Evelyn), II: 274–280, 286–287 Diary (Pepys), II: 274, 280–286, 288, 310 Diary and Letters of Madame D’Arblay (ed. Barrett), Supp. III: 63 “Diary from the Trenches” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 139–141 “Diary Letter From Aragon” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 90–91, 92 Diary of a Dead Offıcer (West), VI: 423 Diary of a Good Neighbour, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 253 [am.2]Diary of a Journey into North Wales . . . , A (Johnson), III: 122 Diary of a Madman, The (Gogol), III: 345 Diary of a Man of Fifty, The (James), VI: 67, 69 Diary of Fanny Burney (Burney), III: 243 Diary, Reminiscences and Correspondence of H. Crabb Robinson, The, IV: 52, 56, 81 Dibb, Michael, Supp. IV: 88 Dick, Philip K., Supp. IV: 41 “Dick King” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Dick Willoughby (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117 Dickens, Charles, II: 42; III: 151, 157, 340; IV: 27, 34, 38, 88, 240, 241, 247, 251, 252, 259, 295, 306; V: viii, ix, 3, 5, 6, 9, 14, 20, 22, 41–74, 148, 182, 191, 424, 435; VI: viii; Supp. I: 166– 167; Supp. IV: 120, 202–203, 229, 379, 460, 505, 513, 514 Dickens (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 8–9 Dickens and Daughter (Storey), V: 72 Dickens and the Twentieth Century (ed. Cross and Pearson), V: 63, 73 Dickens from Pickwick to Dombey (Marcus), V: 46 “Dickens in Memory” (Gissing), V: 437 Dickens: Interviews and Recollections (ed. Collins), V: 46 Dickens the Novelist (Leavis), VII: 250– 251 Dickens Theatre, The (Garis), V: 70, 73 Dickinson, Goldsworthy Lowes, VI: 398, 399 Dickinson, Emily, Supp. IV: 139, 480 Dickson, Lovat, VI: 239 Dictionary of Madame de Sévigné (FitzGerald and Kerrich), IV: 349, 353 Dictionary of National Biography (ed. Stephen and Lee), V: xxv, 280–281, 290 Dictionary of the English Language, A (Johnson), III: 113–114, 115, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 137, 141, 142 Dictionary of the Khazars: A Lexicon Novel in 100,000 Words (Pavic), Supp. IV: 116 “Did any Punishment attend” (Sedley), II: 265 Did He Steal It? (Trollope), V: 102 Diderot, Denis, Supp. IV: 122, 136 Didion, Joan, Supp. IV: 163

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“Didn’t He Ramble” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 37, 44 Dido, Queen of Carthage (Marlowe), I: 278–279, 280–281, 292; Retro. Supp. I: 211 Die Ambassador (Brink), Supp. VI: 46–47 Die Another Day (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 Die Eerste lewe van Adamastor (Brink), Supp. VI: 54 Die muur van die pes (Brink), Supp. VI: 52 Die Räuber (Schiller), IV: xiv, 173 Die Spanier in Peru (Kotzebue), III: 254, 268 Dierdre of the Sorrows (Synge), VI: 310, 313 “Dies Irae” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160– 162 “Dietary” (Lydgate), I: 58 Differences in Judgement about Water Baptism . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 Different Days (Cornford), VIII: 105– 106 “Difficulties of a Bridegroom” (Hughes), Supp. I: 346 “Difficulties of a Statesman” (Eliot), VII: 152–153 Difficulties with Girls (Amis), Supp. II: 18 “Diffugere Nives” (Housman), VI: 155 “Digdog” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 133, 140 “Digging” (Heaney), Supp. II: 270; Retro. Supp. I: 124, 126–127 “Digging for Pictures” (Golding), Supp. I: 65 “Digging Up Scotland” (Reid), Supp. VII: 336 Dilecta (Ruskin), V: 184 Dilke, Charles, IV: 254, 262, 306 “Dill Pickle, A” (Mansfield), VII: 174 Dimple Hill (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 188 “Dingbat’s Song, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 “Dining” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 Dining on Stones; or the Middle Ground (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232, 245–246 “Dining Room Tea” (Brooke), Supp. III: 49, 52 Dinner at Noon (documentary, Bennett), VIII: 25 “Dinner at Poplar, A” (Dickens), V: 41, 47n “Dinner in the City, A” (Thackeray), V: 25 “Dinner with Dr. Azad” (Ali), Supp. XIII: 11 “Dinosaur, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Diodorus Siculus (tr. Skelton), I: 82 “Diogenes and Plato” (Landor), IV: 91 “Dip in the Pool” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 217 Diplopic (Reading), VIII: 265, 266, 267, 271 Dipsychus (Clough), V: 156, 159, 161, 163–165, 167, 211 “Diptych” (Reading), VIII: 264 “Dirce” (Landor), IV: 96–97 “Directions” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288

DIRE−DOCU Directions to Servants (Swift), III: 36 “Dirge” (Eliot), VII: 150 “Dirge for the New Sunrise” (Sitwell), VII: 137 “Dirge of Jephthah’s Daughter, The: Sung by the Virgins” (Herrick), II: 113 Dirty Beasts (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 Dirty Story (Ambler), Supp. IV: 16 “Dis aliter visum; or, Le Byron de nos jours” (Browning), IV: 366, 369 “Disabled” (Owen), VI: 447, 451, 452 “Disabused, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 “Disappointmnt, The” (Behn), Supp. III: 39 Disappointment, The (Southern), II: 305 “Disc’s Defects, A” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Discarded Image, The: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264 Discarnation, The (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249, 256 “Discharge, The” (Herbert), II: 127 Discontented Colonel, The (Suckling), II: 238 Discourse, Introductory to a Course of Lectures on Chemistry, A (Davy), Supp. III: 359–360 “Discourse from the Deck” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269 “Discourse of a Lady Standing a Dinner to a Down–and–Out Friend” (Rhys), Supp. II: 390 Discourse of Civil Life (Bryskett), I: 124 Discourse of the Building of the House of God, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Discourse of the Contests and Dissensions between the Nobles and the Commons in Athens and Rome (Swift), III: 17, 35 Discourse on Pastoral Poetry, A (Pope), III: 56 Discourse on Satire (Dryden), II: 297 Discourse on the Love of Our Country (Price), IV: 126 Discourse on the Pindarique Ode, A (Congreve), II: 346–347 Discourse on 2 Corinthians, i, 9 . . . , A (Crabbe), III: 286 Discourse upon Comedy, A (Farquhar), II: 332, 355 Discourse upon the Pharisee and the Publicane, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Discourses Addressed to Mixed Congregations (Newman), Supp. VII: 297 Discourses by Way of Essays (Cowley), III: 40 Discourses in America (Arnold), V: 216 Discoveries (Jonson), I: 270; Retro. Supp. I: 166 Discovery of Guiana, The (Ralegh), I: 145, 146, 149, 151–153 Discovery of the Future, The (Wells), VI: 244 “Discretioun in Taking” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “Disdaine Returned” (Carew), II: 225 “Disease of the Mind” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 18

Disenchantment (Montague), VII: 421 “Disenchantments” (Dunn), Supp. X: 78–79 Disgrace (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 86–88 “Disguises” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 391– 392 “Disinheritance” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 223–224, 228, 230, 232 “Disinherited, The” (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 87–88 Disney, Walt, Supp. IV: 202, 211 “Disobedience” (Milne), Supp. V: 301 “Disorderly, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 287 “Displaced Person” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 “Dispute at Sunrise” (Hart), Supp. XI: 129 Disraeli, Benjamin, IV: xii, xvi, xviii, xix, xx, xxiii, 271, 288, 292–309; V: viii, x, xxiv, 2, 22; VII: xxi; Supp. IV: 379 Disraeli (Blake), IV: 307, 308 “Dissatisfaction” (Traherne), II: 192 “Dissolution, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 92 Distances (Conn), Supp. XIII: 69 “Distant Fury of Battle, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 186 Disaffection, A (Kelman), Supp. V: 243, 249, 251–252 “Dissertation” (Macpherson), VIII: 188, 190 “Distant Past, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 “Distracted Preacher, The” (Hardy), VI: 22; Retro. Supp. I: 116 “Distraction” (Vaughan), II: 188 “Distress of Plenty” (Connolly), Supp. III: 108 Distress’d Wife, The (Gay), III: 67 “Disturber of the Traffic, The” (Kipling), VI: 169, 170–172 “Disused Shed in County Wexford, A” (Mahon) Supp. VI: 169–170, 173 “Divali” (Seth), Supp. X: 279–280 “Dive” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 93 Diversions of Purley and Other Poems, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3Diversions of Purley and Other Poems, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3 “Diversity and Depth” (Wilson), Supp. I: 167 “Divided Life Re–Lived, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Divine and Moral Songs for Children (Watts), III: 299 Divine Comedy, The (Dante), II: 148; III: 306; IV: 93, 187, 229; Supp. I: 76; Supp. IV: 439 “Divine Judgments” (Blake), III: 300 “Divine Meditations” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 98 Divine Poems (Waller), II: 238 Divine Vision and Other Poems, The (Russell), VIII: 284–285 “Divine Wrath and Mercy” (Blake), III: 300 Diviner, The (Friel), Supp. V: 113 “Diviner, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 115

336

“Diviner, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 269– 270 “Diving into Dirt” (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 243 “Division, The” (Hardy), VI: 17 Division of the Spoils, A (Scott), Supp. I: 268, 271 Divisions on a Ground (Nye), Supp. X: 193, 200–202 Divorce (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 272, 274 Dixon, Richard Watson, V: 362–365, 371, 372, 377, 379; VI: 76, 83, 167 Dixon Hunt, John, VI: 167 “Dizzy” (Strachey), IV: 292 Do Me a Favour (Hill), Supp. XIV: 115, 118 “Do not go gentle into that good night” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 “Do Take Muriel Out” (Smith), Supp. II: 471, 472 Do What You Will (Huxley), VII: 201 “Do You Love Me?” (Carey), Supp. XII: 54, 55, 56, 57 “Do you remember me? or are you proud?” (Landor), IV: 99 Dobell, Sydney, IV: 310; V: 144–145 Dobrée, Bonamy, II: 362, 364; III: 33, 51, 53; V: 221, 234; VI: xi, 200–203; V: xxii “Dockery and Son” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281, 285 Doctor, The (Southey), IV: 67n, 71 Doctor Birch and His Young Friends (Thackeray), V: 38 Doctor Faustus (film), III: 344 Doctor Faustus (Marlowe), I: 212, 279– 280, 287–290; Supp. IV: 197 Doctor Fischer of Geneva; or, The Bomb Party (Greene), Supp. I: 1, 17–18 Doctor Is Sick, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 186, 189, 195 Doctor Therne (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Doctor Thorne (Trollope), V: xxii, 93, 101 Doctors’ Delusions, Crude Criminology, and Sham Education (Shaw), VI: 129 Doctor’s Dilemma, The (Shaw), VI: xv 116, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 321–322 “Doctor’s Family, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214 “Doctor’s Journal Entry for August 6, 1945, A” (Seth), Supp. X: 284 “Doctor’s Legend, The” (Hardy), VI: 20 Doctors of Philosophy (Spark), Supp. I: 206 Doctor’s Wife, The (Braddon), VIII: 44–46 Doctor’s Wife, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 144, 146, 147–148 Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce . . . , The (Milton), II: 175; Retro. Supp. II: 271 “Doctrine of Scattered Occasions, The” (Bacon), I: 261 Doctrine of the Law and Grace Unfolded, The (Bunyan), II: 253 Documents in the Case, The (Sayers and Eustace), Supp. III: 335, 342–343

DOCU−DRAC Documents Relating to the Sentimental Agents in the Volyen Empire (Lessing), Supp. I: 252–253 Dodge, Mabel, VII: 109 Dodgson, Charles Lutwidge, see Carroll, Lewis “Does It Matter?” (Sassoon), VI: 430 “Does It Pay?” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “Does That Hurt?” (Motion), Supp. VII: 263–264 “Dog and the Lantern, The” (Powys), VIII: 255 “Dog and the Waterlily, The” (Cowper), III: 220 Dog Beneath the Skin, The (Auden and Isherwood), VII: 312, 380, 385; Retro. Supp. I: 7 Dog Fox Field (Murray), Supp. VII: 280–281, 282 “Dogged” (Saki), Supp. VI: 239 Dog’s Ransom, A (Highsmith), Supp. V: 176–177 “Dogs” (Hughes), Supp. I: 346 “Doing Research for Historical Novels” (Keneally), Supp. IV: 344 Doktor Faustus (Mann), III: 344 Dolben, Digby Mackworth, VI: 72, 75 “Doldrums, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Doll, The” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 340 Doll’s House, A (Ibsen), IV: xxiii, 118– 119; V: xxiv; VI: ix, 111 “Doll’s House, The” (Mansfield), VII: 175 “Doll’s House on the Dal Lake, A” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 399 “Dollfuss Day, 1935” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Dolly (Brookner), Supp. IV: 134–135, 136–137 Dolores (Compton–Burnett), VII: 59, 68 “Dolores” (Swinburne), V: 313, 320–321 “Dolorida” (Swinburne), V: 332 Dolphin, The (Lowell), Supp. IV: 423 Dombey and Son (Dickens), IV: 34; V: xxi, 42, 44, 47, 53, 57–59, 70, 71 “Domestic Interior” (Boland), Supp. V: 50 Domestic Relations (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223–224 “Domicilium” (Hardy), VI: 14 Don Fernando (Maugham), VI: 371 Don Juan (Byron), I: 291; II: 102n; IV: xvii, 171, 172, 173, 178, 183, 184, 185, 187–191, 192 Don Quixote (Cervantes), II: 49; IV: 190; V: 46; Retro. Supp. I: 84 Don Quixote in England (Fielding), III: 105 Don Sebastian, King of Portugal (Dryden), II: 305 “Donald MacDonald” (Hogg), Supp. X: 106 “Dong with a Luminous Nose, The” (Lear), V: 85 “Donkey, The” (Smith), Supp. II: 468 “Donkey’s Ears: Politovsky’s Letters Home, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80–82

Donkeys’ Years (Frayn), Supp. VII: 60–61 Donne, John, I: 352–369; II: 102, 113, 114, 118, 121–124, 126–128, 132, 134–138, 140–143, 147, 185, 196, 197, 209, 215, 221, 222, 226; IV: 327; Supp. II: 181, 182; Supp. III: 51, 57; Retro. Supp. II: 85–99, 173, 175, 259, 260 Donne, William Bodham, IV: 340, 344, 351 Donnelly, M. C., V: 427, 438 Donohue, J. W., III: 268 Don’t Look Now (du Maurier), Supp. III: 148 Don’t Tell Alfred (Mitford), Supp. X: 152, 158, 164–167 “Doodle Bugs” (Harrison), Supp. V: 151 “Doom of the Griffiths, The” (Gaskell), V: 15 Doom of Youth, The (Lewis), VII: 72 “Door in the Wall, The” (Wells), VI: 235, 244 Door Into the Dark (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 271–272; Retro. Supp. I: 127 Dorando, A Spanish Tale (Boswell), III: 247 Dorian Gray (Wilde), see Picture of Dorian Gray, The “Dorinda’s sparkling Wit, and Eyes” (Dorset), II: 262 Dorking Thigh and Other Satires, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Dorothy Wordsworth (Selincourt), IV: 143 Dorset, earl of (Charles Sackville), II: 255, 261–263, 266, 268, 270–271 Dorset Farm Laborer Past and Present, The, (Hardy), VI: 20 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, Supp. IV: 1, 139 Dostoevsky: The Making of a Novelist (Simmons), V: 46 Doting (Green), Supp. II: 263, 264 Double Falsehood, The (Theobald), II: 66, 87 “Double Life” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Double Lives: An Autobiography (Plomer), Supp. XI: 210, 214, 215, 223 “Double Looking Glass, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 159 Double Man, The (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10 Double Marriage, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 “Double Rock, The” (King), Supp. VI: 151 Double Tongue, The (Golding), Retro. Supp. I: 106–107 “Double Vision of Michael Robartes, The” (Yeats), VI: 217 Double–Dealer, The (Congreve), II: 338, 341–342, 350 Doublets: A Word–Puzzle (Carroll), V: 273 Doubtfire (Nye), Supp. X: 193–196, 203, 206 Doubtful Paradise (Friel), Supp. V: 115 Doughty, Charles, Supp. II: 294–295

337

Doughty, Oswald, V: xi, xxvii, 246, 297n, 307 Douglas, Gavin, I: 116–118; III: 311 Douglas, Keith, VII: xxii, 422, 440–444 Douglas, Lord Alfred, V: 411, 416–417, 420 Douglas, Norman, VI: 293–305 Douglas Cause, The (Boswell), III: 247 Douglas Jerrold’s Weekly (periodical), V: 144 “Dovecote” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 280 “Dover” (Auden), VII: 379 Dover Road, The (Milne), Supp. V: 299 “Down” (Graves), VII: 264 Down Among the Gods (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 287 Down Among the Women (Weldon), Supp. IV: 524–525 Down and Out in Paris and London (Orwell), VII: xx, 275, 277; Supp. IV: 17 “Down at the Dump” (White), Supp. I: 143 Down by the River (O’Brien), Supp. V: 344–345 “Down by the Sally–Garden” (Yeats), VII: 368 “Down Darkening” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Down from the Hill (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 “Down Kaunda Street” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 “Down on the Farm” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 Down There on a Visit (Isherwood), VII: 315–316 Downfall and Death of King Oedipus, The (FitzGerald), IV: 353 Downriver (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 235, 238, 242 Downs, Brian, III: 84, 93 “Downs, The” (Bridges), VI: 78 Downstairs (Churchill), Supp. IV: 180 Downstream (Kinsella), Supp. V: 259, 260, 261–262 “Downstream” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 “Downward Pulse, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 Dowson, Ernest, V: 441; VI: 210 Doyle, Arthur Conan, III: 341, 345; Supp. II: 126, 127, 159–176 Doyle, Roddy, Supp. V: 77–93 Dr. Faust’s Sea–Spiral Spirit (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231, 233–234 Dr. Goldsmith’s Roman History Abridged by Himself . . . (Goldsmith), III: 191 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Stevenson), see Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Dr. No (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 91, 95, 96, 97 “Dr. Woolacott” (Forster), VI: 406 Dr. Wortle’s School (Trollope), V: 100, 102 Drabble, Antonia, see Byatt, A. S. Drabble, Margaret, VI: 247, 253, 268; Supp. IV: 141, 229–254 Dracula (Stoker), III: 334, 342, 345; Supp. III: 375–377, 381, 382, 383, 386–390

DRAC−DUEL Dracula (films), III: 342; Supp. III: 375–377 “Dracula’s Guest” (Stoker), Supp. III: 383, 385 “Draff” (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 19 Drafts and Fragments of Verse (Collins), II: 323n “Dragon Class” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 88–89 “Dragon Dreams” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170 Dragon of the Apocalypse (Carter), VII: 114 “Dragonfly” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 “Dragon’s Blood” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 64 Drake, Nathan, III: 51 “Drama and Life” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 170 Drama in Muslin, A (Moore), VI: 86, 89, 90–91, 98 “Drama of Exile, A” (Browning), IV: 313 Drama of Love and Death, The (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 42 Dramatic Character in the English Romantic Age (Donohue), III: 268n Dramatic Historiographer, The; or, The British Theatre Delineated (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Dramatic Idyls (Browning), IV: xxiii, 358, 374; V: xxiv Dramatic Lyrics (Browning), IV: xx, 374 Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (Browning), IV: 374 Dramatic Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, The (ed. Price), III: 258 Dramatis Personae (Browning), IV: xxii, 358, 364, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 26–27 Dramatis Personae (Symons), Supp. XIV: 274 Dramatis Personae (Yeats), VI: 317 Drapier’s Letters, The (Swift), III: 20n 28, 31, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 274 “Drawing Room, Annerley, 1996” (Hart), Supp. XI: 131 “Drawing you, heavy with sleep” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 Drayton, Michael, I: 196, 278; II: 68 134, 138 “Dread of Height, The” (Thompson), V: 444 Dreadful Pleasures (Twitchell), Supp. III: 383 “Dream” (Heaney), Supp. II: 271 “Dream” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 “Dream, A” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106 “Dream, A” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 “Dream, The” (Galsworthy), VI: 280 “Dream, The” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 “Dream, The. A Song“ (Behn), Supp. III: 37–38 Dream and Thing (Muir), Supp. VI: 208 Dream Children (Wilson), Supp. VI: 308–309 “Dream in Three Colours, A” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 285 Dream of Darkness (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 119 Dream of Destiny, A (Bennett), VI: 262

“Dream of Eugene Aram, The Murderer, The” (Hood), IV: 256, 261–262, 264, 267; Supp. III: 378 Dream of Fair to Middling Women, A (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 17 “Dream of France, A” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 Dream of Gerontius, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 293, 300, 301 “Dream of Heaven, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105 Dream of John Ball, A (Morris), V: 301, 302–303, 305, 306 “Dream of Nourishment” (Smith), Supp. II: 466 “Dream of Private Clitus, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 175 Dream of Scipio, The (Cicero), IV: 189 Dream of the Rood, The, I: 11; Retro. Supp. II: 302, 307 “Dream Play” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 178 Dream State: The New Scottish Poets (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67 Dream Stuff (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218 “Dream Work” (Hope), Supp. VII: 155 Dreamchild (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 236 “Dream–Fugue” (De Quincey), IV: 153– 154 “Dream–Language of Fergus, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 285–286 “Dream–Pedlary” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 30 Dreaming in Bronze (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 “Dreaming Spires” (Campbell), VII: 430 “Dreams” (Spenser), I: 123 Dreams of Leaving (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 289 “Dreams Old and Nascent” (Lawrence), VII: 118 “Dream–Tryst” (Thompson), V: 444 Drebbel, Cornelius, I: 268 “Dresden” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 58 Dressed as for a Tarot Pack (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Dressing” (Vaughan), II: 186 Dressing Up—Transvestism and Drag: The History of an Obsession (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3–4, 12 Dressmaker, The (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 19–20, 24 “Dressmaker, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130–131 Drew, Philip, IV: xiii, xxiv, 375 “Drink to Me Only with Thine Eyes” (Jonson), I: 346; VI: 16 Drinkers of Infinity (Koestler), Supp. I: 34, 34n “Drinking” (Cowley), II: 198 Driver’s Seat, The (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 209–210, 218n “Driving Through Sawmill Towns” (Murray), Supp. VII: 271 Driving West (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 4 Droe wit seisoen, ’n (Brink), Supp. VI: 50–51 “Droit de Seigneur: 1820” (Murphy), Supp. V: 321 Drought, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 24–25, 34

338

“Drowned Field, The” (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 121 “Drowned Giant, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 23 Drowned World, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 22–23, 24, 34 “Drowning” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 Drumlin (ed. Healy), Supp. IX: 95 “Drummer Hodge” (Housman), VI: 161; Retro. Supp. I: 120 Drummond of Hawthornden, William, I: 328, 349 Drums of Father Ned, The (O’Casey), VII: 10–11 Drums under the Windows (O’Casey), VII: 9, 12 Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle, A (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 202, 203, 207–210, 211, 213, 215 Drunken Sailor, The (Cary), VII: 186, 191 “Dry Point” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 Dry Salvages, The (Eliot), V: 241; VII: 143, 144, 152, 154, 155 Dry, White Season, A (Brink), Supp. VI: 50–51 Dryden, John, I: 176, 327, 328, 341, 349; II: 166–167, 195, 198, 200, 289–306, 325, 338, 340, 348, 350, 352, 354– 355; III: 40, 47, 68, 73–74, 118; IV: 93, 196, 287; V: 376; Supp. III: 19, 24, 27, 36, 37, 40; Supp. V: 201–202 Dryden, John, The younger, II: 305 “Dryden’s Prize–Song” (Hill), Supp. V: 201–202 Du Bellay, Joachim, I: 126; V: 345 Du Bois, W. E. B., Supp. IV: 86 du Maurier, Daphne, III: 343; Supp. III: 133–149 du Maurier, George, V: 403; Supp. III: 133–137, 141 du Maurier, Guy, Supp. III: 147, 148 Du Mauriers, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135–136, 137, 139 Dual Tradition: An Essay on Poetry and Politics in Ireland (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272, 273–274 Dublin Penny Journal, Supp. XIII: 116 Dublin Satirist, Supp. XIII: 116 Dublin University Magazine, Supp. XIII: 116, 117, 118, 119, 121, 124 Dubliners (Joyce), VII: xiv, 41, 43–45, 47–52; critical studies, VII: 57; Supp. I: 45; Supp. IV: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 171–173 “Dubious” (Seth), Supp. X: 279 “Duchess of Hamptonshire, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Duchess of Malfi, The (Webster), II: 68, 70–73, 76–78, 79, 81, 82, 84, 85 Duchess of Padua, The (Wilde), V: 419; Retro. Supp. II: 362–363 “Duddon Estuary, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Due Preparations for the Plague (Defoe), III: 13 “Duel, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Duel of Angels (Fry), Supp. III: 195 “Duel of the Crabs, The” (Dorset), II: 271

DUEN−EAST Duenna, The (Sheridan), III: 253, 257, 259–261, 270 “Duffy’s Circus” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 415 Dufy, Raoul, Supp. IV: 81 Dugdale, Florence Emily, VI: 17n Dugdale, Sir William, II: 274 Dugmore, C. W., I: 177n Dujardin, Edouard, VI: 87 Duke of Gandia, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Duke of Guise, The (Dryden), II: 305 Duke of Millaine, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 183 Duke’s Children, The (Trollope), V: 96, 99, 101, 102 “Duke’s Reappearance, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Dulce et Decorum Est” (Owen), VI: 448, 451 “Dull London” (Lawrence), VII: 94, 116, 121 “Dulwich Gallery, The” (Hazlitt), IV: 135–136 Dumas père, Alexandre, III: 332, 334, 339 Dumb House, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 16–17, 19, 27–28, 30 Dumb Instrument (Welch), Supp. IX: 269–270 Dumb Virgin, The; or, The Force of Imagination (Behn), Supp. III: 31 Dumb Waiter, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 369, 370–371, 381; Retro. Supp. I: 222 “Dumnesse” (Traherne), II: 189; Supp. XI: 270 Dun Cow, The (Landor), IV: 100 Dun Emer Press, VI: 221 “Dunbar and the Language of Poetry” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160 Dunbar, William, I: 23; VIII: 117–130 “Dunbar at Oxinfurde” (Dunbar), VIII: 122–123 Duncan, Robert, Supp. IV: 269 Dunciad, The (Pope), II: 259, 311; III: 73, 77, 95; IV: 187; Supp. III: 421– 422; Retro. Supp. I: 76, 231, 235, 238–240 “Dunciad Minimus” (Hope), Supp. VII: 161 Dunciad Minor: A Heroick Poem (Hope), Supp. VII: 161–163 Dunciad of Today, The; and, The Modern Aesop (Disraeli), IV: 308 Dunciad Variorum, The (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 238 Dunn, Douglas Supp. X: 65–84 Dunn, Nell, VI: 271 Dunne, John William, VII: 209, 210 Duns Scotus, John, V: 363, 370, 371; Retro. Supp. II: 187–188 “Duns Scotus’s Oxford” (Hopkins), V: 363, 367, 370 Dunsany, Lord Edward, III: 340 Dunton, John, III: 41 Dupee, F. W., VI: 31, 45 “Dura Mater” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 Dürer, Albrecht, Supp. IV: 125 “Duriesdyke” (Swinburne), V: 333 “During Wind and Rain” (Cornford), VIII: 114

“During Wind and Rain” (Hardy), VI: 17 Durrell, Lawrence, Supp. I: 93–128 Dusklands (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 78–80, 81 “Dusky Ruth” (Coppard), VIII: 88, 90, 93 Dusky Ruth and Other Stories (Coppard), VIII: 90 “Dust” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52 “Dust, The” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 37–38, 40, 45 “Dust, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 “Dust As We Are” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 214 Dutch Courtesan, The (Marston), II: 30, 40 Dutch Interior (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 213, 218, 221–222, 226 Dutch Love, The (Behn), Supp. III: 26– 27, 40 Duties of Clerks of Petty Sessions in Ireland, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 379 Dutiful Daughter, A (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 Dutton, G. F., Supp. XII: 81–99 “Duty—that’s to say complying” (Clough), V: 160 Dwarfs, The (play, Pinter), Supp. I: 373 “Dwarfs, The” (unpublished novel, Pinter), Supp. I: 367 Dyer, John, IV: 199 Dyer, Sir Edward, I: 123 Dyer’s Hand, The, and Other Essays (Auden), V: 46; VII: 394, 395 Dyet of Poland, The (Defoe), III: 13 “Dying” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226, 227 Dying Gaul and Other Writings, The (Jones), Supp. VII: 171, 180 “Dying Is Not Setting Out” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 Dying Paralytic (Greuze), Supp. IV: 122 “Dying Race, A” (Motion), Supp. VII: 254 “Dying Swan, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Dykes, The” (Kipling), VI: 203 Dymer (Lewis), Supp. III: 250 Dynamics of a Particle, The (Carroll), V: 274 Dynasts, The: A Drama of the Napoleonic Wars (Hardy), VI: 6–7, 10–12; Retro. Supp. I: 121 Dyson, A. E., III: 51 “Dyvers thy death doo dyverslye bemone” (Surrey), I: 115

E.M. Forster: A Study (Trilling), VI: 413 E. M. Forster: A Tribute, with Selections from His Writings on India (Natwar– Singh), VI: 413 E. M. Forster: The Critical Heritage (ed. Gardner), VI: 413 “Each Time There’s an Injustice on Earth” (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 “Eagle Pair” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283 Eagles’ Nest (Kavan), Supp. VII: 213– 214 Eagle’s Nest, The (Ruskin), V: 184 Eagleton, Terry, Supp. IV: 164, 365, 380

339

Eames, Hugh, Supp. IV: 3 Ear to the Ground, An (Conn), Supp. XIII: 70, 72–73 “Earl Robert” (Swinburne), V: 333 Earle, John, IV: 286 “Earlswood” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “Early Days” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 Early Days (Storey), Supp. I: 419 Early Diary of Frances Burney, The (eds. Troide et al.), Supp. III: 64 Early Essays (Eliot), V: 200 Early Italian Poets, The (Rossetti), V: 245 Early Kings of Norway, The (Carlyle), IV: 250 Early Lessons (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 152 “Early Life of Ben Jonson, The” (Bamborough), Retro. Supp. I: 152 Early Morning (Bond), Supp. I: 422, 423, 426–428, 430 “Early One Morning” (Warner), Supp. VII: 379 Early Plays, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 283 Early Poems of John Clare, The (Clare), Supp. XI: 51 “Early Spring” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 “Early Stuff” (Reading), VIII: 263 “Early Summer” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Early Years of Alec Waugh, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 267–270, 272, 274 Earnest Atheist, The (Muggeridge), Supp. II: 118, 119 “Ears in the turrets hear” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 Earth Breath and Other Poems, The (Russell), VIII: 282 Earth Owl, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 Earthly Paradise, The (Morris), V: xxiii, 296–299, 302, 304, 306 Earthly Paradise (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 291, 301–302 Earthly Powers (Burgess), Supp. I: 193 Earths in Our Solar System (Swedenborg), III: 297 Earthworks (Harrison), Supp. V: 149, 150 “East Anglian Church–yard” (Cornford), VIII: 113 “East Coker” (Eliot), II: 173; VII: 154, 155 East into Upper East: Plain Tales from New York and Delhi (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235 “East London” (Arnold), V: 209 “East of Cairo” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 57 East of Suez (Maugham), VI: 369 “East Riding” (Dunn), Supp. X: 81–82 East, West: Stories (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 438, 443, 452 “East Window” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 90–91 Eastaway, Edward (pseud.), see Thomas, Edward “Easter 1916” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224 “Easter 1916” (Yeats), VI: 219, 220; Retro. Supp. I: 332

EAST−ELEC “Easter Day” (Crashaw), II: 183 “Easter Day, Naples, 1849” (Clough), V: 165 “Easter Day II” (Clough), V: 159 Easter Greeting for Every Child Who Loves AAlice,”An (Carroll), V: 273 “Easter Hymn” (Housman), VI: 161 “Easter 1916” (Yeats), VI: 219, 220 “Easter Prayer” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114 Easter Rebellion of 1916, VI: 212; VII: 3 “Easter Wings” (Herbert), II: 128; Retro. Supp. II: 178 Eastern Front, The (Churchill), VI: 359 Eastern Tales (Voltaire), III: 327 Eastlake, Lady Elizabeth, Retro. Supp. I: 59 Eastward Ho! (Chapman, Jonson, Marston), I: 234, 254 II: 30, 40; Retro. Supp. I: 162 Easy Death (Churchill), Supp. IV: 180 Easy Virtue (Coward), Supp. II: 145, 146, 148 Eating Pavlova (Thomas), Supp. IV: 488–489 Eaton, H. A., IV: 142n, 155, 156 “Eaves, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 200 Ebb–Tide, The (Stevenson), V: 384, 387, 390, 396 Ebony Tower, The (Fowles), Supp. I: 303–304 “Ebony Tower, The” (Fowles), Supp. I: 303 Ecce Ancilla Domini! (Rossetti), V: 236, 248 “Ecchoing Green, The” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 37, 42 Ecclesiastical History of the English People (Bede), Retro. Supp. II: 296 Ecclesiastical Polity (Hooker), II: 147 Ecclesiastical Sonnets (Wordsworth), IV: 22, 25 “Echo from Willowwood, An” (Rossetti), V: 259 Echo Gate, The (Longley), VIII: 166, 172, 173–174 “Echo Pit Road” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 “Echoes of Foreign Song” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 Echoes Return Slow, The (Thomas), Supp. XII: 280, 281, 283, 284, 288, 289, 290 Echo’s Bones (Beckett), Supp. I: 44, 60–61 “Eclipse” (Armitage), VIII: 11, 12–14 “Eclogue for Christmas, An” (MacNeice), VII: 416 Eclogues (Vergil), III: 222n Eclogues of Virgil, The (tr. Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 Eco, Umberto, Supp. IV: 116 Economics of Ireland, and the Policy of the British Government, The (Russell), VIII: 289 “Economies or Dispensations of the Eternal” (Newman), Supp. VII: 291 Ecstasy, The (Donne), I: 238, 355, 358 Edel, Leon, VI: 49, 55

“Eden” (Traherne), II: 189; Supp. XI: 266 Eden End (Priestley), VII: 224 “Eden of the Sea, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 162 Edge of Being, The (Spender), Supp. II: 486, 491 Edge of the Orison: In the Traces of John Clare’s “Journey Out of Essex” (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232, 244–245 Edge of the Unknown (Doyle), Supp. II: 163–164 Edgeworth, Maria, Supp. III: 151–168; Supp. IV: 502 Edgeworth, Richard Lovell, Supp. III: 151–153, 163 “Edinburgh Court” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 194 Edinburgh: Picturesque Notes (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 261 Edinburgh Review (periodical), III: 276, 285; IV: xvi, 129, 145, 269–270, 272, 278; Supp. XII: 119 “Edinburgh Spring” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 194 Edith Sitwell (Bowra), VII: 141 Edith’s Diary (Highsmith), Supp. V: 177– 178, 180 Editor’s Tales, An (Trollope), V: 102 Edmonds, Helen, see Kavan, Anna Edmund Blunden: Poems of Many Years (Blunden), Supp. XI: 33, 34, 35, 36, 37 Education and the University (Leavis), VII: 238, 241 “Education of Otis Yeere, The” (Kipling), VI: 183, 184 Edward I (Peele), I: 205–206, 208 Edward II (Marlowe), I: 278, 286–287; Retro. Supp. I: 201–202, 209–211 Edward III (anon.), V: 328 Edward and Eleonora (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 424 Edward Burne–Jones (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 98 “Edward Cracroft Lefroy” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 Edward Carpenter: In Appreciation (ed. Beith), Supp. XIII: 48–50 “Edward Dorn and the Treasures of Comedy” (Davie), Supp. VI: 116 Edward Lear in Greece (Lear), V: 87 Edward Lear’s Indian Journal (ed. Murphy), V: 78, 79, 87 “Edward the Conqueror” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215 Edwards, H. L. R., I: 87 “Edwin and Angelina: A Ballad” (Goldsmith), III: 185, 191 Edwin Drood (Dickens), V: xxiii, 42, 69, 72 “Edwin Morris” (Tennyson), IV: 326n Edwy and Elgiva (Burney), Supp. III: 67, 71 “Eemis Stane, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 206 “Eftir Geving I Speik of Taking” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 Egan, Pierce, IV: 260n

340

“Egg–Head” (Hughes), Supp. I: 348–349 Egils saga Skalla–Grímssonar, VIII: 238, 239 Egoist, The (Meredith), V: x, xxiv, 227, 230–232, 234 “Egremont” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “Egypt” (Fraser), VII: 425 “Egypt from My Inside” (Golding), Supp. I: 65, 83, 84, 89 “Egypt from My Outside” (Golding), Supp. I: 84, 89 Egyptian Journal, An (Golding), Supp. I: 89–90; Retro. Supp. I: 103 “Egyptian Nights” (Pushkin), Supp. IV: 484 Eh Joe (Beckett), Supp. I: 59–60 Eichmann in Jerusalem (Arendt), Supp. IV: 306 “Eight Arms to Hold You” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 161 “Eight Awful Animals” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Eight Dramas of Calderón (tr. FitzGerald), IV: 353 “Eight o’clock” (Housman), VI: 160 Eight or Nine Wise Words about Letter– Writing (Carroll), V: 273 Eight Short Stories (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 “Eight Stanzas” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119 “Eight Suits, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Eighteen Poems (Thomas), Supp. I: 170, 171, 172 Eighteen–Eighties, The (ed. de la Mare), V: 268, 274 “Eighth Planet, The” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 174 85 Poems (Ewart), Supp. VII: 34–35, 46 EIKONOK⌳A⌺TH⌺: . . . (Milton), II: 175 Einstein’s Monsters (Amis), Supp. IV: 40, 42 Eiríks saga rauða, VIII: 240 Ekblad, Inga Stina, II: 77, 86 “El Dorado” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105 El maestro de danzar (Calderón), II: 313n Elder Brother, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 Elder Statesman, The (Eliot), VII: 161, 162; Retro. Supp. II: 132 Elders and Betters (Compton–Burnett), VII: 63, 66 Eldest Son, The (Galsworthy), VI: 269, 287 “Eldorado” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Eleanor’s Victory (Braddon), VIII: 36, 44 Election, An (Swinburne), V: 332 “Election in Ajmer, The” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 395 Elections to the Hebdomadal Council, The (Carroll), V: 274 Electric Light (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I:133–135 “Electric Orchard, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 413 “Electricity” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 22

ELEC−EMPE Electrification of the Soviet Union, The (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168–170, 171 “Elegiac Stanzas, Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle . .. . A (Wordsworth), IV: 21–22 “Elegie. Princesse Katherine, An” (Lovelace), II: 230 “Elegie upon the Death of . . . Dr. John Donne” (Carew), II: 223 Elegies (Donne), I: 360–361; Retro. Supp. II: 89–90 Elegies (Dunn), Supp. X: 75–77 Elegies (Johannes Secundus), II: 108 Elegies for the Dead in Cyrenaica (Henderson), VII: 425 “Elegy” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 271–272, 274 “Elegy, An” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 322 “Elegy: The Absences” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Elegy and Other Poems, An (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 “Elegy Before Death” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 129 “Elegy for an Irish Speaker” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 285, 290 “Elegy for Margaret” (Spender), Supp. II: 490 “Elegy for W. H. Auden” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 “Elegy in April and September” (Owen), VI: 453 “Elegy on Dead Fashion” (Sitwell), VII: 133 Elegy on Dicky and Dolly, An (Swift), III: 36 Elegy on Dr. Donne, An (Walton), II: 136 “Elegy on Marlowe’s Untimely Death” (Nashe), I: 278 “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog” (Goldsmith), III: 184 Elegy on the Death of an Amiable Young Lady . . ., An (Boswell), III: 247 “Elegy on the Dust” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264 “Elegy on the Tironian and Tirconellian Princes Buried at Rome, An” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127 Elegy on the Usurper O. C., An (Dryden), II: 304 “Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady” (Pope), III: 70, 288 Elegy upon the Death of My Lord Francis Villiers, An (Marvell), II: 219 “Elegy upon the most Incomparable King Charls the First, An” (King), Supp. VI: 159 “Elegy Written in a Country Church– yard” (Gray), III: 119, 137, 138–139, 144–145; Retro. Supp. I: 144 “Elementary Sketches of Moral Philosophy” (Smith), Supp. VII: 342 Elementary, The (Mulcaster), I: 122 Elements of Drawing, The (Ruskin), V: 184 “Elements of Geometry, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Elements of Perspective, The (Ruskin), V: 184 Elene, Retro. Supp. II: 302–303

Eleonora: A Panegyrical Poem (Dryden), II: 304 “Elephant and Colosseum” (Lowry), Supp. III: 281 “Elephant and the Tragopan, The” (Seth), Supp. X: 287 Elephants Can Remember (Christie), Supp. II: 135 Eleutheria (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 23 “Elgin Marbles, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75 Elia, pseud. of Charles Lamb “Eliduc” (Fowles), Supp. I: 303 Elinor and Marianne: A Sequel to Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility (Tennant), Supp. IX: 237–238, 239– 240 “Elinor Barley” (Warner), Supp. VII: 379 “Elinor and Marianne” (Austen), see Sense and Sensibility Eliot, George, III: 157; IV: 238, 323; V: ix–x, xviii, xxii–xxiv, 2, 6, 7, 14, 45, 52, 56, 57, 63, 66, 67, 187–201, 212, VI: 23; Supp. IV: 146, 169, 230, 233, 239–240, 243, 379, 471, 513; Retro. Supp. II: 101–117 Eliot T. S., II: 148; IV: 271; V: xxv, 241 309 402; VII: xii–xiii, xv, 34, 143– 170; Retro. Supp. II: 119–133; and Matthew Arnold, V: 204, 205–206, 210, 215; and Yeats, VI: 207, 208; influence on modern literature, I: 98; VII: xii–xiii, xv, 34 143–144, 153– 154, 165–166; Retro. Supp. I: 3; list of collected essays, VII: 169–170; literary criticism, I: 232, 275, 280; II: 16, 42, 83, 179, 196, 204, 208, 219; III: 51, 305; IV: 195, 234; V: 204– 206, 210, 215, 310, 367; VI: 207, 226; VII: 162–165; Retro. Supp. I: 166; Retro. Supp. II: 173–174; style, II: 173; IV: 323, 329; in drama, VII: 157–162; in poetry, VII: 144–157; Supp. I: 122–123; Supp. II: 151, 181, 420, 428, 487; Supp. III: 122; Supp. IV: 58, 100, 139, 142, 180, 249, 260, 330, 377, 558 “Elixir” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 “Ella Wheeler Wilcox Woo, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 “Elvers, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “Ely Place” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Elizabeth Alone (Trevor), Supp. IV: 509– 510 Elizabeth and Essex (Strachey), Supp. II: 514–517 Elizabeth and Her German Garden (Forster), VI: 406 Elizabeth Cooper (Moore), VI: 96, 99 Elizabeth I, Queen of England, Supp. IV: 146 Elizabethan Drama and Shakespeare’s Early Plays (Talbert), I: 224 “Elizas, The” (Gurney), VI: 425 “Ellen Orford” (Crabbe), III: 281 Ellen Terry and Bernard Shaw, a Correspondence (ed. St. John), VI: 130 Ellis, Annie Raine, Supp. III: 63, 65 Ellis, Havelock, I: 281

341

Ellis–Fermor, U. M., I: 284, 292 “Elm Tree, The” (Hood), IV: 261–262, 264 “Eloisa to Abelard” (Pope), III: 70, 75– 76, 77; V: 319, 321 Elopement into Exile (Pritchett), see Shirley Sanz Eloquence of the British Senate, The (Hazlitt), IV: 130, 139 Elton, Oliver, III: 51 Emancipated, The (Gissing), V: 437 “Embankment, The” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 134, 136 Embarrassments (James), VI: 49, 67 Embers (Beckett), Supp. I: 58 Emblem Hurlstone (Hall), Supp. VI: 129–130 “Emerald Dove, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 281 Emerald Germs of Ireland (McCabe), Supp. IX: 135, 137–138 “Emerald Isle, Sri Lanka, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 “Emerging” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286– 287 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, IV: xx, 54, 81, 240; V: xxv Emigrant Ship, The (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 262 Emigrant Train, The (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 262 Emigrants, The (Lamming), Supp. IV: 445 Emigrants, The (Sebald), VIII: 295, 300– 303, 308 Emilia in England (Meredith), see Sandra Belloni Emilie de Coulanges (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 158 “Emily and Oswin” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 262 Emily Brontë: A Biography (Gérin), V: 153 “Emily Dickinson” (Cope), VIII: 73 “Emily Dickinson” (Longley), VIII: 167 Eminent Victorians (Wilson), Supp. VI: 305 Eminent Victorians (Strachey), V: 13, 157, 170; Supp. II: 498, 499, 503– 511 Emma (Austen), IV: xvii, 108, 109, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 117, 119, 120, 122; VI: 106; Supp. IV: 154, 236; Retro. Supp. II: 11–12 Emma in Love: Jane Austen’s Emma Continued (Tennant), Supp. IX: 238, 239– 240 Emotions Are Not Skilled Workers, The (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 318 Empedocles on Etna (Arnold), IV: 231; V: xxi, 206, 207, 209, 210, 211, 216 “Emperor Alexander and Capo d’Istria” (Landor), IV: 92 “Emperor and the Little Girl, The” (Shaw), VI: 120 Emperor Constantine, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 336, 350 “Emperor’s Tomb Found in China” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80

EMPE−ENGL Emperor of Ice–Cream (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 141, 142–143, 144, 146, 147 Emperour of the East, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184 “Empire” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 39 Empire of the Sun (Ballard), Supp. V: 19, 29–30, 31, 35 Empire State (Bateman), Supp. V: 88 “Empires” (Dunn), Supp. X: 72–73 “Employment (I)” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 180 Empson, William, I: 282; II: 124, 130; V: 367, 381; Supp. II: 179–197 “Empty Birdhouse, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Empty Church, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284, 287 “Empty Heart, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 Empty Purse, The (Meredith), V: 223, 234 “Empty Vessel” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 206–207 “Enallos and Cymodameia” (Landor), IV: 96 Enchafèd Flood, The (Auden), VII: 380, 394 Enchanted Isle, The (Dryden), I: 327 “Enchanted Thicket, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 Enchantment and Other Poems (Russell), VIII: 290 “Enchantment of Islands” (Brown), Supp. VI: 61 Enchantress, The, and Other Poems (Browning), IV: 321 Enclosure, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 115, 117, 118 Encounter, Supp. II: 491 Encounters (Bowen), Supp. II: 79, 81 Encyclopaedia Britannica, Supp. III: 171 “End, An” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 “End, The” (Beckett), Supp. I: 50; Retro. Supp. I: 21 “End, The” (Cornford), VIII: 107 “End, The” (Milne), Supp. V: 303 “End, The” (Owen), VI: 449 “End of a Journey” (Hope), Supp. VII: 156–157 End of a War, The (Read), VI: 436, 437 End of Drought (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 136, 145 End of the Affair, The (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 8, 12–13, 14; Retro. Supp. II: 159– 160 End of the Beginning, The (O’Casey), VII: 12 End of the Chapter (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 282 “End of the City” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 “End of the Relationship, The” (Self), Supp. V: 403 “End of the Tether, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Enderby Outside (Burgess), Supp. I: 189, 194–195 Enderby’s Dark Lady; or, No End to Enderby (Burgess), Supp. I: 189 Endgame (Beckett), Supp. I: 49, 51, 52, 53, 56–57, 62; Retro. Supp. I: 24–25

“Ending, An” (Cope), VIII: 81 Ending in Earnest (West), Supp. III: 438 Ending Up (Amis), Supp. II: 18 Endiomion (Lyly), I: 202 Endless Night (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 130, 132, 135 Ends and Beginnings (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221–222 Ends and Means (Huxley), VII: xvii 205 Endymion (Disraeli), IV: xxiii, 294, 295, 296, 306, 307, 308; V: xxiv “Endymion” (Keats), III: 174, 338; IV: x, xvii, 205, 211, 214, 216–217, 218, 222–224, 227, 229, 230, 233, 235; Retro. Supp. I: 184, 189–192 “Enemies, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 211 Enemies of Promise (Connolly), VI: 363; Supp. III: 95, 96, 97, 98, 100–102 “Enemy, The” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 386n “Enemy Dead, The” (Gutteridge), VII: 433 Enemy in the Blanket, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 187–188 “Enemy Interlude” (Lewis), VII: 71 Enemy of the People, An (Ibsen), VI: ix Enemy of the Stars, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 73, 74–75 Enemy Within, The (Friel), Supp. V: 115– 116 Enemy’s Country, The: Word, Contexture, and Other Circumstances of Language (Hill), Supp. V: 196, 201 “Engineer’s Corner” (Cope), VIII: 71 England (Davie), Supp. VI: 111–112 “England” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 255– 256, 264 “England” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 England and the Italian Question (Arnold), V: 216 England in the Age of Wycliffe (Trevelyan), VI: 385–386 England Made Me (Greene; U.S. title, The Shipwrecked), Supp. I: 6, 7 “England, My England” (Lawrence) VII: xv, 114; Retro. Supp. II: 153 England, My England, and Other Stories (Lawrence), VII: 114 England Under Queen Anne (Trevelyan), VI: 391–393 England Under the Stuarts (Trevelyan), VI: 386 England Your England (Orwell), VII: 282 “England’s Answer” (Kipling), VI: 192 England’s Helicon, I: 291 England’s Hour (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 “England’s Ideal” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 England’s Ideal, and Other Papers on Social Subjects (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “England’s Ireland” (Hare), Supp. IV: 281 England’s Pleasant Land (Forster), VI: 411 “English and the Afrikaans Writer” (Brink), Supp. VI: 48–49 English, David, Supp. IV: 348 English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (Byron), IV: x, xvi, 129, 171, 192

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English Bible, I: 370–388; list of versions, I: 387 “English Climate” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 English Comic Characters, The (Priestley), VII: 211 English Eccentrics, The (Sitwell), VII: 127 English Folk–Songs (ed. Barrett), V: 263n English Grammar (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 166 English Historical Review, VI: 387 English Hours (James), VI: 46, 67 English Humour (Priestley), VII: 213 English Humourists of the Eighteenth Century, The (Thackeray), III: 124, 146n; V: 20, 31, 38 English Journey (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 22–23 English Journey (Priestley), VII: 212, 213–214 English Literature: A Survey for Students (Burgess), Supp. I: 189 English Literature and Society in the Eighteenth Century (Stephen), III: 41; V: 290 “English Literature and the Small Coterie” (Kelman), Supp. V: 257 English Literature, 1815–1832 (ed. Jack), IV: 40, 140 English Literature in Our Time and the University (Leavis), VII: 169, 235, 236–237, 253 English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264 “English Mail–Coach, The” (De Quincey), IV: 149, 153, 155 English Mirror, The (Whetstone), I: 282 English Moor, The (Brome), Supp. X: 62 English Music (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 9–10, 11, 12 English Novel, The (Ford), VI: 322, 332 English Novel, The: A Short Critical History (Allen), V: 219 English Novelists (Bowen), Supp. II: 91–92 English Pastoral Poetry (Empson), see Some Versions of Pastoral English People, The (Orwell), VII: 282 English Poems (Blunden), VI: 429 “English Poet, An” (Pater), V: 356, 357 English Poetry (Bateson), IV: 217, 323n, 339 English Poetry and the English Language (Leavis), VII: 234 English Poetry 1900–1950: An Assessment (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249–250, 257 English Poetry of the First World War (Owen), VI: 453 English Poets (Browning), IV: 321 English Prisons under Local Government (Webb), VI: 129 English Protestant’s Plea, The (King), Supp. VI: 152 “English Renaissance of Art, The” (Wilde), V: 403–404 English Renaissance Poetry (ed. Williams), Supp. XI: 116, 117

ENGL−EPIT English Review (periodical), VI: xi–xii, 294, 323–324; VII: 89 English Revolution, 1688–1689 (Trevelyan), VI: 391 “English School, An” (Kipling), VI: 201 English Seamen (Southey and Bell), IV: 71 English Sermon, 1750–1850, The (ed. Nye), Supp. X: 205 English Social History: A Survey of Six Centuries (Trevelyan), VI: xv, 393– 394 English Songs of Italian Freedom (Trevelyan), V: 227 English South African’s View of the Situation, An (Schreiner), Supp. II: 453 English Through Pictures (Richards), Supp. II: 425, 430 English Town in the Last Hundred Years (Betjeman), VII: 360 English Traits (Emerson), IV: 54 English Utilitarians, The (Stephen), V: 279, 288–289 “English Wife, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 English Without Tears (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311 English Works of George Herbert (Palmer), Retro. Supp. II: 173 Englishman (periodical), III: 7, 50, 53 Englishman Abroad, An (Bennett), VIII: 30, 31 “Englishman in Italy, The” (Browning), IV: 368 Englishman in Patagonia, An (Pilkington), Supp. IV: 164 Englishman Looks at the World, An (Wells), VI: 244 Englishman’s Home, An (du Maurier), Supp. III: 147, 148 “Englishmen and Italians” (Trevelyan), V: 227; VI: 388n Englishness of English Literature, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 12 Englishwoman in America, The (Bird) Supp. X: 19–22, 24, 29 “Engraving from a Child’s Encyclopaedia” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 “Enigma, The” (Fowles), Supp. I: 303– 304 Enjoy (Bennett), VIII: 28–29 Ennui (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 154, 156, 158–160 Enoch Arden (Tennyson), IV: xxii, 388; V: 6n “Enoch Soames” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 56 Enormous Crocodile, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 207 “Enormous Space, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 “Enough” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Enough Is as Good as a Feast (Wager), I: 213 Enough of Green, (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260 “Enquirie, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 268 Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, An (Hume), Supp. III: 231, 238,

243–244 Enquiry Concerning Political Justice, An (Godwin), IV: xv, 181; Supp. III: 370; Retro. Supp. I: 245 Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, An (Hume), Supp. III: 231, 238, 244 Enquiry into the Causes of the Late Increase of Robbers (Fielding), III: 104; Retro. Supp. I: 81 Enquiry into the Occasional Conformity of Dissenters . . . . An (Defoe), III: 12 Enquiry into the Present State of Polite Learning in Europe, An (Goldsmith), III: 179, 191 “Enquiry into Two Inches of Ivory, An” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 165 Enright, D. J., Supp. IV: 256, 354 “Enter a Cloud” (Graham), Supp. VII: 103 “Enter a Dragoon” (Hardy), VI: 22 Enter a Free Man (Stoppard), Supp. I: 437, 439–440, 445 “Enter One in Sumptuous Armour” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 Entertainer, The (Osborne), Supp. I: 332–333, 336–337, 339 Entertaining Mr. Sloane (Orton), Supp. V: 364, 367, 370–371, 372, 373–374 Entertainment (Middleton), II: 3 “Entertainment for David Wright on His Being Sixty, An” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 “Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorpe (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 161 “Entire Fabric, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 “Entrance” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “Entreating of Sorrow” (Ralegh), I: 147– 148 “Envoi” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 297 “Envoy” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 65 Envoy Extraordinary: A Study of Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit and Her Contribution to Modern India (Brittain), Supp. X: 47 “Envoy Extraordinary” (Golding), Supp. I: 75, 82, 83 “Eolian Harp, The” (Coleridge), IV: 46; Retro. Supp. II: 52 Epicoene (Johnson), I: 339, 341; Retro. Supp. I: 163 “Epicure, The” (Cowley), II: 198 “Epicurus, Leontion and Ternissa” (Landor), IV: 94, 96–97 Epigram CXX (Jonson), I: 347 “Epigram to My Muse, the Lady Digby, on Her Husband, Sir Kenelm Digby” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 151 Epigrammata (More), Supp. VII: 234, 236–237 Epigrammatum sacrorum liber (Crashaw), II: 179, 201 Epigrams (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 164 Epilogue (Graves), VII: 261 “Epilogue: Seven Decades” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 164 “Epilogue to an Empire” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 295

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Epilogue to the Satires (Pope), III: 74, 78 “Epipsychidion” (Shelley), IV: xviii, 204, 208; VI: 401; Retro. Supp. I: 254– 255 Epistle (Trevisa), Supp. IX: 248, 249 “Epistle, An: Edward Sackville to Venetia Digby” (Hope), Supp. VII: 159 “Epistle from Holofernes, An” (Hope), Supp. VII: 157 Epistle to a Canary (Browning), IV: 321 Epistle to a Lady . . . , An (Swift), III: 36 Epistle to Augustus (Pope), II: 196 Epistle to Cobham, An (Pope), see Moral Essays “Epistle to Davie” (Burns), III: 316 Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot (Pope), III: 71, 74–75, 78; Retro. Supp. I: 229 “Epistle to Henry Reynolds” (Drayton), I: 196 Epistle to Her Grace Henrietta . . . , An (Gay), III: 67 “Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds” (Keats), IV: 221 Epistle to . . . Lord Carteret, An (Swift), III: 35 “Epistle to Mr. Dryden, An, . . .” (Wycherley), II: 322 Epistle to the . . . Earl of Burlington, An (Pope), see Moral Essays Epistle upon an Epistle, An (Swift), III: 35 Epistles to the King and Duke (Wycherley), II: 321 Epistola adversus Jovinianum (St. Jerome), I: 35 “Epitaph” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 243 “Epitaph for a Reviewer” (Cornford), VIII: 113 Epitaph For A Spy (Ambler), Supp. IV: 8 “Epitaph for Anton Schmidt” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264 Epitaph for George Dillon (Osborne), Supp. I: 329–330, 333 “Epitaph on a Fir–Tree” (Murphy), Supp. V: 317–318 “Epitaph on a Jacobite” (Macaulay), IV: 283 “Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries” (Housman), VI: 161, 415–416 Epitaph on George Moore (Morgan), VI: 86 “Epitaph on the Admirable Dramaticke Poet, W. Shakespeare, An” (Milton), II: 175 “Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers” (Carew), II: 224 “Epitaphs” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Epitaphs and Occasions (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 “Epitaphs for Soldiers” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Epitaphium Damonis (Milton), II: 175 “Epithalamion” (Hopkins), V: 376, 377 “Epithalamion” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229 Epithalamion (Spenser), I: 130–131; see also Amoretti and Epithalamion

EPIT−ETER “Epithalamion for Gloucester” (Lydgate), I: 58 “Epithalamion Thamesis” (Spenser), I: 123 “Epithalamium” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 “Epithalamium” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 Epoch and Artist (Jones), Supp. VII: 168, 170, 171 Epping Hunt, The (Hood), IV: 256, 257, 267 Equal Love (Davies), Supp. XIV: 35, 36, 40–45 “Equal Love” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 42–43 Equal Music, An (Seth), Supp. X: 277, 288–290 Equal Skies, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 193 Equus (Shaffer), Supp. I: 318, 323, 324– 326, 327 Erdman, D. V., III: 289n, 307 Erechtheus (Swinburne), V: 314, 331, 332 Erewhon (Butler), Supp. II: 99–101 Erewhon Revisited (Butler), Supp. II: 99, 111, 116–117 Eric Ambler (Lewis), Supp. IV: 13 Eric Brighteyes (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Eridanus (Lowry), Supp. III: 280 Ermine, The (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135, 144 “Ermine, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 Ernie’s Incredible Illucinations (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 “Eros and Anteros” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Eros and Psyche (Bridges), VI: 83 “Erotion” (Swinburne), V: 320 Erpingham Camp, The (Orton), Supp. V: 367, 371, 375–376 “Errata” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 442 Erskine, Andrew, III: 247 “Erstwhile” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 Esau (Kerr), Supp. XII: 186–187, 194, 195 Escape (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 287 “Escaped Cock, The” (Lawrence), VII: 91, 115 “Escaped From The Massacre?” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 54 “Escapement” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Escapist, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 127–128 “Eschatology” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Escorial, The” (Hopkins), V: 361 Esio Trot (Dahl), Supp. IV: 225 Esmond in India (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 226–227 Espalier, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 371 “Especially when the October Wind” (Thomas), Supp. I: 173 Espedair Street (Banks), Supp. XI: 5–6 Esprit de Corps (Durrell), Supp. I: 113 Essai sur l’étude de la littérature (Gibbon), III: 222, 223 Essais (Montaigne), III: 39

Essay Concerning Human Understanding (Locke), III: 22; Supp. III: 233 “Essay Concerning Humour in Comedy, An” (Congreve), see Concerning Humour in Comedy Essay of Dramatick Poesy (Dryden), I: 328, 349; II: 301, 302, 305; III: 40 “Essay on Burmese Days” (Orwell), VII: 276 “Essay on Christianity, An” (Shelley), IV: 199, 209 Essay on Comedy and the Uses of the Comic Spirit, An (Meredith), V: 224– 225, 234 Essay on Criticism, An (Pope), II: 197; III: 68, 72, 77; Retro. Supp. I: 230, 231, 233 Essay on Irish Bulls (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 155–156 Essay on Man, An (Pope), III: 72, 76, 77–78, 280; Retro. Supp. I: 229–231, 235 Essay on Mind, An (Browning), IV: 310, 316, 321 “Essay on Percy Bysshe Shelley, An” (Browning), IV: 357, 366, 374 Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, An (Newman), Supp. VII: 296–297, 301 Essay on the Dramatic Poetry of the Last Age (Dryden), I: 328 Essay on the External use of Water . . ., An (Smollett), III: 158 Essay on the First Book of T. Lucretius Carus de Rerum Natura, An (Evelyn), see De rerum natura “Essay on Freewill” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 38 Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope (Warton), III: 170n Essay on the Genius of George Cruikshank, An (Thackeray), V: 37 Essay on the History and Reality of Apparitions, An (Defoe), III: 14 Essay on the Idea of Comedy (Meredith), I: 201–202 Essay on the Lives and Works of Our Uneducated Poets (Southey), IV: 71 Essay on the Principle of Population (Malthus), IV: xvi, 127 Essay on the Principles of Human Action, An (Hazlitt), IV: 128, 139 Essay on the Theatre; Or, A Comparison Between the Laughing and Sentimental Comedy (Goldsmith), III: 187, 256 Essay on the Theory of the Earth (Cuvier), IV: 181 Essay to Revive the Antient Education of Gentlewomen, An (Makin), Supp. III: 21 Essay Towards an Abridgement of the English History, An (Burke), III: 205 Essay upon Projects, An (Defoe), III: 12; Retro. Supp. I: 64, 75 Essayes (Cornwallis), III: 39 Essays (Bacon), I: 258, 259, 260, 271; III: 39 Essays (Goldsmith), III: 180 Essays and Leaves from a Note–book (Eliot), V: 200

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Essays and Reviews (Newman), V: 340 Essays and Studies (Swinburne), V: 298, 332 Essays and Treatises on Several Subjects (Hume), Supp. III: 238 Essays from “The Guardian“ (Pater), V: 357 Essays Illustrative of the Tatler (Drake), III: 51 Essays in Criticism (Arnold), III: 277; V: xxiii, 203, 204–205, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216 Essays in Divinity (Donne), I: 353, 360, 363; Retro. Supp. II: 95 Essays in London and Elsewhere (James), VI: 49, 67 Essays in Verse and Prose (Cowley), II: 195 Essays, Moral and Political (Hume), Supp. III: 231, 237 Essays, Moral and Political (Southey), IV: 71 Essays of Elia (Lamb), IV: xviii, 73, 74, 75, 76, 82–83, 85 Essays of Five Decades (Priestley), VII: 212 Essays on Freethinking and Plainspeaking (Stephen), V: 283, 289 Essays on His Own Times (Coleridge), IV: 56 Essays on Literature and Society (Muir), Supp. VI: 202 Essays on Shakespeare (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 193 Essays, Speculative and Suggestive (Ellis and Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 Essays, Theological and Literary (Hutton), V: 157, 170 Essence of Christianity, The (tr. Eliot), V: 200 Essence of the Douglas Cause, The (Boswell), III: 247 “Essential Beauty” (Larkin), Supp. I: 279 Essential Gesture (Gordimer), Supp. II: 226, 237, 239, 242, 243 “Essential Gesture, The” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 225 Essential Reading (Reading), VIII: 270– 271 Essex Poems (Davie), Supp. VI: 109– 111 Esslin, Martin, Supp. IV: 181; Retro. Supp. I: 218–219 Estate of Poetry, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 197–198, 202, 203, 209 Esther Waters (Moore), VI: ix, xii, 87, 89, 91–92, 96, 98 Estuary, The (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “Et Cetera” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 60 “Et Dona Ferentes” (Wilson), Supp. I: 157 Et Nobis Puer Natus Est (Dunbar), VIII: 128 “Et Tu, Healy” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 169 “Eternal City” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Eternal Contemporaries” (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 Eternal Moment, The (Forster), VI: 399, 400

ETER−EXEC Eternity to Season: Poems of Separation and Reunion (Harris), Supp. V: 132, 136 “Ether” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 Etherege, Sir George, II: 255, 256, 266– 269, 271, 305 Etherege and the Seventeenth–Century Comedy of Manners (Underwood), II: 256n Ethical Characters (Theophrastus), II: 68 Ethics of the Dust, The (Ruskin), V: 180, 184 Ethnic Radio (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 276–277 Etruscan Places (Lawrence), VII: 116, 117 Euclid and His Modern Rivals (Carroll), V: 264, 274 Eugene Aram (Bulwer–Lytton), IV: 256; V: 22, 46 “Eugene Aram” (Hood), see “Dream of Eugene Aram, The Murderer, The“ Eugene Onegin (Pushkin), Supp. IV: 485 “Eugene Pickering” (James), VI: 69 Eugenia (Chapman), I: 236, 240 Eugénie Grandet (Balzac), Supp. IV: 124 Eugenius Philalethes, pseud. of Thomas Vaughan Euphranor: A Dialogue on Youth (FitzGerald), IV: 344, 353 Euphues and His England (Lyly), I: 194, 195–196 Euphues, The Anatomy of Wit (Lyly), I: 165, 193–196 Euripides, IV: 358; V: 321–324 Europa’s Lover (Dunn), Supp. X: 75 “Europe” (James), VI: 69 Europe. A Prophecy (Blake), III: 302, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 39, 41–42 European Tribe, The (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 384–385 European Witness (Spender), Supp. II: 489–490 Europeans, The (James), VI: 29–31 “Eurydice” (Sitwell), VII: 136–137 Eurydice, a Farce (Fielding), III: 105 “Eurydice to Orpheus” (Browning), Retro. Supp. II: 28 “Eurynome” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Eustace and Hilda: A Trilogy (Hartley), Supp. VII: 119, 120, 122, 123–124, 127, 131, 132 Eustace Diamonds, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Eustace Diamonds, The (Trollope), V: xxiv, 96, 98, 101, 102 Eustace, Robert, see Barton, Eustace Eva Trout (Bowen), Supp. II: 82, 94 “Evacuees, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Evagatory (Reading), VIII: 272–273 Evan Harrington (Meredith), V: xxii, 227, 234 Evangelium Nicodemi (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX: 252, 254–255 Evans, Abel, II: 335 Evans, G. Blakemore, I: 326 Evans, Marian, see Eliot, George “Eve”(Rossetti), V: 258

“Eve of St. Agnes, The” (Keats), III: 338; IV: viii, xviii, 212, 216–219, 231, 235; V: 352; Retro. Supp. I: 193 Eve of Saint John, The (Scott), IV: 38 “Eve of St. Mark, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 “Eve of St. Mark, The” (Keats), IV: 212, 216, 218, 220, 226 “Eveline” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 172 “Even the Trees” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 104 “Evening Alone at Bunyah” (Murray), Supp. VII: 272 Eve’s Ransom (Gissing), V: 437 Evelina (Burney), III: 90, 91; IV: 279; Supp. III: 64, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71–72, 75–76 “Eveline” (Joyce), VII: 44 Evelyn, John, II: 194, 196, 273–280, 286–287 Evelyn Innes (Moore), VI: 87, 92 Evelyn Waugh (Lodge), Supp. IV: 365 “Even So” (Rossetti), V: 242 “Even Such Is Time” (Ralegh), I: 148– 149 Evening (Macaulay), IV: 290 Evening Colonnade, The (Connolly), Supp. III: 98, 110, 111 Evening Standard (periodical), VI: 247, 252, 265 Evening Walk, An (Wordsworth), IV: xv 2, 4–5, 24 Evening’s Love, An; or, The Mock Astrologer (Dryden), II: 305 Events and Wisdom (Davie), Supp. VI: 109 “Events at Drimaghleen” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505 “Events in your life” (Kelman), Supp. V: 251 Ever After (Swift), Supp. V: 438–440 “Ever drifting down the stream” (Carroll), V: 270 “Ever Fixed Mark, An” (Amis), Supp. II: 3 “Ever mine hap is slack and slow in coming” (Wyatt), I: 110 “Everlasting Gospel” (Blake), III: 304 Everlasting Man, The (Chesterton), VI: 341–342 Everlasting Spell, The: A Study of Keats and His Friends (Richardson), IV: 236 “Evermore” (Barnes), Supp. IV: 75–76 Every Changing Shape (Jennings), Supp. V: 207, 213, 215 Every Day of the Week (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 423 Every Good Boy Deserves Favour (Stoppard), Supp. I: 450, 451, 453; Retro. Supp. II: 351 Every Man for Himself (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 25–26, 27 Every Man out of His Humor (Jonson), I: 336–337, 338–340; II: 24, 27 Every–Body’s Business, Is No–Body’s Business (Defoe), III: 13–14 Everybody’s Political What’s What? (Shaw), VI: 125, 129 Everyman, II: 70 Everyman in His Humor (Jonson), I: 336–337; Retro. Supp. I: 154, 157–

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159, 166 “Everything that is born must die” (Rossetti), V: 254 “Everything You Can Remember in Thirty Seconds Is Yours to Keep” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 43–44 Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as Given by the Four Evangelists, Critically Examined (Butler), Supp. II: 99, 102 Evidences of Christianity (Paley), IV: 144 Evil Genius: A Domestic Story, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 103 Evolution and Poetic Belief (Roppen), V: 221n “Evolution of Tears, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 322–323 Evolution Old and New (Butler), Supp. II: 106, 107 Ewart, Gavin, VII: 422, 423–424, Supp. VII: 33–49 Ewart Quarto, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 44 “Ewes” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 108 “Ex Lab” (Reading), VIII: 265 Ex Voto (Butler), Supp. II: 114 “Exact Fare Please” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 91 Examen Poeticum (ed. Dryden), II: 290, 291, 301, 305 Examination, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 371 “Examination at the Womb Door” (Hughes), Supp. I: 352; Retro. Supp. II: 207 Examination of Certain Abuses, An (Swift), III: 36 Examiner (periodical), III: 19, 26, 35, 39; IV: 129 “Example of a Treatise on Universal Justice; or, The Fountains of Equity” (Bacon), I: 261 “Examples of Antitheses” (Bacon), I: 261 “Examples of the Colours of Good and Evil” (Bacon), I: 261, 264 Examples of the Interposition of Providence in . . . Murder (Fielding), III: 105 “Excavations” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219 “Excellent New Ballad, An” (Montrose), II: 236–237 Excellent Women (Pym), Supp. II: 367– 370 Except the Lord (Cary), VII: 186, 194– 195 “Exercise in the Pathetic Fallacy” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 Excession (Banks), Supp. XI: 12 “Exchange of Letters” (Cope), VIII: 78–79 “Excursion” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 192 Excursion, The (Wordsworth), IV: xvii, 5, 22–24, 95, 129, 214, 230, 233 Excursions in the Real World (Trevor), Supp. IV: 499 “Excuse, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 98 “Execration Upon Vulcan, An” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165

EXEC−FAIT “Execution of Cornelius Vane, The” (Read), VI: 436 “Exequy To his Matchlesse never to be forgotten Friend, An” (King), Supp. VI: 153 “Exequy, The” (King), Supp. VI: 153– 155, 159, 161 “Exercisers” (Mistry), Supp. X: 139–140 Exeter Book, The, Retro. Supp. II: 303– 305 “Exeunt Omnes” (Cornford), VIII: 114 “Exfoliation” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “Exhortation” (Shelley), IV: 196 Exiles (Joyce), VII: 42–43; Supp. II: 74; Retro. Supp. I: 175–176 Exiles, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218–219 “Existentialists and Mystics” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 216–217, 219, 220 “Exit” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 Exit Lines (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 115 Exorcist, The (film), III: 343, 345 Exodus, Retro. Supp. II: 301 “Exotic Pleasures” (Carey), Supp. XII: 55 “Expanding Universe, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 “Expected, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, The (Smollett), see Humphrey Clinker Expedition of Orsua and the Crimes of Aquirre, The (Southey), IV: 71 “Expelled, The” (Beckett), Supp. I: 49– 50; Retro. Supp. I: 21 Experience of India, An (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235 “Experience with Images” (MacNeice), VII: 401, 414, 419 Experiment, The (Defoe), III: 13 Experiment in Autobiography (Wells), V: 426–427, 429, 438; VI: xi, 225, 320, 333 Experiment in Criticism, An (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264 Experimental Drama (Armstrong), VII: 14 Experimenting with an Amen (Thomas), Supp. XII: 289 Experiments (Douglas), VI: 296, 305 “Expiation” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 236 “Explained” (Milne), Supp. V: 303 “Explaining France” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 Exploded View, An (Longley), VIII: 166, 169–172 Explorations (Knights), II: 123 “Explorer, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 “Explorers, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Explosion, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285– 286 Exposition of the First Ten Chapters of Genesis, An (Bunyan), II: 253 Expostulation (Jonson), I: 243 “Expostulation and Inadequate Reply” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “Expostulation and Reply” (Wordsworth), IV: 7 “Exposure” (Heaney), Supp. II: 275

“Exposure” (Owen), VI: 446, 450, 452, 455, 457 Exposure of Luxury, The: Radical Themes in Thackeray (Hardy), V: 39 Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals, The (Darwin), Supp. VII: 26–28 “Expurgations” (Nye), Supp. X: 200 “Ex–Queen Among the Astronomers, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 7 “Exstasie, The” (Donne), II: 197; Retro. Supp. II: 88 “Extempore Effusion on the Death of the Ettrick Shepherd” (Wordsworth), IV: 73 Extending the Territory (Jennings), Supp. V: 216 “Extracts from a Lady’s Log–Book” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 161 Extravagant Strangers: A Literature of Belonging (ed. Phillips), Supp. V: 380 Extravagaria (tr. Reid), Supp. VII: 332 Exultations (Pound), Supp. III: 398 Eye for an Eye, An (Trollope), V: 102 Eye in the Door, The (Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 57, 59–61 “Eye of Allah, The” (Kipling), VI: 169, 190–191 Eye of the Hurricane, The (Adcock), Supp. XII: 1, 4 Eye of the Scarecrow, The (Harris), Supp. V: 136–137, 139, 140 Eye of the Storm, The (White), Supp. I: 132, 146–147 Eye to Eye (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105, 110–112, 114 Eyeless in Gaza (Huxley), II: 173; VII: 204–205 “Eyes and Tears” (Marvell), II: 209, 211 Eyes of Asia, The (Kipling), VI: 204 “Eyewitness” (Armitage), VIII: 4 Eyrbyggja saga, VIII: 235, 239, 240 Ezra Pound and His Work (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 4 “Ezra Pound in Pisa” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110, 113 Ezra Pound: Poet as Sculptor (Davie), Supp. VI: 115

F aber

Book of Contemporary Irish Poetry, The (ed. Muldoon), Supp. IV: 409, 410–411, 422, 424 Faber Book of Pop, The (ed. Kureishi and Savage), Supp. XI: 159 Faber Book of Sonnets (ed. Nye), Supp. X: 193 Faber Book of Twentieth–Century Women’s Poetry, The (ed. Adcock), Supp. XII: 2 “Faber Melancholy, A” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Fabian Essays in Socialism (Shaw), VI: 129 Fabian Freeway (Martin), VI: 242 Fabian Society, Supp. IV: 233 “Fable” (Golding), Supp. I: 67, 83 “Fable of the Widow and Her Cat, A” (Swift), III: 27, 31 Fables (Dryden), II: 293, 301, 304; III: 40; IV: 287

346

Fables (Gay), III: 59, 67 Fables (Powys). See No Painted Plumage Fables (Stevenson), V: 396 “Fables, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Façade (Sitwell and Walton), VII: xv, xvii, 128, 130, 131n, 132 “Face of an Old Highland Woman” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 213 Face of the Deep, The (Rossetti), V: 260 Face to Face: Short Stories (Gordimer), Supp. II: 226 “Faces” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 79 “Faces, The” (James), VI: 69 “Faces Come Thicker at Night” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228 Facial Justice (Hartley), Supp. VII: 131 Facilitators, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 “Facing the Pacific at Night” (Hart), Supp. XI: 129 “Factory–Owner, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 Fadiman, Clifton, Supp. IV: 460 Faerie Queene, The (Spenser), I: 121, 123, 124, 131–141, 266; II: 50; IV: 59, 198, 213; V: 142 “Faery Song, A” (Yeats), VI: 211 “Faeth Fiadha: The Breastplate of Saint Patrick” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 “Fafaia” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55–56 “Fag Hags” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 174 Fagrskinna, VIII: 242 “Failed Mystic” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188, 194 “Failure, A” (Thackeray), V: 18 Fair Haven, The (Butler), Supp. II: 99, 101–103, 104, 117 “Fair Ines” (Hood), IV: 255 Fair Jilt, The; or, The Amours of Prince Tarquin and Miranda (Behn), Supp. III: 29, 31–32 Fair Maid of the Inn, The (Ford, Massinger, Webster), II: 66, 69, 83, 85 Fair Margaret (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Fair Quarrel, A (Middleton and Rowley), II: 1, 3, 21 “Fair Singer, The” (Marvell), II: 211 Fairfield, Cicely, see West, Rebecca Fairly Dangerous Thing, A (Hill, R.), Supp. IX:111, 114 Fairly Honourable Defeat, A (Murdoch), Supp. I: 226, 227, 228, 232–233 Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry (ed. Yeats), VI: 222 Fairy Caravan, The (Potter), Supp. III: 291, 303–304, 305, 306, 307 Fairy Knight, The (Dekker and Ford), II: 89, 100 “Fairy Poems” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Faith” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21 “Faith” (Herbert), II: 127 Faith Healer (Friel), Supp. V: 123 “Faith Healing” (Larkin), Supp. I: 280– 281, 282, 285 “Faith on Trial, A” (Meredith), V: 222 Faithful Fictions: The Catholic Novel in British Literature (Woodman), Supp.

FAIT−FASH IV: 364 Faithful Friends, The, II: 67 Faithful Narrative of . . . Habbakkuk Hilding, A (Smollett), III: 158 Faithful Shepherdess, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 46, 49–52, 53, 62, 65, 82 “Faithful Wife, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4–5 “Faithfulness of GOD in the Promises, The” (Blake), III: 300 “Faithless Nelly Gray” (Hood), IV: 257 “Faithless Sally Brown” (Hood), IV: 257 Faiz, Faiz Ahmad, Supp. IV: 434 “Falk” (Conrad), VI: 148 Falkner (Shelley), Supp. III: 371 “Fall in Ghosts” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 “Fall of a Sparrow” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294 Fall of Hyperion, The (Keats), IV: xi, 211–213, 220, 227–231, 234, 235 Fall of Kelvin Walker, The (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 85, 89 Fall of Princes, The (Lydgate), I: 57, 58, 59, 64 Fall of Robespierre, The (Coleridge and Southey), IV: 55 “Fall of Rome, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 11 “Fall of the House of Usher, The” (Poe), III: 339 “Fall of the West, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 Fallen Angels (Coward), Supp. II: 141, 145 Fallen Leaves, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 93, 102 “Fallen Majesty” (Yeats), VI: 216 “Fallen Yew, A” (Thompson), V: 442 Falling (Howard), Supp. XI: 142, 144– 145 Falling into Language (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 Falling Out of Love and Other Poems, A (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 Fallon, Peter, Supp. XII: 101–116 “Fallow Deer at the Lonely House, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 Fallowell, Duncan, Supp. IV: 173 “Falls” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Falls, The (Rankin), Supp. X: 245 False Alarm, The (Johnson), III: 121 False Friend, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204, 211 False Friend, The (Vanbrugh), II: 325, 333, 336 “False Morality of the Lady Novelists, The” (Greg), V: 7 False One, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 43, 66 “False though she be to me and love” (Congreve), II: 269 Falstaff (Nye), Supp. X: 193, 195 Fame’s Memoriall; or, The Earle of Devonshire Deceased (Ford), II: 100 Familiar and Courtly Letters Written by Monsieur Voiture (ed. Boyer), II: 352, 364 “Familiar Endeavours” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 317

Familiar Letters (Richardson), III: 81, 83, 92 Familiar Letters (Rochester), II: 270 Familiar Studies of Men and Books (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 262–263 Familiar Tree, A (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294, 297–298, 302 Family (Doyle), Supp. V: 78, 91 Family (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 117, 118, 123–124 Family Album (Coward), Supp. II: 153 Family and a Fortune, A (Compton– Burnett), VII: 60, 61, 62, 63, 66 Family and Friends (Brookner), Supp. IV: 127–129 Family Instructor, The (Defoe), III: 13, 82; Retro. Supp. I: 68 Family Madness, A (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Family Man and the Rake, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Family Matters (Mistry), Supp. X: 144, 147–148 Family Memories (West), Supp. III: 431, 432, 433, 434 Family of Love, The (Dekker and Middleton), II: 3, 21 Family of Swift, The (Swift), Retro. Supp. I: 274 Family Prayers (Butler), Supp. II: 103 “Family Reunion” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229–230 Family Reunion, The (Eliot), VII: 146, 151, 154, 158, 160; Retro. Supp. II: 132 Family Romance, A (Brookner), see Dolly “Family Sagas”, See Íslendinga sögur “Family Seat” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Family Sins (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505 “Family Supper, A” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 304 “Family Tree” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 76 Family Tree, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 “Family Visit” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 Family Voices (Pinter), Supp. I: 378 “Famine, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 126 Famished Road, The (Okri), Supp. V: 347, 348, 349, 350, 351, 352–353, 357–359 Famous for the Creatures (Motion), Supp. VII: 252 “Famous Ghost of St. Ives, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235–237 Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyat, The (Webster), II: 85 Famous Tragedy of the Queen of Cornwall . . . , The (Hardy), VI: 20 Famous Victoria of Henry V, The, I: 308– 309 Fan, The: A Poem (Gay), III: 67 Fanatic Heart, A (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 Fancies, Chaste and Noble, The (Ford), II: 89, 91–92, 99, 100 “Fancy” (Keats), IV: 221 “Fancy, A” (Greville), Supp. XI: 109 Fancy and Imagination (Brett), IV: 57 Fanfare for Elizabeth (Sitwell), VII: 127

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“Fanny and Annie” (Lawrence), VII: 90, 114, 115 Fanny Brawne: A Biography (Richardson), IV: 236 Fanny’s First Play (Shaw), VI: 115, 116, 117, 129 Fanon, Frantz, Supp. IV: 105 “Fanon the Awakener“ (Armah), Supp. X: 2 Fanshawe, Sir Richard, II: 49, 222, 237 Fanshen (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 284 Fanshen (Hinton), Supp. IV: 284 “Fantasia” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Fantasia of the Unconscious (Lawrence), VII: 122; Retro. Supp. II: 234 “Fantasia on ’Horbury“’ (Hill), Supp. V: 187 Fantastic Mr. Fox (Dahl), Supp. IV: 203, 223 fantasy fiction, VI: 228–235, 338, 399 Fantasy and Fugue (Fuller), Supp. VII: 71–72 Fantomina (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Far Cry (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 184–185 “Far—Far—Away” (Tennyson), IV: 330 Far from the Madding Crowd (Hardy), VI: 1, 5–6; Retro. Supp. I: 113–114 Far Journey of Oudin, The (Harris), Supp. V: 132, 134, 135 Far Journeys (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157 Far Side of the World, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256 “Fare Thee Well” (Byron), IV: 192 Fares Please! An Omnibus (Coppard), VIII: 89 “Farewell, A” (Arnold), V: 216 Farewell the Trumpets: An Imperial Retreat (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 179, 181 “Farewell to Angria” (Brontë), V: 125 “Farewell to Essay–Writing, A” (Hazlitt), IV: 135 Farewell to Military Profession (Rich), I: 312 Farewell to Poesy (Davies), Supp. XI: 96 “Farewell to Tobacco” (Lamb), IV: 81 Farfetched Fables (Shaw), VI: 125, 126 Farina (Meredith), V: 225, 234 Farm, The (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 411, 412, 414 “Farm Funeral” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 Farmer Giles of Ham (Tolkien), Supp. II: 521 “Farmer’s Ingle, The” (Fergusson), III: 318 Farmer’s Year, A (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Farmhouse Time” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Farnham, William, I: 214 Farquhar, George, II: 334–335, 351–365 Farrell, Barry, Supp. IV: 223 Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, The (Defoe), III: 13; Retro. Supp. I: 71 Farthing Hall (Walpole and Priestley), VII: 211 Fascinating Foundling, The (Shaw), VI: 129 “Fashionable Authoress, The” (Thackeray), V: 22, 37

FASH−FIFT Fashionable Lover, The (Cumberland), III: 257 “Fasternis Eve in Hell” (Dunbar), VIII: 126 Fasti (Ovid), II: 110n “Fat Contributor Papers, The” (Thackeray), V: 25, 38 “Fat Man in History, The” (Carey), Supp. XII: 54 Fat Man in History, The: Short Stories (Carey), Supp. XII: 52, 54 Fat Man in History and Other Stories, The (Carey), Supp. XII: 52, 55 Fat Woman’s Joke, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 521, 522–524, 525 “Fat Yank’s Lament, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 “Fatal Boots, The” (Thackeray), V: 21, 37 Fatal Dowry, The (Massinger and Field), Supp. XI: 182, 184 Fatal Gift, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 276 Fatal Inversion, A (Rendell), Supp. IX: 201 Fatal Revenge, The; or, The Family of Montorio (Maturin), VIII: 200, 207 Fatal Secret, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 “Fatal Sisters, The” (Gray), III: 141 Fatality in Fleet Street (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35 Fate of Homo Sapiens, The (Wells), VI: 228 Fate of Mary Rose, The (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 11–12 “Fate Playing” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 217 “Fates, The” (Owen), VI: 449 Fates of the Apostles, Retro. Supp. II: 301 Father and His Fate, A (Compton– Burnett), VII: 61, 63 “Father and Lover” (Rossetti), V: 260 “Father and Son” (Butler), Supp. II: 97 Father Brown stories (Chesterton), VI: 338 Father Damien (Stevenson), V: 383, 390, 396 “Father Mat” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 194 Fathers and Sons (tr. Friel), Supp. V: 124 Father’s Comedy, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74, 75–76, 77, 81 “Fathers, Sons and Lovers” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 Fathers, The; or, The Good–Natur’d Man (Fielding), III: 98, 105 “Fatigue, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 175 Faulkner, Charles, VI: 167 “Fault” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 95–96 “Faunal” (Reading), VIII: 273 Faust (Goethe), III: 344; IV: xvi, xix, 179 Faust (Nye), Supp. X: 195 “Faustine” (Swinburne), V: 320 Faustine (Tennant), Supp. IX: 231, 238 Faustus and the Censor (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 196–197 Faustus Kelly (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 323, 335–337

Fawkes, F., III: 170n Fawn, The (Marston), II: 30, 40 Fay Weldon’s Wicked Fictions (Weldon), Supp. IV: 522, 531 “Fear” (Collins), III: 166, 171, 336 “Fear, A” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 Fear, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 Fearful Pleasures (Coppard), VIII: 91, 97 “Fearless” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 121– 122 Fears in Solitude . . . (Coleridge), IV: 55 Feast Days (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 13, 16–18 Feast of Bacchus, The (Bridges), VI: 83 “Feast of Famine, The” (Stevenson), V: 396 Feast of Lupercal, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 142, 143, 146–147 “Feastday of Peace, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 291 “February” (Hughes), Supp. I: 342 “February” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Feed My Swine (Powys), VIII: 249, 255 “Feeding Ducks” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 Feeding the Mind (Carroll), V: 274 “Feeling into Words” (Heaney), Supp. II: 272, 273 Feersum Endjinn (Banks), Supp. XI: 12, 13 Felicia’s Journey (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505, 517 “Félise” (Swinburne), V: 321 Felix Holt, The Radical (Eliot), V: xxiii, 195–196, 199, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 111–112 “Felix Randal” (Hopkins), V: 368–369, 371; Retro. Supp. II: 196 Fell of Dark (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 110– 111 “Fellow–Townsmen” (Hardy), VI: 22 Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien), Supp. II: 519 Felony: The Private History of the Aspern Papers (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Female Friends (Weldon), Supp. IV: 534–535 “Female God, The” (Rosenberg), VI: 432 Female Spectator (Haywood), Supp. XII: 136, 142–144 “Female Vagrant, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 5 “Feminine Christs, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 290 Feminine Mystique, The (Freidan), Supp. IV: 232 “Feminist Writer ’s Progress, A” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163, 164, 168 Fen (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 188, 191–192, 198 Fénelon, François, III: 95, 99 Fenton, James, Supp. IV: 450 Fenwick, Isabella, IV: 2 Ferdinand Count Fathom (Smollett), III: 153, 158 Fergus (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 143, 148, 150, 154 Ferguson, Helen, see Kavan, Anna

348

Fergusson, Robert, III: 312–313, 316, 317, 318 Ferishtah’s Fancies (Browning), IV: 359, 374 Fermor, Patrick Leigh, Supp. IV: 160 “Fern Hill” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177, 178, 179 Fernandez, Ramon, V: 225–226 “Ferret” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 Ferrex and Porrex (Norton and Sackville), see Gorboduc Festival at Farbridge (Priestley), VII: 219–210 “Festubert: The Old German Line” (Blunden), VI: 428 “Fetching Cows” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188 “Fetish” (Harris), Supp. V: 138 Feuerbach, Ludwig, IV: 364 “Feuille d’Album” (Mansfield), VII: 364 “Few Crusted Characters, A” (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 Few Green Leaves, A (Pym), Supp. II: 370, 382–384 Few Late Chrysanthemums, A (Betjeman), VII: 369–371 Few Sighs from Hell, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, V: 348 Ficino (philosopher), I: 237 “Ficino Notebook” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 264 Fiction (Reading), VIII: 264, 273 “Fiction” (Reading), VIII: 264 Fiction and the Reading Public (Leavis), VII: 233, 234 Fiction–Makers, The (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262–263 “Fiction: The House Party” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 “Fictions” (Reid), Supp. VII: 334 “Fiddler of the Reels, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Field, Isobel, V: 393, 397 Field, Nathaniel, II: 45, 66, 67 Field of Mustard, The (Coppard), VIII: 95–96 “Field of Mustard, The” (Coppard), VIII: 90, 96 “Field of Vision” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 Field of Waterloo, The (Scott), IV: 38 Field Work (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 275– 277; Retro. Supp. I: 124, 130 Fielding, Henry, II: 273; III: 62, 84, 94– 106, 148, 150; IV: 106, 189; V: 52, 287; Supp. II: 57, 194, 195; Supp. IV: 244; Retro. Supp. I: 79–92 Fielding, K. J., V: 43, 72 “Fields” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24 Fifer, C. N., III: 249 Fifine at the Fair (Browning), IV: 358, 367, 374; Retro. Supp. II:25 Fifteen Dead (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “Fifth Philosopher’s Song” (Huxley), VII: 199 “Fifth Province, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 71–72 Fifth, Queen, The (Ford), VI: 324 Fifth Queen Crowned, The (Ford), VI: 325, 326

FIFT−FIVE “Fifties, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “Fifty Faggots” (Thomas), Supp. III: 403 “Fifty Pounds” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Fifty Years of English Literature, 1900– 1950 (Scott–James), VI: 21 Fifty Years of Europe: An Album (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 185–186 “Fig Tree, The” (Ngu˜gı˜). See “Mugumo” “Fight, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 181 Fight for Barbara, The (Lawrence), VII: 120 “Fight to a Finish” (Sassoon), VI: 430 “Fight with a Water Spirit” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19, 20, 22 Fighting Terms (Gunn), Supp. IV: 256, 257–259 “Figure in the Carpet, The” (James), VI: 69 Figure of Beatrice: A Study of Dante, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 279, 284–285 “Figures on the Freize” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 File on a Diplomat (Brink), Supp. VI: 46 Filibusters in Barbary (Lewis), VII: 83 Fille du Policeman (Swinburne), V: 325, 333 Film (Beckett), Supp. I: 51, 59, 60 Filostrato (Boccaccio), I: 30 Filthy Lucre (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 23 Final Demands (Reading), VIII: 271, 273 Final Passage, The (Phillips), Supp. V: 380–383 “Final Problem, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 160, 172–173 Final Unfinished Voyage of Jack Aubrey, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 259 “Finale” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 99 Finch, Anne, Supp. IX: 65–78 Finden’s Byron Beauties (Finden), V: 111 Finding the Dead (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 Findings (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 139, 144–145 “Findings” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 145 Findlater, Richard, VII: 8 Fine Arts, The (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 256–257, 257–259 Fine Balance, A (Mistry), Supp. X: 142, 145–149 Finer Grain, The (James), VI: 67 Fingal (Macpherson), VIII: 181–182, 186–189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194 “Fingal’s Visit to Norway” (Macpherson), VIII: 186 Finished (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Finistére” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 Finnegans Wake (Joyce), VII: 42, 46, 52– 54; critical studies, VII: 58; Supp. III: 108; Retro. Supp. I: 169, 179–181 Firbank, Ronald, VII: 132, 200; Supp. II: 199–223 “Fire and Ice” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Fire and the Sun, The: Why Plato Banished the Artists (Murdoch), Supp. I: 230, 232 “Fire and the Tide” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260

Fire Down Below (Golding), Retro. Supp. I: 104–105 “Fire, Famine and Slaughter” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 53 Fire from Heaven (Renault), Supp. IX: 184–185 “Fire in the Wood, The” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267 Fire of the Lord, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 Fire on the Mountain (Desai), Supp. V: 53, 55, 64–65, 73 “Fire Sermon, The” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 127–128 Firework–Maker ’s Daughter, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 “Fireworks Poems” (Cope), VIII: 81 “Firing Practice” (Motion), Supp. VII: 251, 254, 257, 260 “Firm of Happiness, Ltd., The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 25–26 “Firm Views” (Hart), Supp. XI: 129 First Affair, The (Fallon), Supp. XII: 101, 102–103 First and Last Loves (Betjeman), VII: 357, 358, 359 First & Last Things (Wells), VI: 244 First and Second Poems (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 133, 137–139 First Anniversary, The (Donne), I: 188, 356; Retro. Supp. II: 94 “First Anniversary of the Government under O. C., The” (Marvell), II: 210, 211; Retro. Supp. II: 262–263 First Book of Odes (Bunting), Supp. VII: 5, 13 First Book of Urizen, The (Blake), III: 299, 300, 306, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 43–44 “First Countess of Wessex, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 First Earthquake, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 First Eleven, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 First Episode (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 308 First Flight, The (Heaney), Supp. II: 278 First Folio (Shakespeare), I: 299, 324, 325 First Grammatical Treatise, VIII: 236 First Hundred Years of Thomas Hardy, The (Weber), VI: 19 “First Hymn to Lenin” (MacDiarmid), Supp. III: 119; Supp. XII: 211 “‘First Impression’ (Tokyo), A” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 35 “First Impressions” (Austen), see Pride and Prejudice “First Journey, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 109 First Lady Chatterley, The (Lawrence), VII: 111–112 First Language (Carson), Supp. XIII: 54, 59–60 First Light (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 1, 8 “First Light” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 First Life of Adamastor, The (Brink), Supp. VI: 54–55, 57 “First Love” (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 21 “First Love” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5

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First Love, Last Rites (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390–392 “First Man, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264– 265 First Men in the Moon, The, (Wells), VI: 229, 234, 244 “First Men on Mercury, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 169 First Ode of the Second Book of Horace Paraphras’d, The (Swift), III: 35 “First Place, A: The Mapping of a World” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218 First Poems (Muir), Supp. VI: 198, 204– 205 First Poems (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 132, 134 First Satire (Wyatt), I: 111 First Satire of the Second Book of Horace, Imitated, The (Pope), III: 234 First Steps in Reading English (Richards), Supp. II: 425 First Things Last (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “First Things Last” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “First Things, Last Things” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228 “First Winter of War” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 First World War, see World War I First Year in Canterbury Settlement, A (Butler), Supp. II: 98, 112 Firstborn, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 196, 198–199, 207 Firth, Sir Charles Harding, II: 241; III: 25, 36; IV: 289, 290, 291 Fischer, Ernst, Supp. II: 228 “Fish” (Lawrence), VII: 119 “Fish, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 53, 56, 60 Fish Preferred (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460 “Fishermen, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 122 “Fisherman, The” (Yeats), VI: 214; Retro. Supp. I: 331 “Fishermen with Ploughs: A Poem Cycle (Brown), Supp. VI: 63 “Fishes in a Chinese Restaurant” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 “Fishing” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 287 Fishing for Amber (Carson), Supp. XIII: 54, 56, 63–65 Fishmonger’s Fiddle (Coppard), VIII: 89, 95 “Fishmonger’s Fiddle” (Coppard), VIII: 95 “Fishy Waters” (Rhys), Supp. II: 401 Fit for the Future: The Guide for Women Who Want to Live Well (Winterson), Supp. IV: 542 “Fitz–Boodle Papers, The” (Thackeray), V: 38 FitzGerald, Edward, IV: xvii, xxii, xxiii, 310, 340–353; V: xxv Fitzgerald, Penelope, Supp. V: 95–109 Fitzgerald, Percy, III: 125, 135 Five (Lessing), Supp. I: 239, 240, 241, 242

FIVE−FOOT Five Autumn Songs for Children’s Voices (Hughes), Supp. I: 357 “Five Dreams” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 “Five Dreams and a Vision” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 “Five Eleven Ninety Nine” (Armitage), VIII: 9–11, 15 Five Finger Exercise (Shaffer), Supp. I: 313, 314–317, 319, 322, 323, 327 Five Looks at Elizabeth Bishop (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264–265 “Five Minutes” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Five Metaphysical Poets (Bennett), II: 181, 202 Five Nations, The (Kipling), VI: 204 Five Novelettes by Charlotte Brontë (ed. Gérin), V: 151 “Five Orange Pips, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 174 “Five Poems on Film Directors” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 Five Red Herrings, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 334, 343–344 Five Rivers (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213– 215, 216 Five Sermons on the Errors of the Roman Catholic Church (Maturin), VIII: 197, 208 “Five Songs” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 11–12 “Five Students, The” (Hardy), VI: 17 Five Tales (Galsworthy), VI: 276 Five Uncollected Essays of Matthew Arnold (ed. Allott), V: 216 Fivefold Screen, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 Five–Year Plan, A (Kerr), Supp. XII: 194, 195 Fixed Period, The (Trollope), V: 102 Flag on the Island, A (Naipaul), Supp. I: 394 Flame in Your Heart, A (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 131–134, 143 Flame of Life, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 421, 424 Flame Tree (Hart), Supp. XI: 126–127 “Flaming Heart Upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphicall Saint Teresa, The” (Crashaw), II: 182 “Flaming sighs that boil within my breast, The” (Wyatt), I: 109–110 Flare Path (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311– 312, 313, 314 Flatman, Thomas, II: 133 Flaubert, Gustave, V: xviii–xxiv, 340, 353, 429; Supp. IV: 68, 69, 136, 157, 163, 167 Flaubert’s Parrot (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 68–70, 72, 73 Flaws in the Glass: A Self–Portrait (White), Supp. I: 129, 130, 132, 149 Flea, The (Donne), I: 355; Retro. Supp. II: 88 “Fleckno, an English Priest at Rome” (Marvell), II: 211 “Fleet” (Coppard), VIII: 88 Fleming, Ian, Supp. IV: 212 Fleming, Ian, Supp. XIV: 81–98

Fleshly School of Poetry, The (Buchanan), V: 238, 245 Fletcher, Ian, V: xii, xiii, xxvii, 359 Fletcher, Ifan Kyrle, Supp. II: 201, 202, 203 Fletcher, John, II: 42–67, 79, 82, 87–88, 90, 91, 93, 185, 305, 340, 357, 359 Fletcher, Phineas, II: 138 Fletcher, Thomas, II: 21 Fleurs du Mal (Baudelaire), V: xxii, 316, 329, 411 Fleurs du Mal (Swinburne), V: 329, 331, 333 “Flickerbridge” (James), VI: 69 “Flight” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 Flight from the Enchanter, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 220–222 Flight into Camden (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 410–411, 414, 415, 419 “Flight of the Duchess, The” (Browning), IV: 356, 361, 368; Retro. Supp. II: 24 “Flight of the Earls, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 Flight of the Falcon, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139, 141 Flint Anchor, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 376, 378–379 “Flitting, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281 Flood, A (Moore), VI: 99 Flood, The (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 246– 247, 250 “Flooded Meadows” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 Floor Games (Wells), VI: 227 “Flora” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 88 Flora Selbornesis (White), Supp. VI: 282–283 “Florent” (Gower), I: 55 Florentine Painting and Its Social Background (Antal), Supp. IV: 80 Flores Solitudinis (Vaughan), II: 185, 201 Floud, Peter, V: 296, 307 “Flower, The” (Herbert), II: 119n 125; Retro. Supp. II: 177–178 Flower Beneath the Foot, The (Firbank), Supp. II: 202, 205, 216–218 Flower Master, The (McGuckian), Supp. V: 277, 278, 281–282 “Flower Master, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281 Flower Master and Other Poems, The (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281 “Flower Poem” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 Flowers and Shadows (Okri), Supp. V: 347–348, 350, 352, 354–355 Flower of Courtesy (Lydgate), I: 57, 60, 62 Flowering Death of a Salesman (Stoppard), Supp. I: 439 Flowers and Insects (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 214 “Flowers of Empire, The” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 229 “Flowers of Evil” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 219 Flowering Rifle (Campbell), VII: 428 Flowering Wilderness (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 282

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Flowers of Passion (Moore), VI: 85, 98 Flurried Years, The (Hunt), VI: 333 Flush: A Biography (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 308, 320–321 Flute–Player, The (Thomas), Supp. IV: 479–480, 481 “Fly, The” (Blake), III: 295–296 “Fly, The” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 158 “Fly, The” (Mansfield), VII: 176 Fly Away Peter (Malouf), Supp. XII: 217, 224–225 “Flying Above California” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 263 “Flying Ace, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Flying Bum, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Flying Hero Class (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 Flying in to Love (Thomas), Supp. IV: 486–487 Flying Inn, The (Chesterton), VI: 340 “Flying to Belfast, 1977” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 167 “Flyting of Crawford and Herbert, The” (Crawford and Herbert), Supp. XI: 68 “Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedie, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 117, 118, 126–127 “Focherty” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 205 Foe (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 75–76, 83–84 Foe–Farrell (Quiller–Couch), V: 384 “Foetal Monitor Day, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Folding Star, The (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 120–122, 128–134 “Folie à Deux” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 29 “Folk Wisdom” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Folklore” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 Folk–Lore in the Old Testament (Frazer), Supp. III: 176 Follow My Leader (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 310 “Follower” (Heaney), Supp. IV: 410 “Followers, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 183 Following a Lark (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 “Folly” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327 Folly of Industry, The (Wycherley), II: 322 “Fond Memory” (Boland), Supp. V: 35 Fontaine amoureuse, I: 33 “Food of the Dead” (Graves), VII: 269 Fool, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434, 435 Fool of the World and Other Poems, The (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 “Fool’s Song” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Fools of Fortune (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502, 503, 512–514, 517 Foot of Clive, The (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 84–85 “Football at Slack” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 210–211 Foote, Samuel, III: 253; V: 261 Footfalls (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 28 Footnote to History, A: Eight Years of Trouble in Samoa (Stevenson), V: 396 “Footsteps of Death, The” (Steel), Supp. XII: 269

FOR A−FOUN “For a Five–Year–Old” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 5 “For a Greeting” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 “For a Young Matron” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 284–285 For All That I Found There (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 3–6, 8–9, 11 “For All We Have and Are” (Kipling), VI: 415 “For Andrew” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 5 “For Ann Scott–Moncrieff” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 For Children: The Gates of Paradise (Blake), III: 307 “For Conscience’ Sake” (Hardy), VI: 22 For Crying Out Loud (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 322–323 “For Des Esseintes” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 “For Heidi with Blue Hair” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “For John Heath–Stubbs” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 For Love Alone (Stead), Supp. IV: 470– 473 For Love and Life (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 For Love & Money: Writing, Reading, Traveling, 1967–1987 (Raban), Supp. XI: 228 “For M. S. Singing Frühlingsglaube in 1945” (Cornford), VIII: 111 For Queen and Country: Britain in the Victorian Age (ed. Drabble), Supp. IV: 230 “For Ring–Givers” (Reid), Supp. VII: 329 For Services Rendered (Maugham), VI: 368 “For St. James” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “For the Fallen” (Binyon), VI: 416; VII: 448 For the Islands I sing (Brown), Supp. VI: 61–66, 68–69 For the Municipality’s Elderly (Reading), VIII: 262–263 “For the Previous Owner” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 283 For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise (Blake), III: 307 For the Time Being (Auden), VII: 379; Retro. Supp. I: 10–11 For the Unfallen: Poems (Hill), Supp. V: 184–186 “For to Admire” (Kipling), VI: 203 “For Us All” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 For Your Eyes Only (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96, 97 “Forbidden Love of Noreen Tiernan, The” (McCabe), Supp. IX: 136–137 “Force, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Force, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Force of Nature, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 “Force that through the green fuse drives the flower, The” (Thomas), II: 156; Supp. I: 171–173, 177

Forc’d Marriage, The; or, The Jealous Bridegroom (Behn), Supp. III: 22, 24, 25–26 Ford, Charles, III: 33, 34 Ford, Ford Madox, VI: 145–146, 238, 319–333, 416, 439; VII: xi, xv, xxi, 89 Ford, John, II: 57, 69, 83, 85, 87–101 Ford Madox Ford (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 390, 391 Ford Madox Ford: Letters (ed. Ludwig), VI: 332 “Fordham Castle” (James), VI: 69 “Forebears” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 “Forefathers” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42– 43, 45 Foreign Parts (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117, 123–126, 129, 130 Foreigners, The (Tutchin), III: 3 “Foregone Conclusion, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Foreplay” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 “Forerunners, The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 180 Forest, The (Galsworthy), VI: 276, 287 Forest, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 164 Forest Minstrel, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 106 “Forest of Beguilement, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 16 “Forest Path to the Spring, The” (Lowry), Supp. III: 270, 282 Forester, C. S., Supp. IV: 207, 208 “Foresterhill” (Brown), Supp. VI: 59 Foresters, The (Tennyson), IV: 328, 338 Forests of Lithuania, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 108, 115 Forewords and Afterwords (Auden), VII: 394; Retro. Supp. I: 1, 6 “Forge, The” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 Forge, The (Hall), Supp. VI: 120–121, 124–125 “Forge, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 271; Retro. Supp. I: 128 “Forge, The” (Russell), VIII: 291 “Forget about me” (tr. Reid), Supp. VII: 332 Forget–Me–Not (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 157 “Forget not yet” (Wyatt), I: 106 Forging of Fantom, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117 Forgive Me, Sire (Cameron), Supp. IX: 17, 29 “Forgive Me, Sire” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 25–27 “Forgiveness” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217– 218 “Forgiveness, A” (Browning), IV: 360 Forgiveness of Sins, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 284 “Forgotten” (Milne), Supp. V: 303 “Forgotten of the Foot” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 “Form and Realism in the West Indian Artist” (Harris), Supp. V: 145 “Former House, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 “Former Paths” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 281 Fornaldarsögur, VIII: 236

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Forrest, James F., II: 245n Fors Clavigera (Ruskin), V: 174, 181, 184 “Forsaken” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 104, 106, 112 “Forsaken Garden, A” (Swinburne), V: 314, 327 Forster, E. M., IV: 302, 306; V: xxiv, 208, 229, 230; VI: xii, 365, 397–413; VII: xi, xv, 18, 21, 34, 35, 122, 144; Supp. I: 260; Supp. II: 199, 205, 210, 223, 227, 289, 293; Supp. III: 49; Supp. IV: 440, 489; Retro. Supp. II: 135– 150 Forster, John, IV: 87, 89, 95, 99, 100, 240; V: 47, 72 Forsyte Saga, The (Galsworthy), VI: xiii, 269, 272, 274; see also Man of Property, The; “Indian Summer of a Forsyte“; In Chancery; To Let Fortescue, Chichester, V: 76–83, 85 Fortnightly Review (periodical), V: 279, 338; Supp. XIII: 191 Fortunate Isles, and Their Union, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Fortunate Mistress, The: or, A History of . . . Mademoiselle de Beleau . . . (Defoe), III: 13 “Fortune, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 112– 113 Fortune of War, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256 Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, The (Defoe), see Moll Flanders Fortunes of Falstaff, The (Wilson), III: 116n Fortunes of Nigel, The (Scott), IV: 30, 35, 37, 39 “Fortune–Teller, a Gypsy Tale, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 Forty New Poems (Davies), Supp. XI: 97 Forty Years On (Bennett), VIII: 20–21, 22–23 “Forty–seventh Saturday, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 Forward from Liberalism (Spender), Supp. II: 488 Fóstbrœðra saga, VIII: 239, 241 Foster, A. D., III: 345 “Fostering” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 107– 108, 109 Foucault, Michel, Supp. IV: 442 Foucault’s Pendulum (Eco), Supp. IV: 116 “Found” (Rossetti), V: 240 Found in the Street (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171, 178–179 “Foundation of the Kingdom of Angria” (Brontë), V: 110–111 Foundations of Aesthetics, The (Richards and Ogden), Supp. II: 408, 409–410 Foundations of Joy, The (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 318 “Fountain” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 137 “Fountain” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210, 212 Fountain of Magic, The (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222

FOUN−FRES Fountain of Self–love, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 158, 160 Fountain Overflows, The (West), Supp. III: 431–432, 443 Fountains in the Sand (Douglas), VI: 294, 297, 299, 300, 305 Four Ages of Poetry, The (Peacock), IV: 168–169, 170 Four and a Half Dancing Men (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 Four Banks of the River of Space, The (Harris), Supp. V: 137, 140, 142–144 Four Countries (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216, 222 Four Day’s Wonder (Milne), Supp. V: 310 Four–Dimensional Nightmare, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 23 Four Dissertations (Hume), Supp. III: 231, 238 4.50 from Paddington (Christie; U.S. title, What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw), Supp. II: 132 Four Georges, The (Thackeray), V: 20, 34–35, 38 Fourth Horseman, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 295–296 Four Hymns (Spenser), I: 124 Four Last Things (More), Supp. VII: 234, 246–247 Four Lectures (Trollope), V: 102 “Four Letter Word, A” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 253 Four Loves, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264–265 “Four Meetings” (James), VI: 69 Four Plays (Stevenson and Henley), V: 396 Four Plays (White), Supp. I: 131 Four Plays for Dancers (Yeats), VI: 218 4.48 Psychosis (Kane), VIII: 148, 149, 150–151, 155, 159–160 Four Prentices of London with the Conquest of Jerusalem (Heywood), II: 48 Four Quartets (Eliot), VII: 143, 148, 153–157; Retro. Supp. II: 121, 130– 131; see also “The Dry Salvages,”“East Coker,”“Little Gidding“ “Four Sonnets” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 59 “Four Walks in the Country near Saint Brieuc” (Mahon) Supp. VI: 168 Four Zoas, The (Blake), III: 300, 302– 303, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 44 Four–Gated City, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 245, 248, 250, 251, 255 Foure–footed Beastes (Topsel), II: 137 “14 November 1973” (Betjeman), VII: 372 Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose (Sisam), I: 20, 21 “Fourth of May, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Fowler, Alastair, I: 237 Fowler, H. W., VI: 76 Fowles, John, Supp. I: 291–311 “Fowls Celestial and Terrestrial” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 140 Foxe, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 163, 164

Fox and the Wolf, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 138, 140 Fox, Caroline, IV: 54 Fox, Chris, Supp. IV: 88 Fox, George, IV: 45 Fox, Ralph, Supp. IV: 464, 466 “Fox, The” (Lawrence), VII: 90, 91 Fox, the Wolf, and the Cadger, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 140 Fox, the Wolf, and the Husbandman, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 140 “Fox Trot” (Sitwell), VII: 131 Foxe, that begylit the Wolf, in the Schadow of the Mone, The (Henryson), see Fox, the Wolf, and the Husbandman, The “Fra Lippo Lippi” (Browning), IV: 357, 361, 369; Retro. Supp. II: 27 Fra Rupert: The Last Part of a Trilogy (Landor), IV: 100 “Fracture” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 97–98 “Fragment” (Brooke), VI: 421 “Fragment” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202 “Fragment of a Greek Tragedy” (Housman), VI: 156 Fragmenta Aurea (Suckling), II: 238 Fragments (Armah), Supp. X: 1–6, 12 “Fragments” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 137– 138 Fragments of Ancient Poetry (Macpherson), VIII: 183–185, 187, 189, 194 “Fragoletta” (Swinburne), V: 320 “Frail as thy love, The flowers were dead” (Peacock), IV: 157 “Frame for Poetry, A” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 279 Framley Parsonage (Trollope), V: xxii, 93, 101 “France” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 “France, an Ode” (Coleridge), IV: 55 “France, December 1870” (Meredith), V: 223 “Frances” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 “Frances” (Brontë), V: 132 Francophile, The (Friel), Supp. V: 115 Francillon, R. E., V: 83 Francis, Dick, Supp. IV: 285 Francis, G. H., IV: 270 Francis, P., III: 249 “Francis Beaumont” (Swinburne), V: 332 Franck, Richard, II: 131–132 “Frank Fane: A Ballad” (Swinburne), V: 332 Frankenstein (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151 Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (Shelley), III: 329–331, 341, 342, 345; Supp. III: 355, 356– 363, 369, 372, 385; Retro. Supp. I: 247 Frankenstein Un–bound (Aldiss), III: 341, 345 Franklin’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 23 Fraser, Antonia, Supp. V: 20 Fraser, G. S., VI: xiv, xxxiii; VII: xviii, 422, 425, 443 Fraser’s (periodical), IV: 259; V: 19, 22, 111, 142 “Frater Ave atque Vale” (Tennyson), IV: 327, 336

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Fraternity (Galsworthy), VI: 274, 278, 279–280, 285 “Frau Brechenmacher Attends a Wedding” (Mansfield), VII: 172 “Frau Fischer” (Mansfield), VII: 172 Fraud (Brookner), Supp. IV: 134 Fraunce, Abraham, I: 122, 164 Frayn, Michael, Supp. VII: 51–65 Frazer, Sir James George, V: 204; Supp. III: 169–190; Supp. IV: 11, 19 Fred and Madge (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 366–367, 372 Frederick the Great (Mitford), Supp. X: 167 Fredy Neptune (Murray), Supp. VII: 271, 284–286 “Freddy” (Smith), Supp. II: 462 Fredolfo (Maturin), VIII: 207, 208, 209 Free and Offenceless Justification of a Lately Published and Most Maliciously Misinterpreted Poem Entitled “Andromeda Liberata, A“ (Chapman), I: 254 Free Fall (Golding), Supp. I: 75–78, 81, 83, 85; Retro. Supp. I: 98 Free Inquiry into the Nature and Origin of Evil (Jenyns), Retro. Supp. I: 148 “Free Radio, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 438 Free Thoughts on Public Affairs (Hazlitt), IV: 139 “Free Verse: A Post Mortem” (Hope), Supp. VII: 155 “Free Women” (Lessing), Supp. I: 246– 247 Freedom of the City, The (Friel), Supp. V: 111, 112, 120–121 Free–Holder (periodical), III: 51, 53 Free–Holders Plea against . . . Elections of Parliament–Men, The (Defoe), III: 12 Freelands, The (Galsworthy), VI: 279 Freeman, Rosemary, Retro. Supp. II: 178 Freidan, Betty, Supp. IV: 232 French, Sean, Supp. IV: 173 French Eton, A (Arnold), V: 206, 216 “French Flu, The” (Koestler), Supp. I: 35 French Gardiner, The: Instructing How to Cultivate All Sorts of Fruit–Trees . . . (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 French Lieutenant’s Woman, The (Fowles), Supp. I: 291, 300–303 French Lyrics (Swinburne), V: 333 French Poets and Novelists (James), VI: 67 French Revolution, The (Blake), III: 307; Retro. Supp. I: 37 French Revolution, The (Carlyle), IV: xii, xix, 240, 243, 245, 249, 250 French Without Tears (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 308–310, 311 Frenchman’s Creek (du Maurier), Supp. III: 144 Frequencies (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286, 287–288 Frere, John Hookham, IV: 182–183 “Fresh Water” (Motion), Supp. VII: 259, 262, 263, 264

FREU−FUTI Freud, Sigmund, Supp. IV: 6, 87, 331, 481, 482, 488, 489, 493 “Freya of the Seven Isles” (Conrad), VI: 148 Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (Greene), II: 3; VIII: 139, 140–&142 Friar’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 30 “Friary” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 “Friday; or, The Dirge” (Gay), III: 56 Friedman, A., III: 178, 190 Friel, Brian, Supp. V: 111–129 Friend (periodical), IV: 50, 55, 56 “Friend, The” (Milne), Supp. V: 303 Friend from England, A (Brookner), Supp. IV: 129–130 Friend of Heraclitus (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 5 “Friendly Epistle to Mrs. Fry, A” (Hood), IV: 257, 267 Friendly Tree, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 130–131 Friendly Young Ladies, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 174–175 Friends and Relations (Bowen), Supp. II: 84, 86–87 “Friends of the Friends, The” (James), VI: 69 “Friendship–Customs in the Pagan and Early World” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 “Friendship in Early Christian and Mediaeval Times” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 Friendship’s Garland (Arnold), V: 206, 213n, 215, 216 Friendships Offering (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 157 Fringe of Leaves, A (White), Supp. I: 132, 147–148 “Frog” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 18 “Frog and the Nightingale, The” (Seth), Supp. X: 287 Frog He Would A–Fishing Go, A (Potter), Supp. III: 298 Frog Prince and Other Poems (Smith), Supp. II: 463 “Frogmen” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 35, 42 “Frogs, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Froissart, Jean, I: 21 Frolic and the Gentle, The (Ward), IV: 86 “From a Brother ’s Standpoint” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 53–54 From a View to a Death (Powell), VII: 345, 353 From Adam’s Peak to Elephanta: Sketches in Ceylon and India (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 45–46 “From an Unfinished Poem” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262–263 From Bourgeois Land (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 213–214, 216, 220–221 From Centre City (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 From Doon with Death (Rendell), Supp. IX: 190–191, 197 From Every Chink of the Ark (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234, 236 From Feathers to Iron (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 122, 123–124

“From Friend to Friend” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 From Glasgow to Saturn (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 157–159, 162, 163, 167– 170 From Heaven Lake: Travels Through Sinkiang and Tibet (Seth), Supp. X: 277, 280–281, 290 From Man to Man (Schreiner), Supp. II: 439, 440, 441, 442, 450–452 “From My Diary. July 1914” (Owen), VI: 446 From My Guy to Sci–Fi: Genre and Women’s Writing in the Postmodern World (ed. Carr), Supp. XI: 164 “From my sad Retirement” (King), Supp. VI: 159 “From My Study” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 From Russia with Love (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 91, 94–95, 96, 97 “From Sorrow Sorrow Yet Is Born” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “From the Answers to Job” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 “From the Cliff” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5–6 From the Five Rivers (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 From the Four Winds (Galsworthy), VI: 276 “From the Frontier of Writing” (Heaney), Supp. II: 280 “From the Greek” (Landor), IV: 98 From the Joke Shop (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 “From the Life of a Dowser” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235, 237 “From the Middle Distance” (Armitage), VIII: 9 “From the New World” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “From the Night of Forebeing” (Thompson), V: 443, 448 “From the Painting Back from Market by Chardin” (Boland), Supp. V: 40 From “The School of Eloquence“ (Harrison), Supp. V: 150 “From the Top” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 80 “From the Wave” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 “From Tuscan cam my ladies worthi race” (Surrey), I: 114 “Frontliners” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 87 Frost, Robert, VI: 424; Supp. III: 394– 395; Supp. IV: 413, 420, 423, 480, 487 “Frost at Midnight” (Coleridge), IV: 41, 44, 55; Retro. Supp. II: 60 Frost in the Flower, The (O’Casey), VII: 12 Froude, James Anthony, IV: 238, 240, 250, 324; V: 278, 287 “Frozen” (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77 Frozen Deep, The (Collins), V: 42; Supp. VI: 92, 95 Frozen Flame, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Fruit” (Betjeman), VII: 373 Fry, Christopher, IV: 318; Supp. III: 191–210

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Fry, Roger, VII: xii, 34 “Frying–Pan, The ” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 227–228 “Fuchsia Blaze, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66 Fuel for the Flame (Waugh), Supp. VI: 276 Fuentes, Carlos, Supp. IV: 116, 440 Fugitive, The (Galsworthy), VI: 283 “Fugitive” (Russell), VIII: 291 Fugitive Pieces (Byron), IV: 192 Fulbecke, William, I: 218 “Fulbright Scholars” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 217 Fulford, William, VI: 167 “Full Measures” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Full Moon (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 459 “Full Moon and Little Frieda” (Hughes), Supp. I: 349–350 “Full Moon at Tierz: Before the Storming of Huesca” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 90–91 Full Moon in March, A (Yeats), VI: 222 Fuller, Roy, VII: 422, 428–431, Supp. VII: 67–82 Fuller, Thomas, I: 178; II: 45; Retro. Supp. I: 152 Fully Empowered (tr. Reid), Supp. VII: 332 Fumed Oak (Coward), Supp. II: 153 Fumifugium; or, The Inconvenience of Aer and Smoak . . . (Evelyn), II: 287 “Function of Criticism at the Present Time, The” (Arnold), V: 204–205, 212, 213 “Funeral, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Funeral, The (Steele), II: 359 “Funeral Blues” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 6 Funeral Games (Orton), Supp. V: 367, 372, 376–377 Funeral Games (Renault), Supp. IX: 186–187 “Funeral Music” (Hill), Supp. V: 187– 188 “Funeral of Youth, The: Threnody” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 “Funeral Poem Upon the Death of . . . Sir Francis Vere, A,”II: 37, 41 “Funerall, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89–90 “Fungi” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 “Funnel, The” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Furbank, P. N., VI: 397; Supp. II: 109, 119 Furetière, Antoine, II: 354 “Furies, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 200 Furies, The (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 261, 263–264 “Furnace, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 Furness, H. H., I: 326 Furnivall, F. J., VI: 102 Further Studies in a Dying Culture (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 43–47 Fussell, Paul, Supp. IV: 22, 57 “Fust and His Friends” (Browning), IV: 366 “Futility” (Owen), VI: 453, 455

FUTI−GAUD Futility Machine, The (Carey), Supp. XII: 51–52 “Future, The” (Arnold), V: 210 “Future, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 277 Future in America, The: A Search After Reality (Wells), VI: 244 Future of Ireland and the Awakening of the Fires, The (Russell), VIII: 282 “Future of Irish Literature, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 218, 227 “Future Work” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 “Futures in Feminist Fiction” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 164 “Futurity” (Browning), IV: 313 Fyvel, T. R., VII: 284

G. (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 85–88, 94 G. B. Shaw (Chesterton), VI: 130 G. M. Trevelyan (Moorman), VI: 396 “Gabor” (Swift), Supp. V: 432 “Gabriel–Ernest” (Saki), Supp. VI: 244 Gabriel’s Gift (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 158– 159 “Gabrielle de Bergerac” (James), VI: 67, 69 Gadfly, The (Voynich), VI: 107 “Gaelic Proverb, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 222 “Gaelic Songs” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215–216 “Gaels in Glasgow/Bangladeshis in Bradford” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 73 Gager, William, I: 193 “Gala Programme: An Unrecorded Episode in Roman History, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 242 Galahad at Blandings (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460 Galatea (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 149 Galile (Brecht), IV: 182 Galland, Antoine, III: 327 Gallathea (Lyly), I: 200–202 “Gallery, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “Gallery, The” (Marvell), II: 211 Galloway, Janice, Supp. XII: 117–132 Galsworthy, Ada, VI: 271, 272, 273, 274, 282 Galsworthy, John, V: xxii, 270n; VI: ix, xiii, 133, 260, 269–291; VII: xii, xiv; Supp. I: 163; Supp. IV: 229 Galsworthy the Man (Sauter), VI: 284 Galt, John, IV: 35 “Game, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 35 Game, The (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 141, 143–145, 154 “Game, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 265 Game at Chess, A (Middleton), II: 1, 2, 3, 18–21 Game for the Living, A (Highsmith), Supp. V: 172 “Game of Chess, A” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 127 Game of Cricket, A (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3 “Game of Glass, A” (Reid), Supp. VII: 327 Game of Logic, The (Carroll), V: 273 “Games at Twilight” (Desai), Supp. V: 65

Games at Twilight and Other Stories (Desai), Supp. V: 55, 65 “Gamester, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 205 Gandhi (film), Supp. IV: 455 Gandhi, Indira, Supp. IV: 165, 231 “Ganymede” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135, 148 Gaol Gate, The (Gregory), VI: 315 “Gap, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 287 “Garbh mac Stairn” (Macpherson), VIII: 186 García Márquez, Gabriel, Supp. IV: 93, 116, 440, 441, 454, 558 Garden Kalendar (White), Supp. VI: 279, 282 “Garden, The” (Cowley), II: 194 “Garden, The” (Marvell), II: 208, 210, 211, 212, 213–214; Supp. IV: 271; Retro. Supp. II:261, 263 “Garden in September, The” (Bridges), VI: 78 “Garden Lantern” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 Garden of Cyrus, The (Browne), II: 148, 150–153, 154, 155, 156 “Garden of Eros, The” (Wilde), V: 401, 402 Garden of Fidelity, The: Being the Autobiography of Flora Annie Steel, 1847– 1929 (Steel), Supp. XII: 265, 266, 267, 273, 275, 276, 277 “Garden of Love, The” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 42 “Garden of Proserpine, The” (Swinburne), V: 320, 321 “Garden of Remembrance” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Garden of the Innocent” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 215 “Garden of Time, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 22 “Garden on the Point, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Garden Party, A (Behan), Supp. II: 67, 68 “Garden Party, The” (Davie), Supp. VI: 106 Garden Party, The (Mansfield), VII: xv, 171, 177 “Gardener, The” (Kipling), VI: 197 “Gardeners” (Dunn), Supp. X: 72 Gardeners and Astronomers (Sitwell), VII: 138 “Gardener’s Daughter, The” (Tennyson), IV: 326 Gardener’s Year, A (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Gardens, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 223 “Gardens go on forever” (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 Gardiner, S. R., I: 146 Gardiner, Judith Kegan, Supp. IV: 459 Gardner, Helen, II: 121, 129 Gardner, Philip, VI: xii, xxxiii Gareth and Lynette (Tennyson), IV: 338 Gargantua and Pantagruel (Rabelais), Supp. IV: 464

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Garibaldi and the Making of Italy (Trevelyan), VI: 388–389 Garibaldi and the Thousand (Trevelyan), VI: 388–389 Garibaldi, Giuseppe, Supp. IV: 86 Garibaldi’s Defence of the Roman Republic (Trevelyan), VI: xv, 387–389, 394 Garis, Robert, V: 49–50, 70, 73 Garland of Laurel, The (Skelton), I: 81, 82, 90, 93–94 Garmont of Gud Ladeis, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 Garner, Ross, II: 186 Garnered Sheaves: Essays, Addresses, and Reviews (Frazer), Supp. III: 172 Garnett, Edward, VI: 135, 149, 273, 277, 278, 283, 366, 373; VII: xiv, 89 Garnier, Robert, I: 218 “Garret” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 85 Garrett, John, Supp. IV: 256 Garrick, David, I: 327 Garrick Year, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 236–237 “Garrison, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 Garrod, H. W., III: 170n, 176 Gascoigne, George, I: 215–216, 298 Gas–fitters’ Ball, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 Gaskell, Elizabeth, IV: 241, 248; V: viii, x, xvi, xxi–xxiii, 1–16, 108, 116, 122, 137, 147–150; VI: viii; Supp. IV; 119, 379 Gaskill, William, II: 6 “Gaspar Ruiz” (Conrad), VI: 148 Gaston de Latour (Pater), V: 318n, 357 “Gate” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114–115 Gate, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 129–130 Gate of Angels, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 96, 98, 106–107 “Gatehouse, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221–222 Gates of Ivory, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 231, 250–252 Gates of Paradise, The (Blake), see For Children: The Gates of Paradise; For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise Gates of Pearl, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 277 Gates of Wrath, The (Bennett), VI: 249 “Gathered Church, A” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107 Gathered Church, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 105, 115 “Gathering Mushrooms” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 420 “Gathering Sticks on Sunday” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 Gathering Storm, The (Churchill), VI: 361 Gathering Storm, The (Empson), Supp. II: 179, 184, 190 Gatty, Margaret, V: 270 “Gaudeamus igitur” (tr. Symonds), Supp. XIV: 253 Gaudete (Hughes), Supp. I: 359–363; Retro. Supp. II:209–210 Gaudy Night (Sayers), Supp. III: 334, 341, 343, 346–347

GAUG−GHOS “Gauguin” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 Gaunt, William, VI: 169 Gautier, Théophile, IV: 153n; V: 320n, 346, 404, 410–411; Supp. IV: 490 Gavin Ewart Show, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 Gawain–Poet, The, Supp. VII: 83–101 Gay Hunter (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Gay, John, II: 348; III: 19, 24, 44, 54– 67, 74 Gayton, Edward, I: 279 Gaze of the Gorgon, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 160, 164 Gebir (Landor), IV: xvi, 88, 95, 99, 100, 217 Gebirus, poema (Landor), IV: 99–100 “Gecko and Vasco da Gama, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 “Geese, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 Gem (periodical), IV: 252 “Gemini” (Kipling), VI: 184 “General, The” (Sassoon), VI: 430 General, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 415 “General Election, A” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 456 General Grant: An Estimate (Arnold), V: 216 General History of Discoveries . . . in Useful Arts, A (Defoe), III: 14 General History of Music (Burney), Supp. III: 66 General History of the Robberies and Murders of . . . Pyrates, A (Defoe), III: 13 General History of the Turkes (Knolles), III: 108 General Inventorie of the History of France (Brimeston), I: 249 General Prologue, The (Chaucer), I: 23, 26, 27–28, 38–40 “General Satyre, A” (Dunbar), VIII: 122, 126 “Generations” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 257 Generous Days, The (Spender), Supp. II: 493 Genesis (Crace), Supp. XIV: 19, 23, 30 Genesis, Retro. Supp. II: 301 “Genesis” (Hill), Supp. V: 184–185 “Genesis” (Swinburne), V: 325 “Genesis and Catastrophe” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 221 Genesis B, Retro. Supp. II: 301 Geneva (Shaw), VI: 125, 127–128, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 324 Genius of the Future: Studies in French Art Criticism, The (Brookner), Supp. IV: 122–123 Genius of the Thames, The (Peacock), IV: 169 Genius of Thomas Hardy, The (ed. Drabble), Supp. IV: 230 “Gentians” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281 Gentle Island, The (Friel), Supp. V: 119– 120 “Gentle Joy” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 “Gentle Sex, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42

Gentlemen and Ladies (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118 Gentleman Dancing–Master, The (Wycherley), II: 308, 309, 313–314, 321 Gentleman in the Parlour, The (Maugham), VI: 371 Gentleman Usher, The (Chapman), I: 244–245 Gentleman’s Magazine (periodical), III: 107 Gentlemen in England (Wilson), Supp. VI: 302–303, 305 Gentler Birth, A (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 Gentlewomen’s Companion, The (Woolley), Supp. III: 21 Geoffrey de Vinsauf, I: 23 39–40, 59 Geography and History of England, The (Goldsmith), III: 191 George, Henry, VI: 102 “George and the Seraph” (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 103 George Bernard Shaw (Chesterton), VI: 344 George Crabbe and His Times (Huchon), III: 273n George Eliot (Stephen), V: 289 George Eliot: Her Life and Books (Bullet), V: 196, 200–201 George Eliot, Selected Essays, Poems and Other Writings (Byatt), Supp. IV: 151 George Eliot’s Life as Related in Her Letters and Journals (ed. Cross), V: 13, 200 George Gissing: Grave Comedian (Donnelly), V: 427n, 438 “George Herbert: The Art of Plainness” (Stein), Retro. Supp. II: 181 George Moore: L’homme et l’oeuvre (Noel), VI: 98, 99 George Orwell (Fyvel), VII: 287 George Passant (Snow), VII: 324, 325– 326 George Silverman’s Explanation (Dickens), V: 72 George’s Ghosts (Maddox), Retro. Supp. I: 327, 328 George’s Marvellous Medicine (Dahl), Supp. IV: 204–205 “Georgian Boyhood, A” (Connolly), Supp. III: 1–2 Georgian Poetry 1911–1912 (ed. Marsh), VI: 416, 419, 420, 453; VII: xvi; Supp. III: 45, 53–54, 397 Georgics of Virgil, The (tr. Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 “Georgina’s Reasons” (James), VI: 69 Gerard; or, The World, the Flesh, and the Devil (Braddon), VIII: 49 Gerald: A Portrait (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134–135, 138–139 Gerard Manley Hopkins: A Critical Symposium (Kenyon Critics), V: 382 Gerard Manley Hopkins: The Classical Background . . . (Bender), V: 364–365, 382 “Geriatric” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291 Géricault, Théodore, Supp. IV: 71–72, 73

355

Gérin, Winifred, V: x, xxvii, 111, 151, 152, 153 Germ (periodical), V: xxi, 235–236, 249 German Anthology: A Series of Translations from the Most Popular of the German Poets (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 “German Chronicle” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 139 German Requiem, A (Kerr), Supp. XII: 187, 188, 191 “Germinal” (Russell), VIII: 290 “Gerontion” (Eliot), VII: 144, 146, 147, 152; Retro. Supp. II: 123–124 Gerugte van Reen (Brink), Supp. VI: 49 Gesta Romanorum, I: 52 53 “Gethsemane” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 Get Ready for Battle (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 228–229 “Getting at Stars” (Armitage), VIII: 4 Getting It Right (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 141, 143–144, 148 Getting Married (Shaw), VI: 115, 117– 118 “Getting Off the Altitude” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Getting On (Bennett), VIII: 20, 21, 25–26 “Getting Poisoned” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 303 “Getting there” (Kelman), Supp. V: 249 Getting to Know the General (Greene), Supp. I: 1, 13, 14, 17 Geulincx, Arnold, Supp. I: 44 “Geve place ye lovers” (Surrey), I: 120 “Geysers, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 268, 269, 276 Ghastly Good Taste (Betjeman), VII: 357, 361 “Ghazel and Song” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 125 “Ghetto–Blastir” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 68 Ghost Child, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Ghost in the Machine, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 37, 38 “Ghost of Ferozsha Baag, The” (Mistry), Supp. X: 138–139 Ghost of Lucrece, The (Middleton), II: 3 Ghost Orchid, The (Longley), VIII: 175– 177 “Ghost Orchid, The” (Longley), VIII: 175–176 Ghost Road, The (Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 57, 61–63 Ghost Trio (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 29 “Ghost–Crabs” (Hughes), Supp. I: 349, 350; Retro. Supp. II: 206 “Ghostkeeper” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 “Ghostly Father, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 “Ghosts” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228, 236 “Ghosts” (Reid), Supp. VII: 327 Ghosts at Cockcrow (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71, 79–81 “Ghosts at Cockcrow” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80

GHOS−GOD’ “Ghost’s Moonshine, The” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29 Ghostwritten (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 193–196, 197, 198, 202, 206, 207 Giants’ Bread (Christie), Supp. II: 133 Giaour, The (Byron), III: 338; IV: xvii, 172, 173–174, 180, 192 Gibbon, Edward, III: 109, 221–233; IV: xiv, xvi, 93, 284; V: 425; VI: 347, 353, 383, 390n Gibbon, Lewis Grassic, Supp. XIV: 99– 113 Gibbons, Brian, I: 281 Gibson, W. W., VI: 416 Gide, André, V: xxiii, 402 Gidez, Richard B., Supp. IV: 326, 339– 340 Gifford, William, II: 96; IV: 133 Gift, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 “Gift of Boxes, A” (Longley), VIII: 176 Gift of Stones, The (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 19, 22–23, 24 Gift Songs (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 27 “Gifts” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 “Giggling” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 “Gigolo and Gigolette” (Maugham), VI: 370 Gil Blas (tr. Smollett), III: 150 Gil Perez, The Gallician (tr. FitzGerald), IV: 344 Gilbert, Elliott, VI: 194 “Gilbert” (Brontë), V: 131–132 Gilbert, Peter, Supp. IV: 354 Gilbert, Sandra, Retro. Supp. I: 59–60 “Gilbert’s Mother” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505 Gilchrist, Andrew, Retro. Supp. I: 46 Gilfillan, George, I: 98 “Gilles de Retz” (Keyes), VII: 437 Gilliam, Terry, Supp. IV: 455 Gillman, James, IV: 48–49, 50, 56 Gilman, Charlotte Perkins, Supp. III: 147 Gilpin, William, IV: 36, 37 Gilson, Étienne, VI: 341 “Gin and Goldenrod” (Lowry), Supp. III: 282 “Ginger Hero” (Friel), Supp. V: 113 Ginger, You’re Barmy (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364–365, 368–369, 371 Giorgione da Castelfranco, V: 345, 348 “Giorgione” (Pater), V: 345, 348, 353 “Gipsy Vans” (Kipling), VI: 193, 196 “Giraffes, The” (Fuller), VII: 430, Supp. VII: 70 “Girl” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220, 221, 223 “Girl at the Seaside” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 318 “Girl From Zlot, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 299–300 Girl, 20 (Amis), Supp. II: 15–16; Supp. IV: 29 “Girl from Quesbrada, The” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 53 Girl in Winter, A (Larkin), Supp. I: 286, 287 Girl Weeping for the Death of Her Canary (Greuze), Supp. IV: 122

“Girl Who Loved Graveyards, The” (James), Supp. IV: 340 Girlhood of Mary Virgin, The (Rossetti), V: 236, 248, 249 Girlitude: A Memoir of the 50s and 60s (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Girls in Their Married Bliss (O’Brien), Supp. V: 334, 337–338 “Girls in Their Season” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 167 Girls of Slender Means, The (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 204, 206 “Girls on a Bridge” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 Gisborne, John, IV: 206 Gísla saga Súrssonar, VIII: 241 Gismond of Salerne (Wilmot), I: 216 Gissing, George, V: xiii, xxii, xxv–xxvi, 69, 423–438; VI: 365; Supp. IV: 7–8 Gittings, Robert, Supp. III: 194 “Give Her A Pattern” (Lawrence), II: 330n Give Me Your Answer, Do! (Friel), Supp. V: 127–128 “Given Heart, The” (Cowley), II: 197 Giving Alms No Charity . . . (Defoe), III: 13 Gladiators, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 27, 28, 29n “Glanmore Revisited” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 “Glanmore Sonnets” (Heaney), Supp. II: 276 Glanvill, Joseph, II: 275 “Glasgow” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 102– 103 “Glasgow 5 March 1971” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 162 “Glasgow Green” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158 Glasgow Herald, Supp. XII: 207 “Glasgow October 1971” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 162 Glass–Blowers, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 136, 138 Glass Cell, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 174 Glass Cottage, A Nautical Romance, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230–231 Glass of Blessings, A (Pym), Supp. II: 377–378 Glass Town chronicles (Brontës), V: 110– 111 Gleanings from the Menagerie and Aviary at Knowsley Hall (Lear), V: 76, 87 Gleanings from the Work of George Fox (ed. Richardson), Supp. XIII: 187 Gleckner, R. F., IV: 173, 194 Glen, Heather, III: 297 “Glen Strathfarrar” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 107 Glendinning, Victoria, Supp. II: 78, 80, 90, 95 “Glimpse, The” (Cornford), VIII: 106 Glimpse of America, A (Stoker), Supp. III: 380 Glimpse of Reality, The (Shaw), VI: 129 Gloag, Julian, Supp. IV: 390

356

“Globe in North Carolina, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 “Gloire de Dijon” (Lawrence), Retro. Supp. II: 233 Gloriana: Opera in Three Acts (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Glorious First of June, The, III: 266 “Glory” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 “Glory, A” (Armitage), VIII: 11 “Glory of Women” (Sassoon), VI: 430 “Gnomes” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 gnomic moralizing poem, I: 57 “Go for” (Thomas), Supp. III: 399 “Go, Lovely Rose!” (Waller), II: 234 Go, Piteous Heart (Skelton), I: 83 Go When You See the Green Man Walking (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 103– 104 “Goal” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 96–97 “Goal of Valerius” (Bacon), I: 263 Go–Between, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 119, 120, 121, 127–129, 131, 132; Retro. Supp. I: 227 Goat Green; or, The Better Gift (Powys), VIII: 255 Goat’s Song, A (Healy), Supp. IX: 96– 98, 101–103 “Goblin Market” (Rossetti), V: 250, 256– 258 Goblin Market and Other Poems (Rossetti), V: xxii, 250, 260 Goblins, The (Suckling), II: 226 “God” (Powys), VIII: 248 “God, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134 “God Almighty the First Garden Made” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 135 God and His Gifts, A (Compton–Burnett), VII: 60, 64, 65 God and the Bible (Arnold), V: 216 “God and the Jolly Bored Bog–Mouse” (Cope), VIII: 74 God Bless Karl Marx! (Sisson), Supp. XI: 251 “God! How I Hate You, You Young Cheerful Men” (West), VI: 423 “God Moves in a Mysterious Way” (Cowper), III: 210 God of Glass, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 God of Small Things (Roy), Supp. V: 67, 75 God that Failed, The (Crossman), Supp. I: 25 “God the Eater” (Smith), Supp. II: 468 God the Invisible King (Wells), VI: 227 “God Who Eats Corn, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 323–324 “Godfather Dottery” (Powys), VIII: 258 “Gods as Dwelling in the Physiological Centres, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 “God’s Eternity” (Blake), III: 300 “God’s Funeral” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 God’s Funeral (Wilson), Supp. VI: 298, 306, 308, 309 “God’s Grandeur” (Hopkins), V: 366; Retro. Supp. II: 195 “God’s Judgement on a Wicked Bishop” (Southey), IV: 67

GODS−GOOS “Gods of the Copybook Heading, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Gods of War, with Other Poems (Russell), VIII: 287 God’s Revenge Against Murder (Reynolds), II: 14 Godber, Joyce, II: 243, 254 “Goddess, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 266, 271 Godman, Stanley, V: 271, 274 Godolphin, Sidney, II: 237, 238, 271 Godwin, E. W., V: 404 Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft, see Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, William, III: 329, 330, 332, 340, 345; IV: xv, 3, 43, 127, 173, 181, 195–197; Supp. III: 355, 363, 370, 474, 476, 480 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, III: 344; IV: xiv–xix, 179, 240, 245, 249; V: 214, 343, 344, 402; Supp. IV: 28, 479 Goethe’s Faust (MacNeice), VII: 408– 410 Gogh, Vincent van, Supp. IV: 148, 154 Gogol, Nikolai, III: 340, 345; Supp. III: 17 “Going, The” (Hardy), VI: 18; Retro. Supp. I: 118 “Going Back” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 “Going Back” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 265 “Going, Going” (Larkin), Supp. I: 283 Going Home (Lessing), Supp. I: 237 “Going Home” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 172 “Going Home (A Letter to Colombo)” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 Going On (Reading), VIII: 207, 268, 269 “Going Out: Lancasters, 1944” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224–225 Going Solo (Dahl), Supp. IV: 206, 208, 210, 211, 222, 225 Going Their Own Ways (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 “Going to Italy” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107 “Going to See a Man Hanged” (Thackeray), V: 23, 37 Gold, Mike, Supp. IV: 464 Gold: A Poem (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 100 Gold Coast Customs (Sitwell), VII: xvii, 132, 133–134 Gold in the Sea, The (Friel), Supp. V: 113 “Gold in the Sea, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 114 “Golden Age, The” (Behn), Supp. III: 39–40 Golden Ass (Apulius), Supp. IV: 414 Golden Bird, The (Brown), Supp. VI: 64 Golden Book of St. John Chrysostom, The, Concerning the Education of Children (tr. Evelyn), II: 275, 287 Golden Bough, The (Frazer), V: 204; Supp. III: 170, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176–182, 184, 185, 186, 187; Supp. IV: 12 Golden Bowl, The (James), VI: 53, 55, 60–62, 67; Supp. IV: 243 Golden Calf, The (Braddon), VIII: 49 “Golden Calf” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186

Golden Chersonese, The (Bird), Supp. X: 19, 30–31 Golden Child, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 98, 100–101 Golden Compass, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 153, 155–156 Golden Echo, The (Garnett), VI: 333 Golden Gate: A Novel in Verse, The (Seth), Supp. X: 277–279, 281–283, 285–290 “Golden Hair” (Owen), VI: 449 Golden Labyrinth, The (Knight), IV: 328n, 339 Golden Lads: Sir Francis Bacon, Anthony Bacon, and Their Friends (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139 Golden Lion of Granpère, The (Trollope), V: 102 “Golden Lyric, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 222 Golden Mean, The (Ford), II: 88, 100 Golden Notebook, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 238, 246–248, 254, 256; Supp. IV: 473 Golden Ocean, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 248, 251, 252 Golden Peak, The: Travels in North Pakistan (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 144 “Golden Stool, The” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 39 Golden Targe, The (Dunbar), I: 23 Golden Treasury, The (Palgrave), II: 208; IV: xxii, 196, 337 Golden Treasury of Irish Poetry, A: A.D. 600 to 1200 (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 Goldeneye (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 Goldfinger (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 91, 96, 97 “Goldfish Nation” (Cope), VIII: 77 Golding, Arthur, I: 161 Golding, William, Supp. I: 65–91; Supp. IV: 392–393; Retro. Supp. I: 93–107 Goldring, Douglas, VI: 324, 419 Goldsmith, Oliver, II: 362, 363; III: 40, 110, 149, 165, 173, 177–192, 256, 277, 278; Retro. Supp. I: 149 Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson (Forster), VI: 411 Goldyn Targe, The (Dunbar), VIII: 120, 123–124 “Goldyn Targe, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 118 Gollancz, Victor, VII: xix, 279, 381 Gondal literature (Brontë), V: 113–117, 133, 142 Gondal Poems (Brontë), V: 152 Gondal’s Queen (Ratchford), V: 133, 152 Gondibert (Davenant), II: 196, 259 Gonne, Maud, VI: 207, 210, 211, 212 Good and Faithful Servant, The (Orton), Supp. V: 364, 367, 370, 371, 372, 374–375 Good Apprentice, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 231, 232, 233 “Good Aunt, The” (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 162 “Good Climate, Friendly Inhabitants” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 Good Companions, The (Priestley), VII: xviii, 209, 211, 215–216

357

“Good Counsel to a Young Maid” (Carew), II: 224 “Good Fences” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 27 Good Fight, The (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “Good Flying Days” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 Good Hanging and Other Stories, A (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 246, 250 “Good Friday” (Herbert), II: 128 “Good Friday: Rex Tragicus; or, Christ Going to His Crosse” (Herrick), II: 114 “Good Friday, 1613” (Donne), I: 368 Good Grief (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 273–274 Good Kipling, The (Gilbert), VI: 194 “Good ladies ye that have” (Sumy), I: 120 “Good Morning” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Good Morning. Midnight (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 396–398 “Good Morrow, The” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 Good Natur’d Man, The (Goldsmith), III: 111, 180, 187, 191 Good Neighbor, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26–27 “Good Neighbors” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26–27 Good News for the Vilest of Men; or, A Help for Despairing Souls (Bunyan), II: 253 “Good Night” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Good Night Sweet Ladies (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 8, 12–13 Good Soldier, The (Ford), VI: 49; VI: 319, 323, 327–328, 329 Good Son, The (film), Supp. IV: 390, 400 Good Terrorist, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 255–256 Good Time Was Had by All, A (Smith), Supp. II: 462 Good Times, The (Kelman), Supp. V: 243, 254–256 “Good Town, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 Goodbye (Adcock), Supp. XII: 14–15 Goodbye Earth and Other Poems (Richards), Supp. II: 427, 428 “Good–bye in fear, good–bye in sorrow” (Rossetti), V: 255 “Goodbye Marcus, Goodbye Rose” (Rhys), Supp. II: 401 Goodbye to All That (Graves), VI: xvi; VII: xviii, 257, 258 Goodbye to Berlin (Isherwood), VII: xx Goodbye to Berlin (Wilson), Supp. I: 156 “Good–Bye to the Mezzogiorno” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “Goodbye to the USA” (Davie), Supp. VI: 113 “Good–Morrow, The” (Donne), II: 197 “Goodness—the American Neurosis” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 455–456 “Good–night” (Thomas), Supp. III: 400 Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne (film), Supp. IV: 450 “Goose, The” (Longley), VIII: 172–173

GOOS−GREE Goose Cross (Kavan), Supp. VII: 208 “Goose Fair” (Lawrence), VII: 114 “Goose to Donkey” (Murray), Supp. VII: 282 “Gooseberry Season” (Armitage), VIII: 5 Gorboduc (Norton and Sackville), I: 161–162, 214–216 Gordimer, Nadine, Supp. II: 225–243 Gordon, D. J., I: 237, 239 Gordon, Ian Alistair, VII: xvii, xxxvii Gorgon’s Head and Other Literary Pieces, The (Frazer), Supp. III: 176 Gorse Fires (Longley), VIII: 166, 169, 174–175 Gorton, Mary, V: 312, 313, 315–316, 330 Gospel of Nicodemus (tr. Trevisa), see Evangelium Nicodemi Gosse, Edmund, II: 354, 361, 363, 364; V: 311, 313, 334, 392, 395 Gossip from the Forest (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 Gosson, Stephen, I: 161 Gothic Architecture (Morris), V: 306 Gothic fiction, III: 324–346; IV: 110, 111; V: 142–143 Gothic Revival, The (Clark), III: 325, 346 “Gourmet, The” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 304, 306 Government of the Tongue: The 1986 T. S. Eliot Memorial Lectures and Other Critical Writings (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 269; Retro. Supp. I: 131 Gower, John, I: 20, 41, 48–56, 57, 321 Goya, Francisco de, Supp. IV: 125 Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners (Bunyan), II: 240, 241, 243–245, 250, 253; Supp. IV: 242 Grace Darling (Swinburne), V: 333 “Grace of the Way” (Thompson), V: 442 “Graceland” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 28 Graffigny, Mme de, Supp. III: 75 Graham Greene (Lodge), Supp. IV: 365 Graham, James, see Montrose, marquess of Graham, W. S., Supp. VII: 103–117 Grain Kings, The (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 270–271 “Grain Kings, The” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 271 Grain of Wheat, A (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 212, 219–220 “Gra´inne” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273– 274 Grammar of Assent, An Essay in Aid of a (Newman), V: 340, Supp. VII: 301– 302 Grammar of Metaphor, A (Brooke– Rose)), Supp. IV: 98, 113 “Grammarian’s Funeral, A” (Browning), IV: 357, 361, 366 Grand Alliance, The (Churchill), VI: 361 Grand Babylon Hotel, The (Bennett), VI: 249, 253, 262, 266 “Grand Ballet” (Cornford), VIII: 113 Grand Meaulnes, Le (Alain–Fournier), Supp. I: 299 “Grandfather” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19 “Grandmother’s Story, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 280

“Grandparent’s” (Spender), Supp. II: 494 Grania (Gregory), VI: 316 Granny Scarecrow (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 265 Grant, Duncan, VI: 118 Granta (periodical), Supp. IV: 304; Supp. XII: 66; Supp. XIII: 11 “Grantchester” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52, 60 Granville Barker, Harley, I: 329; VI: ix, 104, 113, 273 Grass, Günter, Supp. IV: 440 Grass Is Singing, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 237, 239, 243, 248 “Grass Widows, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 Grasshopper (Rendell), Supp. IX: 189, 203 “Gratiana Dancing and Singing” (Lovelace), II: 230 Grave, The (Blair), Retro. Supp. I: 45 “Grave, The” (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 161 “Grave by the Handpost, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Gravel Walks, The” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133 Graves, Robert, II: 94; VI: xvi, 207, 211, 219, 419; VII: xvi, xviii–xx, 257–272; Supp. II: 185; Supp. III: 60; Supp. IV: 558; Retro. Supp. I: 144 “Gravities: West” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 111 Gravity’s Rainbow (Pynchon), Supp. IV: 116 Gray, Alasdair, Supp. IX: 79–93 Gray, Thomas, II: 200; III: 118, 119, 136–145, 173, 294, 325 “Gray’s Anatomy” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Great Adventure, The (Bennett), VI: 250, 266; see also Buried Alive Great Apes (Self), Supp. V: 398–400 “Great Automatic Grammatisator, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 216–217 Great Boer War, The (Doyle), Supp. II: 160 Great Broxopp, The (Milne), Supp. V: 299 Great Catherine (Shaw), VI: 119 Great Contemporaries (Churchill), VI: 354, 356 Great Depression, VII: xix Great Divorce, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 56 Great Duke of Florence, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184 Great Exhibition, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 281 Great Expectations (Dickens), V: xxii, 42, 60, 63, 66–68, 72 Great Favourite, The; or, The Duke of Lerma (Howard), II: 100 Great Fire of London, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 4–5, 10 “Great Good Place, The” (James), VI: 69 Great Granny Webster (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 2, 6, 10–11, 16 Great Hoggarty Diamond, The (Thackeray), V: 21, 38

358

Great Hunger, The (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 187, 190–192, 193, 194, 199 Great Instauration, The (Bacon), I: 259, 272 Great Law of Subordination Consider’d, The (Defoe), III: 13 “Great Lover, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 556 “Great Man, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35, 37 “Great Man, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 “Great McEwen, Scottish Hypnotist, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 “Great men have been among us” (Wordsworth), II: 208 Great Moments in Aviation (film), Supp. IV: 542 Great Port: A Passage through New York, The (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 182 “Great Ship, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Great Short Stories of Detection, Mystery and Horror (ed. Sayers), III: 341; Supp. III: 340, 341 “Great Spirits Now on Earth Are Sojourning . . . A (Keats), IV: 214 Great Trade Route (Ford), VI: 324 Great Tradition, The (Leavis), VI: 68, 149; VII: 234, 248–251; Retro. Supp. I: 90 “Great Unknown, The” (Hood), IV: 267 Great Victorian Collection, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 143–144, 154 Great War and Modern Memory, The (Fussell), Supp. IV: 57 Great World, The (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218, 226–227 Greater Lakeland (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 223 “Greater Love” (Owen), VI: 450 Greater Trumps, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 281 “Greatest TV Show on Earth, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 28 Greatness of the Soul, A, . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 Greber, Giacomo, II: 325 Grecian History, The (Goldsmith), III: 181, 191 Greek Christian Poets, The, and the English Poets (Browning), IV: 321 “Greek Interpreter, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: l67 Greek Islands, The (Durrell), Supp. I: 102 Greek Studies (Pater), V: 355, 357 Greeks have a word for it, The (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 354, 355–356, 357, 359 Green Fool, The (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 183, 186, 187, 188, 194, 199 Green, Henry, Supp. II: 247–264 “Green Hills of Africa, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 “Greenhouse Effect, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 Green, Joseph Henry, IV: 57 Green, Roger Lancelyn, V: 265n, 273, 274

GREE−GYRT Green Crow, The (O’Casey), VII: 13 “Green Geese” (Sitwell), VII: 131 “Green, Green Is Aghir” (Cameron), VII: 426; Supp. IX: 27 Green Helmet, The (Yeats), VI: 222 “Green Hills of Africa” (Fuller), VII: 429, 432 “Green Leaf, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 223 Green Man, The (Amis), Supp. II: 13–14 “Green Mountain, Black Mountain” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256–257, 261– 262, 266 “Green Room, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Green Shore, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219–220 Green Song (Sitwell), VII: 132, 135, 136 “Green Tea” (Le Fanu), III: 340, 345 “Greenden” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 104, 105 Greene, Graham, VI: 329, 370; VII: xii; Supp. I: 1–20; Supp. II: 311, 324; Supp. IV: 4, 10, 13, 17, 21, 157, 365, 369, 373–374, 505; Supp. V: 26; Retro. Supp. II: 151–167 Greene, Robert, I: 165, 220, 275, 286, 296, 322; II: 3; VIII: 131–146 Greene’s Arcadia (Greene). See Menaphon Greenlees, Ian Gordon, VI: xxxiii “Greenshank” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Greenvoe (Brown), Supp. VI: 64, 65–66 “Greenwich—Whitebait” (Thackeray), V: 38 Greenwood, Edward Baker, VII: xix, xxxvii Greenwood, Frederick, V: 1 Greer, Germaine, Supp. IV: 436 Greg, W. R., V: 5, 7, 15 Greg, W. W., I: 279 Gregory, Lady Augusta, VI: 210, 218, 307–312, 314–316, 317–318; VII: 1, 3, 42 Gregory, Sir Richard, VI: 233 Greiffenhagen, Maurice, VI: 91 Gremlins, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 202, 211–212 “Grenadier” (Housman), VI: 160 Grenfell, Julian, VI: xvi, 417–418, 420 “Greta Garbo’s Feet” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 52–53 “Gretchen” (Gissing), V: 437 “Gretna Green” (Behan), Supp. II: 64 Grettis saga, VIII: 234–235, 238, 241 Greuze, Jean–Baptiste, Supp. IV: 122 Greuze: The Rise and Fall of an Eighteenth Century Phenomenon (Brookner), Supp. IV: 122 Greville, Fulke, I: 160, 164; Supp. IV: 256; Supp. XI: 105–119 Grey Area (Self), Supp. V: 402–404 Grey Eminence (Huxley), VII: 205 “Grey Eye Weeping, A” (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 221 Grey of Fallodon (Trevelyan), VI: 383, 391 Grey Granite (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 102, 106, 111–113 “Grey Woman, The” (Gaskell), V: 15

Greybeards at Play (Chesterton), VI: 336 Greyhound for Breakfast (Kelman), Supp. V: 242, 249–250 “Greyhound for Breakfast” (Kelman), Supp. V: 250 Grid, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 194, 195 Gridiron, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 194, 195 “Grief” (Browning), IV: 313, 318 Grief Observed, A (Lewis), Supp. III: 249 “Grief on the Death of Prince Henry, A” (Tourneur), II: 37, 41 Grierson, Herbert J. C., II: 121, 130, 196, 200, 202, 258; Retro. Supp. II: 173 Grigson, Geoffrey, IV: 47; VII: xvi Grim Smile of the Five Towns, The (Bennett), VI: 250, 253–254 Grímnismál, VIII: 230 Grimus (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 435, 438– 439, 443, 450 “Grip, The” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 59 Gris, Juan, Supp. IV: 81 “Grisly Folk, The” (Wells), Retro. Supp. I: 96 Groatsworth of Wit, A (Greene), I: 275, 276; VIII: 131, 132 Grœnlendinga saga, VIII: 240 Grosskurth, Phyllis, V: xxvii Grote, George, IV: 289 Group of Noble Dames, A (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 “Grove, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “Growing, Flying, Happening” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 “Growing Old” (Arnold), V: 203 Growing Pains: The Shaping of a Writer (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135, 142, 144 Growing Points (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 Growing Rich (Weldon), Supp. IV: 531, 533 Growth of Love, The (Bridges), VI: 81, 83 Growth of Plato’s Ideal Theory, The (Frazer), Supp. III: 170–171 “Grub First, Then Ethics” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7, 13 Grünewald, Mathias, Supp. IV: 85 Gryffydh, Jane, IV: 159 Gryll Grange (Peacock), IV: xxii, 166– 167, 170 Grylls, R. Glynn, V: 247, 260; VII: xvii, xxxviii Guardian (periodical), III: 46, 49, 50; Supp. XIII: 1 Guardian, The (Cowley), II: 194, 202 Guardian, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184 Guarini, Guarino, II: 49–50 Gubar, Susan, Retro. Supp. I: 59–60 “Gude Grey Katt, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 “Guerrillas” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70–71 Guerrillas (Naipaul), Supp. I: 396–397 Guest from the Future, The (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298–302 “Guest from the Future, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 Guest of Honour, A (Gordimer), Supp. II: 229–230, 231

359

Guests of the Nation (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 215, 224 “Guid Scots Death, A” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Guide Through the District of the Lakes in the North of England, A (Wordsworth), IV: 25 Guide to Kulchur (Pound), VI: 333 “Guide to the Perplexed” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Guido della Colonna, I: 57 Guild of St. George, The, V: 182 Guillaume de Deguilleville, I: 57 Guillaume de Lorris, I: 71 “Guilt and Sorrow” (Wordsworth), IV: 5, 45 “Guinevere” (Tennyson), IV: 336–337, 338 Guise, The (Marlowe), see Massacre at Paris, The Guise, The (Webster), II: 68, 85 “Guisers, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 130 “Guitarist Tunes Up, The” (Cornford), VIII: 114 Gulliver’s Travels (Swift), II: 261; III: 11, 20, 23–26, 28, 35; VI: 121–122; Supp. IV: 502; Retro. Supp. I: 274, 275, 276–277, 279–282 Gun for Sale, A (Greene; U.S. title, This Gun for Hire), Supp. I: 3, 6–7, 10; Retro. Supp. II: 153 Gunesekera, Romesh, Supp. X: 85–102 “Gunesh Chund” (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 Gunn, Ander, Supp. IV: 265 Gunn, Thom, Supp. IV: 255–279 Gunnlaugs saga ormstunga, VIII: 239 Guns of Navarone, The (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Gurdjieff, Georges I., Supp. IV: 1, 5 Gurney, Ivor, VI: 416, 425–427 Gussow, Mel, Retro. Supp. I: 217–218 Gutch, J. M., IV: 78, 81 Guthlac, Retro. Supp. II: 303 Gutteridge, Bernard, VII: 422, 432–433 Guy Domville (James), VI: 39 Guy Mannering (Scott), IV: xvii, 31–32, 38 Guy of Warwick (Lydgate), I: 58 Guy Renton (Waugh), Supp. VI: 274– 275 Guyana Quartet (Harris), Supp. V: 132, 133, 135 Guzman Go Home and Other Stories (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410 Gyðinga saga, VIII: 237 Gylfaginning, VIII: 243 “Gym”(Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Gypsies Metamorphos’d (Jonson), II: 111n “Gypsonhilia” (Hart), Supp. XI: 128– 129 “Gyrtt in my giltetesse gowne” (Surrey), I: 115

H. G. −HARN H. G. Wells and His Critics (Raknem), VI: 228, 245, 246 H. G. Wells: His Turbulent Life and Times (Dickson), VI: 246 H. G. Wells: The Critical Heritage (ed. Parrinder), VI: 246 “H. J. B.” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 Ha! Ha! Among the Trumpets (Lewis), VII: 447, 448 Habeas Corpus (Bennett), VIII: 25 Habermas, Jürgen, Supp. IV: 112 Habington, William, II: 222, 237, 238 Habit of Loving, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 244 “Habit of Perfection, The” (Hopkins), V: 362, 381 “Habitat” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 “Habitat, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 228 “Hackit” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Hadjinicolaou, Nicos, Supp. IV: 90 “Hag, The” (Herrick), II: 111 Haggard, H. Rider, Supp. III: 211–228; Supp. IV: 201, 484 Haight, Gordon, V: 199, 200, 201 Hail and Farewell (Moore), VI: xii, 85, 88, 97, 99 “Hail to Thee, Bard!” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119–120 “Hailstones” (Heaney), Supp. II: 280 “Hair, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 37 Hakluyt, Richard, I: 150, 267; III: 7 Halcyon; or, The Future of Monogamy (Brittain), Supp. X: 39 Hale, Kathleen, Supp. IV: 231 “Hale, sterne superne” (Dunbar), VIII: 128–129 “Half–a–Crown’s Worth of Cheap Knowledge” (Thackeray), V: 22, 37 Half–Mother, The (Tennant), see Woman Beware Woman Halfway House (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46 Halidon Hill (Scott), IV: 39 Halifax, marquess of, III: 38, 39, 40, 46 Hall, Donald, Supp. IV: 256 Hall, Edward, II: 43 Hall, Joseph, II: 25–26, 81; IV: 286 Hall, Radclyffe, VI: 411; Supp. VI: 119– 132 Hall, Samuel (pseud., O’Nolan), Supp. II: 322 “Hall, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 124 Hall of Healing (O’Casey), VII: 11–12 Hall of the Saurians (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Hallam, Arthur, IV: 234, 235, 328–336, 338 Hallam, Henry, IV: 283 Haller, Albrecht von, III: 88 Hallfreðar saga vandræðaskálds, VIII: 239 Halloran’s Little Boat (Keneally), Supp. IV: 348 “Hallowe’en” (Burns), III: 315 “Halloween” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 18 Hallowe’en Party (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 134 “Hallucination” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 273–274 “Hallway, The” (Healy), Supp. IX: 107

Ham Funeral, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 134, 149, 150 “Hamadryad, The” (Landor), IV: 96 Hamburger, Michael, Supp. V: 199 Hamilton, Sir George Rostrevor, IV: xxiv Hamlet (early version), I: 212, 221, 315 Hamlet (Shakespeare), I: 188, 280, 313, 315–316; II: 29, 36, 71, 75, 84; III: 170, 234; V: 328; Supp. IV: 63, 149, 283, 295 Hamlet in Autumn (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215 “Hamlet, Princess of Denmark” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 55 “Hammer, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 127 Hammerton, Sir John, V: 393, 397 Hammett, Dashiell, Supp. II: 130, 132 Hampden, John, V: 393, 395 “Hampstead: the Horse Chestnut Trees” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 270–271 Hampton, Christopher, Supp. IV: 281 “Hand, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 179– 180 “Hand and Soul” (Rossetti), V: 236, 320 Hand in Hand (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294, 296 Hand of Ethelberta, The: A Comedy in Chapters (Hardy), VI: 4, 6, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 114 “Hand of Solo, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267, 274 “Hand that signed the paper, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 “Handful of Air, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 111 Handful of Dust, A (Waugh), VII: xx, 294, 295–297 “Handful of People, A” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 “Hands” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 “Hands” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 212 Hands Across the Sea (Coward), Supp. II: 153 “Handsome Heart, The” (Hopkins), V: 368–369 Handsworth Songs (film), Supp. IV: 445 Hanged by the Neck (Koestler), Supp. I: 36 “Hanging, A” (Powell), VII: 276 Hanging Garden, The (Rankin), Supp. X: Hanging Judge, The (Stevenson), V: 396 “Hangover Square” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 “Hangzhou Garden, A” (Seth), Supp. X: 281 Hanno (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Hapgood (Stoppard), Retro. Supp. II: 354–355 Happier Life, The (Dunn), Supp. X: 70–71 “Happily Ever After” (Huxley), VII: 199–200 Happiness of Getting It Down Right, The: Letters of Frank O’Connor and William Maxwell (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 216, 219, 224 “Happiness” (Owen), VI: 449, 458 “Happinesse to Hospitalitie; or, A Hearty Wish to Good House–keeping”

360

(Herrick), II: 111 Happy Days (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 52, 54, 56, 57, 60; Retro. Supp. I: 26–27 “Happy Family, A” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 “Happy Few” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 14 Happy Haven, The (Arden), Supp. II: 29 Happy Hypocrite: A Fairy Tale for Tired Men, The (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45, 46 “Happy Man, The” (Thomson), Supp. III: 417 “Happy New Year, A” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 89 “Happy old man, whose worth all mankind knows” (Flatman), II: 133 Happy Pair, The (Sedley), II: 266, 271 “Happy Prince, The” (Wilde), V: 406, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 365; Retro. Supp. II: 365 Happy Valley (White), Supp. I: 130, 132–133, 136 Haq, Zia ul–, Supp. IV: 444 Hárbarðsljóð, VIII: 230 Hard Life, The (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 336– 337 Hard Times (Dickens), IV: 247; V: viii, xxi, 4, 42, 47, 59, 63–64, 68, 70, 71 Hardie and Baird: The Last Days (Kelman), Supp. V: 256–257 Hardie and Baird and Other Plays (Kelman), Supp. V: 256–257 “Hardness of Light, The” (Davie), Supp. VI: 109 Hardy, Barbara, V: ix, xxviii, 39, 73, 201 Hardy, G. H., VII: 239–240 Hardy, Thomas, II: 69; III: 278; V: xx– xxvi, 144, 279, 429; VI: x, 1–22, 253, 377; VII: xvi; list of short stories, VI: 22; Supp. IV: 94, 116, 146, 471, 493; Retro. Supp. I: 109–122 “Hardy and the Hag” (Fowles), Supp. I: 302, 305 Hardy of Wessex (Weber), VI: 21 Hare, J. C., IV: 54 Hare, David, Supp. IV: 182, 281–300 “Harelaw” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71, 72 “Harem Trousers” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 286 Harington, Sir John, I: 131 “Hark, My Soul! It Is the Lord” (Cowper), III: 210 “Hark! the Dog’s Howl” (Tennyson), IV: 332 Harland’s Half Acre (Malouf), Supp. XII: 225–226 Harlequinade (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 315–316 Harlot’s House, The (Wilde), V: 410, 418, 419 Harm Done (Rendell), Supp. IX: 189, 196, 198, 199, 201 “Harmonies” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “Harmony” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 138 “Harmony, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Harmony of the Spheres, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 445 Harness Room, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 132

HARO−HEAR Harold (Tennyson), IV: 328, 338 Harold Muggins Is a Martyr (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 31 Harold the Dauntless (Scott), IV: 39 Harold’s Leap (Smith), Supp. II: 462 Haroun and the Sea of Stories (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 433, 438, 450–451 Harriet Hume: A London Fantasy (West), Supp. III: 441–442 Harrington (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 161– 163 Harriet Said? (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 17, 19 Harriot, Thomas, I: 277, 278 Harris, Frank, VI: 102 Harris, John Beynon, see Wyndham, John Harris, Joseph, II: 305 Harris, Wilson, Supp. V: 131–147 “Harris East End” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 182 Harrison, Frederic, V: 428–429 Harrison, Tony, Supp. V: 149–165 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil (Trollope), V: 102 “Harry Ploughman” (Hopkins), V: 376– 377 Harsh Voice, The (West), Supp. III: 442 Hart, Kevin, Supp. XI: 121–133 Hartley, David, IV: 43, 45, 50, 165 Hartley, L. P., Supp. VII: 119–133 Hartmann, Edward von, Supp. II: 108 “Harunobu: ’Catching Fireflies’” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 “Harvest Bow, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 276–277 Harvest Festival, The (O’Casey), VII: 12 “Harvest Home” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 213 “Harvesting, The” (Hughes), Supp. II: 348 Harvesting the Edge: Some Personal Explorations from a Marginal Garden (Dutton), Supp. XII: 84–85 Harvey, Christopher, II: 138; Retro. Supp. II: 172 Harvey, Gabriel, I: 122–123, 125; II: 25 Harvey, T. W. J., V: 63, 199, 201 Harvey, William, I: 264 “Has Your Soul Slipped” (Owen), VI: 446 Hashemite Kings, The (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 “Hassock and the Psalter, The” (Powys), VIII: 255 Hastings, Warren, IV: xv–xvi, 271, 278 Hatfield, C. W., V: 133, 151, 152, 153 Háttatal, VIII: 243 Haunch of Venison, The (Goldsmith), III: 191 Haunted and the Haunters, The (Bulwer– Lytton), III: 340, 345 “Haunted House, The” (Graves), VII: 263 “Haunted House, The” (Hood), IV: 261, 262 Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain, The (Dickens), V: 71 Haunted Storm, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 149

“Haunter, The” (Hardy), VI: 18; Retro. Supp. I: 117 Haunter of the Dark, The . . . (Lovecraft), III: 345 Hávamál, VIII: 230, 232 Have His Carcase (Sayers), Supp. III: 345–346 “Haven Gained, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 162 Having a Wonderful Time (Churchill), Supp. IV: 180, 181 Haw Lantern, The (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 279–281; Retro. Supp. I: 131– 132 Hawaiian Archipelago, The (Bird), Supp. X: 19, 24–26, 28 Hawes, Stephen, I: 49, 81 “Hawk, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 Hawk in the Rain, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 343, 345, 363 “Hawk in the Rain, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 345; Retro. Supp. II: 200, 202– 204 “Hawk Roosting” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 204 Hawkfall (Brown), Supp. VI: 69 Hawkins, Lewis Weldon, VI: 85 Hawkins, Sir John, II: 143 Hawksmoor (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 6–7, 10–11 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, III: 339, 345; VI: 27, 33–34; Supp. IV: 116 Hawthorne (James), VI: 33–34, 67 Haxton, Gerald, VI: 369 “Hay Devil, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24–25 Hay Fever (Coward), Supp. II: 139, 141, 143–145, 148, 156 Haydn and the Valve Trumpet (Raine), Supp. XIII: 175 Haydon, Benjamin, IV: 214, 227, 312 Hayes, Albert McHarg, Retro. Supp. II: 181 “Haymaking” (Thomas), Supp. III: 399, 405 “Haystack in the Floods, The” (Morris), V: 293 Hayter, Alethea, III: 338, 346; IV: xxiv– xxv, 57, 322 Haywood, Eliza, Supp. XII: 133–148 Hazard, Paul, III: 72 “Hazards of the House” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 Hazlitt, William, I: 121, 164; II: 153, 332, 333, 337, 343, 346, 349, 354, 361, 363, 364; III: 68, 70, 76, 78, 165, 276–277; IV: ix, xi, xiv, xvii–xix, 38, 39, 41, 50, 125–140, 217; Retro. Supp. I: 147; Retro. Supp. II: 51, 52 “He” (Lessing), Supp. I: 244 He Came Down from Heaven (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 284 He Knew He Was Right (Trollope), V: 98, 99, 102 “He Revisits His First School” (Hardy), VI: 17 “He saw my heart’s woe” (Brontë), V: 132 “He Says Goodbye in November” (Cornford), VIII: 114

361

He That Will Not When He May (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 “He Thinks of His Past Greatness . . . When a Part of the Constellations of Heaven” (Yeats), VI: 211 “He thought he saw a Banker’s Clerk” (Carroll), V: 270 “He Wonders Whether to Praise or to Blame Her” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 Head to Toe (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 365– 366 “Head Spider, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283, 284 Heading Home (Hare), Supp. IV: 288, 290–291 Headlong (Frayn), Supp. VII: 64, 65 Headlong Hall (Peacock), IV: xvii, 160– 163, 164, 165, 168, 169 “Healer, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 Healers, The (Armah), Supp. X: 1–3, 6–11, 13 Healing Art, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 299–300, 301, 303, 308 Health and Holiness (Thompson), V: 450, 451 “Healthy Landscape with Dormouse” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Healy, Dermot, Supp. IX: 95–108 Heaney, Seamus, Supp. II: 267–281; Supp. IV: 410, 412, 416, 420–421, 427, 428; Retro. Supp. I: 123–135 Hear Us O Lord from Heaven Thy Dwelling Place (Lowry), Supp. III: 281– 282 Hearing Secret Harmonies (Powell), VII: 352, 353 “Hears not my Phillis, how the Birds” (Sedley), II: 264 Heart and Science (Collins), Supp. VI: 102–103 “Heart, II, The” (Thompson), V: 443 Heart Clock (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 111 “Heart Knoweth Its Own Bitterness, The” (Rossetti), V: 253–254 “Heart of a King, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Heart of Darkness (Conrad), VI: 135, 136–139, 172; Supp. IV: 189, 250, 403; Retro. Supp. II: 73–75 “Heart of John Middleton, The” (Gaskell), V: 15 Heart of Mid–Lothian, The (Scott), IV: xvii, 30, 31, 33–34, 35, 36, 39; V: 5 Heart of the Country, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 526–528 Heart of the Matter, The (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 8, 11–12, 13; Retro. Supp. II: 157–159 Heart to Heart (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 320 Heartbreak (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163 “Heartbreak Hotel” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 42 Heartbreak House (Shaw), V: 423; VI: viii, xv, 118, 120–121, 127, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 322–323 Heartland (Harris), Supp. V: 135, 136 “Heartland, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 109

HEAR−HERO Hearts and Lives of Men, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 536 “Heart’s Chill Between” (Rossetti), V: 249, 252 “Heart’s Desire is Full of Sleep, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 “Heat” (Hart), Supp. XI: 131 Heat and Dust (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 224, 230, 231–232, 238 Heat of the Day, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 78, 79, 93, 95 “Heather Ale” (Stevenson), V: 396 Heather Field, The (Martyn), IV: 87, 95 “Heaven” (Brooke), Supp. III: 56, 60 Heaven and Earth (Byron), IV: 178, 193 Heaven and Its Wonders, and Hell (Swedenborg), Retro. Supp. I: 38 Heaven to Find, A (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 136, 145 Heavenly Foot–man, The (Bunyan), II: 246, 253 Heaven’s Command: An Imperial Progress (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 173, 179–180 Heaven’s Edge (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 85–86, 96–100 “Heber” (Smith), Supp. II: 466 Hebert, Ann Marie, Supp. IV: 523 Hebrew Melodies, Ancient and Modern . . . (Byron), IV: 192 “Hebrides, The” (Longley), VIII: 168– 169 Hecatommitthi (Cinthio), I: 316 Hedda Gabler (Ibsen), Supp. IV: 163, 286 “Hedgehog” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 414 “Hee–Haw” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Heel of Achilles, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 36 “Heepocondry” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75 “Heera Nund” (Steel), Supp. XII: 268– 269 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, Supp. II: 22 Heiðreks saga, VIII: 231 “Height–ho on a Winter Afternoon” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107–108 “Heil Baldwin” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 38 Heilbrun, Carolyn G., Supp. IV: 336 Heimskringla, VIII: 235, 242 Heine, Heinrich, IV: xviii, 296 Heinemann, William, VII: 91 “Heiress, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 282 “Heirloom” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Heit, S. Mark, Supp. IV: 339 “Hélas” (Wilde), V: 401 Helen (Scott), Supp. III: 151, 165–166 Helena (Waugh), VII: 292, 293–294, 301 Hélène Fourment in a Fur Coat (Rubens), Supp. IV: 89 “Helicon” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Hellas (Shelley), IV: xviii, 206, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 255 Hellbox, The (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 69– 72, 74, 75 “Hellbox, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 69, 71, 72

Hellenics, The (Landor), IV: 96, 100 “Helmet, The” (Longley), VIII: 176 Héloise and Abélard (Moore), VI: xii, 88, 89, 94–95, 99 “Helplessly” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 217 Hemans, Felicia, IV: 311 Hemingway, Ernest, Supp. III: 105; Supp. IV: 163, 209, 500 Hemlock and After (Wilson), Supp. I: 155–156, 157, 158–159, 160, 161, 164 Hello, America (Ballard), Supp. V: 29 “Help, Good Shepherd” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 “Hen Under Bay Tree” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 “Hen Woman” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 266– 267 Henceforward (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 11, 13 “Hendecasyllabics” (Swinburne), V: 321 “Hendecasyllabics” (Tennyson), IV: 327– 328 Henderson, Hamish, VII: 422, 425–426 Henderson, Hubert, VII: 35 Henderson, Philip, V: xii, xviii, 335 Henderson, T. F., IV: 290n Hengist, King of Kent; or, The Mayor of Quinborough (Middleton), II: 3, 21 Henley, William Ernest, V: 386, 389, 391–392; VI: 159; Retro. Supp. I: 260, 264 Henn, T. R., VI: 220 “Henrietta Marr” (Moore), VI: 87 Henrietta Temple (Disraeli), IV: xix, 293, 298–299, 307, 308 “Henrik Ibsen” (James), VI: 49 Henry Esmond (Thackeray), see History of Henry Esmond, Esq. . . ., The Henry for Hugh (Ford), VI: 331 “Henry James” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 Henry James (ed. Tanner), VI: 68 Henry James (West), Supp. III: 437 “Henry James: The Religious Aspect” (Greene), Supp. I: 8 “Henry Petroski, The Pencil. A History. Faber and Faber, £14.95” (Dunn), Supp. X: 79 “Henry Purcell” (Hopkins), V: 370–371; Retro. Supp. II: 196 Henry Reed: Collected Poems (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Henry II (Bancroft), II: 305 Henry IV (Shakespeare), I: 308–309, 320 Henry V (Shakespeare), I: 309; V: 383; Supp. IV: 258 Henry VI trilogy (Shakespeare), I: 286, 299–300, 309 Henry VI’s Triumphal Entry into London (Lydgate), I: 58 Henry VIII (Shakespeare), I: 324; II: 43, 66, 87; V: 328 “Henry VIII and Ann Boleyn” (Landor), IV: 92 Henry Vaughan: Experience and the Tradition (Garner), II: 186n Henry’s Past (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Henryson, Robert, Supp. VII: 135–149 Henslowe, Philip, I: 228, 235, 284; II: 3 25, 68

362

Henty, G. A., Supp. IV: 201 “Her Day” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 260 “Her Second Husband Hears Her Story” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 Her Triumph (Johnson), I: 347 Her Vertical Smile (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270–271 Her Victory (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411, 415, 422, 425 Herakles (Euripides), IV: 358 Herbert, Edward, pseud. of John Hamilton Reynolds Herbert, Edward, see Herbert of Cherbury, Lord Herbert, George, II: 113, 117–130, 133, 134, 137, 138, 140–142, 184, 187, 216, 221; Retro. Supp. II: 169–184 Herbert of Cherbury, Lord, II: 117–118, 222, 237, 238 Herbert’s Remains (Oley), Retro. Supp. II: 170–171 Hercule Poirot’s Last Case (Christie), Supp. II: 125 “Hercules” (Armitage), VIII: 12 “Hercules and Antaeus” (Heaney), Supp. II: 274–275 Hercules Oetaeus (Seneca), I: 248 “Here” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26 “Here” (Larkin), Supp. I: 279, 285 “Here and There” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77–78 “Here Be Dragons” (Dunn), Supp. X: 72 Here Comes Everybody: An Introduction to James Joyce for the Ordinary Reader (Burgess), Supp. I: 194, 196– 197 Here Lies: An Autobiography (Ambler), Supp. IV: 1, 2, 3, 4 “Heredity” (Harrison), Supp. V: 152 Heretics (Chesterton), VI: 204, 336–337 Hering, Carl Ewald, Supp. II: 107–108 Heritage and Its History, A (Compton– Burnett), VII: 60, 61, 65 “Heritage Center, Cobh 1993, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 Hermaphrodite Album, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 “Hermaphroditus” (Swinburne), V: 320 Hermetical Physick . . . Englished (tr. Vaughan), II: 185, 201 Hermit of Marlow, The, pseud. of Percy Bysshe Shelley “Hero” (Rossetti), V: 260 “Hero and Leander” (Hood), IV: 255– 256, 267 Hero and Leander (Marlowe), I: 234, 237–240, 276, 278, 280, 288, 290– 291, 292; Retro. Supp. I: 211 Hero and Leander, in Burlesque (Wycherley), II: 321 “Hero as King, The” (Carlyle), IV: 245, 246 Hero Rises Up, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 31 “Heroine, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 Herodotus, Supp. IV: 110 Heroes and Hero–Worship (Carlyle), IV: xx, 240, 244–246, 249, 250, 341

HERO−HIST Heroes and Villains (Carter), Supp. III: 81, 84 Heroic Idylls, with Additional Poems (Landor), IV: 100 “Heroic Stanzas” (Dryden), II: 292 Heroine, The; or, The Adventures of Cherubina (Barrett), III: 335 “Heron, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 “Heron and Li Po on the Blackwater” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Heron Caught in Weeds, A (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273–275 Herrick, Robert, II: 102–116, 121 Herself Surprised (Cary), VII: 186, 188, 191–192 “Hertha” (Swinburne), V: 325 Hervarar saga, See Heiðreks saga “Hervé Riel” (Browning), IV: 367 Herzog, Werner, IV: 180 “Hesperia” (Swinburne), V: 320, 321 Hesperides, The (Herrick), II: 102, 103, 104, 106, 110, 112, 115, 116 Hester (Oliphant), Supp. X: 217–218 “Hester Dominy” (Powys), VIII: 250 Hexameron; or, Meditations on the Six Days of Creation, and Meditations and Devotions on the Life of Christ (Traherne), Supp. XI: 264, 265, 273– 274 Heyday of Sir Walter Scott, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 114–115 Heylyn, Peter, I: 169 Heywood, Jasper, I: 215 Heywood, Thomas, II: 19, 47, 48, 68, 83 “Hexagon” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Hibberd, Dominic, VI: xvi, xxxiii Hide, The (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 354, 356 “Hide and Seek” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272 Hide and Seek (Collins), Supp. VI: 92, 95 Hide and Seek (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 246, 248–250 Hide and Seek (Swinburne), V: 334 “Hidden History, A” (Okri), Supp. V: 352 Hidden Ireland, The (Corkery), Supp. V: 41 “Hidden Law” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Higden, Ranulf, I: 22 Higgins, F. R., Supp. IV: 411, 413 “Higgler, The” (Coppard), VIII: 85, 90, 95 Higgler and Other Tales, The (Coppard), VIII: 90 “High Flats at Craigston, The” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 91 High Island: New and Selected Poems (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 315, 316, 324–325 “High Land” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 107 “High Life in Verdopolis” (Brontë), V: 135 High Tide in the Garden (Adcock), Supp. XII: 5 “High wavering heather . . . ” (Brontë), V: 113 High Windows (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 280, 281–284, 285, 286 Higher Ground (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 386–388

Higher Schools and Universities in Germany (Arnold), V: 216 “Higher Standards” (Wilson), Supp. I: 155 Highet, Gilbert, II: 199 Highland Fling (Mitford), Supp. X: 152– 154 “Highland Funeral” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 193 Highland Widow, The (Scott), IV: 39 Highlander, The (Macpherson), VIII: 181–182, 190 Highly Dangerous (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 High–Rise (Ballard), Supp. V: 27 High Summer (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 315 Highsmith, Patricia, Supp. IV: 285; Supp. V: 167–182 “Highwayman and the Saint, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 118 Hilaire Belloc (Wilson), Supp. VI: 301– 302 Hilda Lessways (Bennett), VI: 258; Supp. IV: 238 Hill, G. B., III: 233, 234n Hill, Geoffrey, Supp. V: 183–203 Hill, Susan, Supp. XIV: 115–128 “Hill, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 51 Hill of Devi, The (Forster), VI: 397, 408, 411 “Hill of Venus, The” (Morris), V: 298 Hill, Reginald, Supp. IX: 109–126 Hilton, Walter, Supp. I: 74 Hind, The, and the Panther (Dryden), II: 291, 292, 299–300, 304 Hinge of Faith, The (Churchill), VI: 361 Hinman, Charlton, I: 326–327 Hinterland, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219–220, 223 “Hinterland, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224, 227 Hinton, William, Supp. IV: 284 “Hints” (Reading), VIII: 265–266 Hints Towards the Formation of a More Comprehensive Theory of Life (Coleridge), IV: 56 Hippolytus (Euripides), V: 322, 324 “Hippy Wordsworth” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 14 Hips and Haws (Coppard), VIII: 89, 98 Hireling, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 129– 131 “His Age, Dedicated to his Peculiar Friend, M. John Wickes” (Herrick), II: 112 His Arraignment (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 158 “His Chosen Calling” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385 “His Country” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120–121 His Dark Materials (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 149, 150, 151, 153–160 His Darling Sin (Braddon), VIII: 49 “His Fare–well to Sack” (Herrick), II: 111 “His Father’s Hands” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 “His Last Bow” (Doyle), Supp. II: 175 “His Letanie, to the Holy Spirit” (Herrick), II: 114

363

His Majesties Declaration Defended (Dryden), II: 305 His Majesty Preserved . . . Dictated to Samuel Pepys by the King . . . (ed. Rees–Mogg), II: 288 His Noble Numbers (Herrick), II: 102, 103, 112, 114, 115, 116 “His Returne to London” (Herrick), II: 103 His Second War (Waugh), Supp. VI: 274 Historia naturalis et experimentalis (Bacon), I: 259, 273 Historia regis Henrici Septimi (André), I: 270 Historiae adversum paganos (Orosius), Retro. Supp. II: 296 “Historian, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74 “Historian of Silence, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 Historical Account of the Theatre in Europe, An (Riccoboni), II: 348 Historical Register, The (Fielding), III: 97, 98, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 82 Historical Relation of the Island of Ceylon, An (Knox), III: 7 “Historical Sketches of the Reign of George Second” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 “Historical Society” (Murphy), Supp. V: 322 “History” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 26 “History” (Macaulay), IV: 284 History: The Home Movie (Raine), Supp. XIII: 171–173 History and Adventures of an Atom, The (Smollett), III: 149–150, 158 History and Adventures of Joseph Andrews and of His Friend Mr. Abraham Adams (Fielding), Retro. Supp. I: 80, 83–86 History and Management of the East India Company (Macpherson), VIII: 193 History and Remarkable Life of . . . Col. Jack (Defoe), see Colonel Jack History Maker, A (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 87–88 History of a Good Warm Watch–Coat, The (Sterne), see Political Romance, A “History of a Nonchalant, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 159 “History of a Piece of Paper” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 244 “History of a Realist, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 159 History of a Six Weeks’ Tour Through a Part of France . . . (Shelley and Shelley), IV: 208; Supp. III: 355 “History of an Enthusiast, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 158–159 “History of Angria” (Brontë), V: 110– 111, 118 History of Antonio and Mellida, The (Marston), see Antonio and Mellida History of Brazil (Southey), IV: 68, 71 History of Britain . . . , The (Milton), II: 176 History of British India, The, (Mill), V: 288

HIST−HOMA History of Dorastus and Fawni, The (Greene). See Pandosto: or, The Triumph of Time History of England (Hume), II: 148; IV: 273; Supp. III: 229, 238–239 History of England, An (Goldsmith), III: 180, 181, 189, 191 History of England, The (Trevelyan), VI: xv, 390–391, 393 History of England from the Accession of James II, The (Macaulay), II: 255; IV: xx, 272, 273, 280, 282, 283–290, 291 History of England in the Eighteenth Century (Lecky), Supp. V: 41 History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century (Stephen), V: 280, 288, 289 History of Frederick the Great, The (Carlyle), IV: xxi, 240, 246, 249, 250 History of Friar Francis, The, I: 218 History of Great Britain from the Restoration to the Accession of the House of Hanover (Macpherson), VIII: 192, 193 History of Henry Esmond, Esq. . . , The (Thackeray), V: xxi, 20, 31–33, 38 History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 144 History of King Richard III, The (More), Supp. VII: 234, 237–238, 246 History of Leonora Meadowson, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 144 History of Madan, The (Beaumont), II: 67 History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135, 136, 144–146 History of Mr. Polly, The (Wells), VI: xii, 225, 238–239 History of My Own Times (Burnet), III: 39 History of Orlando Furioso, The (Greene), VIII: 140 History of Pendennis, The (Thackeray), V: xxi, 28–31, 33, 35, 38; VI: 354 History of Rasselas Prince of Abyssina, The (Johnson), III: 112–113, 121; IV: 47; Retro. Supp. I: 139–140, 148 History of Samuel Titmarsh and the Great Hoggarty Diamond, The (Thackeray), see Great Hoggarty Diamond, The History of Shikasta (Lessing), Supp. I: 251 History of Sir Charles Grandison, The (Richardson), see Sir Charles Grandison History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews . . . , The (Fielding), see Joseph Andrews “History of the Boswell Papers” (Pottle), III: 240n History of the Church of Scotland (Spottiswoode), II: 142 History of the Earth, and Animated Nature, An (Goldsmith), III: 180, 181, 189–190, 191 History of the English–Speaking Peoples, A (Churchill), VI: 356 History of the Four Last Years of Queen Anne, The (Swift), III: 27, 36

“History of the Hardcomes, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 History of the Italian Renaissance (Symonds), V: 83 History of the Kentish Petition, The (Defoe), III: 12 History of the League, The (tr. Dryden), II: 305 “History of the Next French Revolution, The” (Thackeray), V: 38 History of the Nun, The; or, The Fair Vow–Breaker (Behn), Supp. III: 32 History of the Peninsular War (Southey), IV: 58, 63, 71; V: 109 History of the Plague Year, A (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 68 History of the Pyrates, The (Defoe), III: 13 History of the Reign of Henry the Seventh, The (Bacon), I: 259, 269, 270, 272 History of the Royal Society of London (Sprat), II: 196; III: 29 “History of the Scuphams” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 History of the Union of Great Britain, The (Defoe), III: 4, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 65 “History of the Voice” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 44–45 History of the Wars of . . . Charles XII . . ., The (Defoe), III: 13 “History of the Winds” (Bacon), I: 263 History of the World in 10 Chapters, A (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 71–72, 73 History of the World, The (Ralegh), I: 145, 146, 149, 153–157 History of Titus Andronicus, The, I: 305 History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, The (Fielding), see Tom Jones History of Van’s House, The, II: 335 History Plays, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 283 Histriomastix (Prynne), II: 339; Supp. III: 23 Histriomastix; or, The Player Whipt (Marston), II: 27, 28, 40 Hitchcock, Alfred, III: 342–343; Supp. III: 147, 148, 149 “Hitcher” (Armitage), VIII: 8 “Hitchhiker, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 201 Hitherto unpublished Poems and Stories . . . (Browning), IV: 321 Hjálmarr’s Death–Song, VIII: 232 Hlo¸ðskviða, VIII: 231 H’m (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286 “H’m” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 H.M.S. Surprise (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 255, 256 Hoare, D.M., V: 299, 306 Hobbes, John Oliver, pseud. of Mrs. Craigie Hobbes, Thomas, II: 190, 196, 256, 294; III: 22; IV: 121, 138 Hobbit, The (Tolkien), Supp. II: 520, 521, 525, 527–528, 529, 530, 531–532 Hobsbaum, Philip, Retro. Supp. I: 126; Retro. Supp. II: 200 Hoccleve, Thomas, I: 49 “Hock–Cart; or, Harvest Home, The” (Herrick), II: 110–111

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Hockney’s Alphabet (McEwan), Supp. IV: 389 Ho Davies, Peter, see Davies, Peter Ho Hodder, E., IV: 62n Hodgkins, Howard, Supp. IV: 170 Hodgson, W. N., VI: 422, 423 Hoff, Benjamin, Supp. V: 311 Hoffman, Calvin, I: 277 Hoffman, Heinrich, I: 25; Supp. III: 296 Hoffmann, E. T. A., III: 333, 334, 345 “Hoffmeier’s Antelope” (Swift), Supp. V: 432 Hofmeyr (Paton; U.S. title, South African Tragedy: The Life and Times of Jan Hofmeyr), Supp. II: 356–357, 358 Hogarth Press, VII: xv, 17, 34 Hogg, James, IV: xvii, 73; Supp. X: 103– 118 Hogg, Thomas Jefferson, IV: 196, 198, 209 Hoggart, Richard, VII: xx, xxxviii; Supp. IV: 473 Hold Your Hour and Have Another (Behan), Supp. II: 65–66, 70 Holiday, The (Smith), Supp. II: 462, 474, 476–478 Holiday Romance (Dickens), V: 72 Holiday Round, The (Milne), Supp. V: 298 “Holidays” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220 Hollinghurst, Alan, Supp. X: 119–135 Hollington, Michael, Supp. IV: 357 Hollis, Maurice Christopher, VI: xxxiii Hollis, Richard, Supp. IV: 88 “Hollow Men, The” (Eliot), VII: 150– 151, 158; Retro. Supp. II: 129–130 Hollow’s Mill (Brontë), see Shirley Holloway, John, VII: 82 Holroyd, Michael, Supp. IV: 231 “Holy Baptisme I” (Herbert), II: 128 Holy City, The; or, The New Jerusalem (Bunyan), II: 253 “Holy Fair, The” (Burns), III: 311, 315, 317 Holy Grail, The, and Other Poems (Tennyson), IV: 338 “Holy Experiment, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Holy Life, The Beauty of Christianity, A (Bunyan), II: 253 “Holy Mountain, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 215 “Holy Scriptures” (Vaughan), II: 187 “Holy Scriptures II, The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 174 Holy Sinner, The (Mann), II: 97n Holy Sonnets (Donne), I: 362, 366, 367; Retro. Supp. II: 96 Holy War, The: Made by Shaddai . . . (Bunyan), II: 246, 250, 251–252, 253 “Holy Willie’s Prayer” (Burns), III: 311, 313, 319 “Holy–Cross Day” (Browning), IV: 367 “Holyhead, September 25, 1717” (Swift), III: 32 “Homage to a Government” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 Homage to Catalonia (Orwell), VII: 275, 280–281 Homage to Clio (Auden), VII: 392

HOMA−HOUG “Homage to Burns” (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 “Homage to George Orwell” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215 “Homage to the British Museum” (Empson), Supp. II: 182 “Homage to William Cowper” (Davie), Supp. VI: 106 “Homages” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 Homans, Margaret, Retro. Supp. I: 189 “Home” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “Home” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 14–15 “Home” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 66 “Home” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 37 “Home” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 106 Home (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 413, 417 Home and Beauty (Maugham), VI: 368– 369 Home and Dry (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70, 81 “Home at Grasmere” (Wordsworth), IV: 3, 23–24 Home Chat (Coward), Supp. II: 146 “Home Conveyancing Kit, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 320 “Home for a couple of days” (Kelman), Supp. V: 250 “Home for the Highland Cattle, A” (Lessing), Supp. I: 241–242 “Home from Home” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 65, 67 Home Front (Bishton and Reardon), Supp. IV: 445 Home Letters (Disraeli) IV: 296, 308 Home Letters of T. E. Lawrence and His Brothers, The (Lawrence), Supp. II: 286 “Home Thoughts from Abroad” (Browning), IV: 356 “Home Thoughts Abroad” (Newman), Supp. VII: 293 Home Truths (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163, 170–172, 175 “Home [2]” (Thomas), Supp. III: 405 “Home [3]” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 Home University Library, VI: 337, 391 Homebush Boy (Keneally), Supp. IV: 344, 347 Homecoming, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 375, 380, 381; Retro. Supp. I: 225–226 Homecoming: Essays on African and Caribbean Literature, Culture, and Politics (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 214, 224 Homecomings (Snow), VII: xxi, 324, 329, 335 “Homemade” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 389, 391, 395 “Homemaking” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 229 Homer, I: 236; II: 304, 347; III: 217, 220; IV: 204, 215 Homeric Hymns (tr. Chapman), I: 236 “Homesick in Old Age” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Homeward Prospect, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 129 Homeward: Songs by the Way (Russell), VIII: 280, 282 Homiletic Fragment I, Retro. Supp. II: 301–302

“Homogenic Attachment, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 43 “Homogenic Love: And Its Place in a Free Society” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41, 42–43 Hone, Joseph, VI: 88 Hone, William, IV: 255 Honest Man’s Fortune, The (Field, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Honest Whore, The (Dekker and Middleton), II: 3, 21, 89 Honey for the Bears (Burgess), Supp. I: 191 Honeybuzzard (Carter), see Shadow Dance Honeycomb (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 182, 183, 189 Honeymoon Voyage, The (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 Hong Kong House, A: Poems 1951–1961 (Blunden), Supp. XI: 34, 38 “Hong Kong Story” (Nye), Supp. X: 201–202 Honorary Consul, The (Greene), Supp. I: 7, 10, 13, 16; Retro. Supp. II: 164– 165 Honour of the Garter, The (Peele), I: 205 Honour Triumphant; or, The Peeres Challenge (Ford), II: 88, 100 “Honourable Estate, An” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 Honourable Estate: A Novel of Transition (Brittain), Supp. X: 41–43, 46–47 “Honourable Laura, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Honourable Schoolboy, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 301, 313–314, 315 Hood, Thomas, IV: xvi, xx, 251–267, 311 Hood’s (periodical), IV: 252, 261, 263, 264 “Hood’s Literary Reminiscences” (Blunden), IV: 267 Hood’s Own (Hood), IV: 251–252, 253, 254, 266 Hook, Theodore, IV: 254 Hooker, Richard, I: 176–190, 362; II: 133, 137, 140–142, 147 Hoop, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 13, 14 “Hope” (Cornford), VIII: 105, 112 “Hope” (Cowper), III: 212 Hope, A. D., Supp. VII: 151–166 “Hope Abandoned” (Davies), Supp. XI: 97 Hope for Poetry, A (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 119 Hopes and Fears for Art (Morris), V: 301, 306 Hopkins, Gerard Manley, II: 123, 181; IV: xx; V: ix, xi, xxv, 53, 205, 210, 261, 309–310, 338, 361–382; VI: 75, 83; Supp. II: 269; Supp. IV: 344, 345; Retro. Supp. II: 173, 185–198 Hopkins (MacKenzie), V: 375n 382 Hopkinson, Sir Tom, V: xx, xxxviii Horace, II: 108, 112, 199, 200, 265, 292, 300, 309, 347; IV: 327 “Horae Canonicae” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 12–13

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Horae Solitariae (Thomas), Supp. III: 394 “Horatian Ode . . . , An” (Marvell), II: 204, 208, 209, 210, 211, 216–217; Retro. Supp. II: 263–264 “Horatius” (Macaulay), IV: 282 Horestes (Pickering), I: 213, 216–218 Horizon (periodical), Supp. II: 489; Supp. III: 102–103, 105, 106–107, 108–109 Horne, Richard Hengist, IV: 312, 321, 322 Hornet (periodical), VI: 102 Horniman, Annie, VI: 309; VII: 1 “Horns Away” (Lydgate), I: 64 Horse and His Boy, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 260 “Horse at Balaklava, 1854” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 66 “Horse Dealer ’s Daughter, The” (Lawrence), VII: 114 “Horse–Drawn Caravan” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 “Horse, Goose and Sheep, The” (Lydgate), I: 57 Horseman’s Word, The (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 166 “Horses” (Muir), Supp. VI: 204– 205“Horses” (Muir), Supp. VI: 204– 205 Horse’s Mouth, The (Cary), VII: 186, 188, 191, 192, 193–194 Hoskins, John, I: 165–166, 167 “Hospital Barge” (Owen), VI: 454 Hostage, The (Behan), Supp. II: 70, 72– 73, 74 Hostages to Fortune (Braddon), VIII: 49 Hosts of the Lord, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 274 Hot Anger Soon Cold (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 157 Hot Countries, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 272, 274 Hot Gates, The (Golding), Supp. I: 81; Retro. Supp. I: 93 Hotel, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 82–83 Hotel de Dream (Tennant), Supp. IX: 230 Hotel du Lac (Brookner), Supp. IV: 120, 121, 126–127, 136 Hotel in Amsterdam, The (Osborne), Supp. I: 338–339 “Hotel of the Idle Moon, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 “Hotel Room in Chartres” (Lowry), Supp. III: 272 Hothouse, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 377– 378 Hothouse by the East River, The (Spark), Supp. I: 210 Hotson, Leslie, I: 275, 276 Hotspur: A Ballad for Music (Adcock and Whitehead), Supp. XII: 9 “Hottentot Venus” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101 Houd–den–bek (Brink), Supp. VI: 51 Hough, Graham, IV: 323n, 339; V: 355, 359 Houghton, Lord, see Monckton Milnes, Richard

HOUN−HUGH Hound of Death, The (Christie), III: 341 “Hound of Heaven, The” (Thompson), V: 445–447, 449, 450 Hound of the Baskervilles, The (Doyle), III: 341, 342, 345; Supp. II: 161, 163, 164, 170, 171, 172 “Hour and the Ghost, The” (Rossetti), V: 256 Hour of Magic and Other Poems, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 99 Hours in a Library (Stephen), V: 279, 285, 286, 287, 289 Hours of Idleness (Byron), IV: xvi 192 House, Humphry, IV: 167 “House” (Browning), IV: 359; Retro. Supp. II: 29 House and Its Head, A (Compton– Burnett), VII: 61 “House and Man” (Thomas), Supp. III: 403, 404 House at Pooh Corner, The (Milne), Supp. V: 295, 305, 306, 307, 308–309 “House Building” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 House by the Churchyard, The (Le Fanu), III: 340, 345 House for Mr Biswas, A (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383, 386, 387–389 “House Grown Silent, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 “House Guest” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 79 House in Corfu: A Family’s Sojourn in Greece, A (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 House in Paris, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 82, 84, 89–90 “House in the Acorn, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 House of All Nations (Stead), Supp. IV: 464–467 “House of Aries, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 346 “House of Beauty, The” (Christie), Supp. II: 124 House of Children, A (Cary), VII: 186, 187, 189 “House of Christmas, The” (Chesterton), VI: 344 House of Cobwebs, The (Gissing), V: 437 House of Doctor Dee (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 4, 10 House of Dolls, The (Comyns), VIII: 53, 65 “House of Dreams, The” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 House of Fame, The (Chaucer), I: 23, 30; Retro. Supp. II: 38–39 “House of Geraniums, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 House of Hospitalities, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 House of Life, The (Rossetti), V: 237, 238, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245 House of Pomegranates, A (Wilde), V: 419; Retro. Supp. II: 365 House of Seven Gables, The (Hawthorne), III: 339, 345 House of Sleep, The (Kavan), Supp. VII: 212–213 House of Splendid Isolation (O’Brien), Supp. V: 341–344

House on the Beach, The (Meredith), V: 230–231, 234 House on the Strand, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 138, 139, 140, 141, 147 House of Titans and Other Poems, The (Russell), VIII: 277, 290, 292 “House of Titans, The” (Russell), VIII: 290 “House We Lived In, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214 House with the Echo, The (Powys), VIII: 248, 249, 254 “Household Spirits” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 Household Words (periodical), V: xxi, 3, 42 Householder, The (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 227–228, 237 Housman, A. E., III: 68, 70; V: xxii, xxvi, 311; VI: ix, xv–xvi, 151–164, 415 Housman, Laurence, V: 402, 420 Housman: 1897–1936 (Richards), VI: 164 “House–martins” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 How About Europe? (Douglas), VI: 295, 305 “How Are the Children Robin” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 How Brophy Made Good (Hare), Supp. IV: 281 How Can We Know? (Wilson), Supp. VI: 305 “How Distant” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “How Do You See“(Smith), Supp. II: 467 How Far Can You Go? (Lodge; U.S. title, Souls and Bodies), Supp. IV: 366, 368, 371, 372, 375–376, 381, 408 How He Lied to Her Husband (Shaw), VI: 129 How I Became a Holy Mother and Other Stories (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235 “How I Became a Socialist” (Orwell), VII: 276–277 How It Is (Beckett), Supp. I: 43, 50, 52, 54–55, 58 “How It Strikes a Contemporary” (Browning), IV: 354, 367, 373 How Late It Was, How Late (Kelman), Supp. V: 243, 252–254 How Lisa Loved the King (Eliot), V: 200 “How Many Bards” (Keats), IV: 215 “How Pillingshot Scored” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 449–450 How Right You Are, Jeeves (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460, 461, 462 “How Sleep the Brave” (Collins), III: 166 “How soon the servant sun” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 “How Sweet the Name of Jesus Sounds” (Newton), III: 210 How the “Mastiffs”Went to Iceland (Trollope), V: 102 How the Other Half Lives (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 4, 9, 11, 12 How the Whale Became (Hughes), Supp. I: 346

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“How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix (16—)” (Browning), IV: 356, 361 How this foirsaid Tod maid his Confession to Freir Wolf Waitskaith (Henryson), see Fox and the Wolf, The “How to Accomplish It” (Newman), Supp. VII: 293 “How to Be an Expatriate” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 42 How to Become an Author (Bennett), VI: 264 “How to get away with Suicide” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 107 “How to Kill” (Douglas), VII: 443 How to Live on 24 Hours a Day (Bennett), VI: 264 How to Read (Pound), VII: 235 How to Read a Page (Richards), Supp. II: 426 How to Settle the Irish Question (Shaw), VI: 119, 129 “How to Teach Reading” (Leavis), VII: 235, 248 “How would the ogling sparks despise” (Etherege), II: 268 “How You Love Our Lady” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 9 Howard, Elizabeth Jane, Supp. XI: 135– 149 Howard, Henry, earl of Surrey, see Surrey, Henry Howard, earl of Howard, R., V: 418 Howard, Sir Robert, II: 100 Howards End (Forster), VI: viii, xii, 397, 398, 401, 404–406, 407; Supp. I: 161; Retro. Supp. II: 143–145 Howarth, R. G., II: 69 Howe, Irving, VI: 41 Howells, William Dean, VI: 23, 29, 33 Howitt, William, IV: 212 Hrafnkels saga, VIII: 242 Hubert de Sevrac: A Romance of the Eighteenth Century (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 209 Hubert De Vere (Burney), Supp. III: 71 Huchon, René, III: 273n Hudibras (Butler), II: 145 Hudson, Derek, V: xi, xxviii, 263, 274 Hudson, W. H., V: 429 Hudson Letter, The (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175–176 Hueffer, Ford Madox, see Ford, Ford Madox “Hug, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 274–275, 276, 277 Huggan, Graham, Supp. IV: 170 Hugh Primas and the Archpoet (tr. Adcock), Supp. XII: 10 Hugh Selwyn Mauberley (Pound), VI: 417; VII: xvi Hughes, Arthur, V: 294 Hughes, John, I: 121, 122; III: 40 Hughes, Ted, Supp. I: 341–366; Supp. IV: 257; Supp. V: xxx; Retro. Supp. I: 126; Retro. Supp. II: 199–219 Hughes, Thomas, I: 218; V: xxii, 170; Supp. IV: 506 Hughes, Willie, V: 405

HUGO−I FIN Hugo, Victor, III: 334; V: xxii, xxv, 22, 320; Supp. IV: 86 Hugo (Bennett), VI: 249 Huis clos (Sartre), Supp. IV: 39 “Hull Case, The” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 40–41 Hulme, T. E., VI: 416; Supp. VI: 133– 147 Hulse, Michael, Supp. IV: 354 “Human Abstract, The” (Blake), III: 296 Human Age, The (Lewis), VII: 80 Human Face, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221–223 Human Factor, The (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 11, 16–17; Retro. Supp. II: 165–166 “Human Harvest, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 112–113 “Human Life, on the Denial of Immortality” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 65 Human Machine, The (Bennett), VI: 250 Human Odds and Ends (Gissing), V: 437 “Human Seasons, The” (Keats), IV: 232 Human Shows, Far Phantasies, Songs and Trifles (Hardy), VI: 20 Human Voices (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 95, 100, 103 “Humanism and the Religious Attitude” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135, 140 “Humanitad” (Wilde), V: 401–402 Humble Administrator’s Garden, The (Seth), Supp. X: 281 “Humble Petition of Frances Harris” (Swift), III: 30–31 Humboldt’s Gift (Bellow), Supp. IV: 27, 33, 42 Hume, David, III: 148; IV: xiv, 138, 145, 273, 288; V: 288, 343; Supp. III: 220–245 Humiliation with Honour (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 “Humility” (Brome), Supp. X: 55 Humorous Day’s Mirth, A (Chapman), I: 243, 244 Humorous Lieutenant, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 60–61, 65, 359 Humours of the Court (Bridges), VI: 83 Humphrey Clinker (Smollett), III: 147, 150, 155–157, 158 “Hunchback in the Park, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177, 178 Hundred Days, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 259 “Hundred Years, A” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 Hundredth Story, The (Coppard), VIII: 89 Hungarian Lift–Jet, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 1 “Hunger” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 “Hungry” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 “Hungry Eye, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 Hungry Hill (du Maurier), Supp. III: 144 Hunt, John, IV: 129, 132 Hunt, Leigh, II: 332, 355, 357, 359, 363; IV: ix, 80, 104, 129, 132, 163, 172, 198, 202, 205–206, 209, 212–217, 230, 306; Retro. Supp. I: 183, 248 Hunt, Violet, VI: 324

Hunt, William Holman, V: 45, 77–78, 235, 236, 240 Hunt by Night, The (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173–174, 177 “Hunt by Night, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 “Hunt of Eildon, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 111 “Hunted Beast, The” (Powys), VIII: 247– 248 Hunted Down (Dickens), VI: 66, 72 “Hunter, The” (Macpherson), VIII: 181 Hunter, G. K., I: 165; II: 29, 41 Hunting of Cupid, The (Peele), I: 205 Hunting of the Snark, The (Carroll), V: 270, 272, 273 Hunting Sketches (Trollope), V: 101 Huntley, F. L, II: 152, 157 “Huntsman, The” (Lowbury), VII: 431– 432 “Huntsmen” (Nye), Supp. X: 198 Hurd, Michael, VI: 427 Hurd, Richard, I: 122 “Hurly Burly” (Coppard), VIII: 93–94 “Hurrahing in Harvest” (Hopkins), V: 366, 367, 368 “Husband and Wife” (Rossetti), V: 259 Husband His Own Cuckold, The (Dryden the younger), II: 305 “Husband’s Aubade, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Husband’s Message, The, Retro. Supp. II: 305 Hussein: An Entertainment (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 249 Hussey, Maurice, II: 250, 254 “Hut, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 Hutcheon, Linda, Supp. IV: 162 Hutchinson, F. E., II: 121, 123, 126, 129 Hutchinson, Sara, IV: 15, 49, 50, 54 Hutton, James, IV: 200 Hutton, R. H., V: 157–158, 168, 170 Huxley, Aldous, II: 105, 173; III: 341; IV: 303; V: xxii, 53; VII: xii, xvii– xviii, 79, 197–208; Retro. Supp. II: 182 Huxley, Thomas, V: xxii, 182, 284 Hyacinth Halvey (Gregory), VI: 315, 316 Hyde, Douglas, VI: 307; VII: 1 Hyde–Lees, George, VI: 213 Hydriotaphia (Browne), II: 150–153, 154, 155, 156 Hygiasticon (Lessius), II: 181n Hymenaei (Jonson), I: 239 Hymiskviða, VIII: 230 “Hymn before Sun–rise, in the Vale of Chamouni” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 59–60 “Hymn of Apollo” (Shelley), II: 200; IV: 203 Hymn of Nature, A (Bridges), VI: 81 “Hymn to Adversity” (Gray), III: 137 Hymn to Christ on the Cross (Chapman), I: 241–242 “Hymn to Colour” (Meredith), V: 222 Hymn to Diana (Jonson), I: 346; Retro. Supp. I: 162 “Hymn to God, my God, in my sickness” (Donne), I: 368; II: 114 Hymn to Harmony, A (Congreve), II: 350

367

“Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” (Shelley), IV: 198 “Hymn. To Light” (Cowley), II: 198, 200, 259 “Hymn to Mercury” (Shelley), IV: 196, 204 “Hymn to Pan” (Keats), IV: 216, 217, 222 “Hymn to Proust” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38 “Hymn to the Name and Honor of the Admirable Sainte Teresa, A” (Crashaw), II: 179, 182 Hymn to the Pillory, A (Defoe), III: 13; Retro. Supp. I: 65, 67–68 “Hymn to the Sun” (Hood), IV: 255 “Hymn to the Virgin” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21 “Hymn to the Winds” (du Bellay), V: 345 “Hymn to Venus” (Shelley), IV: 209 “Hymne of the Nativity, A” (Crashaw), II: 180, 183 “Hymne to God the Father, A” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 98 Hymns (Spenser), I: 131 Hymns Ancient and Modern (Betjeman), VII: 363–364 “Hymns to Lenin” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 211 Hymnus in Cynthiam (Chapman), I: 240 Hyperion (Keats), IV: 95, 204, 211, 212, 213, 227–231, 235; VI: 455; Retro. Supp. I: 194 Hypnerstomachia (Colonna), I: 134 Hypochondriack, The (Boswell), III: 237, 240, 243, 248 “Hypogram and Inscription” (de Man), Supp. IV: 115 Hysterical Disorders of Warfare (Yealland), Supp. IV: 58

“I”

(Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 I abide and abide and better abide” (Wyatt), I: 108, 109 “I Am”: The Selected Poetry of John Clare (Clare), Supp. XI: 51, 62 I Am a Camera (Isherwood), VII: 311 I Am Lazarus: Short Stories (Kavan), Supp. VII: 210–211 I Am Mary Dunne (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 143, 148, 149–150, 153 “I am Raftery” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 170 “I Bring Her a Flower” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 I Can Remember Robert Louis Stevenson (ed. Masson), V: 393, 397 “I care not if I live” (Bridges), VI: 81 I, Claudius (Graves), VII: 259 I Crossed the Minch (MacNeice), VII: 403, 411 “I dined with a Jew” (Macaulay), IV: 283 “I Don’t Know, What Do You Think” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 37, 39 “I Do, You Do” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260 “I Dreamt Gallipoli Beach” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “I find no peace and all my war is done” (Wyatt), I: 110

I GO N−ILLU “I go night–shopping like Frank O’Hara I go bopping” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175 “I Have Been Taught” (Muir), Supp. VI: 208 “I have longed to move away” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 “I have loved and so doth she” (Wyatt), I: 102 “I Hear Thy Call” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38 “I heard an Angel singing” (Blake), III: 296 “I, in my intricate image” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 I Knock at the Door (O’Casey), VII: 12 “I know a Bank Whereon the Wild Thyme Grows” (Shakespeare), IV: 222 “I lead a life unpleasant“(Wyatt), I: 104 I Like It Here (Amis), Supp. II: 8–10, 12 I Live under a Black Sun (Sitwell), VII: 127, 135, 139 “I Look into My Glass” (Hardy), VI: 16 I Lost My Memory, The Case As the Patient Saw It (Anon.), Supp. IV: 5 “I love all beauteous things” (Bridges), VI: 72 “I.M. G.MacB.” (Reading), VIII: 273 “I never shall love the snow again” (Bridges), VI: 77 “I Ordained the Devil” (McCabe), Supp. IX: 136 I promessi sposi (Manzoni), III: 334 “I Remember” (Hood), IV: 255 “I Remember, I Remember” (Larkin), Supp. I: 275, 277 “I Say I Say I Say” (Armitage), VIII: 9 “I Say No“ (Collins), Supp. VI: 93, 103 “I see the boys of summer” (Thomas), Supp. I: 173 I Speak of Africa (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213, 214, 216 “I Stood Tip–toe” (Keats), IV: 214, 216 “I strove with none” (Landor), IV: 98 “I that in heill wes” (Dunbar), VIII: 121 “I took my heart in my hand” (Rossetti), V: 252 “I wake and feel the fell of dark” (Hopkins), V: 374n, 375 “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” (Wordsworth), IV: 22 I Want It Now (Amis), Supp. II: 15 I Was a Rat! or, The Scarlet Slippers (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 “I Will Lend You Malcolm” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 I Will Marry When I Want (Ngu˜gı˜). See Ngaahika ndeenda “I will not let thee go” (Bridges), VI: 74, 77 I Will Pray with the Spirit (Bunyan), II: 253 “I will write” (Graves), VII: 269 “I would be a bird” (Bridges), VI: 81–82 Ian Hamilton’s March (Churchill), VI: 351 “Ianthe”poems (Landor), IV: 88, 89, 92, 99 Ibrahim (Scudéry), III: 95 “Ibrahim Pacha and Wellington” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127

Ibsen, Henrik, IV: 118; V: xxiii–xxvi, 414; VI: viii–ix, 104, 110, 269; Supp. III: 4, 12; Supp. IV: 1, 286; Retro. Supp. I: 170; Retro. Supp. II: 309 Ibsen’s Ghost; or, Toole Up to Date (Barrie), Supp. III: 4, 9 Ice (Kavan), Supp. VII: 201, 208, 214– 215 Ice Age, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 245–246, 247 Ice in the Bedroom (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460 “Ice Queen of Ararat, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 139 Icelandic journals (Morris), V: 299, 300– 301, 307 “Icy Road” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188– 189 Idea of a University, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 294, 296, 298–299 Idea of Christian Society, The (Eliot), VII: 153 Idea of Comedy, The, and the Uses of the Comic Spirit (Meredith), see Essay on Comedy and the Uses of the Comic Spirit “Idea of Entropy at Maenporth Beach, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 233–234, 237 “Idea of Perfection, The” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 217, 220 Idea of the Perfection of Painting, An (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 Ideal Husband, An (Wilde), V: 414–415, 419 Ideals in Ireland (ed. Lady Gregory), VI: 98 Ideals in Ireland: Priest or Hero? (Russell), VIII: 282, 284 Ideas and Places (Connolly), Supp. III: 110 Ideas of Good and Evil (Yeats), V: 301, 306 “Idenborough” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Identical Twins (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Identifying Poets: Self and Territory in Twentieth–Century Poetry (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 “Identities” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 414, 424 “Ides of March, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 Idiocy of Idealism, The (Levy), VI: 303 “Idiot Boy, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 7, 11 “Idiots, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Idle Reverie, An” (Russell), VIII: 290 Idleness of Business, The, A Satyr . . . (Wycherley), see Folly of Industry, The Idler (periodical), III: 111–112, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 145 Idol Hunter, The (Unsworth) see Pascali’s Island “Idyll” (Cope), VIII: 80 Idyllia heroica decem (Landor), IV: 100 “Idylls of the King” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 Idylls of the King (Tennyson), IV: xxii, 328, 336–337, 338 “If by Dull Rhymes Our English Must be Chained . . ..” (Keats), IV: 221

368

If Christ Came to Chicago! A Plea for the Union of All Who Love in the Service of All Who Suffer (Stead), Supp. XIII: 242–243 “If I Could Tell You” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10 If I Don’t Know (Cope), VIII: 67, 70, 79–84 If I Were Four and Twenty: Swedenborg, Mediums and Desolate Places (Yeats), VI: 222 “If I were tickled by the rub of lover” (Thomas), Supp. I: 172 “If in the world there be more woes“(Wyatt), I: 104 “If, My Darling” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 285 “If my head hurt a hair’s foot” (Thomas), Supp. I: 176–177 “If Only” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82 “If She’s Your Lover Now” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 If the Old Could . . . (Lessing), Supp. I: 253, 254 “If This Were Faith” (Stevenson), V: 385 “If You Came” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142, 143 If You’re Glad I’ll Be Frank (Stoppard), Supp. I: 439, 445 Ignatius His Conclave (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 95 “Ikey” (Brown), Supp. VI: 68 Ikons, The (Durrell), Supp. I: 121 “Il Conde” (Conrad), VI: 148 Il cortegiano (Castiglione), I: 265 Il Filostrato (Boccaccio), Retro. Supp. II: 40–42 Il pastor fido (Guarini), II: 49–50 Il pecorone (Fiorentino), I: 310 “Il Penseroso” (Milton), II: 158–159; III: 211n; IV: 14–15 Ilex Tree, The (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 271–272 Iliad, The (tr. Cowper), III: 220 Iliad, The (tr. Macpherson), VIII: 192 Iliad, The (tr. Pope), III: 77 Ill Beginning Has a Good End, An, and a Bad Beginning May Have a Good End (Ford), II: 89, 100 “I’ll come when thou art saddest” (Brontë), V: 127 I’ll Leave It To You (Coward), Supp. II: 141 I’ll Never Be Young Again (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139–140, 144 Ill Seen Ill Said (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 29 I’ll Stand by You (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 382 “Illiterations” (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 97 “Illuminated Man, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 24 Illusion (Carey and Mullins), Supp. XII: 53 Illusion and Reality: A Study of the Sources of Poetry (Caudwell), Supp. III: 120, Supp. IX: 33–36, 40–44, 46 “Illusions” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45

ILLU−IN ME “Illusions of Anti–Realism” (Brooke– Rose)), Supp. IV: 116 Illustrated Excursions in Italy (Lear), V: 77, 79, 87 Illustrated London News (periodical), VI: 337 Illustrations of Latin Lyrical Metres (Clough), V: 170 Illustrations of the Family of Psittacidae, or Parrots (Lear), V: 76, 79, 87 Illywhacker (Carey), Supp. XII: 49, 50, 51, 53, 55, 56–57, 57–58, 62 I’m Deadly Serious (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321–322 I’m Dying Laughing (Stead), Supp. IV: 473, 476 “I’m happiest when most away” (Brontë), V: 116 I’m the King of the Castle (Hill), Supp. XIV: 115, 117, 119–120, 127 “Image, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 115–116 “Image, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “Image, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Image and Superscription (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 “Image from Beckett, An” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 169, 172 Image Men, The (Priestley), VII: 209, 210, 218, 221–223 Image of a Society (Fuller), Supp. VII: 68, 74–75 “Images” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Imaginary Conversations (Landor), IV: xviii, 87, 88, 89, 90–94, 96–97, 99, 100 Imaginary Conversations of Greeks and Romans (Landor), IV: 100 Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 171, 434 Imaginary Life, An (Malouf), Supp. XII: 217, 222–224, 228 Imaginary Love Affair, An (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Imaginary Portraits (Pater), V: 339, 340, 348–349, 355, 356 Imagination Dead Imagine (Beckett), Supp. I: 53, 61; Retro. Supp. I: 29 Imagination in the Modern World, The (Spender), Supp. II: 492 Imaginations and Reveries (Russell), VIII: 277, 281, 284, 287, 292 “Imaginative Woman, An” (Hardy), VI: 22 Imaginings of Sand (Brink), Supp. VI: 57 Imitation Game, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 398–399 “Imitation of Spenser” (Keats), IV: 213; Retro. Supp. I: 187 Imitations of English Poets (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 231–232 Imitation of the Sixth Satire of the Second Book of Horace, An (Swift), III: 36 Imitations of Horace (Pope), II: 298; III: 77; Retro. Supp. I: 230, 235–238 Immaturity (Shaw), VI: 105 “Immigrant” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage, A (Collier), see Short View

of the Immorality . . . , A Immorality, Debauchery and Prophaneness (Meriton), II: 340 Immortal Dickens, The (Gissing), V: 437 “Immortals, The” (Amis), Supp. IV: 40 “Immram” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 415– 418, 420, 421, 425 Impartial Reflections on the Present Situation of the Queen of France (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202 “Impercipient, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 “Imperial Adam” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 “Imperial Elegy, An” (Owen), VI: 448 Imperial Palace (Bennett), VI: xiii, 247, 250, 251, 262–263 Implements in Their Places (Graham), Supp. VII: 103, 115–116 Importance of Being Earnest, The (Wilde), V: xxvi, 415, 416, 419; Supp. II: 50, 143, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 350, 370, 314–315 “Importance of Glasgow in My Work, The” (Kelman), Supp. V: 257 Importance of the Guardian Considered, The (Swift), III: 35 “Impossibility” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 77 Impossible Thing, An: A Tale (Congreve), II: 350 “Impression” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 275 Impressions and Opinions (Moore), VI: 87 Impressions of America (Wilde), V: 419 Impressions of Theophrastus Such (Eliot), V: 198, 200 Impressionist, The (Kunzru), Supp. XIV: 165, 166–169, 172, 175, 176 Imprisonment (Shaw), VI: 129 “Improvement, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 267 “Improvisation” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 276 Improvisatore, in Three Fyttes, with Other Poems by Thomas Lovell Beddoes, The (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 17, 19–20, 21, 28 “In a Blue Time” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 158 In a Bombed House, 1941: An Elegy in Memory of Anthony Butts (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 “In a Country Church” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283–284, 286, 287 “In a Dark Wood” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 248 In a Free State (Naipaul), VII: xx; Supp. I: 383, 390, 393, 394–396, 397 “In a Free State“(Naipaul), Supp. I: 395, 396 In a German Pension (Mansfield), VII: 171, 172–173 In a Glass Darkly (Le Fanu), III: 345 “In a Shaken House” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “In a Strange City” (Russell), VIII: 291 In a Time of Violence (Boland), Supp. V: 43 “In an Artist’s Studio” (Rossetti), V: 249 “In an Omnibus” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279

369

“In Another Country” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “In Between Talking About the Elephant” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 109, 110 In Between the Sheets (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 394–396 “In Broken Images“(Graves), VII: 267 “In California” (Davie), Supp. VI: 109 “In Carrowdore Churchyard” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 167–168 In Celebration (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 411, 412, 413–414 In Chancery (Galsworthy), VI: 274 “In Church” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285– 286, 287 In Custody (Desai), Supp. V: 53, 55, 65, 68, 69–71 “In Deep and Solemn Dreams“(Tennyson), IV: 329 “In Defence of Milton” (Leavis), VII: 246 In Defence of T.S. Eliot (Raine), Supp. XIII: 163, 170–171, 175 “In Defense of Astigmatism” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 454 “In Defense of the Novel, Yet Again” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 455 “In dungeons dark I cannot sing“(Brontë), V: 115–116 In Excited Reverie: A Centenary Tribute to William Butler Yeats, 1865–1939 (ed. Jeffares and Cross), VI: 224 “In Flanders Fields” (McCrae), VI: 434 “In from Spain” (Powys), VIII: 251 “In God We Trust” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 434, 456 “In Good Faith” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 437, 450 In Good King Charles’s Golden Days (Shaw), VI: 125, 127, 129 “In Heat” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 21 In Her Own Image (Boland), Supp. V: 48 “In Her Own Image” (Boland), Supp. V: 48, 49 “In His Own Image” (Boland), Supp. V: 48–49 “In Insula Avalonia” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 “In Lambeth Palace Road” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 76 In Light and Darkness (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 “In Love for Long” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206–207 “In Me Two Worlds” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 126 “In Memoriam” (Longley), VIII: 169 In Memoriam (Tennyson), IV: xxi, 234, 248, 292, 310, 313, 323, 325–328, 330, 333–338, 371; V: 285, 455 “In Memoriam, Amada” (Reid), Supp. VII: 333 “In Memoriam (Easter, 1915)” (Thomas), VI: 424–425; Supp. III: 403, 404 “In Memoriam George Forrest” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 98–99 In Memoriam James Joyce (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 203

IN ME−INCR “In Memoriam James Joyce” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 214 “In Memoriam W. H. Auden” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “In Memory of Ernst Toller” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 9 “In Memory of Eva Gore–Booth and Con Markiewicz” (Yeats), VI: 217 “In Memory of Major Robert Gregory” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 331 “In Memory of my Cat, Domino” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77 “In Memory of My Mother” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 198 “In Memory of Sigmund Freud” (Auden), VII: 379; Retro. Supp. I: 1 “In Memory of Stevie Smith” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “In Memory of W. B. Yeats” (Auden), VI: 208; Retro. Supp. I: 1, 9 “In Memory of Zoe Yalland” (Motion), Supp. VII: 264 “In More’s Hotel” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 “In My Country” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 “In my craft or sullen art“(Thomas), Supp. I: 178 “In My Dreams” (Smith), Supp. II: 466 In My Good Books (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313 “In My Own Album” (Lamb), IV: 83 In Our Infancy (Corke), VII: 93 “In Our Midst”: The Letters of Callicrates to Dione, Queen of the Xanthians, Concerning England and the English (Stead), Supp. XIII: 242 In Our Time (Hemingway), Supp. IV: 163 In Parenthesis (Jones), VI: xvi, 437–438, Supp. VII: 167, 168, 169, 170, 171– 175, 177 In Patagonia (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157, 159, 161, 163–165, 173; Supp. IX: 53–55, 56, 59 “In Praise of Lessius His Rule of Health” (Crashaw), II: 181n “In Praise of Limestone“(Auden), VII: 390, 391; Retro. Supp. I: 12 In Praise of Love (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 320–321 “In Procession” (Graves), VII: 264 In Pursuit of the English (Lessing), Supp. I: 237–238 “In Santa Maria del Popolo” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 262 In Search of Love and Beauty (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 223, 233 “In Sickness and in Health” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10 In Single Strictness (Moore), VI: 87, 95, 99 “In Sobieski’s Shield” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158, 164 “In Such a Poise Is Love” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328–329 “In Summer” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 “In Tenebris II” (Hardy), VI: 14 In the Blood (Conn), Supp. XIII: 77–78 “In the Dark” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 167

In the Middle (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 217–218 In the Middle of the Wood (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209 In the Beginning (Douglas), VI: 303, 304, 305 In the Blue House (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 53–59, 62, 63 In the Cage (James), VI: 67, 69 “In the City of Red Dust” (Okri), Supp. V: 352 “In the Classics Room” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214–215 In the Country of the Skin (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 In the Days of the Comet (Wells), VI: 227, 237, 244 “In the Garden” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 190 “In the Garden at Swainston” (Tennyson), IV: 336 “In the Great Metropolis” (Clough), V: 164 In the Green Tree (Lewis), VII: 447 In the Heart of the Country (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 80–81 “In the House of Suddhoo” (Kipling), VI: 170 In the Key of Blue and Other Prose Essays (Ellis and Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 “In the Kibble Palace” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74, 75 In the Kibble Palace: New and Selected Poems (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71, 75 In the Labyrinth (Robbe–Grillet), Supp. IV: 116 In the Meantime (Jennings), Supp. V: 219 In the Night (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 “In the Night” (Jennings), Supp. V: 211– 212 “In the Night” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220 “In the Nursery” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 In the Permanent Way (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 In the Pink (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 14–15 “In the Pullman” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 104 “In the Ringwood” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “In the rude age when science was not so rife” (Surrey), I: 115–116 “In the Same Boat” (Kipling), VI: 193 In the Scales of Fate (Pietrkiewicz), Supp. IV: 98 In the Seven Woods (Yeats), VI: 213, 222 In the Shadow of the Glen (Synge), Retro. Supp. I: 295–296 “In the Snack–bar” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX:158 In the South Seas (Stevenson), V: 396 In the Springtime of the Year (Hill), Supp. XIV: 117, 123–124 In the Stopping Train (Davie), Supp. VI: 112 “In the Stopping Train” (Davie), Supp. VI: 112 In the Thirties (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 255–257

370

“In the Train” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 225, 226 In the Trojan Ditch: Collected Poems and Selected Translations (Sisson), Supp. XI: 243, 248, 250, 252, 253, 256–257 In the Twilight (Swinburne), V: 333 “In the Vermilion Cathedral” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 In the Year of Jubilee (Gissing), V: 437 “In This Time” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 “In Time of Absence” (Graves), VII: 270 “In Time of ’The Breaking of Nations’” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “In Time of War” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 9 “In Times of War” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77 “In to thir dirk and drublie days” (Dunbar), VIII: 121 In Touch with the Infinite (Betjeman), VII: 365 In Trouble Again: A Journey Between the Orinoco and the Amazon (O’Hanlon), Supp. XI: 196, 199–202, 207 In Which We Serve (Coward), Supp. II: 154 In Wicklow, West Kerry, and Connemara (Synge), VI: 309, 317 “In Youth” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214 In Youth is Pleasure (Welch), Supp. IX: 261, 263, 264–266 Inadmissible Evidence (Osborne), Supp. I: 330, 333, 336–337 “Inarticulates” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 191 Inca of Perusalem, The (Shaw), VI: 120 “Incarnate One, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 208 “Incantata” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 428– 429, 430, 431–432 “Incendiary Method, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 273 “Inchcape Rock, The” (Southey), IV: 58 “Incident” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 217 Incident Book, The (Adcock), Supp. XII: 3, 8–9 “Incident in Hyde Park, 1803” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46 “Incident in the Life of Mr. George Crookhill” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Incident on a Journey” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 256, 258–259 “Incident Room” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Incidents at the Shrine (Okri), Supp. V: 347, 348, 352, 355–356 “Incidents at the Shrine” (Okri), Supp. V: 356–357 Incidents in the Rue Laugier (Brookner), Supp. IV: 135–136 Inclinations (Firbank), Supp. II: 201, 202, 209–211 Inclinations (Sackville–West), VII: 70 Incline Our Hearts (Wilson), Supp. VI: 307 Incognita; or, Love and Duty Reconcil’d (Congreve), II: 338, 346 Inconstant, The; or, The Way to Win Him (Farquhar), II: 352–353, 357, 362, 364 Incredulity of Father Brown, The (Chesterton), VI: 338

INCU−INTE “Incubus, or the Impossibility of Self– Determination as to Desire (Self), Supp. V: 402 “Indaba Without Fear” (Paton), Supp. II: 360 “Indefinite Exposure” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 86 “Independence” (Motion), Supp. VII: 255 Independent Labour Party, VII: 280 Independent Review (periodical), VI: 399 Independent Theatre Society, VI: 104 Index to AIn Memoriam,”An (ed. Carroll), V: 274 Index to the Private Papers of James Boswell . . . (ed. Pottle et al.), III: 249 India (Steel), Supp. XII: 274 India: A Wounded Civilization (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385, 399, 401 “India, the Wisdom–Land” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 39 India Through the Ages: A Popular and Picturesque History of Hindustan (Steel), Supp. XII: 274 Indian Education Minutes . . . , The (Macaulay), IV: 291 Indian Emperour, The; or, The Conquest of Mexico . . . , Being the Sequel to the Indian Queen (Dryden), II: 290, 294, 305 “Indian Fiction Today” (Desai), Supp. V: 67 Indian Ink (Stoppard), Retro. Supp. II: 356–357 Indian Journal (Lear), see Edward Lear’s Indian Journal Indian Queen, The (Dryden), II: 305 “Indian Serenade, The” (Shelley), IV: 195, 203 “Indian Summer of a Forsyte” (Galsworthy), VI: 274, 276, 283 “Indian Summer, Vermont” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 255 “Indian Tree” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 87 “Indifferent, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89 Indiscretion in the Life of an Heiress, An (Hardy), VI: 20 “Induction” (Sackville), I: 169 Induction, The (Field), II: 66 Inebriety (Crabbe), III: 274, 278–279, 286 “Infancy” (Crabbe), III: 273, 281 “Infant–Ey, An” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266, 267 “Inferior Religions” (Lewis), VII: 77 Infernal Desire Machine of Dr. Hoffman, The (Carter), III: 345; Supp. III: 84– 85, 89 Infernal Marriage, The (Disraeli), IV: 297, 299, 308 Infernal World of Branwell Bronte¨, The (Carter), Supp. III: 139 Inferno (Dante), Retro. Supp. II: 36 Inferno (tr. Carson), Supp. XIII: 66 Infidel, The (Braddon), VIII: 49 Infinite Rehearsal, The (Harris), Supp. V: 140, 141–142, 144 Information, The (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 37–39, 42

“Informer, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Infuence of the Roman Censorship on the Morals of the People, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Ingannati: The Deceived . . . and Aelia Laelia Crispis (Peacock), IV: 170 Inge, William Ralph, VI: 344 Ingelow, Jean, Supp. IV: 256 Ingenious Pain (Miller), Supp. XIV: 179, 180, 181–184, 185, 186, 189, 190, 191 “Ingram Lake, or, Five Acts on the House” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 161, 163 Ingrowing Thoughts (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 “Inheritance” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 “Inheritance” (Murphy), Supp. V: 322 “Inheritors, The” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Inheritors, The (Golding), Supp. I: 67, 70–72, 75, 84; Retro. Supp. I: 96–97 Inheritors, The: An Extravagant Story (Conrad and Ford), VI: 146, 148, 321, 332 Inishfallen, Fare Thee Well (O’Casey), VII: 4, 12 Injur’d Husband, The; or, The Mistaken Resentment, Supp. XII: 140 Injur’d Husband, The; or, The Mistaken Resentment, and Lasselia; or, The Self–Abandoned (Haywood), Supp. XII: 137 Injury Time (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 21 “Inland” (Motion), Supp. VII: 254, 255 Inland Voyage, An (Stevenson), V: 386, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 261 Inn Album, The (Browning), IV: 358, 367, 369–370, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 30 “Inn of the Two Witches, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Inner and Outer Ireland, The (Russell), VIII: 289 Inner Harbour, The (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6–8 “Inniskeen Road: July Evening” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 188 Innocence (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 100, 104–106 “Innocence” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 262 “Innocence” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 Innocence of Father Brown, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 Innocent, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 399, 402–404, 405, 406 Innocent and the Guilty, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 381 Innocent Birds (Powys), VIII: 251, 256, 258 Innocent Blood (James), Supp. IV: 337– 338, 340 “Innumerable Christ, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 205 Inquiry into the Nature & Causes of the Wealth of Nations (Smith), IV: xiv, 145 Insatiate Countess, The (Barsted and Marston), II: 31, 40 “Inscribed to Maria, My Beloved Daughter” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199

371

“Insect World, The” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 “Insensibility” (Owen), VI: 453, 455 “Inside” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 14 Inside a Pyramid (Golding), Supp. I: 82 Inside Mr Enderby (Burgess), Supp. I: 185, 186, 189, 194 Inside the Whale (Orwell), VII: 282 “Inside the Whale” (Orwell), Supp. IV: 110, 455 Insight and Outlook: An Enquiry into the Common Foundations of Science, Art and Social Ethics (Koestler), Supp. I: 37 “Insight at Flame Lake” (Amis), Supp. IV: 40 “Insomnia” (Hart), Supp. XI: 125 “Installation Ode” (Gray), III: 142 Instamatic Poems (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 162–163 “Instance, An” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 “Instant, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Instant in the Wind, An (Brink), Supp. VI: 49 “Instead of an Interview” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Instead of Trees (Priestley), VII: 209– 210 “Instruction, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 268 Instructions Concerning Erecting of a Liberty (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 Instructions for the Ignorant (Bunyan), II: 253 “Instructions to a Painter . . . A (Waller), II: 233 “Instructions to an Actor” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 164 Instrument of Thy Peace (Paton), Supp. II: 358–359 Insular Celts, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 55 Inteendeel (Brink), Supp. VI: 56 “Intellectual Felicity” (Boswell), III: 237 Intelligence (journal), III: 35 Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism and Capitalism, The (Shaw), VI: 116, 125 “Intensive Care Unit, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 28 Intentions (Wilde), V: 407, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 367–368 Intercom Conspiracy, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 4, 16, 18, 20–21 “Intercom Quartet, The” (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 110–113 “Interference” (Barnes), Supp. IV: 75 Interim (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 184, 189–190 “Interior Mountaineer” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Interior with Weaver” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 “Interloper, The” (Hardy), VI: 17 “Interlopers at the Knapp” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Interlude, An” (Swinburne), V: 321 “Intermediate as Warrior, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44

INTE−ISLA “Intermediate in the Service of Religion, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 Intermediate Sex, The (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41, 43–44 “Intermediate Sex, The” (Carpenter), VI: 407; Supp. XIII: 41, 43 Intermediate Types Among Primitive Folk (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41, 44 “Intermezzo” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “International Episode, An” (James), VI: 69 International Guerrillas (film), Supp. IV: 438 internationalism, VI: 241n; VII: 229 Interpretation in Teaching (Richards), Supp. II: 423, 430 Interpretation of Genesis, An (Powys), VIII: 246–247 Interpreters, The (Russell), VIII: 289, 290, 292 “Interrogator, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 215 “Interruption” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 273, 274 “Interview” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 87, 95 “Interview, The” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 9 “Interview” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 Interview, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 Intimacy (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 157, 158 Intimate Exchanges (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 6, 12, 14 “Intimate Supper” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Intimate World of Ivy Compton–Burnett, The” (Karl), VII: 70 “Intimations of Immortality . . . A (Wordsworth), see AOde. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood“ “Into Arcadia” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 134 Into Battle (Churchill), VI: 356 “Into Battle” (Grenfell), VI: 418 “Into her Lying Down Head” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 Into the Heart of Borneo: An Account of a Journey Made in 1983 to the Mountains of Batu Tiban with James Fenton (O’Hanlon), Supp. XI: 196–199, 202, 206, 207–208 Into Their Labours (Berger), Supp. IV: 80, 90–95 Intriguing Chambermaid, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Introduction” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 37 Introduction 7: Stories by New Writers (Faber & Faber), Supp. IV: 303 Introduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland, An (Macpherson), VIII: 192 Introduction to the Metaphysical Poets, An (Beer), Supp. XIV: 8, 9 Introduction to the Study of Browning, An (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267 Introduction to the Study of Dante, An (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251 Introductory Lecture (Housman), VI: 164

“Introductory Rhymes” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330 Intruder, The (Hardy), VI: 20 “Invader, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 26, 27 Invaders, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 219– 221 Invasion of the Space Invaders (Amis), Supp. IV: 42 Invective against Jonson, The (Chapman), I: 243 Invention of Love, The (Stoppard), Retro. Supp. II: 357–358 “Inversion Layer: Oxfordshire” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 323 Inversions (Banks), Supp. XI: 5, 10, 13 “Inversnaid” (Hopkins), V: 368, 372 “Investigation After Midnight” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 262 Invincibles, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 Invisible Friends (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 12, 14–15 Invisible Man, The: A Grotesque Romance (Wells), VI: 226, 232–233, 244 Invisible Writing, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 22, 23, 24, 32, 37 “Invitation, An” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127 “Invitation, The” (Shelley), IV: 196 “Invocation” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Invocation” (Sitwell), VII: 136 “Inward Bound” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Inward Eye, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 184–185 “Io” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 “Iolaire” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 219 Ioläus: An Anthology of Friendship (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 37, 44–45 Ion (Plato), IV: 48 Ionian Mission, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256, 259–260 “Iowa” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 Iphigenia (Peele), I: 198 “Iphis and Araxarathen” (Gower), I: 53–54 Iqbal, Muhammad, Supp. IV: 448 “Ireland” (Swift), III: 31 Ireland and the Empire at the Court of Conscience (Russell), VIII: 289, 292 Ireland, Past and Future (Russell), VIII: 289 Ireland Since the Rising (Coogan), VII: 9 Ireland, Your Only Place (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 177 Ireland’s Abbey Theatre (Robinson), VI: 317 Ireland’s Literary Renaissance (Boyd), VI: 316 Irene: A Tragedy (Fielding), III: 109, 121 Irene: A Tragedy (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 138–139 Irigaray, Luce, Supp. IV: 232 “Irish Airman Foresees His Death, An” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 331 “Irish Channel” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222

372

“Irish Child in England” (Boland), Supp. V: 35 Irish Drama, The (Malone), VI: 316 Irish Dramatic Movement, The (Ellis– Ferrnor), VI: 317 Irish dramatic revival, VI: xiv, 207, 218, 307–310; VII: 3 Irish Essays and Others (Arnold), V: 216 Irish Faust, An (Durrell), Supp. I: 126, 127 Irish for No, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 53, 54, 55, 57–59 Irish Impressions (Chesterton), VI: 345 Irish Miles (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 218 Irish Penny Journal, Supp. XIII: 126 “Irish Revel” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 340 Irish Sketch Book, The (Thackeray), V: 25, 38 Irishman, Supp. XIII: 114, 119 Iron, Ralph (pseud., Schreiner), Supp. II: 448–449 Iron Man, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 346 Ironhand (Arden), Supp. II: 29 Irrational Knot, The (Shaw), VI: 102, 103, 105, 129 Irving, Washington, III: 54 Is He Popenjoy? (Trollope), V: 100, 102 “Is Nothing Sacred?” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 437, 442–443 Is There a Church of England? (Sisson), Supp. XI: 251 Isabel Clarendon (Gissing), V: 437 “Isabella” (Keats), IV: xviii, 216, 217– 218, 235; Retro. Supp. I: 193–194 “Isba Song” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 283 “Ischia” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 12 Isenheim Altar (Grünewald), Supp. IV: 85 Isherwood, Christopher, VII: xx, 309– 320; Supp. II: 408, 485, 486; Retro. Supp. I: 3, 7, 9 Ishiguro, Kazuo, Supp. IV: 75, 301–317 Ishmael (Braddon), VIII: 49 Island (Huxley), VII: xviii, 206 Island, The (Byron), IV: xviii 173, 193 “Island, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 37 “Island, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 209 “Island, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 Island in the Moon, An (Blake), III: 290, 292; Retro. Supp. I: 34 Island in the Sun (Waugh), Supp. VI: 267, 274, 275 Island Nights’ Entertainments (Stevenson), V: 387, 396 Island of Dr. Moreau, The (Wells), VI: 230–231 Island of Statues, The (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 325 Island of Terrible Friends (Strutton), Supp. IV: 346 Island of the Mighty, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 30, 32–35, 39 Island Pharisees, The (Galsworthy), VI: 271, 273, 274, 277, 281 Island Princess, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 60, 65 “Islanders, The” (Kipling), VI: 169, 203 Islands (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 38, 39–40, 45

ISLE−JEEV Isle of Dogs, The (Jonson/Nashe), Retro. Supp. I: 156 Isle of Man, The (Bernard), II: 246 “Isle of Voices, The” (Stevenson), V: 396 Íslendinga sögur (Ari), VIII: 235, 236 “Isobel” (Golding), Supp. I: 66 “Isobel’s Child” (Browning), IV: 313 “Isopes Fabules” (Lydgate), I: 57 Israel: Poems on a Hebrew Theme (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 Israel’s Hope Encouraged (Bunyan), II: 253 “It Happened in 1936” (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 “It is a beauteous evening, calm and free” (Wordsworth), IV: 22 “It May Never Happen” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 315 It May Never Happen and Other Stories (Pritchett), Supp. III: 318–319 It Was a Lover and His Lass (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 “It Was Upon a Lammas Night” (Burns), III: 315 It’s a Battlefield (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 5–6; Retro. Supp. II: 152–153 “It’s a Long, Long Way” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 “It’s a Woman’s World” (Boland), Supp. V: 41 It’s an Old Country (Priestley), VII: 211 “It’s Hopeless” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 191 It’s Me O Lord! (Coppard), VIII: 85, 86, 88, 90 “It’s No Pain” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Italian, The (Radcliffe), III: 331–332, 335, 337, 345; IV: 173; Supp. III: 384 Italian Byways (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251 Italian Hours (James), VI: 43, 67 Italian Mother, The, and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 Italian Visit, An (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 122, 129 “Italian Whirligig” (Coppard), VIII: 95 Italics of Walter Savage Landor, The (Landor), IV: 100 “Italio, Io Ti Saluto” (Rossetti), V: 250 “Italy and the World” (Browning), IV: 318 “It’s Done This!” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 “Itylus” (Swinburne), V: 319 Ivanhoe (Scott), IV: xviii, 31, 34, 39 “I’ve Thirty Months” (Synge), VI: 314 Ivory Door, The (Milne), Supp. V: 300– 301 Ivory Gate, The (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29 Ivory Tower, The (James), VI: 64, 65 “Ivry: A Song of the Huguenots” (Macaulay), IV: 283, 291 Ivy Compton–Burnett (Iprigg), VII: 70 “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” (Joyce), VII: 44, 45 Ivy Gripped the Steps (Bowen), see Demon Lover, The Ixion in Heaven (Disraeli), IV: 297, 299, 308

J. B. Priestley, The Dramatist (Lloyd– Evans), VII: 223, 231 J. M. Synge and the Irish Dramatic Movement (Bickley), VI: 317 “J. W. 51B A Convoy” (Ross), VII: 434 “Jabberwocky” (Carroll), V: 265 “Jacinth” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Jack, Ian Robert James, II: 298; III: 125n; IV: xi, xxv, 40, 140, 236, 373, 375 Jack Drum’s Entertainment (Marston), II: 27, 40 Jack Flea’s Birthday Celebration (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 398 Jack Maggs (Carey), Supp. XII: 49, 54, 60–61 Jack Straw (Maugham), VI: 368 Jack Straw’s Castle (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 268–271 “Jack Straw’s Castle” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 270 Jackdaw, The (Gregory), VI: 315 Jacko: The Great Intruder (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 Jackson, T. A., V: 51 Jacob, Giles, II: 348 Jacob’s Room (Woolf), VII: 18, 20, 26– 27, 38; Retro. Supp. I: 307, 316 Jacobite’s Journal, The (Fielding), III: 105; Retro. Supp. I: 81 Jacques–Louis David: A Personal Interpretation (Brookner), Supp. IV: 122 Jacta Alea Est (Wilde), V: 400 “Jacta est alea” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 60 Jaggard, William, I: 307 “Jaguar, The” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 203 Jaguar Smile: A Nicaraguan Journey, The (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 436, 454 Jake’s Thing (Amis), Supp. II: 16–17; Supp. IV: 29 Jakobson, Roman, Supp. IV: 115 “Jam Tart” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 6 Jamaica Inn (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139, 144, 145, 147 James, Henry, II: 42; III: 334, 340, 345; IV: 35, 107, 319, 323, 369, 371, 372; V: x, xx, xiv–xxvi, 2, 48, 51, 70, 95, 97, 98, 102, 191, 199, 205, 210, 295, 384, 390–392; VI: x–xi, 5, 23–69, 227, 236, 239, 266, 320, 322; list of short stories and novellas, VI: 69; Supp. II: 80–81, 89, 487–488, 492; Supp. III: 47–48, 60, 217, 437; Supp. IV: 97, 116, 133, 153, 233, 243, 371, 503, 511 James, M. R., III: 340 James, P. D., Supp. II: 127; Supp. IV: 319–341 James, Richard, II: 102 James, William, V: xxv, 272; VI: 24 James IV (Greene), VIII: 142 James and the Giant Peach (Dahl), Supp. IV: 202, 213, 222 James and the Giant Peach (film), Supp. IV: 203 James Hogg: Selected Poems (ed. Mack), Supp. X: 108–109

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James Hogg: Selected Poems and Songs (ed. Groves), Supp. X: 110 James Hogg: Selected Stories and Sketches (ed. Mack), Supp. X: 110– 111 “James Honeyman” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 8 James Joyce and the Making of AUlysses“ (Budgen) VII: 56 “James Lee’s Wife” (Browning), IV: 367, 369 James Rigg, Still Further Extract from The Recluse, A Poem (Hogg), Supp. X: 109–110 James Russell Lowell: His Message and How It Helped Me (Stead), Supp. XIII: 234 Jamie, Kathleen, Supp. XIV: 129–147 Jamie on a Flying Visit (Frayn), Supp. VII: 56–57 Jane and Prudence (Pym), Supp. II: 370–372 “Jane Austen at the Window” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 Jane Austen: The Critical Heritage (ed. Southam), IV: 122, 124 Jane Austen’s Literary Manuscripts (ed. Southam), IV: 124 Jane Eyre (Brontë), III: 338, 344, 345; V: xx, 106, 108, 112, 124, 135, 137– 140, 145, 147, 148, 152; VII: 101; Supp. III: 146; Supp. IV: 236, 452, 471; Retro. Supp. I: 50, 52, 53–55, 56, 58–60 “Janeites, The” (Kipling), IV: 106 “Jane’s Marriage” (Kipling), IV: 106, 109 Janet (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 “Janet’s Repentance” (Eliot), V: 190–191; Retro. Supp. II: 104 Janowitz, Haas, III: 342 “January 1795” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 208 “January 10th, 1990” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 “January 12, 1996” (Longley), VIII: 177 Janus: A Summing Up (Koestler), Supp. I: 35, 37, 38–39 Japp, A. H., IV: 144n, 155 Jarrell, Randall, VI: 165, 194, 200; Supp. IV: 460 “Jars, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71–72 “Jasmine” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383 “Jason and Medea” (Gower), I: 54, 56 Jasper (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 213 “Jasper” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 210 “Jawbone Walk” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 “Jazz and the West Indian Novel” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 43–44 “Je est un autre” (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 “Je ne parle pas Français” (Mansfield), VII: 174, 177 “Je ne regretted rien” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 165 “Je t’adore” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Jealousy” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52 Jeames’s Diary; or, Sudden Wealth (Thackeray), V: 38 Jean de Meung, I: 49 Jeeves (Ayckbourn and Webber), Supp. V: 3

JEEV−JOUR “Jeeves and the Hard–Boiled Egg” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455, 458 Jeeves and the Tie That Binds (Wodehouse), see Much Obliged “Jeeves Takes Charge” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 456, 457–458 Jeffares, Alexander Norman, VI: xxxiii– xxxiv, 98, 221 Jefferson, D. W., III: 182, 183 Jeffrey, Francis, III: 276, 285; IV: 31, 39, 60, 72, 129, 269 Jeffrey, Sara, IV: 225 Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 275, 276–278 Jenkin, Fleeming, V: 386 Jenkyn, D., Supp. IV: 346 Jennings, Elizabeth, Supp. IV: 256; Supp. V: 205–221 “Jenny” (Rossetti), V: 240 Jenyns, Soame, Retro. Supp. I: 148 Jerrold, Douglas, V: 19 Jerrold, W. C., IV: 252, 254, 267 “Jersey Villas” (James), III: 69 Jerusalem (Blake), III: 303, 304–305, 307; V: xvi, 330; Retro. Supp. I: 45–46 Jerusalem: Its History and Hope (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Jerusalem Sinner Saved (Bunyan), see Good News for the Vilest of Men Jerusalem the Golden (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 231, 238–239, 241, 243, 248, 251 Jesus (Wilson), Supp. VI: 306 Jess (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 Jesting Pilate (Huxley), VII: 201 Jew of Malta, The (Marlowe), I: 212, 280, 282–285, 310; Retro. Supp. I: 208–209 Jew Süss (Feuchtwanger), VI: 265 Jewel in the Crown, The (Scott), Supp. I: 266–267, 269–270 Jeweller of Amsterdam, The (Field, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 67 Jewels of Song (Davies), Supp. XI: 93 “Jews, The” (Vaughan), II: 189 Jews in Germany (tr. Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 Jewsbury, Maria Jane, Supp. XIV: 149– 164 Jezebel Mort and Other Poems (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 Jhabvala, Ruth Prawer, Supp. V: 223– 239 Jill (Larkin), Supp. I: 276, 286–287 Jill Somerset (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 Jimmy Governor (Clune), Supp. IV: 350 Jitta’s Atonement (Shaw), VI: 129 Jizzen (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 140–142 “Joachim du Bellay” (Pater), V: 344 Joan and Peter (Wells), VI: 240 Joan of Arc (Southey), IV: 59, 60, 63– 64, 71 Joannis Miltonii Pro se defensio . . . (Milton), II: 176 Job (biblical book), III: 307 Jocasta (Gascoigne), I: 215–216 Jocelyn (Galsworthy), VI: 277 “Jochanan Hakkadosh” (Browning), IV: 365

Jocoseria (Browning), IV: 359, 374 “Joe Soap” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260– 261, 262 Joe’s Ark (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229, 237–240 “Johann Joachim Quantz’s Five Lessons” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 “Johannes Agricola in Meditation” (Browning), IV: 360 Johannes Secundus, II: 108 John Austen and the Inseparables (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 “John Betjeman’s Brighton” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 37 John Bull’s Other Island (Shaw), VI: 112, 113–115; Retro. Supp. II: 320–321 John Caldigate (Trollope), V: 102 “John Clare” (Cope), VIII: 82 John Clare: Poems, Chiefly from Manuscript (Clare), Supp. XI: 36, 63 John Clare by Himself (Clare), Supp. XI: 51 “John Fletcher” (Swinburne), V: 332 John Gabriel Borkman (Ibsen), VI: 110 “John Galsworthy” (Lawrence), VI: 275– 276, 290 John Galsworthy (Mottram), VI: 271, 275, 290 “John Galsworthy, An Appreciation” (Conrad), VI: 290 “John Gilpin” (Cowper), III: 212, 220 John Keats: A Reassessment (ed. Muir), IV: 219, 227, 236 John Keats: His Like and Writings (Bush), IV: 224, 236 John Knox (Muir), Supp. VI: 198 “John Knox” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211–212 “John Logie Baird” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 John M. Synge (Masefield), VI: 317 John Marchmont’s Legacy (Braddon), VIII: 44, 46 “John Milton and My Father” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “John Norton” (Moore), VI: 98 “John of the Cross” (Jennings), Supp. V: 207 “John Ruskin” (Proust), V: 183 John Ruskin: The Portrait of a Prophet (Quennell), V: 185 John Sherman and Dhoya (Yeats), VI: 221 John Thomas and Lady Jane (Lawrence), VII: 111–112 John Woodvil (Lamb), IV: 78–79, 85 Johnnie Sahib (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 261 Johnno (Malouf), Supp. XII: 221–222 Johnny I Hardly Knew You (O’Brien), Supp. V: 338, 339 Johnny in the Clouds (Rattigan), seeWay to the Stars, The Johnson, Edgar, IV: 27, 40; V: 60, 72 Johnson, James, III: 320, 322 Johnson, Joseph, Retro. Supp. I: 37 Johnson, Lionel, VI: 3, 210, 211 Johnson, Samuel, III: 54, 96, 107–123, 127, 151, 275; IV: xiv, xv, 27, 31, 34, 88n, 101, 138, 268, 299; V: 9, 281, 287; VI: 363; Retro. Supp. I: 137–

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150; and Boswell, III: 234, 235, 238, 239, 243–249; and Collins, III: 160, 163, 164, 171, 173; and Crabbe, III: 280–282; and Goldsmith, III: 177, 180, 181, 189; dictionary, III: 113– 116; V: 281, 434; literary criticism, I: 326; II: 123, 173, 197, 200, 259, 263, 293, 301, 347; III: 11, 88, 94, 139, 257, 275; IV: 101; on Addison and Steele, III: 39, 42, 44, 49, 51; Supp. IV: 271 Johnson, W. E., Supp. II: 406 Johnson over Jordan (Priestley), VII: 226–227 “Joker, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315–316 “Joker as Told” (Murray), Supp. VII: 279 Joking Apart (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 9, 13, 14 Jolly Beggars, The (Burns), III: 319–320 “Jolly Corner, The” (James), Retro. Supp. I: 2 Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 (film), Supp. IV: 79 Jonathan Swift (Stephen), V: 289 Jonathan Wild (Fielding), III: 99, 103, 105, 150; Retro. Supp. I: 80–81, 90 Jones, David, VI: xvi, 436, 437–439, Supp. VII: 167–182 Jones, Henry Arthur, VI: 367, 376 Jones, Henry Festing, Supp. II: 103–104, 112, 114, 117, 118 Jonestown (Harris), Supp. V: 144–145 Jonson, Ben, I: 228, 234–235, 270, 335– 351; II: 3, 4, 24, 25, 27, 28, 30, 45, 47, 48, 55, 65, 79, 87, 104, 108, 110, 111n, 115, 118, 141, 199, 221–223; IV: 35, 327; V: 46, 56; Supp. IV: 256; Retro. Supp. I: 151–167 Jonsonus Virbius (Digby), Retro. Supp. I: 166 Jonsonus Virbius (King), Supp. VI: 157 Joseph Andrews (Fielding), III: 94, 95, 96, 99–100, 101, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 80, 83–86 Joseph Banks: A Life (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 257–258 Joseph Conrad (Baines), VI: 133–134 Joseph Conrad (Ford), VI: 321, 322 Joseph Conrad (Walpole), VI: 149 Joseph Conrad: A Personal Reminiscence (Ford), VI: 149 Joseph Conrad: The Modern Imagination (Cox), VI: 149 Joseph Conrad and Charles Darwin: The Influence of Scientific Thought on Conrad’s Fiction (O’Hanlon), Supp. XI: 195 “Joseph Grimaldi” (Hood), IV: 267 “Joseph Yates’ Temptation” (Gissing), V: 437 Journal (Mansfield), VII: 181, 182 Journal, 1825–32 (Scott), IV: 39 Journal and Letters of Fanny Burney, The (eds. Hemlow et al.), Supp. III: 63 Journal of Bridget Hitler, The (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 22 Journal of a Dublin Lady, The (Swift), III: 35

JOUR−JUST Journal of a Landscape Painter in Corsica (Lear), V: 87 Journal of a Tour in Scotland in 1819 (Southey), IV: 71 Journal of a Tour in the Netherlands in the Autumn of 1815 (Southey), IV: 71 Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, The (Boswell), III: 117, 234n, 235, 243, 245, 248, 249 Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, The (Fielding), III: 104, 105 Journal of Beatrix Potter from 1881 to 1897, The (ed. Linder), Supp. III: 292–295 “Journal of My Jaunt, Harvest 1762” (Boswell), III: 241–242 Journal of Researches into the Geology and Natural History of the various countries visited by HMS Beagle (Darwin), Supp. VII: 18–19 Journal of the Plague Year, A (Defoe), III: 5–6, 8, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 63, 73–74 Journal to Eliza, The (Sterne), III: 125, 126, 132, 135 Journal to Stella (Swift), II: 335; III: 32–33, 34; Retro. Supp. I: 274 Journalism (Mahon), Supp. VI: 166 Journalism for Women: A Practical Guide (Bennett), VI: 264, 266 Journals and Papers of Gerard Manley Hopkins, The (ed. House and Storey), V: 362, 363, 371, 378–379, 381 Journals 1939–1983 (Spender), Supp. II: 481, 487, 490, 493 Journals of a Landscape Painter in Albania etc. (Lear), V: 77, 79–80, 87 Journals of a Landscape Painter in Southern Calabria . . . (Lear), V: 77, 79, 87 Journals of a Residence in Portugal, 1800–1801, and a Visit to France, 1838 (Southey), IV: 71 Journals of Arnold Bennett (Bennett), VI: 265, 267 “Journals of Progress” (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 “Journey, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 41 “Journey Back, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 Journey Continued (Paton), Supp. II: 356, 359 Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo, A (Thackeray), see Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo Journey from This World to the Next (Fielding), Retro. Supp. I: 80 Journey into Fear (Ambler), Supp. IV: 11–12 “Journey of John Gilpin, The” (Cowper), see AJohn Gilpin“ “Journey of the Magi, The” (Eliot), VII: 152 Journey Through France (Piozzi), III: 134 Journey to a War (Auden and Isherwood), VII: 312; Retro. Supp. I: 9 Journey to Armenia (Mandelstam), Supp. IV: 163, 170

“Journey to Bruges, The” (Mansfield), VII: 172 Journey to Ithaca (Desai), Supp. V: 56, 66, 73–74 Journey to London, A (Vanbrugh), II: 326, 333–334, 336 Journey to Oxiana (Byron), Supp. IV: 157, 170 Journey to Paradise (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 180, 181 “Journey to Paradise” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 180, 191 Journey to the Border (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 251, 253–254, 259, 260 Journey to the Hebrides (Johnson), IV: 281 Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, A (Johnson), III: 117, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 143 Journey Without Maps (Greene), Supp. I: 9; Retro. Supp. II: 153 “Journeying North” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72–73 Journeys (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172, 183 Journeys and Places (Muir), Supp. VI: 204, 205–206 Journeys in Persia and Kurdistan (Bird), Supp. X: 31 Jovial Crew, A (Brome Supp. X: 49, 55– 59, 62–63 Jowett, Benjamin, V: 278, 284, 285, 312, 338, 400 “Joy” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 94 Joy (Galsworthy), VI: 269, 285 “Joy Gordon” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Joyce (Oliphant), Supp. X: 218 Joyce, James, IV: 189; V: xxv, 41; VII: xii, xiv, 18, 41–58; VII: 54–58; Supp. I: 43, 196–197; Supp. II: 74, 88, 327, 332, 338, 420, 525; Supp. III: 108; Supp. IV: 27, 233, 234, 363, 364, 365, 371, 390, 395, 396, 407, 411, 424, 426, 427, 500, 514; Retro. Supp. I: 18, 19, 169–182 Joyce, Jeremiah, V: 174n “Jubilate Matteo” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 44 “Judas Tree, The” (Welch), Supp. IX: 269 Jude the Obscure (Hardy), VI: 4, 5, 7, 8, 9; Supp. IV: 116; Retro. Supp. I: 110, 116 “Judge, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75–76 Judge, The (West), Supp. III: 441, 442 “Judge’s House, The” (Stoker), Supp. III: 382 “Judge Chutney’s Final Summary” (Armitage), VIII: 6 Judgement of Martin Bucer . . . , The (Milton), II: 175 Judgement of Paris, The (Congreve), II: 347, 350 Judgement in Stone, A (Rendell), Supp. IX: 192, 194–195 Judge’s Wife, The (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 “Judging Distances” (Reed), VII: 422 Judgment on Deltchev (Ambler), Supp. IV: 4, 12–13, 21

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Judith, Supp. VI: 29; Retro. Supp. II: 305, 306 Judith (Bennett), VI: 267 “Judith” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Judith (Giraudoux), Supp. III: 195 “Judkin of the Parcels” (Saki), Supp. VI: 245 Jugement du roi de Behaingne, I: 32 “Juggling Jerry” (Meredith), V: 220 “Julia” (Brontë), V: 122, 151 Julia and the Bazooka and Other Stories (Kavan), Supp. VII: 202, 205, 214 “Julia Bride” (James), VI: 67, 69 “Julia’s Churching; or, Purification” (Herrick), II: 112 “Julian and Maddalo” (Shelley), IV: 182, 201–202; Retro. Supp. I: 251 “Julian M. & A. G. Rochelle” (Brontë), V: 133 Julian of Norwich, I: 20; Retro. Supp. II: 303; Supp. XII: 149–166 Julius Caesar (Shakespeare), I: 313, 314– 315 “July Evening” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187, 194 “July Storm” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106 July’s People (Gordimer), Supp. II: 231, 238–239, 241 Jumpers (Stoppard), Supp. I: 438, 444, 445–447, 451; Retro. Supp. II: 347– 349 Jumping Off Shadows (ed. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 65, 75 Jump–to–Glory Jane (Meredith), V: 234 “June Bracken and Heather” (Tennyson), IV: 336 “June the 30th, 1934” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 “June to December” (Cope), VIII: 72 Jung, Carl, Supp. IV: 1, 4–5, 6, 10–11, 12, 19, 493 “Jungle, The” (Lewis), VII: 447 “Jungle Book” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 Jungle Books, The (Kipling), VI: 188, 199 Juniper Tree, The (Comyns), VIII: 53, 63–64, 65 Junius Manuscript, Retro. Supp. II: 298– 299, 301 Junk Mail (Self), Supp. V: 406–407 “Junkie” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 164 Juno and the Paycock (O’Casey), VII: xviii, 4–5, 6, 11 Juno in Arcadia (Brome), Supp. X: 52 Jure Divino (Defoe), III: 4, 13 “Jury, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 125 Jusserand, Jean, I: 98 Just Between Ourselves (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 13 Just Like the Resurrection (Beer), Supp. XIV: 2–3 Just So Stories for Little Children (Kipling), VI: 188, 204 Just Vengeance, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 336, 350 Justice (Galsworthy), VI: xiii, 269, 273– 274, 286–287 Justine (Durrell), Supp. I: 104, 105, 106

JUVE−KING Juvenal, II: 30, 292, 347, 348; III: 42; IV: 188 Juvenilia 1 (Nye), Supp. X: 192, 194, 196–200, 202–203, 205 Juvenilia 2 (Nye), Supp. X: 192–194, 197–200, 204–205

“K

abla–Khun” (Dunn), Supp. X: 79 Kaeti and Company (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273 Kaeti on Tour (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273 Kafka, Franz, III: 340, 345; Supp. IV: 1, 199, 407, 439 Kafka’s Dick (Bennett), VIII: 29–30 “Kail and Callaloo” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Kain, Saul, pseud. of Siegfried Sassoon Kaisers of Carnuntum, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Kakutani, Michiko, Supp. IV: 304 Kalendarium Hortense (Evelyn), II: 287 Kallman, Chester, Supp. IV: 422, 424; Retro. Supp. I: 9–10, 13 Kama Sutra, Supp. IV: 493 Kane, Sarah, VIII: 147–161 Kangaroo (Lawrence), VII: 90, 107–109, 119 Kant, Immanuel, IV: xiv, 50, 52, 145 Kanthapura (Rao), Supp. V: 56 “Karain: A Memory” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Karakoram Highway” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 134, 135–136 Karaoke (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 228, 240– 241 Karl, Frederick R., VI: 135, 149 Karl–Ludwig’s Window, (Saki), Supp. VI: 250 “Karshish” (Browning), IV: 357, 360, 363 Katchen’s Caprices (Trollope), V: 101 “Kate’s Garden” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 29 “Kathe Kollwitz” (Rukeyser), Supp. V: 261 Katherine Mansfield (Alpers), VII: 183 Kathleen and Frank (Isherwood), VII: 316–317 Kathleen Listens In (O’Casey), VII: 12 “Kathleen ny Houlahan” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127 “Katina” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 210 Kavan, Anna, Supp. VII: 201–215 Kavanagh, Julia, IV: 108, 122 Kavanagh, Dan, pseud. of Julian Barnes Kavanagh, Patrick, Supp. IV: 409, 410, 412, 428, 542; Supp. VII: 183–199; Retro. Supp. I: 126 Kay, Jackie, Supp. XIII: 99–111 Kazin, Alfred, Supp. IV: 460 Keats, John, II: 102, 122, 192, 200; III: 174, 337, 338; IV: viii–xii, 81, 95, 129, 178, 196, 198, 204–205, 211– 237, 255, 284, 316, 323, 332, 349, 355; V: 173, 361, 401, 403; Supp. I: 218; Supp. V: 38; Retro. Supp. I: 183–197 Keats and the Mirror of Art (Jack), IV: 236

Keats Circle, The: Letters and Papers . . . (Rollins), IV: 231, 232, 235 Keats: The Critical Heritage (ed. Matthews), IV: 237 Keats’s Publisher: A Memoir of John Taylor (Blunden), IV: 236; Supp. XI: 37 Keble, John, V: xix, 252 “Keel, Ram, Stauros” (Jones), Supp. VII: 177 “Keen, Fitful Gusts” (Keats), IV: 215 “Keep Culture Out of Cambridge” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 87–88 Keep the Aspidistra Flying (Orwell), VII: 275, 278–279 “Keep the Home Fires Burning” (Novello), VI: 435 “Keeper of the Rothenstein Tomb, The” (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232–233, 237– 238, 242, 245 “Keepsake, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 Keeton, G. W., IV: 286 Kell, Joseph, see Burgess, Anthony Kellys and the O’Kellys, The (Trollope), V: 101 Kelman, James, Supp. V: 241–258 Kelmscott Press, publishers, V: xxv, 302 Kelsall, Malcolm Miles, IV: x, xxv Kelvin, Norman, V: 221, 234 Kemble, Fanny, IV: 340, 350–351 Kemp, Harry, Supp. III: 120 Kempe, Margery, Supp. XII: 167–183 Keneally, Thomas, Supp. IV: 343–362 Kenilworth (Scott), IV: xviii, 39 Kennedy, John F., Supp. IV: 486 Kenner, Hugh, VI: 323 Kennis van die aand (Brink), Supp. VI: 47–48, 49 “Kensington Gardens” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13, 14–15 Kenyon, Frederic, IV: 312, 321 Kenyon, John, IV: 311, 356 Kept (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 Kept in the Dark (Trollope), V: 102 Kermode, Frank, I: 237; V: 344, 355, 359, 412, 420; VI: 147, 208 Kerr, Philip, Supp. XII: 185–200 Kettle, Thomas, VI: 336 Key of the Field, The (Powys), VIII: 255 Key to Modern Poetry, A (Durrell), Supp. I: 100, 121–123, 125, 126, 127 Key to My Heart, The (Pritchett), Supp. III: 324–325 “Key to My Heart, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 324 Key to the Door (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 415 Keyes, Sidney, VII: xxii, 422, 433–440 Keynes, G. L., II: 134; III: 289n, 307, 308, 309 Kickleburys on the Rhine, The (Thackeray), V: 38 Kid (Armitage), VIII: 1, 4–6 “Kid” (Armitage), VIII: 5 Kidnapped (Stevenson), V: 383, 384, 387, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 266–267 Kierkegaard, Sören, Supp. I: 79 “Kierkegaard” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 “Kilchrenan” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 “Kill, A” (Hughes), Supp. I: 352 “Killary Hostel” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328

376

Killham, John, IV: 323n, 338, 339; VII: 248–249 Killing Bottle, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 123 Killing Kindness, A (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 114–115, 117, 122 Killing the Lawyers (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 123 Killing Time (Armitage), VIII: 1, 15–16 “Killing Time” (Harrison), Supp. V: 156 “Kilmarnock Edition” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 77–78 “Kilmeny&rdqo; (Hogg), Supp. X: 107– 110 Kiltartan History Book, The (Gregory), VI: 318 Kiltartan Molière, The (Gregory), VI: 316, 318 Kiltartan Poetry Book, The (Gregory), VI: 318 Kilvert, Francis, V: 269; Supp. IV: 169 Kim (Kipling), VI: 166, 168, 169, 185– 189; Supp. IV: 443 Kincaid, Jamaica, Supp. VII: 217–232 Kind Are Her Answers (Renault), Supp. IX: 173–174 “Kind Ghosts, The” (Owen), VI: 447, 455, 457 Kind Keeper, The; or, Mr Limberham (Dryden), II: 294305 Kind of Alaska, A (Pinter), Supp. I: 378 Kind of Anger, A (Ambler), Supp. IV: 16, 18–20 “Kind of Business: The Academic Critic in America, A” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 374 Kind of Poetry I Want, The (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 203 Kind of Scar, A (Boland), Supp. V: 35 “Kindertotenlieder” (Longley), VIII: 169–170 Kindness in a Corner (Powys), VIII: 248, 249, 256 Kindness of Women, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 24, 28, 31, 33 Kindly Light (Wilson), Supp. VI: 299, 308 Kindly Ones, The (Powell), VII: 344, 347, 348, 349, 350 King, Francis Henry, VII: xx, xxxviii; Supp. IV: 302 King, Bishop Henry, II: 121, 221; Supp. VI: 149–163 King, Kimball, Supp. IV: 194–195 King, S., III: 345 King, T., II: 336 King and Me, The (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 153–154 King and No King, A (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 43, 45, 52, 54, 57–58, 65 King Arthur; or, The British Worthy (Dryden), II: 294, 296, 305 “King Arthur’s Tomb” (Morris), V: 293 “King Billy” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158 “King Duffus” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 “King James I and Isaac Casaubon” (Landor), IV: 92

KING−LA VI King James Version of the Bible, I: 370, 377–380 King John (Shakespeare), I: 286, 301 “King John’s Castle” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 King Lear (Shakespeare), I: 316–317; II: 69; III: 116, 295; IV: 232; Supp. II: 194; Supp. IV: 149, 171, 282, 283, 294, 335; Retro. Supp. I: 34–35 King Log (Hill), Supp. V: 186–189 King Must Die, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 178–180, 187 “King of Beasts” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 189 King of Hearts, The (Golding), Supp. I: 82 King of Pirates, The . . . (Defoe), III: 13 King of the Golden River, The; or, The Black Brothers (Ruskin), V: 184 “King of the World, The” (Coppard), VIII: 92 “King Pim” (Powys), VIII: 248, 249 King Solomon’s Mines (Haggard), Supp. III: 211, 213, 215–217, 218–219, 227; Supp. IV: 484 King Stephen (Keats), IV: 231 King Victor and King Charles (Browning), IV: 373 “Kingdom of God, The” (Thompson), V: 449–450 “Kingdom of Heaven, The” (Powys), VIII: 256 Kingdom of the Wicked, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 186, 193 Kingdoms of Elfin (Warner), Supp. VII: 369, 371, 381 King–Errant (Steel), Supp. XII: 275 “Kingfisher” (Nye), Supp. X: 192, 205 “Kingfisher, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 96–97 “Kingfisher, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 King’s General, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 146 Kings, Lords and Commons: An Anthology from the Irish (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 221, 222 “King’s Tragedy, The” (Rossetti), V: 238, 244 “Kings” (Jennings), Supp. V: 211, 218 “Kings’ Sagas”, See Konunga sögur Kingsland, W. G., IV: 371 Kingsley, Charles, IV: 195; V: viii, xxi, 2, 4, 283; VI: 266; Supp. IV: 256 Kinsayder, W., pseud. of John Marston Kinsella, Thomas, VI: 220; Supp. V: 259–275 Kinsley, James, III: 310n 322 Kipling, Rudyard, IV: 106, 109; V: xxiii– xxvi; VI: ix, xi, xv, 165–206, 415; VII: 33; poetry, VI: 200–203; list of short stories, VI: 205–206; Supp. I: 167, 261; Supp. IV: 17, 201, 394, 440, 506 Kipling and the Critics (Gilbert), VI: 195n Kipling: Realist and Fabulist (Dobrée), VI: xi, 200–203, 205 “Kipper” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Kipps: The Story of a Simple Soul (Wells), VI: xii, 225, 236–237

Kirk, Russell, IV: 276 Kirkpatrick, T. P. C. III: 180n Kirsteen: The Story of a Scotch Family Seventy Years Ago (Oliphant), Supp. X: 217–219 “Kiss, The” (Sassoon), VI: 429 Kiss for Cinderalla, A (Barrie), Supp. III: 8, 9 Kiss Kiss (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214, 215, 218 “Kiss Me Again, Stranger” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134 Kissing the Gunner’s Daughter (Rendell), Supp. IX: 195, 196, 198 Kitaj, R. B., Supp. IV: 119 Kitay, Mike, Supp. IV: 256, 257 “Kitchen Maid” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 “Kitchen Sonnets” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 “Kitchen Window” (Nye), Supp. X: 198 Kitchener, Field Marshall Lord, VI: 351 Kiteworld (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 261, 264, 271–273 Kittredge, G. L., I: 326 Klee, Paul, Supp. IV: 80 Klosterheim (De Quincey), IV: 149, 155 KMT: In the House of Life (Armah), Supp. X: 14 Knave of Hearts (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 “Kneeling” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286 “Kneeshaw Goes to War” (Read), VI: 437 Knife, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 282 “Knife–Play” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 4–5 Knight, G. W., IV: 328n, 339 “Knight, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 356 Knight of the Burning Pestle, The (Beaumont), II: 45, 46, 48–49, 62, 65 “Knight of the Cart, The” (Malory), I: 70 Knight with the Two Swords, The (Malory), I: 73 Knights, The (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 Knights, L. C., II: 123, 126, 130 Knights of Malta, The (Field, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Knight’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 21, 23, 30, 31, 40 Knoblock, Edward, VI: 263, 267; VII: 223 “Knockbrack” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327 “Knole” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Knolles, Richard, III: 108 Knots and Crosses (Rankin), Supp. X: 244–249 “Knowledge” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 76 Knowles, Sheridan, IV: 311 Knox, Robert, III: 7 Knox, Ronald, Supp. II: 124, 126 Knox Brothers, The (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 95, 96, 98 Knuckle (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 285–286 Kodak Mantra Diaries, The (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 234 Koestler, Arthur, V: 49; Supp. I: 21–41; Supp. III: 107; Supp. IV: 68 “Koi” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 Kokoschka, Oskar, Supp. IV: 81

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Kontakian for You Departed (Paton), Supp. II: 343, 359 Konträre Geschlechtsgefühl, Das (Ellis and Symonds), Supp. XIV: 261 Konunga sögur, VIII: 236 Korea and Her Neighbors (Bird), Supp. X: 31 Kormaks saga “Kosciusko and Poniatowski” (Landor), IV: 92 “Kosovo” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Kostakis, George, Supp. IV: 174 Kotzebue, August von, III: 254, 268 “Kraken, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329; VI: 16 Krapp’s Last Tape (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 55, 58, 61; Retro. Supp. I: 25–26 Krause, Ernest, Supp. II: 107 “Kristbjorg’s Story: In the Black Hills” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 Kristeva, Julia, Supp. IV: 115, 232 Krutch, J. W., III: 246 “Kubla Khan” (Coleridge), IV: ix, xvii, 44, 46–48, 56; V: 272, 447; Supp. IV: 425; Retro. Supp. II: 56–58 Kullus (Pinter), Supp. I: 368, 371 Kumar, Gobind, Supp. IV: 449 “Kumquat for John Keats, A” (Harrison), Supp. V: 160 Kundera, Milan, Supp. IV: 440 Kunzru, Hari, Supp. XIV: 165–177 Kureishi, Hanif, Supp. XI: 151–162 Kurosawa, Akira, Supp. IV: 434 Kyd, Thomas, I: 162, 212–231, 277, 278, 291; II: 25, 28, 74 “Kyogle Line, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218

“L a Belle Dame Sans Merci” (Keats), IV: 216, 219, 235, 313 La Bete Humaine (Zola), Supp. IV: 249 La Chapelle, Jean de, II: 358 La Die de Fénelon (Ramsay), III: 99 La Fayette, Madame de, Supp. IV: 136 “La Fontaine and La Rochefoucault” (Landor), IV: 91 “La Grosse Fifi” (Rhys), Supp. II: 390 La maison de campagne (Dancourt), II: 325 La Mordida (Lowry), Supp. III: 280 “La Nuit Blanche” (Kipling), VI: 193 La parisienne (Becque), VI: 369 La Princesse de Clèves (La Fayette), Supp. IV: 136 “La Rochefoucauld” (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 La Saisiaz (Browning), IV: 359, 364–365, 374 La Soeur de la Reine (Swinburne), V: 325, 333 La strage degli innocenti (Marino), II: 183 La traicion busca el castigo (Roias Zorilla), II: 325 La Vendée: An Historical Romance (Trollope), V: 101 La vida de la Santa Madre Teresa de Jesus, II: 182 La vida es sueño (Calderón), IV: 349 La vie de Fénelon (Ramsay), III: 99

LABE−LAND Labels (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 66 Labels (Waugh), VII: 292–293 Laboratories of the Spirit (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286 Laborators, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Labours of Hercules, The (Christie), Supp. II: 135 Laburnum Grove (Priestley), VII: 224 Labyrinth, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 204, 207 Labyrinthine Ways, The (Greene), see Power and the Glory, The Lacan, Jacques, Supp. IV: 99, 115 “Lachrimae, or Seven Tears Figured in Seven Passionate Pavanas” (Hill), Supp. V: 189, 190 “Lachrimae Amantis” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 “Lachrimae Verae” (Hill), Supp. V: 190 “Laconics: The Forty Acres” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 “Ladder and the Tree, The” (Golding), Supp. I: 65 “Ladders, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Ladies of Alderley, The (ed. Mitford), Supp. X: 156 Ladder of Perfection (Hilton), Supp. I: 74 Ladies from the Sea (Hope), Supp. VII: 160 Ladies Triall, The (Ford), see Lady’s Trial, The Ladies Whose Bright Eyes (Ford), VI: 327 “Ladle” (Berger), Supp. IV: 93 Lady Anna (Trollope), V: 102 “Lady Appledore’s Mesalliance” (Firbank), Supp. II: 207 “Lady Artemis, The” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 Lady Athlyne (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 Lady Audley’s Secret (Braddon), VIII: 35, 41–42, 43, 48, 50 “Lady Barbarina” (James), VI: 69 Lady Chatterley’s Lover (Lawrence), VII: 87, 88, 91, 110–113; Supp. IV: 149, 234, 369; Retro. Supp. II: 226, 231– 232 “Lady Delavoy” (James), VI: 69 Lady Frederick (Maugham), VI: 367–368 “Lady Geraldine’s Courtship” (Browning), IV: 311 Lady Gregory, VI: xiv Lady Gregory: A Literary Portrait (Coxhead), VI: 318 “Lady Icenway, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Lady in the Van, The (Bennett), VIII: 33 Lady into Woman: A History of Women from Victoria to Elizabeth II (Brittain), Supp. X: 46 Lady Jane (Chettle, Dekker, Heywood, Webster), II: 68 Lady Lisa Lyon (Mapplethorpe photography collection), Supp. IV: 170 “Lady Louisa and the Wallflowers” (Powys), VIII: 249 Lady Maisie’s Bairn and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 “Lady Mottisfont” (Hardy), VI: 22

Lady of Launay, The (Trollope), V: 102 Lady of May, The (Sidney), I: 161; Retro. Supp. II: 330 “Lady of Quality, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Lady of Shalott, The” (Tennyson), IV: xix, 231, 313, 329, 331–332 Lady of the Lake, The (Scott), IV: xvii, 29, 38 “Lady of the Pool, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 176, 177, 178 “Lady of the Sagas, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 Lady of the Shroud, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 “Lady Penelope, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Lady Rogue Singleton” (Smith), Supp. II: 466–467, 470 Lady Susan (Austen), IV: 108, 109, 122; Supp. IV: 230 Lady Windermere’s Fan (Wilde), V: xxvi, 412, 413–414, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 369 Lady with a Laptop (Thomas), Supp. IV: 489–490 “Lady with the Dog, The” (Chekhov), V: 241 “Lady with Unicorn” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170 “Ladybird, The” (Lawrence), VII: 115 “Lady’s Dream, The” (Hood), IV: 261, 264 “Lady’s Dressing Room, The” (Swift), III: 32 Lady’s Life in the Rocky Mountains, A (Bird), Supp. X: 17, 19, 22, 24, 26– 28, 30 Lady’s Magazine (periodical), III: 179 “Lady’s Maid, The” (Mansfield), VII: 174–175 Lady’s Not for Burning (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 202 Lady’s Pictorial (periodical), VI: 87, 91 Lady’s Trial, The (Ford), II: 89, 91, 99, 100 Lady’s World, The (periodical), Retro. Supp. II: 364 Lafourcade, Georges, VI: 247, 256, 259, 260, 262, 263, 268 “Lagoon, The” (Conrad), VI: 136, 148 Lair of the White Worm, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381–382 Laird of Abbotsford: A View of Sirt Walter Scott, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 301 Lake, David J., II: 1, 2, 21 Lake, The (Moore), VI: xii, 88, 89, 92– 93, 98 “Lake Isle of Innisfree, The” (Yeats), VI: 207, 211; Retro. Supp. I: 329 Lake of Darkness, The (Rendell), Supp. IX: 196 “Lake of Tuonela, The” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 270–271 Lakers, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 223 “Lal” (Steel), Supp. XII: 266, 268 “L’Allegro” (Milton), II: 158–159; IV: 199 Lamarck, Jean–Baptiste, Supp. II: 105– 106, 107, 118, 119

378

Lamb, Charles, II: 80, 86, 119n, 143, 153, 256, 340, 361, 363, 364; IV: xi, xiv, xvi xviii, xix, 41, 42, 73–86, 128, 135, 137, 148, 252–253, 255, 257, 259, 260, 320, 341, 349; V: 328 Lamb, John, IV: 74, 77, 84 Lamb, Mary, IV: xvi, 77–78, 80, 83–84, 128, 135 “Lamb to the Slaughter” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215, 219 Lambert, Gavin, Supp. IV: 3, 8 “Lament” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 277–278 Lament for a Lover (Highsmith), Supp. V: 170 “Lament for One’s Self” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134 “Lament for the Great Music” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 203 “Lament for the Makaris, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 118, 121, 127–128 Lament of Tasso, The (Byron), IV: 192 “Lament of the Duke of Medina Sidonia” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 “Lament of the Images” (Okri), Supp. V: 359 “Lament over the Ruins of the Abbey of Teach Molaga” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 128 Lamia (Keats), III: 338; IV: xviii, 216, 217, 219–220, 231, 235; Retro. Supp. I: 192–193 Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems (Keats), IV: xviii, 211, 235; Retro. Supp. I: 184, 192– 196 Lamming, George, Supp. IV: 445 “Lamp and the Jar, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 Lamp and the Lute, The (Dobrée), VI: 204 Lampitt Papers, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 297, 304, 306–307 Lanark: A Life in Four Books (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 79–83, 84–86, 88–89 Lancelot and Guinevere (Malory), I: 70– 71, 77 Lancelot du Laik, I: 73 Lancelot, The Death of Rudel, and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 “Lancer” (Housman), VI: 160 “Land, The” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 99, 103 “Land Girl at the Boss’s Grave, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “Land of Counterpane, The” (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 260 Land of Heart’s Desire, The (Yeats), VI: 221; Retro. Supp. I: 326 “Land of Loss, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 Land of Promise, The (Maugham), VI: 369 “Land under the Ice, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Landfall, Supp. XII: 3 Landing on the Sun, A (Frayn), Supp. VII: 62–63 “Landlady, The” (Behan), Supp. II: 63–64

LAND−LAUG “Landlady, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215– 216, 217 Landleaguers, The (Trollope), V: 102 Landlocked (Lessing), Supp. I: 245, 248 Landmarks in French Literature (Strachey), Supp. II: 502–503 Landnámabók, VIII: 235, 238 Landon, Letitia, IV: 311 Landor, Walter Savage, II: 293; III: 139; IV: xiv, xvi, xviii, xix, xxii, 87–100, 252, 254, 356; V: 320 Landor’s Tower; or, The Imaginary Conversations (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232 Landscape (Pinter), Supp. I: 375–376 “Landscape Painter, A” (James), VI: 69 “Landscape with One Figure” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Landscapes Within, The (Okri), Supp. V: 347, 348, 350, 352, 353–354, 360 Landseer, Edwin, V: 175 Lane, Margaret, V: 13n, 16 Lang, Andrew, V: 392–393, 395; VI: 158; Supp. II: 115 Lang, C. Y., V: 334, 335 Langland, William, I: vii, 1–18 “Language Ah Now You Have Me” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 Language Made Plain (Burgess), Supp. I: 197 “Language of Crying, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Language of Fiction: Essays in Criticism and Verbal Analysis of the English Novel (Lodge), Supp. II: 9; Supp. IV: 365, 366 Language, Truth and Logic (Ayer), VII: 240 Languages of Love, The (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 100–101 Lannering, Jan, III: 52 “Lantern Bearers, The” (Stevenson), V: 385 “Lantern out of Doors, The,” (Hopkins), V: 380 Lantern Slides (O’Brien), Supp. V: 341 Laodicean, A; or, The Castle of the De Stancys (Hardy), VI: 4–5, 20 Laon and Cynthia (Shelley), IV: 195, 196, 198, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 249– 250; see also Revolt of Islam, The “Lapis Lazuli” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 337 Lara (Byron), IV: xvii, l72, 173, 175, 192; see also Turkish tales “Large Cool Store, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 279 Lark, The (Fry), Supp. III: 195 “Lark Ascending, The” (Meredith), V: 221, 223 “Larkin Automatic Car Wash, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Larkin, Philip, Supp. I: 275–290; Supp. II: 2, 3, 375; Supp. IV: 256, 431 “Lars Porsena of Clusium” (Macaulay), IV: 282 Lars Porsena; or, The Future of Swearing and Improper Language (Graves), VII: 259–260 “Lascar, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212

Lasselia; or, The Self–Abandoned (Haywood), Supp. XII: 137, 140 “Last Address, The” (Lowry), Supp. III: 272 Last and the First, The (Compton– Burnett), VII: 59, 61, 67 “Last Ark, The” (Tolkien), Supp. II: 522 Last Battle, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 261 “Last Christmas” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 Last Chronicle of Barset, The (Trollope), II: 173; V: xxiii, 93–95, 101 “Last Coiffeur, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77 “Last Confession, A” (Rossetti), V: 240– 241 “Last Day of Summer, The” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390 Last Days of Lord Byron, The (Parry), IV: 191, 193 Last Days of Sodom, The (Orton), Supp. V: 364 “Last Duchess” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 Last Essay (Conrad), VI: 148 Last Essays of Elia, The (Lamb), IV: xix, 76–77, 82–83, 85 Last Essays on Church and Religion (Arnold), V: 212, 216 Last Fight of the Revenge at Sea, The (Ralegh), I: 145, 149–150 Last Fruit off the Old Tree, The (Landor), IV: 100 “Last Galway Hooker, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 316, 319 “Last Hellos, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283 “Last Instructions to a Painter, The” (Marvell), II: 217–218 Last Letters from Hav (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 171, 185–186 Last Loves (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411, 414, 415–416, 425 “Last Man, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264 Last Man, The (Shelley), Supp. III: 364– 371 “Last Moa, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 Last Night’s Fun (Carson), Supp. XIII: 53, 55, 61–63 “Last of March (Written at Lolham Brigs), The” (Clare), Supp. XI: 57 Last of the Country House Murders, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 230 Last of the Duchess, The (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 8, 13–14 “Last of the Fire Kings” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 172 Last of the High Kings, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 296–297 Last of the Wine, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 182–183, 187 Last Orders (Swift), Supp. V: 440–441 Last Poems (Browning), IV: 312, 315, 357 Last Poems (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 Last Poems (Housman), VI: 157, 158, 160, 161, 162, 164 Last Poems (Meredith), V: 234 Last Poems (Reading), VIII: 273

379

Last Poems (Yeats), VI: 214 Last Poems and Two Plays (Yeats), VI: 213 Last Pool and Other Stories, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 Last Post (Ford), VI: 319, 330–331 Last Pre–Raphaelite, The: A Record of the Life and Writings of Ford Madox Ford (Goldring), VI: 333 “Last Requests” (Longley), VIII: 173 Last September, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 78, 79, 83–86, 89 Last Sheaf, A (Welch), Supp. IX: 267 Last Summer, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209 Last Testament of Oscar Wilde, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 5 Last Thing (Snow), VII: xxi, 324, 332– 333 “Last Things, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 “Last to Go” (Pinter), Retro. Supp. I: 217 “Last Tournament, The” (Tennyson), V: 327 “Last Will and Testament” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7 Last Words of Thomas Carlyle, The (Carlyle), IV: 250 Late Augustans, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 Late Bourgeois World, The (Gordimer), Supp. II: 228, 229, 231, 233, 234, 236, 238 Late Call (Wilson), Supp. I: 156, 161– 162, 163 Late Harvest (Douglas), VI: 300, 302– 303, 305, 333 Late Mr. Shakespeare, The (Nye), Supp. X: 194, 196, 200, 202–203, 206 Late Murder in Whitechapel, The; or, Keep the Widow Waking, see Late Murder of the Son . . . Late Murder of the Son Upon the Mother, A; or, Keep the Widow Waking (Dekker, Ford, Rowley, Webster), II: 85–86, 89, 100 “Late Period” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 78 Late Picking, A: Poems 1965–1974 (Hope), Supp. VII: 157, 158 Late Pickings (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 Latecomers (Brookner), Supp. IV: 130– 131, 136 Later and Italian Poems of Milton (tr. Cowper), III: 220 Later Days (Davies), Supp. XI: 91, 92 “Later Decalogue, The,” (Clough), V: 155 “Later Poems” (Bridges), VI: 78, 83 Later Poems, 1972–1982 (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 Latter–Day Pamphlets (Carlyle), IV: xxi, 240, 247–248, 249, 250 “Laud and Praise made for our Sovereign Lord The King” (Skelton), I: 88–89 Laugh and Lie Down (Swinburne), V: 312, 332 Laugh and Lie Down; or, The World’s Folly (Tourneur), II: 37 Laughable Lyrics (Lear), V: 78, 85, 87 Laughing Anne (Conrad), VI: 148

LAUG−LECT “Laughter” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 47–48 “Laughter Beneath the Bridge” (Okri), Supp. V: 355 Laughter in the Next Room (Sitwell), VII: 130, 135 Launch–Site for English Studies: Three Centuries of Literary Studies at the University of St. Andrews (ed. Crawford), Supp. XI: 76, 82 “Laundon, City of the Moon” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Laundress, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Laus Veneris” (Swinburne), IV: 346; V: 316, 318, 320, 327, 346 L’Autre monde ou les états et empires de la lune (Cyrano de Bergerac), III: 24 Lavater, J. C., III: 298 “Lavatory Attendant, The” (Cope), VIII: 74 Lavengro: The Scholar, the Gipsy, the Priest (Borrow), Supp. XII: 17, 20– 27, 31 Law, William, IV: 45 Law and the Grace, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 212–213 Law and the Lady, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 102 Law Against Lovers, The (Davenant), I: 327 Law Hill poems (Brontë), V: 126–128 Law of the Threshold, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 275–276 Lawless Roads, The (Greene; U.S. title, “nother Mexico), Supp. I: 9, 10 Lawrence, D. H., II: 330; IV: 106, 119, 120, 195; V: xxv, 6, 47; VI: 235, 243, 248, 259, 275–276, 283, 363, 409, 416; VI: xii, xiv–xvi, 18, 75, 87–126, 201, 203–204, 215; Supp. II: 492; Supp. III: 86, 91, 397–398; Supp. IV: 5, 94, 139, 233, 241, 369; Retro. Supp. II: 221–235 Lawrence, Frieda, VII: 90, 111 Lawrence, T. E., VI: 207, 408; Supp. II: 147, 283–297; Supp. IV: 160 “Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son” (Milton), II: 163 Laws of Candy, The, II: 67 Lawson, Henry, Supp. IV: 460 Laxdœla saga, VIII: 238, 239, 240 “Lay By” (Hare), Supp. IV: 281, 283 Lay Down Your Arms (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 231 “Lay for New Lovers” (Reid), Supp. VII: 325 Lay Morals and Other Papers (Stevenson), V: 396 Lay of Lilies, A, and Other Poems (Swinburne), V: 333 “Lay of the Bell, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 121–122 “Lay of the Brown Rosary, The” (Browning), IV: 313 “Lay of the Labourer, The” (Hood), IV: 252, 261, 265–266 Lay of The Last Minstrel, The (Scott), IV: xvi, 29, 38, 48, 218 “Lay of the Laureate” (Southey), IV: 61, 71

Lays of Leisure Hours (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149, 156–157 Layamon, I: 72 “Laying a Lawn” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 167 Laying on of Hands, The: Stories (Bennett), VIII: 20 Lays of Ancient Rome (Macaulay), IV: xx, 272, 282–283, 290–291 “Lays of Many Lands” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 “Lazarus and the Sea” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 225–227, 231 “Lazarus Not Raised” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 259 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 92 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices, The (Dickens), V: 72 Le Carré, John, Supp. II: 299–319; Supp. IV: 4, 5, 9, 13, 14, 15, 17, 22, 445, 449 “Le christianisme” (Owen), VI: 445, 450 Le dépit amoureux (Molière), II: 325, 336 Le Fanu, Sheridan, III: 333, 340, 342, 343, 345; Supp. II: 78–79, 81; Supp. III: 385–386 Le Gallienne, Richard, V: 412, 413 Le Jugement du Roy de Behaingne (Machaut), Retro. Supp. II: 37 Le misanthrope (Molière), II: 318 Le roman bourgeois (Furetière), II: 354 Le Roman de la Rose (Guillaurne), Retro. Supp. II: 36 Le Sage, Alain René, II: 325; III: 150 “Lead” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 “Lead, Kindly Light” (Newman), Supp. VII: 291 “Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo, The” (Hopkins), V: 371 Leader (periodical), V: 189 Leaf and the Marble, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209, 223 ”Leaf Blown Upstream, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Leaf by Niggle” (Tolkien), Supp. II: 521 &ldqup;Leaf Used as a Bookmark, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 Leak in the Universe, A (Richards), Supp. II: 426–427 Lean Tales (Kelman, Owens, and Gray), Supp. V: 249; Supp. IX: 80, 82, 90 “Leaning Tower, The” (Woolf), VII: 26; Retro. Supp. I: 310 Lear (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 427, 430– 432, 433, 435 Lear, Edward, V: xi, xvii, xv, xxv, 75–87, 262; Supp. IV: 201 Lear Coloured Bird Book for Children, The (Lear), V: 86, 87 Lear in Sicily (ed. Proby), V: 87 Lear in the Original (ed. Liebert), V: 87 Learned Comment upon Dr. Hare’s Excellent Sermon, A (Swift), III, 35 Learned Hippopotamus, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 “Learning Gaelic” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 20

380

Learning Human: Selected Prose (Murray), Supp. VII: 271 Learning Laughter (Spender), Supp. II: 491 “Learning to Swim” (Swift), Supp. V: 431–432 Learning to Swim and Other Stories (Swift), Supp. V: 431–434 “Learning’s Little Tribute” (Wilson), Supp. I: 157 Lease of Life (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 “Leather Goods” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Leave the Door Open” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 “Leaves from a Young Person’s Notebook” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267, 268 “Leave–Taking, A” (Swinburne), V: 319 “Leaving Barra” (MacNeice), VI: 411– 412 “Leaving Belfast” (Motion), Supp. VII: 254, 262 “Leaving Dundee” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 Leavis, F. R., II: 254, 258, 271; III: 68, 78; IV: 227, 323, 338, 339; V: 195, 199, 201, 237, 309, 355, 375, 381, 382; VI: 13; V: xvi, xix, 72–73, 88, 101, 102, 233–256; Supp. II: 2, 179, 429; Supp. III: 60; Supp. IV: 142, 229–230, 233, 256; Retro. Supp. I: 90 Leavis, Q. D., II: 250; V: 286, 290; VI: 377; VII: 233, 238, 250 Leben des Galilei (Brecht), Supp. IV: 298 “Lecknavarna” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Lecky, William, IV: 289 Lecky, William E. H., Supp. V: 41 L’école des femmes (Molière), II: 314 L’école des maris (Molière), II: 314 “Lecture on Modern Poetry, A” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135–136, 138, 142–144 Lectures Chiefly on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth (Hazlitt), IV: xviii, 125, 129–130, 139 Lectures on Architecture and Paintings (Ruskin), V: 184 Lectures on Art (Ruskin), V: 184 Lectures on Certain Diffıculties Felt by Anglicans in Submitting to the Catholic Church (Newman), Supp. VII: 297–298 Lectures on Justifiation (Newman), II: 243n; Supp. VII: 294, 301 Lectures on Shakespeare (Coleridge), IV: xvii, 52, 56 Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship (Frazer), Supp. III: 175 Lectures on the English Comic Writers (Hazlitt), IV: xviii, 129–130, 131, 136, 139 Lectures on the English Poets (Hazlitt), IV: xvii, 41, 129–130, 139; Retro. Supp. II: 51 Lectures on the Present Position of Catholics in England (Newman), Supp. VII: 298 Lectures on the Prophetical Offıce of the Church Viewed Relatively to Romanism and Popular Protestantism

LEDA−LETT (Newman), Supp. VII: 293–294, 301, 302 “Leda and the Swan” (Yeats), V: 345 Lee, George John Vandeleur, VI: 101 Lee, Gypsy Rose, Supp. IV: 422, 423, 424 Lee, Hermione, Retro. Supp. I: 305 Lee, J., II: 336 Lee, Nathaniel, II: 305 Lee, Sidney, V: 280 Leech, Clifford, II: 44, 49, 52, 60, 62, 64, 70, 86, 90n, 100 Leech, John, IV: 258 Leenane Trilogy, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 234–237, 238, 239, 240, 241 Left Bank and Other Stories, The (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 389–390 Left–Handed Liberty (Arden), Supp. II: 29, 30 Left Heresy in Literature and Art, The (Kemp and Riding), Supp. III: 120 Left Leg, The (Powys), VIII: 249, 250 “Left, Right, Left, Right: The Arrival of Tony Blair” (Barnes), Supp. IV: 74 “Legacie, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 88, 91–92 “Legacy, The” (King), Supp. VI: 152– 153 “Legacy, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 261 Legacy of Cain, The(Collins), Supp. VI: 103 “Legend” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 Legend of Good Women, The (Chaucer), I: 24–31, 38; Retro. Supp. II:40 Legend of Juba;, The, and Other Poems (Eliot), V: 200 Legend of Montrose, A (Scott), IV: xviii, 35, 39 Legend of the Rhine, A (Thackeray), V: 38 “Legacy on My Fiftieth Birthday, A” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 Legendre’s Elements of Geometry (Carlyle), IV: 250 “Legends of Ancient Eire, The” (Russell), VIII: 282 Legends of Angria (ed. Ratchford), V: 112 Léger, Fernand, Supp. IV: 81 “Legion Club, The” (Swift), III: 21, 31 Legion Hall Bombing, The (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Legion’s Memorial to the House of Commons (Defoe), III: 12; Retro. Supp. I: 67 Legislation (Ruskin), V: 178 Legouis, Pierre, II: 207, 209, 218, 219, 220 Lehmann, John Frederick, VII: xvii, xxxviii Leigh, R. A., III: 246n Leigh Hunt’s Examiner Examined (Blunden), IV: 236 Leila, A Tale (Browning), IV: 321 “Leisure” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42 “Leisure” (Lamb), IV: 83 “Leith Races” (Fergusson), III: 317 Leland, John, I: 113 Lemady (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 261 Lemon, Mark, IV: 263

“Lend Me Your Light” (Mistry), Supp. X: 141–142 “Lenin” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 212– 213, 216 “Lenten Offering, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Leonard’s War: A Love Story (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 “Leonardo Da Vinci” (Pater), V: 345– 347, 348 Leonora (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 158 “’Leopard’ George” (Lessing), Supp. I: 242 “Lepanto” (Chesterton), VI: 340 “Leper, The” (Swinburne), V: 315 “Leper’s Walk” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 LeQueux, William, Supp. II: 299 “Lerici” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 259 Les aventures de Télémaque (Fénelon), III: 95, 99 Les bourgeoises à la mode (Dancourt), II: 325, 336 Les carrosses d’Orleans (La Chapelle), II: 358 “Les Chats” (Baudelaire), Supp. IV: 115 Les Damnés de la terre (Fanon), Supp. IV: 105 Les fables d’Ésope (Boursault), II: 324 Les Heures de silence (tr. Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 Les Misérables (Hugo), Supp. IV: 86 “Les Noyades” (Swinburne), V: 319, 320 “Les Vaches” (Clough), V: 168 Lesbia Brandon (Swinburne), V: 313, 325, 326–327, 332 Leslie Stephen (MacCarthy), V: 284, 290 Leslie Stephen and Matthew Arnold as Critics of Wordsworth (Wilson), V: 287, 290 Leslie Stephen: Cambridge Critic (Leavis), VII: 238 Leslie Stephen: His Thought and Character in Relation to His Time (Annan), V: 284–285, 290 Less Deceived, The (Larkin), Supp. I: 275, 277, 278, 279, 285 Less Than Angels (Pym), Supp. II: 372– 374 “Lesser Arts, The” (Morris), V: 291, 301 Lessing, Doris, Supp. I: 237–257; Supp. IV: 78, 233, 234, 473 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, IV: 53 Lessius, II: 181n Lessness (Beckett), Supp. I: 52, 61 “Lesson in Music, A” (Reid), Supp. VII: 324–325 “Lesson of the Master, The” (James), VI: 48, 67, 69 “Lessons in Survival” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218, 219 “Lessons of the Summer” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Lessons of the War (Reed), VII: 422 L’Estrange, Sir Robert, III: 41 “Let Him Loose” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 24 Let It Bleed (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 251, 253 “Let It Go” (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 194

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Let Me Alone (Kavan), Supp. VII: 202– 204, 205, 206, 207, 214 “Let that be a Lesson” (Kelman), Supp. V: 249 “Let the Brothels of Paris be opened” (Blake), III: 299 Let the People Sing (Priestley), VII: 217 “Let Them Call It Jazz” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 “Let Us Now Praise Unknown Women and Our Mothers Who Begat Us” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 Let’s Have Some Poetry! (Jennings), Supp. V: 206, 214 Lethaby, W. R., V: 291, 296, 306 “Letter, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 “Letter, The” (Brontë), V: 132 “Letter, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 Letter, The (Maugham), VI: 369 “Letter, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215 “Letter, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Letter Addressed to His Grace the Duke of Norfolk (Newman), Supp. VII: 302 Letter and Spirit: Notes on the Commandments (Rossetti), V: 260 Letter . . . Concerning the Sacramental Test, A (Swift), III: 35 Letter from a Member . . . in Ireland to a Member in England, A (Defoe), III: 18 Letter from Amsterdam to a Friend in England, A, II: 206 “Letter from Armenia, A” (Hill), Supp. V: 189 “Letter from Artemiza . . . to Chloë, A” (Rochester), II; 260, 270; Supp. III: 70 “Letter from Hamnovoe” (Brown), Supp. VI: 64 “Letter from Home, The” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 221 Letter . . . in Vindication of His Conduct with Regard to the Affairs of Ireland, A (Burke), III: 205 Letter of Advice to a Young Poet, A (Swift), III: 35 Letter of Marque (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 257 Letter of Thanks . . . to the . . . Bishop of S. Asaph, A (Swift), III: 35 Letter of Travell, A (Greville), Supp. XI: 108 Letter . . . on the Conduct of the Minority in Parliament, A (Burke), III: 205 “Letter to —, April 4, 1802, A” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 61 “Letter to a Brother of the Pen in Tribulation, A” (Behn), Supp. III: 40 Letter . . . to a Country Gentleman . . . , A (Swift), III: 35 Letter to a Friend, A (Browne), II: 153, 156 “Letter to a Friend” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 295 “Letter to a Friend on Leaving Town” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199 Letter . . . to a Gentleman Designing for Holy Orders, A (Swift), III: 35

LETT−LETT Letter to a Member of the National Assembly, A (Burke), III: 205 Letter to a Monk (More), Supp. VII: 240, 241–242 Letter to a Noble Lord (Burke), IV: 127 Letter to a Peer of Ireland on the Penal Laws (Burke), III: 205 “Letter to an Exile” (Motion), Supp. VII: 254, 257 Letter to an Honourable Lady, A (Greville), Supp. XI: 108 Letter to Brixius (More), Supp. VII: 241 “Letter to Curtis Bradford, A” (Davie), Supp. VI: 109 Letter to Dorp (More), Supp. VII: 240– 241 Letter to Edward Lee (More), Supp. VII: 240 “Letter to John Donne, A” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 256 Letter to John Murray, Esq., “Touching”Lord Nugent (Southey), IV: 71 “Letter to Lord Byron” (Auden), IV: 106; Supp. II: 200; Retro. Supp. I: 7 Letter to Lord Ellenborough, A (Shelley), IV: 208 “Letter to Maria Gisborne” (Shelley), IV: 204 “Letter to Mr. Creech at Oxford, A” (Behn), Supp. III: 41 Letter to Mr. Harding the Printer, A (Swift), III: 35 Letter to Oxford (More), Supp. VII: 240– 241 Letter to Peace–Lovers (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 Letter to Robert MacQueen Lord Braxfield . . . , A (Boswell), III: 248 Letter to Samuel Whitbread (Malthus), IV: 127 “Letter to Sara Hutchinson” (Coleridge), IV: 15 Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe on . . . the Roman Catholics .. . . , A (Burke), III: 205 “Letter to Sylvia Plath” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 263–264 “Letter to the Bishop of Llandaff” (Wordsworth), IV: 2 Letter to the Noble Lord on the Attacks Made upon Him . . . in the House of Lords, A (Burke), III: 205 Letter to the People of Scotland, on . . . the Articles of the Union, A (Boswell), III: 248 Letter to the People of Scotland, on the Present State of the Nation, A (Boswell), III: 248 Letter to the Shop–Keepers . . . of Ireland, A (Swift), III: 28, 35 Letter to the Whole People of Ireland, A (Swift), III: 35 Letter to the Women of England, A (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 195, 196, 211 Letter to Viscount Cobham, A (Congreve), II: 350 Letter to . . . Viscount Molesworth, A (Swift), III: 35 “Letter to William Coldstream” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7

Letter to William Gifford, Esq., A (Hazlitt), IV: 139 Letter to William Smith, Esq., MP, A (Southey), IV: 71 Letter Writers, The (Fielding), III: 97, 105 Letter Written to a Gentleman in the Country, A . . . (Milton), II: 176 Letterbook of Sir George Etherege, The (ed. Rosenfeld), II: 271 “Letterfrack Industrial School” (Murphy), Supp. V: 316 Letters (Coleridge), II: 119n Letters (Warner), Supp. VII: 377, 382 Letters Addressed to Lord Liverpool, and the Parliament . . . (Landor), IV: 100 Letters and Diaries (Newman), Supp. VII: 293, 297 Letters and Journals (Byron), IV: 185, 193 Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, with Notices of His Life, by T. Moore (Moore), IV: 193, 281; V: 116 Letters and Papers of John Addington Symonds (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 263–264 Letters and Passages from . . . Clarissa (Richardson), III: 92 Letters and Private Papers of W. M. Thackeray (ed. Ray), V: 37, 140 Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, II: 326n Letters for Literary Ladies (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 153 Letters from a Citizen of the World (Goldsmith), see Citizen of the World, The Letters from a Lost Generation: The First World War Letters of Vera Brittain and Four Friends, Roland Leighton, Edward Brittain, Victor Richardson, Geoffrey Thurlow (Brittain), Supp. X: 47 Letters from America (Brooke), Supp. III: 47, 50, 54–55, 59–60 Letters from Darkness (tr. Adcock), Supp. XII: 11 Letters from England: By Don Manuel Alvarez Espriella (Southey), IV: 60, 68–69, 71 Letters from Iceland (Auden and MacNeice), VII: 403; Retro. Supp. I: 7 Letters from John Galsworthy (ed. Garnett), VI: 290 Letters from Julia; or, Light from the Borderland (Stead), Supp. XIII: 243 Letters from London (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 74–75 “Letters From The Alphabet” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 60–61 Letters from the Lake Poets to D. Stuart (ed. Coleridge), IV: 144 “Letters from the Rocky Mountains” (Bird), Supp. X: 28 Letters from W. S. Landor to R. W. Emerson (Landor), IV: 100 Letters of a Conservative, The (Landor), IV: 100

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“Letters of an Englishman” (Brontë), V: lll Letters of an Old Playgoer (Arnold), V: 216 Letters of Charles Lamb . . . , The (ed. Lucas), II: 119n, IV: 84, 86 Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning (ed. Kenyon), IV: 312, 321 Letters of G. M. Hopkins to Robert Bridges (ed. Abbott), VI: 83 Letters of Hugh MacDiarmid, The (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 209 Letters of James Boswell . . . (ed. Francis), III: 249 Letters of James Boswell (ed. Tinker), III: 234n, 249 Letters of John Clare, The (Clare), Supp. XI: 55, 56, 57, 62 Letters of John Keats to Fanny Browne, Retro. Supp. I: 185 Letters of Laurence Sterne (ed. Curtis), III: 124n Letters of Matthew Arnold, 1848–1888 (ed. Russell), V: 205, 206, 208, 211, 216 Letters of Mrs. Gaskell, The (ed. Chapell and Pollard), V: 108, 137, 151 Letters of Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett, 1845–46, IV: 318–319, 320, 321 Letters of Runnymede (Disraeli), IV: 298, 308 Letters of State, Written by Mr. John Milton . . . (Milton), II: 176 Letters of T. E. Lawrence, The (Lawrence), Supp. II: 287, 290 Letters of W. B. Yeats (ed. Wade), VII: 134 Letters of Walter Savage Landor, Private and Public (ed. Wheeler), IV: 89, 98, 100 Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth (ed. Selincourt), IV: 11, 25 Letters of Wit, Politicks and Morality, II: 352, 364 Letters on Several Occasions (Dennis), II: 338 Letters on the Subject of the Catholics, to my brother Abraham, who lives in the Country (Smith), Supp. VII: 343 Letters to a Young Gentleman . . . (Swift), III: 29 “Letters to a Young Man” (De Quincey), IV: 146 Letters to Alice on First Reading Jane Austen (Weldon), Supp. IV: 521–522, 536 Letters to Archdeacon Singleton (Smith), Supp. VII: 349–350 Letters to Henrietta (Bird), Supp. X: 23– 27, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264, 265 Letters to T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence), Supp. II: 293 Letters to the Sheriffs of Bristol . . . (Burke), III: 205 “Letters to the Winner” (Murray), Supp. VII: 279

LETT−LIFE Letters to the Young (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149, 154–156 Letters with a Chapter of Biography, The (Sorley), VI: 421 Letters Written During a Short Residence in Spain and Portugal (Southey), IV: 71 Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark (Wollstonecraft), Supp. III: 473–475, 479 Letters Written to and for Particular Friends (Richardson), see Familiar Letters Lettres d’une péruvienne (Graffigny), Supp. III: 75 Letty Fox: Her Luck (Stead), Supp. IV: 473 Levanter, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 16 “Level–Crossing, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Levi, Peter, Supp. IV: 159 Leviathan (Hobbes), II: 190; III: 22; IV: 138 Levin, Harry, I: 288, 292 Levin, Ira, III: 343 Levin, Richard, II: 4, 23 Lévi–Strauss, Claude, Supp. IV: 115 Levitt, Morton, Supp. IV: 233 Levy, Paul, Supp. IV: 145 Lewes, George Henry, IV: 10l, 122; V: 137, 189–190, 192, 198; Retro. Supp. II: 102–103 Lewis, Alun, VII: xxii, 422, 444–448 Lewis, C. Day, see Day Lewis, Cecil Lewis, C. S., I: 81, 95, 117; III: 51; V: 301, 306; VII: 356; Supp. I: 71, 72; Supp. III: 247–268 Lewis, Matthew, III: 331, 332–333, 336, 340, 343, 345; Supp. III: 384 Lewis, Peter, Supp. IV: 13 Lewis, Wyndham, VI: 118, 216, 247, 322; VII: xii, xv, 35, 41, 45, 49, 50, 71–85; Supp. IV: 5 “Lewis Carroll” (de la Mare), V: 268, 274 Lewis Carroll (Hudson), V: 262–263, 274 Lewis Eliot stories (Snow), VII: 322; see Strangers and Brothers cycle Lewis Seymour and Some Women (Moore), VI: 86, 89–90, 98, 99 “Lexicography” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “Liar, The” (James), VI: 69 “Libbie Marsh’s Three Eras” (Gaskell), V: 15 Libel on D[octor] Delany, A (Swift), III: 35 Liber Amoris (Hazlitt), IV: 128, 131–132, 133, 139 Liber niger (Edward IV), I: 25, 44 Liberal (periodical), IV: 132, 172 “Liberty” (Collins), III: 166, 172 Liberty (Thomson), Supp. III: 411–412, 419–422 Libra (Delillo), Supp. IV: 487 “Libraries. A Celebration” (Dunn), Supp. X: 79 Library, The (Crabbe), III: 274, 280, 286 “Library Window, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220

Licking Hitler (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 287–288 “Licorice Fields at Pontefract, The” (Betjeman), VII: 368 Lidoff, Joan, Supp. IV: 459 “Lie, The” (Ralegh), I: 148 Lie About My Father, A (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 28, 30–31 Lie of the Land, The (Beer), Supp. XIV: 11 Lies of Silence (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 146, 148–149 “Lieutenant Bligh and Two Midshipmen” (Brown), Supp. VI: 70 Lieutenant of Inishmore, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 238, 241–243, 245 Life, A (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 219–220 “Life, A” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 280 “Life, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Life, Adventures, and Pyracies of . . . Captain Singleton, The (Defoe), see Captain Singleton Life After Death (Toynbee), Supp. I: 40 Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, The (Dickens), see Martin Chuzzlewit Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, The (Dickens), see Nicholas Nickleby Life and Art (Hardy), VI: 20 “Life and Character of Dean Swift, The” (Swift), III: 23, 32, 36 Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, The (Southey), IV: 62, 72 Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold, The (Stanley), V: 13 “Life and Death of God, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 28 Life and Death of Jason, The (Morris), V: 296, 297, 298, 304, 306 Life and Death of Mr. Badman, The (Bunyan), II: 242, 248, 250–251, 253 Life and Death of My Lord Gilles de Rais, The (Nye), Supp. X: 195, 199 Life and Death of Robert Greene (Greene), VIII: 133 Life and Death of Tom Thumb, the Great, The (Fielding), Retro. Supp. I: 82 “Life and Fame” (Cowley), II: 196 Life and Habit (Butler), Supp. II, 102, 104–105, 106, 107, 111 Life and Labours of Blessed John Baptist De La Salle, The (Thompson), V: 450, 451 Life and Letters of John Galsworthy, The (Marrot), V: 270; VI: 287 Life and Letters of Leslie Stephen, The (Maitland), V: 277, 290 Life and Letters, The (Macaulay), IV: 270–271, 284, 291 Life and Loves of a She–Devil, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 537–538 Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, The (Sterne), see Tristram Shandy “Life and Poetry of Keats, The” (Masson), IV: 212, 235 Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe . . .. , The (Defoe),

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see Robinson Crusoe Life and the Poet (Spender), Supp. II: 489 Life and Times of Laurence Sterne, The (Cross), III: 125 Life and Times of Michael K (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 82–83 Life and Work of Harold Pinter, The (Billington), Retro. Supp. I: 216 Life as We Have Known It (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 314 “Life and Writings of Addison” (Macaulay), IV: 282 Life Goes On (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 “Life in a Love” (Browning), IV: 365 Life in Greece from Homer to Menander (Mahafty), V: 400 “Life in London” (Egan), IV: 260 Life in Manchester (Gaskell), V: 15 “Life Is the Desert and the Solitude” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 120 Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of John Keats (Milnes), IV: 211, 235, 351; Retro. Supp. I: 185–186 Life Mask (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 107, 108 Life of Addison (Johnson), III: 42 Life of Alexander Pope (Ruffhead), III: 69n, 71 Life of Algernon Charles Swinburne, The (Gosse), V: 311, 334 Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield, The (Monypenny and Buckle), IV: 292, 295, 300, 307, 308 Life of . . . Bolingbroke, The (Goldsmith), III: 189, 191 Life of Charlotte Brontë, The (Gaskell), V: xii, 1–2, 3, 13–14, 15, 108, 122 Life of Christina Rossetti, The (Sanders), V: 250, 260 Life of Cicero, The (Trollope), V: 102 Life of Collins (Johnson), III: 164, 171 Life of Crabbe (Crabbe), III: 272 Life of Dr. Donne, The (Walton), II: 132, 136, 140, 141, 142 Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson, The (Walton), II: 133, 135, 136–137, 140, 142 Life of Dryden, The (Scott), IV: 38 Life of George Moore, The (Horne), VI: 87, 96, 99 Life of Henry Fawcett, The (Stephen), V: 289 Life of John Bright, The (Trevelyan), VI: 389 Life of John Hales, The (Walton), II: 136 Life of John Milton, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 301–302 Life of John Sterling (Carlyle), IV: 41– 42, 240, 249, 250 Life of Johnson, The (Boswell), I: 30; III: 58, 114n, 115, 120, 234, 238, 239, 243–248; IV: xv, 280; Retro. Supp. I: 145–148 Life of Katherine Mansfield, The (Mantz and Murry), VII: 183 “Life of Ma Parker“(Mansfield), VII: 175, 177 Life of Man, The (Arden), Supp. II: 28

LIFE−LIPS Life of Mr. George Herbert, The (Walton), II: 119–120, 133, 140, 142, 143; Retro. Supp. II: 171–172 Life of Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great, The (Fielding), see Jonathan Wild Life of Mr. Richard Hooker, The (Walton), II: 133, 134, 135, 140–143 Life of Mr. Richard Savage (Johnson), III: 108, 121 Life of Mrs. Godolphin, The (Evelyn), II: 275, 287 “Life of Mrs. Radcliffe” (Scott), IV: 35 Life of Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson, The (Sanchez), V: 393, 397 Life of Napoleon, The (Scott), IV: 38 Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, The (Hazlitt), IV: 135, 140 Life of Nelson, The (Southey), IV: xvii, 58, 69, 71, 280 Life of Our Lady, The (Lydgate), I: 22, 57, 65–66 Life of Pico (More), Supp. VII: 233, 234, 238 Life of Pope (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 144–145 Life of Richard Nash, The (Goldsmith), III: 189, 191 Life of Robert Louis Stevenson, The (Balfour), V: 393, 397 Life of Robert Louis Stevenson, The (Masson), V: 393, 397 Life of Rudyard Kipling, The (Carrington), VI: 166 Life of Saint Albion, The (Lydgate), I: 57 Life of Saint Cecilia, The (Chaucer), I: 31 Life of Saint Edmund, The (Lydgate), I: 57 Life of Saint Francis Xavier, The (tr. Dryden), II: 305 Life of Samuel Johnson, The (Boswell), see Life of Johnson, The Life of Schiller (Carlyle), IV: 241, 249, 250 Life of Sir Henry Wotton, The (Walton), II: 133, 141, 142, 143 Life of Sir James Fitzjames Stephen, The (Stephen), V: 289 Life of Sterling (Carlyle), see Life of John Sterling “Life of the Emperor Julius” (Brontë), V: 113 “Life of the Imagination, The” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 233–234 Life of the Renowned Sir Philip Sidney, The (Greville), Supp. XI: 106, 107– 108, 117, 118 Life of the Rev. Andrew Bell, The (Southey and Southey), IV: 71 Life of the Seventh Earl of Shaftesbury (Hodder), IV: 62 Life of Thomas Hardy (Hardy), VI: 14–15 Life of Thomas More, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 12, 13 “Life of Thomas Parnell” (Goldsmith), III: 189 Life of Wesley, The (Southey), IV: 68, 71 Life of William Blake (Gilchrist), Retro. Supp. I: 46

Life of William Morris, The (Mackail), V: 294, 297, 306 “Life Sentence” (West), Supp. III: 442 “Life to Come, The” (Forster), VI: 411 “Life with a Hole in It, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “Life–Exam, A” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 76 Life’s Handicap (Kipling), VI: 204 Life’s Little Ironies (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 Life’s Morning, A (Gissing), V: 437 “Liffey Hill, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “Lifted Veil, The” (Eliot), V: 198 Light and the Dark, The (Snow), VII: 324, 327 “Light breaks where no sun shines” (Thomas), Supp. I: 172 Light for Them That Sit in Darkness . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Light Frozen on the Oaks” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229 Light Garden of the Angel King: Journeys in Afghanistan, The (Levi), Supp. IV: 159 Light Heart, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 “Light Man, A” (James), VI: 25, 69 Light Music, (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173 Light of Day, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 4, 16–17 Light Shining in Buckinghamshire (Churchill), Supp. IV: 180, 186–188 “Light Shining Out of Darkness” (Cowper), III: 211 Light That Failed, The (Kipling), VI: 166, 169, 189–190, 204 Light Trap, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25–26 “Light Trap, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25–26 “Light Woman, A” (Browning), IV: 369 Light Years, The (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 145, 147, 148, 149 “Lightening Hours, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 Lighthouse, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 95 “Lighthouse Invites the Storm, The” (Lowry), Supp. III: 282 Lighthouse Invites the Storm, The (Lowry), Supp. III: 282 “Lighting Rehearsal” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220 “Lights Among Redwood” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 263 “Lights Out” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 Lights Out for the Territory: Nine Excursions in the Secret History of London (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232, 233, 236– 237, 238, 239–241, 242–243, 244, 246 “Liglag” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 78 “Like a Vocation” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 9 Like Birds, Like Fishes and Other Stories (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235 Like It Or Not (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 Lilac and Flag: An Old Wives’ Tale of a City (Berger), Supp. IV: 93–95 Lilian (Bennett), VI: 250, 259–260 Lilliesleaf (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214

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“Lilly in a Christal, The” (Herrick), II: 104 “Lily Adair” (Chivers), V: 313 Limbo (Huxley), VII: 199, 200 Limbo (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 “Limbs” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Lincoln: A Foreigner’s Quest (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 173, 182–183 Lincolnshire poems (Tennyson), IV: 327, 336 Linda Tressel (Trollope), V: 102 Linden Tree, The (Priestley), VII: 209, 228–229 Line of Life, A (Ford), II: 88, 100 “Lines: I Am” (Clare), Supp. XI: 49, 62 “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey” (Wordsworth), IV: ix, 3, 7, 8, 9–10, 11, 44, 198, 215, 233 “Lines Composed in a Wood on a Windy Day” (Brontë), V: 132 “Lines Composed While Climbing the Left Ascent of Brockley Combe” (Coleridge), IV: 43–44 “Lines for a Book” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 260, 261 “Lines for Cuscuscaraway . . . ” (Elliot), VII: 163 “Lines for Thanksgiving” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 289 “Lines of Desire” (Motion), Supp. VII: 254, 260–261 Lines of the Hand, The (Hart), Supp. XI: 122, 123–125 “Lines on a Young Lady’s Photograph Album” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 “Lines on the Loss of the Titanic” (Hardy), VI: 16 “Lines to Him Who Will Understand Them” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204, 205 “Lines Written Among the Euganean Hills” (Shelley), IV: 199; Retro. Supp. I: 250–251 “Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici” (Shelley), IV: 206 “Lines Written on a Seat” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 198 “Lingam and the Yoni, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Linnet in the rocky dells, The” (Brontë), V: 115 “Linnet’s Petition, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199 Lion and the Fox, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 74, 82 Lion and the Mouse, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 139 Lion and the Ostrich, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 35 Lion and the Unicorn, The (Orwell), VII: 282 “Lion Hunts” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 3 Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 260 Lions and Shadows (Isherwood), VII: 310, 312 Lions and Shadows (Upward), Supp. XIII: 251 Lipstick on Your Collar (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 231

LIPT−LODG Lipton Story: A Centennial Biography, A (Waugh), Supp. VI: 275 Liquid City (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 238, 240 Listen to the Voice: Selected Stories (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 210 “Listeners, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 192, 198, 202 Listening to the Orchestra (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 126 “Litanie, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 96 Litanies de Satan (Baudelaire), V: 310 “Litany, A” (Swinburne), V: 320 “Literae Orientales” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 116, 124–126 “Literary Criticism and Philosophy: A Reply” (Leavis), VII: 241–242 Literary Criticisms by Francis Thompson (ed. Connolly), V: 450, 451 Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 “Literary Lights” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 103, 104 Literary Reminiscenses (Hood), IV: 252, 253, 254, 259–260, 266 Literary Souvenir, The (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 157 Literary Studies (Bagehot), V: 156, 170 Literary Taste: How to Form It (Bennett), VI: 266 Literature and Dogma (Arnold), V: xxiv, 203, 212, 216 “Literature and Offence” (Brink), Supp. VI: 47 “Literature and the Irish Language” (Moore), VI: 98 Literature and Western Man (Priestley), VII: 209, 214–215 Literature at Nurse; or, Circulating Morals (Moore), VI: 90, 98 Lithuania (Brooke), Supp. III: 47, 54 “Little Aeneid, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Little and a lone green lane” (Brontë), V: 112–113 “Little Black Boy, The” (Blake), Supp. IV: 188; Retro. Supp. I: 36 “Little Boy Lost, The” (Blake), III: 292 Little Dinner at Timmins’s, A (Thackeray), V: 24, 38 Little Dorrit (Dickens), V: xxii, 41, 42, 47, 55, 63, 64–66, 68, 69, 70, 72 Little Dream, The (Galsworthy), VI: 274 Little Drummer Girl, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 305, 306, 307, 311, 313, 315–318 Little French Lawyer, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 “Little Ghost Who Died for Love, The” (Sitwell), VII: 133 “Little Gidding” (Eliot), VII: 154, 155, 156 Little Girl, The (Mansfield), VII: 171 Little Girls, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 82, 84, 94 Little Gray Home in the West (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 32, 35

Little Green Man (Armitage), VIII: 1 Little Hotel, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 473, 476 “Little India” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 72–73 Little Learning, A (Waugh), Supp. VI: 271 Little Men (Alcott), Supp. IV: 255 Little Minister, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 1, 3, 8 Little Monasteries, The (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 “Little Mother, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 “Little Paul and the Sea” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 “Little Photographer, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135 “Little Puppy That Could, The” (Amis), Supp. IV: 40 “Little Red Twin” (Hughes), Supp. I: 359 Little Review, Supp. XIII: 189 Little Tales of Misogyny (Highsmith), Supp. V: 177, 180 Little Tea, a Little Chat, A (Stead), Supp. IV: 462, 473 “Little Tembi” (Lessing), Supp. I: 241 Little Tour in France, A (James), VI: 45– 46, 67 “Little Travels and Roadside Sketches” (Thackeray), V: 38 Little Wars: A Game for Boys (Wells), VI: 227, 244 “Little While, A” (Rossetti), V: 242 “Little while, a little while, A,” (Brontë), V: 127–128 Littlewood, Joan, Supp. II: 68, 70, 73, 74 Live and Let Die (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 91, 93–94 Live Like Pigs (Arden), Supp. II: 24–25, 29 Lively, Penelope, Supp. IV: 304 “Lively sparks that issue from those eyes, The” (Wyatt), I: 109 “Liverpool Address, A” (Arnold), V: 213, 216 Lives, (Mahon), Supp. VI: 168–171, 172 “Lives” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 169 Lives, The (Walton), II: 131, 134–137, 139, 140–143; see also individual works: Life of Dr. Donne; Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson; Life of Mr. George Herbert; Life of Mr. Richard Hooker; Life of Sir Henry Wotton Lives of the British Admirals (Southey and Bell), IV: 71 Lives of the English Poets, The (Johnson), II: 259; III: 118–119, 122, 160, 173, 189; Retro. Supp. I: 143–145, 274 Lives of the Hunted (Seton), Supp. IV: 158 Lives of the ’Lustrious: A Dictionary of Irrational Biography (Stephen and Lee), V: 290 Lives of the Novelists (Scott), III: 146n; IV: 38, 39 Lives of the Poets, The (Johnson), see Lives of the English Poets, The

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Lives of the English Saints (Newman), Supp. VII: 296 Livia (Durrell), Supp. I: 118, 119 Living (Green), Supp. II: 251–253 Living and the Dead, The (White), Supp. I: 129, 130, 134 Living Daylights, The (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 Living in America (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254–256 “Living in Time” (Reid), Supp. VII: 329 Living Novel, The (Pritchett), IV: 306 Living Nowhere (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23, 25, 30 Living Principle, The (Leaves), VII: 237 Living Quarters (Friel), Supp. V: 122 Living Room, The (Greene), Supp. I: 13; Retro. Supp. II: 161–162 Living Together (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 5 Living Torch, The (Russell), VIII: 277, 286, 290, 292 “Livings” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 282 Livingstone’s Companions (Gordimer), Supp. II: 229, 233 Liza of Lambeth (Maugham), VI: 364– 365 Liza’s England (Barker), see Century’s Daughter, The “Lizbie Brown” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 110 “Lizzie Leigh” (Gaskell), V: 3, 15 Ljósvetninga saga, VIII: 242 “Llanrhaeadr ym Mochnant” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 Lloyd, Charles, IV: 78 Lloyd George, David, VI: 264, 340, 352, 353; VII: 2 Loaves and Fishes (Brown), Supp. VI: 65, 71 “Lob”(Thomas), Supp. III: 394, 405 Lobo, Jeronimo, III: 107, 112 Local Habitation (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213, 217–218 Locations (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172, 183 “Loch Ness Monster’s Song, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 162–163, 169 “Loch Roe” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 182 “Loch Sionascaig” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 195 “Lock, The” (Coppard), VIII: 88 “Lock the Door, Lariston” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 “Lock up, fair lids, The treasure of my heart” (Sidney), I: 169 Locke, John, III: 22; IV: 169; Supp. III: 33, 233 Lockhart, J. G., IV: 27, 30, 34, 36, 38, 39, 294; V: 140 “Locksley Hall” (Tennyson), IV: 325, 333, 334–335 “Locksley Hall Sixty Years After” (Tennyson), IV: 328, 338 Locust Room, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23, 29–30 “Locust Songs” (Hill), Supp. V: 187 Lodge, David, Supp. II: 9, 10; Supp. IV: 102, 139, 363–387, 546; Retro. Supp. I: 217 Lodge, Thomas, I: 306, 312

LODG−LORD “Lodging for the Night, A” (Stevenson), V: 384, 395 “Lodging House Fire, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 94–95 “Lodgings for the Night” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35, 37 Lodore (Shelley), Supp. III: 371, 372 Loftis, John, III: 255, 271 “Lofty in the Palais de Danse” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 258 “Lofty Sky, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 Logan, Annie R. M., VI: 23 Logan Stone (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 “Logan Stone” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 491, 492 “Loganair” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75 “Logic of Dreams” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74 Logic of Political Economy, The (De Quincey), IV: 155 “Logical Ballad of Home Rule, A” (Swinburne), V: 332 “Logos” (Hughes), Supp. I: 350 Loiners, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 149, 150–151 “Lois the Witch” (Gaskell), V: 15 Loitering with Intent (Spark), Supp. I: 204, 212, 213 Lokasenna, VIII: 230, 241 Lolita (Nabokov), Supp. IV: 26, 30 Lolly Willowes (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 373–374, 375, 381 Lombroso, Cesare, V: 272 Londinium Redivivum (Evelyn), II: 287 “London” (Blake), III: 294, 295 “London” (Johnson), III: 57, 108, 114, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 137 London (Russell), Supp. IV: 126 “London” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 London: A Book of Aspects (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 London Assurance (Boucicault), V: 415 “London by Lamplight” (Meredith), V: 219 London: City of Disappearances (ed. Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 243–244 London Fields (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 27, 35–37 “London hast thou accusèd me” (Surrey), I: 113, 116 London Journal 1762–1763 (Boswell), III: 239, 240, 242 London Kills Me: Three Screenplays and Four Essays (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 156–157, 159, 161 London Lickpenny (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3 London Life, A (James), VI: 67, 69 London Magazine (periodical), III: 263; IV: xviii, 252, 253, 257, 260; V: 386 London Mercury (periodical), VII: 211 London Nights (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267, 270, 272, 276, 277, 278 London Orbital: A Walk Around the M25 (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 232, 236, 244, 245 London Pride (Braddon), VIII: 49 London Review of Books, Supp. IV: 121

“London Revisited” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 52 “London Snow” (Bridges), VI: 78 London Spy (periodical), III: 41 London Street Games (Douglas), VI: 304, 305 London: The Biography (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 13 London to Ladysmith via Pretoria (Churchill), VI: 351 London Tradesmen (Trollope), V: 102 London Zoo (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249 “Londoner” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Londoners (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38 “Lone Voices” (Amis), Supp. II: 11 “Loneliest Mountain, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Loneliness” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “Loneliness” (Behan), Supp. II: 64 “Loneliness of the Long–Distance Runner, The” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409, 410, 413, 419–421 Lonely Girl, The (O’Brien), Supp. V: 334, 336–337 “Lonely Lady, The” (Powys), VIII: 254, 258 Lonely Londoners, The (Selvon), Supp. IV: 445 “Lonely Love” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46–47 Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 141, 142, 143, 144, 146 Lonely Unicorn, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 Lonely Voice, The: A Study of the Short Story (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 211– 212, 219 Lonesome West, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 235, 236–237, 238, 239, 245 “Long ages past” (Owen), VI: 448 “Long Ago” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 Long Day Wanes, The (Burgess), see Malayan trilogy Long Kill, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 119 Long River, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 “Long Story, A” (Gray), III: 140 Long View, The (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 138–139 “Longes MACnUSNIG: The Exile of the Sons of Usnech and The Exile of Fergus and The Death of the Sons of Usnech and of Deidre” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 Longest Day, The (Clough), V: 170 Longest Journey, The (Forster), VI: 398, 401–403, 407; Retro. Supp. II: 136, 139–141 “Long–Legged Fly” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 337 Longley, Michael, VIII: 163–178; Supp. IV: 412 “Longstaff’s Marriage” (James), VI: 69 Lonsdale, R., III: 142n, 144 “Look” (Motion), Supp. VII: 259 Look After Lulu (Coward), Supp. II: 155 Look at All Those Roses (Bowen), Supp. II: 92–93

386

Look at Me (Brookner), Supp. IV: 125– 126 “Look at the Children” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 “Look at the Cloud His Evening Playing Cards” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 Look Back in Anger (Osborne), Supp. I: 329, 330–332, 338; Supp. II: 4, 70, 155; Supp. III: 191; Supp. IV: 282, 283 Look Look (Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 Look, Stranger! (Auden), VII: xix, 384 Look to Windward (Banks), Supp. XI: 9–10, 12 Look! We Have Come Through! (Lawrence), VII: 127; Retro. Supp. II: 233 “Looking and Finding” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 223 Looking Back (Adcock), Supp. XII: 11, 12–13 Looking Back (Douglas), VI: 304, 305 Looking Back (Maugham), VI: 365 “Looking Back” (Vaughan), II: 185, 188 Looking for a Language (Fry), Supp. III: 191 “Looking for Weldon Kees” (Armitage), VIII: 6 “Looking Glass, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Looking Glass War, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 308, 309–310; Supp. IV: 22 Looking on Darkness (Brink), Supp. VI: 48 Loom of Youth, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 267, 268–269 “Loose Saraband, A” (Lovelace), II: 232 “Loosestrife” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77–78 Loot (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 367, 371, 375 Lopez, Bernard, VI: 85 Loquituri (Bunting), Supp. VII: 5 “Lorca” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime” (Wilde), V: 405, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 365 “Lord Beaupre” (James), VI: 69 “Lord Carlisle on Pope” (De Quincey), IV: 146 Lord Chancellor Jeffreys and the Stuart Cause (Keeton), IV: 286 Lord Cucumber (Orton), Supp. V: 363 Lord George Bentinck (Disraeli), IV: 303, 308 Lord Gregory (Carson), Supp. XIII: 65 Lord Grey of the Reform Bill (Trevelyan), VI: 389–390 Lord Jim (Conrad), VII: 34, 139–140, 148; Supp. II: 290; Retro. Supp. II: 69, 75–77 Lord Malquist and Mr Moon (Stoppard), Supp. I: 438 “Lord of Ennerdale, The” (Scott), IV: 31 Lords of Limit, The: Essays on Literature and Ideas (Hill), Supp. V: 201 “Lord of the Dynamos” (Wells), VI: 235 Lord of the Flies (Golding), Supp. I: 67, 68–70, 71, 72, 75, 83; Supp. IV: 393; Retro. Supp. I: 94–97 Lord of the Isles, The (Scott), IV: 39

LORD−LOVE Lord of the Rings, The (Tolkien), Supp. II: 519, 520, 521, 524, 525, 527, 528, 529–530, 531, 532–534; Supp. IV: 116 Lord Ormont and His Aminta (Meredith), V: 226, 232, 233, 234 Lord Palmerston (Trollope), V: 102 Lord Peter Views the Body (Sayers), Supp. III: 340 Lord Raingo (Bennett), VI: 250, 252, 261–262 Lord Randolph Churchill (Churchill), VI: 352 Lord Soulis (Swinburne), V: 333 Lords and Commons (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222 “Lords of Hell and the Word, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 Lorenz, Konrad, Supp. IV: 162 Losing Nelson (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 365, 366–367 “Losing Touch” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 Loss and Gain (Newman), Supp. VII: 293, 297, 299 Loss of El Dorado, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 390, 392–393 “Loss of the Eurydice, The” (Hopkins), V: 369–370, 379 Loss of the Magyar and Other Poems (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 2 Lost Childhood, and Other Essays, The (Greene), VI: 333; Supp. I: 2 “Lost Days” (Rossetti), V: 243 Lost Eden, A (Braddon), VIII: 37 Lost Empires (Priestley), VII: 220–221 Lost Explorer, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 55, 57 “Lost Field, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 106–107, 114, 115 Lost Flying Boat, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 Lost Girl, The (Lawrence), VII: 90, 104– 106; Retro. Supp. II: 229 “Lost Leader, The” (Browning), IV: 356 “Lost Legion, The” (Kipling), VI: 193 “Lost Mistress, The” (Browning), IV: 369 Lost Ones, The (Beckett), Supp. I: 47, 55, 61–62 “Lost Proofs, The” (Powys), VIII: 248, 249 Lost Season, A (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69–70 “Lost Selves” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46 “Lost Tribe, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 Lost Trumpet, The (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 “Lost Way, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70–71 “Lost Woman, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Lost World, The (Doyle), Supp. II: 159 “Lot and His Daughters” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 Lothair (Disraeli), IV: xxiii, 294, 296, 304, 306, 307, 308 Loti, Pierre, Retro. Supp. I: 291 “Lotos–Garland of Antinous, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Lotta Schmidt (Trollope), V: 101

Lottery, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Lotus, The” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 Lotus and the Robot, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 34n “Lotus–Eaters, The” (Tennyson), IV: xix; V: ix “Loud without the wind was roaring” (Brontë), V: 127 “Loudest Lay, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371–372 Lough Derg (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 192–193, 199 “Loughcrew” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 106, 107 Louis Percy (Brookner), Supp. IV: 131 “Louisa in the Lane” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 110 “Louisa Pallant” (James), VI: 69 “Lourd on my Hert” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 210–211 “Love” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 “Love” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 Love (Carter), Supp. III: 79, 81, 82, 83 Love After All (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 Love All (Sayers), Supp. III: 348 Love Among the Artists (Shaw), VI: 103, 105, 106, 129 Love Among the Chickens (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 450 “Love Among the Haystacks” (Lawrence), VII: 115 “Love Among the Ruins” (Browning), IV: 357, 369 Love Among the Ruins (Waugh), VII: 302 Love and a Bottle (Farquhar), II: 352, 356, 364 Love and Business (Farquhar), II: 352, 355, 364 “Love and Debt Alike Troublesome” (Suckling), II: 227 Love and Fashion (Burney), Supp. III: 64 Love and Freindship [sic] and Other Early Works (Austen), IV: 122 “Love and Life” (Cowley), II: 197, 198 “Love and Life” (Rochester), II: 258 Love and Mr. Lewisham (Wells), VI: 235–236, 244 Love and Napalm: Export U.S.A (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 Love and other Deaths (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 Love and Truth (Walton), II: 134, 143 “Love Arm’d” (Behn), Supp. III: 36, 37 “Love Axe/l, The: Developing a Caribbean Aesthetic 1962–1974” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 35 “Love Declared” (Thompson), V: 442 Love Department, The (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501, 507–508 Love for Love (Congreve), II: 324, 338, 342–343, 350 Love for Love: An Anthology of Love Poems (ed. Burnside and Finlay), Supp. XIII: 31 “Love from the North” (Rossetti), V: 259 “Love, Hate, and Kicking Ass” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 31 Love in a Blue Time (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 157–158

387

Love in a Cold Climate (Mitford), Supp. X: 151–152, 161–163 “Love in a Colder Climate” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Love in a Life (Motion), Supp. VII: 253, 254, 257, 258–260, 261, 263 “Love in a Valley” (Betjeman), VII: 366 Love in a Wood; or, St. James’s Park (Wycherley), II: 308, 309, 311–313, 321 “Love in Dian’s Lap” (Thompson), V: 441 Love in Excess; or, The Fatal Enquiry (Haywood), Supp. XII: 133, 137–140, 144, 145 Love in Idleness (Nicholls), IV: 98n Love in Idleness (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 313 Love in Several Masques (Fielding), III: 96, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 79–80, 81–82 “Love in the Environs of Voronezh” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 Love in the Environs of Voronezh and Other Poems (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 “Love in the Valley” (Meredith), V: 219– 220 “Love Is Dead” (Betjeman), VII: 359– 360 Love Is Enough (Morris), V: 299n, 306 “Love Is Like a Dizziness” (Hogg), Supp. X: 106 Love–Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister (Behn), Supp. III: 30–31, 37, 39 “Love Making by Candlelight” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “Love Match, A” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Love Object, The (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 Love or Nothing (Dunn), Supp. X: 71 “Love Poem” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 20 “Love Poem” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 “Love Poem” (Longley), VIII: 170–171 Love Poems (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Love Song of Har Dyal, The” (Swift), VI: 202 “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, The” (Eliot), V: 163; VII: 144; Supp. IV: 260; Retro. Supp. II: 121, 122–123 “Love Songs in Age” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281 “Love still has something of the Sea” (Sedley); II: 264 “Love Tale” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 “Love that doth raine and live within my thought” (Surrey), I: 115 “Love, thou art best of Human Joys” (Finch), Supp. IX: 76 “Love III” (Herbert), II: 129; Retro. Supp. II: 183 Love Triumphant; or, Nature Will Prevail (Dryden), II: 305 Love Unknown (Wilson) Supp. VI: 302, 303–304 Lovecraft, H. P., II: 340, 343, 345 Loved One, The (Waugh), VII: 301 Love–Hate Relations (Spender), Supp. II: 492

LOVE−LYRI Lovel the Widower (Thackeray), V: 35, 37, 38 Lovelace, Richard, II: 222, 229–232 “Lovely Land, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127 Lover (periodical), III: 50, 53 Lover, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 373, 374, 375; Retro. Supp. I: 223–224 “Lover of Things, The” (Hall), Supp. VI: 121 Lover’s Assistant, The (Fielding), see Ovid’s Art of Love Paraphrased “Lover’s Complaint, A, ”I: 307 Lovers (Friel), Supp. V: 118 “Lovers How They Come and Part” (Herrick), II: 107 “Lovers in Pairs” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 46 “Lover’s Journey, The” (Crabbe), III: 282–283 Lover’s Melancholy, The (Ford), II: 88– 91, 100 Lovers in London (Milne), Supp. V: 297, 298 “Lovers of Orelay, The” (Moore), VI: 96 “Lovers of Their Time” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 Lover’s Progress, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 “Lover’s Quarrel, A” (Browning), Retro. Supp. II:25 Lovers’ Quarrels . . . (King), II: 336 “Lovers’ Rock, The” (Southey), IV: 66 Lover’s Tale, The (Tennyson), IV: 338 Love’s Catechism Compiled by the Author of The Recruiting Offıcer (Farquhar), II: 364 Love’s Coming–of–Age (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41–43 Love’s Cross Currents (Swinburne), V: 313, 323, 325–326, 330, 333 Love’s Cruelty (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 Love’s Cure (Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 “Loves Deitie” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 93 “Love’s Journeys” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Love’s Labour’s Lost (Shakespeare), I: 303–304; Retro. Supp. II: 330 Love’s Last Shift (Cibber), II: 324, 326 Love’s Martyr (Chester), I: 313 Love’s Metamorphosis (Lyly), I: 202 “Love’s Nocturn” (Rossetti), V: 241 Loves of Amos and Laura, The (S.P.), II: 132 Loves of Cass McGuire, The (Friel), Supp. V: 118 Loves of Ergasto, The (Greber), II: 325 “Love’s Payment” (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Love’s Philosophy” (Shelley), IV: 203 Love’s Pilgrimage (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 65 Love Poems and Elegies (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 Love’s Riddle (Cowley), II: 194, 202 Love’s Sacrifice (Ford), II: 88, 89, 92, 96, 97, 99, 100 “Love’s Siege” (Suckling), II: 226–227

“Love’s Ultimate Meaning” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 42 “Loves Usury” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89 Lovesick (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Lovesick Maid, The (Brome), Supp. X: 52 “Love–silly and Jubilant” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102–103 Loving (Green), Supp. II: 247, 254, 256– 258 “Loving Hitler” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 3, 9 Loving Memory (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Loving Spirit, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 133, 141, 144–145 Low Road, The (Hill), see Death Takes the Low Road Low, Will, V: 393, 397 “Low Barometer” (Bridges), VI: 80 Lowbury, Edward, VII: 422, 431–432 Lowell, Amy, Supp. III: 397 Lowell, James Russell, I: 121 Lowell, Robert, Supp. II: 276; Supp. IV: 423; Retro. Supp. I: 129, 130 Lowes, J. L., IV: 47, 57 Lowry, Malcolm, Supp. III: 269–286 Loyal Brother, The (Southern), II: 305 Loyal General, The (Tate), II: 305 “Loyal Mother, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 356 Loyal Subject, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 65 Loyalties (Galsworthy), VI: xiii, 275, 287 Lucas, E. V., IV: 74, 76n, 84, 85, 86 Lucas, F. L., II: 69, 70n, 80, 83, 85 Lucasta (Lovelace), II: 238 “Luceys, The ” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 227 Lucian, III: 24 Lucie–Smith, Edward, IV: 372, 373 “Lucifer” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 29 Luck of Barry Lyndon, The (Thackeray), see Barry Lyndon Luck of Ginger Coffey, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 142, 148–149, 153 Luck, or Cunning (Butler), Supp. II: 106, 107, 108, 113 “Lucky Bag” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 142 “Lucky Break—How I Became a Writer” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 209, 211 Lucky Chance, The; or, An Alderman’s Bargain (Behn), Supp. III: 26, 29 Lucky Jim (Amis), Supp. II: 2, 3, 4, 5–6, 7; Supp. IV: 25, 27, 28, 377 “Lucky Jim’s Politics” (Amis), Supp. II: 11–12 Lucky Poet: A Self–Study in Literature and Political Ideas (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 203, 204–205 “Lucrece” (Gower), I: 54 Lucretia Borgia: The Chronicle of Tebaldeo Tebaldei (Swinburne), V: 325, 333 Lucretius, II: 275, 292, 300, 301; IV: 316 “Lucubratio Ebria” (Butler), Supp. II: 98, 99 Lucubrationes (More), Supp. VII: 240 Lucy (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 219, 227–229 “Lucy Grange” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240

388

Lucy In Her Pink Jacket (Coppard), VIII: 90, 97 “Lucy”poems (Wordsworth), IV: 3, 18; V: 11 Lud Heat: A Book of the Dead Hamlets (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 233, 234 “Lui et Elles” (Moore), VI: 87 Lukács, György, Supp. IV: 81, 82, 87 “Lullaby” (Auden), VII: 383, 398; Retro. Supp. I: 6 “Lullaby” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 “Lullaby” (Sitwell), VII: 135 “Lullaby for Jumbo” (Sitwell), VII: 132 “Lumber Room, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 245 Lunar Caustic (Lowry), Supp. III: 269, 270, 271–273, 280, 283 Lunch and Counter Lunch (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 275–276 “Lunch with Pancho Villa” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 414–415 Luncheon of the Boating Party, The (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75–77, 79 “Luncheon of the Boating Party, The” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75–76, 80 Lupercal (Hughes), Supp. I: 343, 345, 363; Retro. Supp. I: 126; Retro. Supp. II: 204–205 Luria: and a Soul’s Tragedy (Browning), IV: 374 “Lust” (Brooke), Supp. III: 53 Luther (Osborne), Supp. I: 334–335, 338 “Lux Perpetua” (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 “Luxury” (Coppard), VIII: 94 “Lycidas” (Milton), II: 160–161, 164, 165, 168, 169, 175; III: 118–119, 120; IV: 205; VI: 73; Retro. Supp. II: 275–277 Lycidus; or, The Lover in Fashion (Behn), Supp. III: 37 “Lycus, The Centaur” (Hood), IV: 256, 267 Lydgate, John, I: 22, 49, 57–66 Lydia Livingstone (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 61 Lyell, Sir Charles, IV: 325 Lyfe of Johan Picus Erle of Myrandula (More), Supp. VII: 246 Lying Days, The (Gordimer), Supp. II: 226–227 Lying in the Sun (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 Lying Together (Thomas), Supp. IV: 485–486 Lyly, John, I: 191–211, 303 Lynch & Boyle (Seth), Supp. X: 283, 290 Lyra and the Birds (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 153, 159–160 Lyra’s Oxford (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 153, 159–160 Lyric Impulse, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 131 “Lyrical Ballad, A” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256–257 Lyrical Ballads (Wordsworth and Coleridge), III: 174, 336; IV: ix, viii, x, xvi, 3, 4, 5, 6–11, 18, 24, 44–45, 55, 77, 111, 138–139, 142; Retro. Supp. II: 53–54

LYRI−MAIT Lyrical Tales (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 195, 196, 211–213 Lyttelton, George, III: 118 Lyttleton, Dame Edith, VII: 32

Mabinogion, I: 73 “Mabinog’s Liturgy” (Jones), Supp. VII: 177 Mac (Pinter), Supp. I: 367 Mac Flecknoe; or, A Satyre Upon the . . . Poet, T. S. (Dryden), II: 299, 304 “McAndrew’s Hymn” (Kipling), VI: 202 Macaulay, Rose, VII: 37 Macaulay, Thomas Babington, II: 240, 241, 254, 255, 307; III: 51, 53, 72; IV: xii, xvi, xx, xxii, 101, 122, 268– 291, 295; V: viii; VI: 347, 353, 383, 392 Macbeth (Shakespeare), I: 317–318, 327; II: 97, 281; IV: 79–80, 188; V: 375; Supp. IV: 283 MacCaig, Norman, Supp. VI: 181–195 MacCarthy, Desmond, V: 284, 286, 290; VI: 363, 385; VII: 32; Supp. III: 98 McCabe, Patrick, Supp. IX: 127–139 McCarthy, Mary, Supp. IV: 234 McCartney, Colum, Retro. Supp. I: 131 McClintock, Anne, Supp. IV: 167 McClure, John, Supp. IV: 163 McCullers, Carson, Supp. IV: 422, 424 McCullough, Colleen, Supp. IV: 343 MacDermots of Ballycloran, The (Trollope), V: 101 MacDiarmid, Hugh, III: 310; Supp. III: 119; Supp. XII: 201–216 McDonagh, Martin, Supp. XII: 233–246 Macdonald, George, V: 266; Supp. IV: 201 Macdonald, Mary, V: 266, 272 McElroy, Joseph, Supp. IV: 116 McEwan, Ian, Supp. IV: 65, 75, 389– 408; Supp. V: xxx McGann, Jerome J., V: 314, 335 McGrotty and Ludmilla (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 89 McGuckian, Medbh, Supp. V: 277–293 McHale, Brian, Supp. IV: 112 Machiavelli, Niccolò, II: 71, 72; IV: 279; Retro. Supp. I: 204 “Machine” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 84–85 “Machine Stops, The” (Forster), VI: 399 Machynlleth Triad, A (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 185–186 McInherny, Frances, Supp. IV: 347, 353 Mack, Maynard, Retro. Supp. I: 229 Mackail, J. W., V: 294, 296, 297, 306 McKane, Richard, Supp. IV: 494–495 Mackay, M. E., V: 223, 234 Mackenzie, Compton, VII: 278 Mackenzie, Henry, III: 87; IV: 79 MacKenzie, Jean, VI: 227, 243 MacKenzie, Norman, V: 374n, 375n, 381, 382; VI: 227, 243 McKenney, Ruth, Supp. IV: 476 Mackenzie, Sir George, III: 95 “Mackery End, in Hertfordshire” (Lamb), IV: 83 MacLaren, Moray, V: 393, 398

McLeehan, Marshall, IV: 323n, 338, 339 Maclure, Millar, I: 291 Macmillan’s (periodical), VI: 351; Supp. XII: 266, 268, 269, 270 MacNeice, Louis, VII: 153, 382, 385, 401–418; Supp. III: 119; Supp. IV: 423, 424 Macpherson, James, III: 336; VIII: 179– 195; Supp. II: 523 Macready, William Charles, I: 327 McTaggart, J. M. E., Supp. II: 406 Mad British Pervert Has a Sexual Fantasy About the 10th Street Bridge in Calgary, A (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 66 Mad Forest: A Play from Romania (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 188, 195– 196, 198, 199 Mad Islands, The (MacNeice), VII: 405, 407 Mad Lady’s Garland, A (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 133–134, 135, 139–140 Mad Lover, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 55, 65 “Mad Maids Song, The” (Herrick), II: 112 “Mad Mullinix and Timothy” (Swift), III: 31 Mad Soldier’s Song (Hardy), VI: 11 Mad World, My Masters, A (Middleton), II: 3, 4, 21 Madagascar; or, Robert Drury’s Journal (Defoe), III: 14 Madame Bovary (Flaubert), V: xxii, 429; Supp. IV: 68, 69 “Madame de Mauves” (James), VI: 69; Supp. IV: 133 Madame de Pompadour (Mitford), Supp. X: 163 “Madame Rosette” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 209–210 Madan, Falconer, V: 264, 274 Maddox, Brenda, Retro. Supp. I: 327, 328 “Mademoiselle” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 255 Mademoiselle de Maupin (Gautier), V: 320n Madge, Charles, VII: xix “Madman and the Child, The” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Madness of George III, The (Bennett), VIII: 31–33 Madoc (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 420, 424– 427, 428 “Madoc” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 422, 425–427, 430 Madoc (Southey), IV: 63, 64–65, 71 “Madoc” (Southey), Supp. IV: 425 “Madonna” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 Madonna and Other Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272–273 Madonna of the Future and Other Tales, The (James), VI: 67, 69 “Madonna of the Trenches, A” (Kipling), VI: 193, 194–196 Madras House, The (Shaw), VI: 118 Madwoman in the Attic, The (Gilbert/ Gubar), Retro. Supp. I: 59–60 Maggot, A (Fowles), Supp. I: 309–310 “Magi” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71

389

Magic (Chesterton), VI: 340 Magic Apple Tree, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118 Magic Box, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Magic Drum, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Magic Finger, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 201 “Magic Finger, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 223–224 Magic Toyshop, The (Carter), III: 345; Supp. III: 80, 81, 82 Magic Wheel, The (eds. Swift and Profumo), Supp. V: 427 Magician, The (Maugham), VI: 374 Magician’s Nephew, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 Magician’s Wife, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 141, 145–146 Maginn, William, V: 19 “Magna Est Veritas” (Smith), Supp. II: 471, 472 “Magnanimity” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Magnetic Mountain, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 122, 124–126 Magnetick Lady, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Magnificence (Skelton), I: 90 “Magnolia” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 78 Magnus (Brown), Supp. VI: 66–67 “Magnus” (Macpherson), VIII: 186 Magnusson, Erika, V: 299, 300, 306 Magus, The (Fowles), Supp. I: 291, 292, 293, 295–299, 310 Mahafty, John Pentland, V: 400, 401 Mahon, Derek, Supp. IV: 412; Supp. VI: 165–180 “Mahratta Ghats, The” (Lewis), VII: 446–447 Maid in the Mill, The (Fletcher and Rowley), II: 66 Maid in Waiting (Galsworthy), VI: 275 Maid Marian (Peacock), IV: xviii, 167– 168, 170 Maid of Bath, The (Foote), III: 253 “Maid of Craca, The” (Macpherson), VIII: 186, 187 Maid of Honour, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184 “Maiden Name” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 “Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon, The” (Stead), Supp. XIII: 239–240 Maiden Voyage (Welch), Supp. IX: 261, 263–264 Maiden’s Dream, A (Greene), VIII: 142 “Maid’s Burial, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 138, 139 Maid’s Tragedy, The (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 44, 45, 54–57, 58, 60, 65 Maid’s Tragedy, Alter’d, The (Waller), II: 238 Mailer, Norman, Supp. IV: 17–18 “Maim’d Debauchee, The” (Rochester), II: 259–260 “Main Road” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 316– 317 Mainly on the Air (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 52 Maitland, F. W., V: 277, 290; VI: 385 Maitland, Sara, Supp. XI: 163–178

MAIT−MANG Maitland, Thomas, pseud. of Algernon Charles Swinburne Maitu˜ njugı˜ra (Ngu˜gı˜ wa Thiong’o/Ngu˜gı˜ wa Mı˜riı˜), VIII: 216, 224, 225 Maiwa’s Revenge (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 Majeske, Penelope, Supp. IV: 330 “Majesty of the Law, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224, 225 Major, John, Supp. IV: 437–438 Major Barbara (Shaw), VII: xv, 102, 108, 113–115, 124; Retro. Supp. II: 321 Major Political Essays (Shaw), VI: 129 Major Victorian Poets, The: Reconsiderations (Armstrong), IV: 339 Make Death Love Me (Rendell), Supp. IX: 192–194 Make Thyself Many (Powys), VIII: 255 “Maker on High, The” (tr. Morgan, E.), see Altus Prosator Makers of Florence, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Makers of Modern Rome, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Makers of Venice, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Makin, Bathsua, Supp. III: 21 “Making a Movie” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 110 “Making a Rat” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis (Cope), VIII: 67, 69, 70–74, 81 Making History (Friel), Supp. V: 125 Making of a Poem, The (Spender), Supp. II: 481, 492 Making of an Immortal, The (Moore), VI: 96, 99 “Making of an Irish Goddess, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 44–45 “Making of the Drum” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 38 Making of the English Working Class, The (Thompson), Supp. IV: 473 Making of the Representative for Planet 8, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 252, 254 “Making Poetry” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 Mal vu, mal dit (Beckett), Supp. I: 62 “Malayalam Box, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Malayan trilogy (Burgess), Supp. I: 187 Malcolm Lowry: Psalms and Songs (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 Malcolm Mooney’s Land (Graham), Supp. VII: 104, 106, 109, 113–115, 116 Malcontent, The (Marston), II: 27, 30, 31–33, 36, 40, 68 Malcontents, The (Snow), VII: 336–337 Male Child, A (Scott), Supp. I: 263 Malign Fiesta (Lewis), VII: 72, 80 Malinowski, Bronislaw, Supp. III: 186 Mallet, David, Supp. III: 412, 424–425 Malone, Edmond, I: 326 Malone Dies (Beckett), Supp. I: 50, 51, 52–53, 63; Supp. IV: 106; Retro. Supp. I: 18, 22–23 Malory, Sir Thomas, I: 67–80; IV: 336, 337; Retro. Supp. II: 237–252

Malouf, David, Supp. XII: 217–232 Malraux, André, VI: 240 “Maltese Cat, The” (Kipling), VI: 200 Malthus, Thomas, IV: xvi, 127, 133 Mamillia: A Mirror, or Looking–Glasse for the Ladies of England (Greene), VIII: 135, 140 “Man”(Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 176– 177 “Man”(Vaughan), II: 186, 188 Man, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 Man Above Men (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 289 “Man and Bird” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 168 “Man and Boy” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 Man and Boy (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 318, 320 “Man and Dog” (Thomas), Supp. III: 394, 403, 405 Man and Literature (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213, 223 Man and Superman: A Comedy and a Philosophy (Shaw), IV: 161; VI: 112– 113, 114, 127, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 309, 317–320 Man and Time (Priestley), VII: 213 Man and Two Women, A (Lessing), Supp. I: 244, 248 Man and Wife (Collins), Supp. VI: 102 Man Born to Be King, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 336, 349–350 “Man Called East, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Man Could Stand Up, A (Ford), VI: 319, 329 Man Does, Woman Is (Graves), VII: 268 “Man Friday” (Hope), Supp. VII: 164– 165 “Man From the Caravan, The” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Man from the North, A (Bennett), VI: 248, 253 “Man from the South” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215, 217–218 “Man I Killed, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Man in Assynt, A” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 191 Man in My Position, A (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 191–192 “Man in the Cloak, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 117 Man in the Picture, The: A Ghost Story (Hill), Supp. XIV: 118, 126 Man Lying On A Wall (Longley), VIII: 166, 172–173 “Man Lying On A Wall” (Longley), VIII: 172 Man Named East, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235–236 Man of Destiny, The (Shaw), VI: 112 Man of Devon, A (Galsworthy), VI: 277 Man of Honour, A (Maugham), VI: 367, 368 Man of Law’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 24, 34, 43, 51, 57 Man of Mode, The; or, Sir Fopling Flutter (Etherege), II: 256, 266, 271, 305

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Man of Nazareth, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 193 Man of Property, A (Galsworthy), VI: 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 278, 282–283 Man of Quality, A (Lee), II: 336 Man of the Moment (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 7–8, 10 “Man of Vision” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 “Man on the Edge” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 “Man Was Made to Mourn, a Dirge” (Burns), III: 315 “Man Who Changes His Mind, The” (Ambler), Supp. IV: 5 “Man Who Could Work Miracles, The” (Wells), VI: 235 “Man Who Died, The” (Lawrence), VII: 115; Retro. Supp. II: 233 Man Who Loved Children, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 460, 467–470, 473 “Man Who Loved Islands, The” (Lawrence), VII: 115 “Man Who Walked on the Moon, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Man Who Walks, The (Warner), Supp. XI: 282, 287, 290–293 “Man Who Was Answered by His Own Self, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 Man Who Was Thursday, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 Man Who Wasn’t There, The (Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 56–57 “Man with a Past, The” (Hardy), VI: 17 “Man with Night Sweats, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 276–277 Man with Night Sweats, The (Gunn), Supp. IV: 255, 257, 274–278 “Man with the Dog, The” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 236 Man with the Golden Gun, The (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 “Man with the Twisted Lip, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 171 Man Within, The (Greene), Supp. I: 2; Retro. Supp. II: 152 “Man Without a Temperament, The” (Mansfield), VII: 174, 177 “Mana Aboda” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 136 Manalive (Chesterton), VI: 340 Mañanas de abril y mayo (Calderón), II: 312n Manchester Enthusiasts, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 39 “Manchester Marriage, The” (Gaskell), V: 6n, 14, 15 Manciple’s Prologue, The (Chaucer), I: 24 Manciple’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 55 “Mandela” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 Mandelbaum Gate, The (Spark), Supp. I: 206–208, 213 Mandelstam, Osip, Supp. IV: 163, 493 “Mandrake” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 Manet, Edouard, Supp. IV: 480 Manfred (Byron), III: 338; IV: xvii, 172, 173, 177, 178–182, 192 Mangan, James Clarence, Supp. XIII: 113–130

MANG−MART Mangan Inheritance, The (Moore), Supp. IX 144, 148, 150–151, 153 Manhatten ’45 (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 182 “Manhole 69” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Maniac, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206, 210 “Manifesto” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 “Mani, The” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 59 Manifold, John, VII: 422, 426–427 Manin and the Venetian Revolution of 1848 (Trevelyan), VI: 389 Mankind in the Making (Wells), VI: 227, 236 Manly, J. M., I: 1 “Man–Man” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385 Mann, Thomas, II: 97; III: 344; Supp. IV: 397 Manner of the World Nowadays, The (Skelton), I: 89 Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale (Skelton), I: 83 Manners, Mrs. Horace, pseud. of Algernon Charles Swinburne “Manners, The” (Collins), III: 161, 162, 166, 171 Manning, Cardinal, V: 181 Manoeuvring (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 158 “Manor Farm, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 399, 405 “Mans medley” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 181–182 Manservant and Maidservant (Compton– Burnett), VII: 62, 63, 67 Mansfield, Katherine, IV: 106; VI: 375; VII: xv, xvii, 171–184, 314; list of short stories, VII: 183–184 Mansfield Park (Austen), IV: xvii, 102– 103, 108, 109, 111, 112, 115–119, 122; Retro. Supp. II: 9–11 Mantissa (Fowles), Supp. I: 308–309, 310 Manto, Saadat Hasan, Supp. IV: 440 Mantz, Ruth, VII: 176 Manuel (Maturin), VIII: 207, 208 “Manus Animam Pinxit” (Thompson), V: 442 Many Dimensions (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 281 Many Moods: A Volume of Verse (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Manzoni, Alessandro, III: 334 “Map, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 Map, Walter, I: 35 Map of Love, The (Thomas), Supp. I: 176–177, 180 “Map of the City, A” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 262, 274 Map of the World, A (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 288–289, 293 Map of Verona, A (Reed), VII: 423 Mapp Showing . . . Salvation and Damnation, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Mappings (Seth), Supp. X: 279–280 Mapplethorpe, Robert, Supp. IV: 170, 273 Mara, Bernard, see Moore, Brian Marble Faun, The (Hawthorne), VI: 27 March of Literature, The (Ford), VI: 321, 322, 324

March Violets (Kerr), Supp. XII: 187, 188–189 “Marchese Pallavicini and Walter Landor” (Landor), IV: 90 March Moonlight (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 181, 188, 192 Marching Soldier (Cary), VII: 186 “Marching to Zion” (Coppard), VIII: 91–92 “Marchioness of Stonehenge, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Marconi’s Cottage (McGuckian), Supp. V: 284, 286–287 Marcus, Jane, Retro. Supp. I: 306 Marcus, S., V: 46, 73 Marfan (Reading), VIII: 262, 274–275 Margaret Drabble: Puritanism and Permissiveness (Myer), Supp. IV: 233 Margaret Ogilvy (Barrie), Supp. III: 3 Margin Released (Priestley), VII: 209, 210, 211 “Margins” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 Margoliouth, H. M., II: 214n, 219 Mari Magno (Clough), V: 159, 168 Maria; or, The Wrongs of Woman (Wollstonecraft), Supp. III: 466, 476– 480 “Mariana” (Tennyson), IV: 329, 331 “Mariana in the South” (Tennyson), IV: 329, 331 Mariani, Paul L., V: 373n, 378, 382 Marianne Thornton (Forster), VI: 397, 411 Marie (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Marie Antoinette’s Lamentation, in her Prison of the Temple” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202 Marinetti, Filippo T., Supp. III: 396 “Marina” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 130 “Marine Lament” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 “Mariner’s Compass, The” (Armitage), VIII: 11 Marino, Giambattista, II: 180, 183 Marino Faliero (Swinburne), V: 332 Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice (Byron), IV: xviii, 178–179, 193 Marion Fay (Trollope), V: 102 Marionette, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 198, 203–204 Marius the Epicurean (Pater), V: xxv, 339, 348, 349–351, 354, 355, 356, 411 Marjorie, VI: 249; pseud. of Arnold Bennett “Mark of the Beast, The” (Kipling), VI: 183, 193 Mark of the Warrior, The (Scott), Supp. I: 263 Mark Only (Powys), VIII: 250–251 Markandaya, Kamala, Supp. IV: 440 “Markers” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Market at Turk” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 260– 261 Market Bell, The (Powys), VIII: 251, 258 Market of Seleukia, The (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 “Market Square” (Milne), Supp. V: 302 Markey, Constance, Supp. IV: 347, 360 Markham, Robert, Supp. II: 12; pseud. of Kingsley Amis

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“Markheim” (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 267 Marking Time (Howard), Supp. XI: 145, 146, 147, 148 “Mark–2 Wife, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 Marlborough: His Life and Times (Churchill), VI: 354–355 Marlowe, Christopher, I: 212, 228–229, 275–294, 336; II: 69, 138; III: 344; IV: 255, 327; Supp. IV: 197; Retro. Supp. I: 199–213 Marlowe and His Circle (Boas), I: 275, 293 Marlowe and the Early Shakespeare (Wilson), I: 286 Marmion (Scott), IV: xvi, 29, 30, 38, 129 Marmor Norfolciense (Johnson), III: 121; Retro. Supp. I: 141 Marquise, The (Coward), Supp. II: 146 “Marriage, A” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Marriage A–la–Mode (Dryden), II: 293, 296, 305 “Marriage in a Free Society” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41, 42 Marriage of Heaven and Hell, The (Blake), III: 289, 297–298, 304, 307; V: xv, 329–330, 331; Supp. IV: 448; Retro. Supp. I: 38–39 Marriage of Mona Lisa, The (Swinburne), V: 333 “Marriage of Tirzah and Ahirad, The” (Macaulay), IV: 283 Marriages Between Zones Three, Four and Five, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 251 Married Life (Bennett), see Plain Man and His Wife, The Married Man, The (Lawrence), VII: 120 “Married Man’s Story, A” (Mansfield), VII: 174 Married to a Spy (Waugh), Supp. VI: 276 “Married Woman” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 110 Marryat, Captain Frederick, Supp. IV: 201 Marsh, Charles, Supp. IV: 214, 218 Marsh, Edward, VI: 416, 419, 420, 425, 430, 432, 452; VII: xvi; Supp. III: 47, 48, 53, 54, 60, 397 “Marsh of Ages, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 Marshall, William, II: 141 Marston, John, I: 234, 238, 340; II: 4, 24–33, 34–37, 40–41, 47, 68, 72; Retro. Supp. I: 160 Marston, Philip, V: 245 Marston, R. B., II: 131 Martha Quest (Lessing), Supp. I: 237, 239, 243–244; Supp. IV: 238 Martial, II: 104, 265 Martian, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134, 151 “Martian Sends a Postcard Home, A” (Cope), VIII: 74 Martian Sends a Postcard Home, A (Raine), Supp. XIII: 166–167 “Martian Sends a Postcard Home, A” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 166–167 Martin, John, V: 110

MART−MAYO Martin, L. C., II: 183, 184n, 200 Martin, Martin, III: 117 Martin Chuzzlewit (Dickens), V: xx, 42, 47, 54–56, 58, 59, 68, 71; Supp. IV: 366, 381 Martin Chuzzlewit (teleplay, Lodge), Supp. IV: 366, 381 Martin Luther (Lopez and Moore), VI: 85, 95, 98 Martineau, Harriet, IV: 311; V: 125–126, 146 Martyn, Edward, VI: 309 Martyrdom of Man (Reade), Supp. IV: 2 “Martyrs’ Song” (Rossetti), V: 256 Martz, Louis, V: 366, 382 “Maruti” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Marvell, Andrew, II: 113, 121, 123, 166, 195–199, 204–220, 255, 261; Supp. III: 51, 56; Supp. IV: 271; Retro. Supp. II: 253–268 Marvell and the Civic Crown (Patterson), Retro. Supp. II: 265 “Marvellous Bell, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 122 Marwick, A., IV: 290, 291 Marwood, Arthur, VI: 323, 331 Marxism, Supp. I: 24–25, 26, 30, 31, 238 “Marxist Interpretation of Literature, A” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 254 Mary, A Fiction (Wollstonecraft), Supp. III: 466, 476 “Mary and Gabriel” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 Mary Anne (du Maurier), Supp. III: 137 Mary Barton (Gaskell), V: viii, x, xxi, 1, 2, 4–5, 6, 15 “Mary Burnet” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 “’Mary Gloster’, The,” (Kipling), VI: 202 Mary Gresley (Trollope), V: 101 “Mary Postgate” (Kipling), VI: 197, 206 “Mary Queen of Scots” (Swinburne), V: 332 Mary Rose (Barrie), Supp. III: 8, 9 “Mary Shelley on Broughty Ferry Beach” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74 Mary Stuart (Swinburne), V: 330, 332 “Mary the Cook–Maid’s Letter . . . ” (Swift), III: 31 “Mary’s Magnificat” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 mas v. Mastermind (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 “Masculine Birth of Time, The” (Bacon), I: 263 “Masculine Protest, The ” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 227 Masculinity (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 74–76 Masefield, John, VI: 429; VII: xii, xiii Mask of Apollo (Renault), Supp. IX: 183–184, 187 Mask of Apollo and Other Stories, The (Russell), VIII: 285 Mask of Dimitrios, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 21 “Mask of Love” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 Masks (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 38–39 Mason, William, III: 141, 142, 145

“Masque, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 11 “Masque of Anarchy, The” (Shelley), IV: xviii, 202–203, 206, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 253–254 Masque of Blackness, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 161–162 Masque of Queenes (Jonson), II: 111n; Retro. Supp. I: 162 Masque of the Manuscript, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276 Masqueraders, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Mass and the English Reformers, The (Dugmore), I: 177n Mass for Hard Times (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285, 290–291 “Mass for Hard Times” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 Massacre at Paris, The (Marlowe), I: 249, 276, 279–280, 285–286; Retro. Supp. I: 211 Massinger, Philip, II: 44, 45, 50, 66–67, 69, 83, 87; Supp. XI: 179–194 Masson, David, IV: 212, 235 Masson, Rosaline, V: 393, 397 “Mastectomy” (Boland), Supp. V: (Boland), Supp. V: 49 Master, The (Brontë), see Professor, The “Master, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 371 Master and Commander (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 252–254, 256, 257 Master and Margarita, The (Bulgakov), Supp. IV: 448 Master Georgie (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 26–27 Master Humphrey’s Clock (Dickens), V: 42, 53–54, 71 “Master John Horseleigh, Knight” (Hardy), VI: 22 Master of Ballantrae, The (Stevenson), V: 383–384, 387, 396; Retro. Supp. I: 268–269 Master of Petersburg, The (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 75–76, 85–86, 88 Master of the House, The (Hall), Supp. VI: 120, 122, 128 “Master Printer, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66 Masterman, C. F. G., VI: viii, 320 Masters, John, Supp. IV: 440 Masters, The (Snow), VII: xxi, 327–328, 330 “Match, The” (Marvell), II: 211 Match for the Devil, A (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 222 “Match–Maker, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 240 “Mater Dolorosa” (Swinburne), V: 325 “Mater Triumphalis” (Swinburne), V: 325 Materials for a Description of Capri (Douglas), VI: 305 Mathilda (Shelley), Supp. III: 363–364 “Mathilda’s England” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 Matigari (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 215, 216, 221– 222 Matilda (Dahl), Supp. IV: 203, 207, 226 Matilda (film), Supp. IV: 203

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Matisse, Henri, Supp. IV: 81, 154 Matisse Stories, The (Byatt), Supp. IV: 151, 154–155 Matlock’s System (Hill), see Heart Clock “Matres Dolorosae” (Bridges), VI: 81 “Matron” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 12 “Mattens” (Herbert), II: 127; Retro. Supp. II: 179 “Matter and Consciousness” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 “Matter of Fact, A” (Kipling), VI: 193 Matter of Wales: Epic Views of a Small Country, The (Morris), see Wales: Epic Views of a Small Country Matthew Arnold: A Study in Conflict (Brown), V: 211–212, 217 Matthew Arnold: A Symposium (ed. Allott), V: 218 Matthews, Geoffrey Maurice, IV: x, xxv, 207, 208, 209, 237 “Matthew’s War” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 136 Matthews, William, I: 68 Matthiessen, F. O., V: 204 Matthieu de Vendôme, I: 23, 39–40 “Mature Art” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 214 Maturin, Charles, III: 327, 331, 333–334, 336, 345; VIII: 197–210; Supp. III: 384 Maud (Tennyson), IV: xxi, 325, 328, 330–331, 333–336, 337, 338; VI: 420 Maude: A Story for Girls (Rossetti), V: 260 “Maud–Evelyn” (James), VI: 69 Maugham, Syrie, VI: 369 Maugham, W. Somerset, VI: xi, xiii, 200, 363–381; VII: 318–319; list of short stories and sketches, VI: 379–381; Supp. II: 7, 141, 156–157; Supp. IV: 9–10, 21, 500 Maumbury Ring (Hardy), VI: 20 Maupassant, Guy de, III: 340, Supp. IV: 500 Maurice (Forster), VI: xii, 397, 407–408, 412; Retro. Supp. II: 145–146 Maurice, Frederick D., IV: 54; V: xxi, 284, 285 Mauritius Command, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256, 258 Mavis Belfrage (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 91 Max in Verse (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 44 Maxfield, James F., Supp. IV: 336 May Day (Chapman), I: 244 “May Day, 1937” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “May Day Song for North Oxford” (Betjeman), VII: 356 “May 23” (Thomas), Supp. III: 405 Maybe Day in Kazakhstan, A (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 “Mayday in Holderness” (Hughes), Supp. I: 344 Mayer, Carl, III: 342 “Mayfly” (MacNeice), VII: 411 Mayo, Robert, IV: ix “Mayo Monologues” (Longley), VIII: 174

MAYO−MEMO Mayor of Casterbridge: The Life and Death of a Man of Character, The (Hardy), VI: 3, 5, 7, 8, 9–10, 20 Maze Plays (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 12 Mazeppa (Byron), IV: xvii, 173, 192 Mazzini, Giuseppi, V: 313, 314, 324, 325 Me, I’m Afraid of Virginia Woolf (Bennett), VIII: 27 Me, Myself, and I (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 13 “Meadowsweet” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 142 Meaning of Meaning, The (Richards and Ogden), Supp. II: 405, 408, 410–411, 414 “Meaning of the Wild Body, The” (Lewis), VII: 77 Meaning of Treason, The (West), Supp. III: 440, 445 Measure for Measure (Shakespeare), I: 313–314, 327; II: 30, 70, 168; V: 341, 351 Measures, (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188– 189, 194 “Meat, The” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 121 “Mechanical Genius, The” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385 Mechanical Womb, The (Orton), Supp. V: 364 Medal: A Satyre Against Sedition, The (Dryden), II: 299, 304 Medea (Seneca), II: 71 Medea: A Sex–War Opera (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 “Medico’s Song” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy (Farnham), I: 214 “Meditation of Mordred, The” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 283 Meditation upon a Broom–Stick, A (Swift), III: 35 “Meditation with Mountains” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 317–318 Meditations Collected from the Sacred Books . . . (Richardson), III: 92 “Meditations in Time of Civil War” (Yeats), V: 317; VII: 24; Retro. Supp. I: 334–335 Meditations of Daniel Defoe, The (Defoe), III: 12 “Meditations with Memories” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 317 “Mediterranean” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Mediterranean Scenes (Bennett), VI: 264, 267 “Medussa’s Ankles” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 154–155 Medwin, Thomas, IV: 196, 209 Mee, Arthur, Supp. IV: 256 Meet My Father (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 “Meet Nurse!” (Hope), Supp. VII: 151 Meeting by the River, A (Isherwood), VII: 317 “Meeting of David and Jonathan, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 “Meeting My Former Self” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 24

Meeting Place (Kay), Supp. XIII: 100 Meeting the British (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 421–424 Meeting the Comet (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 “Megaliths and Water” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 “Melancholia” (Bridges), VI: 80 “Melancholy” (Bridges), VI: 80 “Melancholy Hussar of the German Legion, The” (Hardy), VI: 20, 22; Retro. Supp. I: 116 “Melbourne” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 313 “Melbourne in 1963” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 313–314 Melbourne or the Bush (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 313–314, 319, 320 Melchiori, Giorgio, VI: 208 Meleager (Euripides), V: 322, 323 Melincourt (Peacock), IV: xvii, 162, 163– 164, 165, 168, 170 Melly, Diana, Supp. IV: 168 Melmoth Reconciled (Balzac), III: 334, 339 Melmoth the Wanderer (Maturin), III: 327, 333–334, 335, 345; VIII: 197– 200, 201–205, 208–209; Supp. III: 384–385 Melnikov, Konstantin, Supp. IV: 174 “Melon” (Barnes), Supp. IV: 75 Melville, Herman, IV: 97; V: xvii, xx– xxi, xxv, 211; VI: 363; Supp. IV: 160 Memento Mori (Spark), Supp. I: 203 “Memoir” (Scott), IV: 28, 30, 35–36, 39 “Memoir of Bernard Barton” (FitzGerald), IV: 353 “Memoir of Cowper: An Autobiography” (ed. Quinlan), III: 220 “Memoir”of Fleeming Jenkin (Stevenson), V: 386, 395 Memoir of Jane Austen (Austen–Leigh), III: 90 “Memoir of My Father, A“ (Amis), Supp. II: 1 Memoir of the Author’s Life and Familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott (Hogg), Supp. X: 105 Memoir of the Bobotes (Cary), VII: 185 Mémoire justificatif etc. (Gibbon), III: 233 Mémoires littéraires de la Grande Bretagne (periodical), III: 233 Memoirs (Amis), Supp. IV: 27 Memoirs (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 196– 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 203, 204, 207, 213 Memoirs (Temple), III: 19 Memoirs of a Cavalier, The (Defoe), III: 6, 13; VI: 353, 359; Retro. Supp. I: 66, 68, 71–72 Memoirs of a Certain Island Adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135, 141 Memoirs of a Midget (de la Mare), III: 340, 345 Memoirs of a Physician, The (Dumas père), III: 332 Memoirs of a Protestant, The (tr. Goldsmith), III: 191

393

Memoirs of a Survivor, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 249–250, 254 Memoirs of Barry Lyndon, Esq., The (Thackeray), see Barry Lyndon Memoirs of Doctor Burney (Burney), Supp. III: 68 Memoirs of Himself (Stevenson), V: 396 “Memoirs of James Boswell, Esq.” (Boswell), III: 248 Memoirs of John Addington Symonds, The: The Secret Homosexual Life of a Leading Nineteenth–Century Man of the Letters (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 250, 251, 252, 253, 262–263 Memoirs of Jonathan Swift (Scott), IV: 38 Memoirs of Lord Byron, The (Nye), Supp. X: 195–196 Memoirs of Martin Scriblerus, (Pope), III: 24, 77; Retro. Supp. I: 234 “Memoirs of M. de Voltaire” (Goldsmith), III: 189 Memoirs of My Dead Life (Moore), VI: 87, 88, 95, 96, 97, 98–99 “Memoirs of Percy Bysshe Shelley” (Peacock), IV: 158, 169, 170 Memoirs of the Author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (Godwin), Supp. III: 465 Memoirs of the Baron de Brosse (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Memoirs of the Late Thomas Holcroft . . . (Hazlitt), IV: 128, 139 Memoirs of the Life of Edward Gibbon, The (ed. Hill), III: 221n, 233 Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. (Lockhart), IV: 27, 30, 34, 35– 36, 39 Memoirs of the Life of William Collins, Esp., R.A. (1848) (Collins), Supp. VI: 92, 95 Memoirs of the Navy (Pepys), II: 281, 288 “Memoirs of the World” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264 Memoirs Relating to . . . Queen Anne’s Ministry (Swift), III: 27 “Memorabilia” (Browning), IV: 354–355 Memorable Masque of the Middle Temple and Lincoln’s Inn, The (Chapman), I: 235 Memorial, The (Isherwood), VII: 205, 310–311 “Memorial for the City” (Auden), VII: 388, 393; Retro. Supp. I: 8 Memorials of a Tour on the Continent (Wordsworth), IV: 24–25 Memorials of Edward Burne–Jones (Burne–Jones), V: 295–296, 306 “Memorials of Gormandising” (Thackeray), V: 23, 24, 38 Memorials of Thomas Hood (Hood and Broderip), IV: 251, 261, 267 Memorials of Two Sisters, Susanna and Catherine Winkworth (ed. Shaen), V: 149 Memories and Adventures (Doyle), Supp. II: 159 Memories and Hallucinations (Thomas), Supp. IV: 479, 480, 482, 483, 484,

MEMO−MIDN 486 Memories and Portraits (Stevenson), V: 390, 395 “Memories of a Catholic Childhood” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 363–364 “Memories of a Working Women’s Guild” (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 311 Memories of the Space Age (Ballard), Supp. V: 24 “Memories of the Space Age” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Memories of Vailiona (Osborne and Strong), V: 393, 397 “Memories of Youghal” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 “Memory, A” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 “Memory and Imagination&rdqo; (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 “Memory Man” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Memory of Ben Jonson Revived by the Friends of the Muses, The (Digby), Retro. Supp. I: 166 “Memory Unsettled” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 277 “Men and Their Boring Arguments” (Cope), VIII: 78 Men and Wives (Compton–Burnett), VII: 64, 65, 66–67 Men and Women (Browning), IV: xiii, xxi, 357, 363, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 26, 27–28 Men at Arms (Waugh), VII: 304; see also Sword of Honour trilogy Men Like Gods (Wells), VI: 226 240 244; VII: 204 Men on Women on Men (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3 “Men Sign the Sea” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110 “Men Who March Away” (Hardy), VI: 415, 421; Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Men With Coats Thrashing” (Lowry), Supp. III: 283 Men Without Art (Lewis), VII: 72, 76 “Menace, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139 “Menace, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 261 Menand, Louis, Supp. IV: 305 Mendelson, Edward, Retro. Supp. I: 12 “Menelaus and Helen” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52 Menaphon (Greene), I: 165; VIII: 135, 138–139, 143 Mencius on the Mind (Richards), Supp. II: 421 Men–of–War: Life in Nelson’s Navy (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 255 Men’s Wives (Thackeray), V: 23, 35, 38 “Mental Cases” (Owen), VI: 456, 457 Mental Effıciency (Bennett), VI: 250, 266 Merchant of Venice, The (Shakespeare), I: 310 Merchant’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 36, 41–42 Mercian Hymns (Hill), Supp. V: 187, 189, 194–196 Mercier and Camier (Beckett), Supp. I: 50–51; Retro. Supp. I: 21 “Mercury and the Elephant” (Finch), Supp. IX: 71–72

“Mercy” (Collins), III: 166 Mercy Boys, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 28 Mer de Glace (Meale and Malouf), Supp. XII: 218 Mere Accident, A (Moore), VI: 86, 91 Mere Christianity (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 “Mere Interlude, A” (Hardy), VI: 22 Meredith (Sassoon), V: 219, 234 Meredith, George, II: 104, 342, 345; IV: 160; V: x, xviii, xxii–xxvi, 219–234, 244, 432; VI: 2 Meredith, H. O., VI: 399 Meredith et la France (Mackay), V: 223, 234 “Meredithian Sonnets” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74 Meres, Francis, I: 212, 234, 296, 307 Merie Tales, The, I: 83, 93 Meriton, George, II: 340 Merkin, Daphne, Supp. IV: 145–146 Merleau–Ponty, Maurice, Supp. IV: 79, 88 Merlin (Nye), Supp. X: 195 “Merlin and the Gleam” (Tennyson), IV: 329 Mermaid, Dragon, Fiend (Graves), VII: 264 Merope (Arnold), V: 209, 216 “Merry Beggars, The” (Brome), Supp. X: 55 Merry England (periodical), V: 440 Merry Jests of George Peele, The, I: 194 Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables, The (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 267 Merry Wives of Windsor, The (Shakespeare), I: 295, 311; III: 117 Merry–Go–Round, The (Lawrence), VII: 120 Merry–Go–Round, The (Maugham), VI: 372 Mescellanies (Fielding), Retro. Supp. I: 80 Meschonnic, Henri, Supp. IV: 115 Mespoulet, M., V: 266 “Message, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 90 “Message, The” (Russell), VIII: 280–281 “Message Clear” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 165 “Message from Mars, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Messages (Fernandez), V: 225–226 “Messdick” (Ross), VII: 433 Messenger, The (Kinsella), Supp. V: 269– 270 “M. E. T.” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “Metamorphoses” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Metamorphoses (Ovid), III: 54; V: 321; Retro. Supp. II: 36, 215 Metamorphoses (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249 Metamorphosis (Kafka), III: 340, 345 Metamorphosis of Pygmalion’s Image (Marston), I: 238; II: 25, 40 “Metaphor Now Standing at Platform 8, The” (Armitage), VIII: 5–6

394

“Metaphorical Gymnasia” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 97 Metaphysical Lyrics and Poems of the Seventeenth Century (Grierson), Retro. Supp. II: 173 “Metaphysical Poets and the Twentieth Century, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 8 Metempsycosis: Poêma Satyricon (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 94 “Methinks the poor Town has been troubled too long” (Dorset), II: 262 “Method. For Rongald Gaskell” (Davie), Supp. VI: 106 Metrical Tales and Other Poems (Southey), IV: 71 Metroland (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 66– 67, 71, 76 Mew, Charlotte, Supp. V: 97, 98–99 Meynell, Wilfred, V: 440, 451 MF (Burgess), Supp. I: 197 “Mianserin Sonnets” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 Micah Clark (Doyle), Supp. II: 159, 163 “Michael” (Wordsworth), IV: 8, 18–19 Michael and Mary (Milne), Supp. V: 299 Michael Robartes and the Dancer (Yeats), VI: 217; Retro. Supp. I: 331–333 “Michael X and the Black Power Killings in Trinidad” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 396 Michaelmas Term (Middleton), II: 3, 4, 21 Michelet, Jules, V: 346 Microcosmography (Earle), IV: 286 Micro–Cynicon, Six Snarling Satires (Middleton), II: 2–3 Midas (Lyly), I: 198, 202, 203 “Middle Age” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 Middle Age of Mrs Eliot, The (Wilson), Supp. I: 160–161 Middle Ground, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 231, 234, 246–247, 248 Middle Mist, The (Renault), see Friendly Young Ladies, The “Middle of a War” (Fuller), VII: 429; Supp. VII: 69 Middle Passage, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 386, 390–391, 393, 403 “Middle–Sea and Lear–Sea” (Jones), Supp. VII: 176 Middle Years, The (James), VI: 65, 69 “Middle Years, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 “Middle Years, The” (James), VI: 69 Middlemarch (Eliot), III: 157; V: ix–x, xxiv, 196–197, 200; Supp. IV: 243; Retro. Supp. II:113–114 Middlemen: A Satire, The (Brooke– Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 103 Middleton, D., V: 253 Middleton, Thomas, II: 1–23, 30, 33, 68– 70, 72, 83, 85, 93, 100; IV: 79 Midnight All Day (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 158 “Midnight Court, The” (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 221 “Midnight Hour, The” (Powys), VIII: 256 Midnight Oil (Pritchett), Supp. III: 312, 313

MIDN−MISC Midnight on the Desert (Priestley), VII: 209, 212 “Midnight Skaters, The” (Blunden), VI: 429; Supp. XI: 45 Midnight’s Children (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 162, 433, 435, 436, 438, 439–444, 445, 448, 449, 456; Supp. V: 67, 68 Midnight’s Choice (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 287–288 “Midsummer Cushion, The” (Clare), Supp. XI: 60 “Midsummer Holiday, A, and Other Poems” (Swinburne), V: 332 “Midsummer Ice” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278 “Midsummer Night’s Dream, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 223 Midsummer Night’s Dream, A (Shakespeare), I: 304–305, 311–312; II: 51, 281; Supp. IV: 198 “Mid–Term Break” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 125 Mid–Victorian Memories (Francillon), V: 83 “Midwich Cuckoos, The” (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 291–292 “Mightier than Mammon, A” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 39 Mightier Than the Sword (Ford), VI: 320–321 Mighty and Their Full, The (Compton– Burnett), VII: 61, 62 Mighty Magician, The (FitzGerald), IV: 353 “Migrants” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Miguel Street (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383, 385–386 “Mike: A Public School Story” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 449 Mike Fletcher (Moore), VI: 87, 91 “Mildred Lawson” (Moore), VI: 98 Milesian Chief, The (Maturin), VIII: 201, 207 Milestones (Bennett), VI: 250, 263, 264 Milford, H., III: 208n “Milford: East Wing” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Military Memoirs of Capt. George Carleton, The (Defoe), III: 14 Military Philosophers, The (Powell), VII: 349 “Milk–cart, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 168 “Milk–Wort and Bog–Cotton” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 212 Mill, James, IV: 159; V: 288 Mill, John Stuart, IV: 50, 56, 246, 355; V: xxi–xxii, xxiv, 182, 279, 288, 343 Mill on the Floss, The (Eliot), V: xxii, 14, 192–194, 200; Supp. IV: 240, 471; Retro. Supp. II: 106–108 Millais, John Everett, V: 235, 236, 379 Miller, Andrew, Supp. XIV: 179–192 Miller, Arthur, VI: 286 Miller, Henry, Supp. IV: 110–111 Miller, J. Hillis, VI: 147 Miller, Karl, Supp. IV: 169 “Miller’s Daughter, The” (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127

“Miller’s Daughter, The” (Tennyson), IV: 326 Miller’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 37 Millet, Jean François, Supp. IV: 90 Millett, Kate, Supp. IV: 188 Millionairess, The (Shaw), VI: 102, 127 “Millom Cricket Field” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “Millom Old Quarry” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Mills, C. M., pseud. of Elizabeth Gaskell Millstone, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 237–238 Milne, A. A., Supp. V: 295–312 “Milnes, Richard Monckton” (Lord Houghton), see Monckton Milnes, Richard Milton (Blake), III: 303–304, 307; V: xvi 330; Retro. Supp. I: 45 Milton (Meredith), V: 234 “Milton” (Macaulay), IV: 278, 279 Milton, Edith, Supp. IV: 305–306 Milton in America (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 11–12, 13 Milton, John, II: 50–52, 113, 158–178, 195, 196, 198, 199, 205, 206, 236, 302; III: 43, 118–119, 167n, 211n, 220, 302; IV: 9, 11–12, 14, 22, 23, 93, 95, 185, 186, 200, 205, 229, 269, 278, 279, 352; V: 365–366; Supp. III: 169; Retro. Supp. II: 269–289 Milton’s God (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 195–196 Milton’s Prosody (Bridges), VI: 83 Mimic Men, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383, 386, 390, 392, 393–394, 395, 399 “Mina Laury” (Brontë), V: 122, 123, 149, 151 Mind at the End of Its Tether (Wells), VI: xiii; VI: 228, 242 Mind Has Mountains, The (Jennings), Supp. V: 213, 215–216 Mind in Chains, The (ed. Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 “Mind Is Its Own Place, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 316 Mind of the Maker, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 345, 347 Mind to Murder, A (James), Supp. IV: 319, 321, 323–324 Mind’s Eye, The (Blunden), Supp. XI: 35 “Mine old dear enemy, my froward master” (Wyatt), I: 105 “Miner’s Hut” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Miners” (Owen), VI: 452, 454 “Minerva’s Bird, Athene Noctua” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 289 “Minimal” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 90, 91 Minister, The (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283, 284 “Ministrations” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Ministry of Fear, The (Greene), Supp. I: 10–11, 12; Retro. Supp. II: 157 Minor Poems of Robert Southey, The (Southey), IV: 71 Minpins, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 204, 224 Minstrel, The (Beattie), IV: 198 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (ed. Scott), IV: 29, 39 “Mint” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133

395

Mint, The (Lawrence), Supp. II: 283, 291–294 Minute by Glass Minute (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 261 Minute for Murder (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 “Minutes of Glory” (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 220 Minutes of the Negotiations of Monsr. Mesnager, . . . (Defoe), III: 13 “Mirabeau” (Macaulay), IV: 278 “Miracle Cure” (Lowbury), VII: 432 Miracles (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 255, 258–259 “Miraculous Issue, The” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 89 Mirèio (Mistral), V: 219 Mirour de l’omme (Gower), I: 48, 49 “Mirror, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 Mirror for Magistrates, The, I: 162, 214 “Mirror in February” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 Mirror in the Roadway, The: A Study of the Modern Novel (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 211, 219 Mirror of the Sea: Memories and Impressions, The (Conrad), VI: 138, 148 Mirror Wall, The (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 329–330 Mirrour; or, Looking–Glasse Both for Saints and Sinners, A (Clarke), II: 251 Misadventures of John Nicholson, The (Stevenson), V: 396 Misalliance (Shaw), VI: xv, 115, 117, 118, 120, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 321 Misalliance, The (Brookner), Supp. IV: 129 Misanthrope, The (tr. Harrison), Supp. V: 149–150, 163 “Misanthropos” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 264– 265, 268, 270 “Misapprehension” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 Miscellanea (Temple), III: 40 Miscellaneous Essays (St. Évremond), III: 47 Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth (Johnson), III: 108, 116, 121 Miscellaneous Poems (Marvell), II: 207 Miscellaneous Studies (Pater), V: 348, 357 Miscellaneous Works of the Duke of Buckingham, II: 268 Miscellaneous Works . . . with Memoirs of His Life (Gibbon), III: 233 Miscellanies (Cowley), II: 198 Miscellanies (Pope and Swift), II: 335 Miscellanies (Swinburne), V: 332 Miscellanies; A Serious Address to the People of Great Britain (Fielding), III: 105 Miscellanies, Aesthetic and Literary . . . (Coleridge), IV: 56 Miscellany (Tonson), III: 69 Miscellany of New Poems, A (Behn), Supp. III: 36 Miscellany Poems (Wycherley), II: 321 Miscellany Poems, on Several Occasions (Finch), Supp. IX: 65, 67, 74, 77 Miscellany Tracts (Browne), II: 156

MISC−MRS. Mischmasch (Carroll), V: 274 “Mise Eire” (Boland), Supp. V: 45–46 Miser, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Miser and the Poet, The” (Finch), Supp. IX: 72–74 “Miserie” (Herbert), II: 128–129 Miseries of War, The (Ralegh), I: 158 Misfortunes of Arthur, The (Hughes), I: 218 Misfortunes of Elphin, The (Peacock), IV: xviii, 163, 167–168, 170 Mishan, E. J., VI: 240 “Misplaced Attachment of Mr. John Dounce, The” (Dickens), V: 46 “Miss Brill” (Mansfield), VII: 175 Miss Gomez and the Brethren (Trevor), Supp. IV: 507, 508–509 “Miss Gunton of Poughkeepsie” (James), VI: 69 Miss Herbert (The Suburban Wife) (Stead), Supp. IV: 473, 476 “Miss Kilmansegg and Her Precious Leg” (Hood), IV: 258–259 Miss Lucy in Town (Fielding), III: 105 Miss Mackenzie (Trollope), V: 101 Miss Marjoribanks (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214, 216–217, 219–220 Miss Marple’s Last Case (Christie), Supp. II: 125 Miss Ogilvy Finds Herself (Hall), Supp. VI: 120–121, 128 “Miss Ogilvy Finds Herself” (Hall), Supp. VI: 121 “Miss Pulkinhorn” (Golding), Supp. I: 78–79, 80 “Miss Smith” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502, 510 Miss Stuart’s Legacy (Steel), Supp. XII: 269–270, 271 “Miss Tickletoby’s Lectures on English History” (Thackeray), V: 38 “Miss Twye” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 “Missing” (Cornford), VIII: 1141 “Missing, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 276 “Missing Dates” (Empson), Supp. II: 184, 190 Missing Link, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 289–290 Mist in the Mirror, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 125, 127 Mistake, The (Vanbrugh), II: 325, 333, 336 Mistakes, The (Harris), II: 305 Mistakes of a Night, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 105−106 Mr. A’s Amazing Mr. Pim Passes By (Milne), Supp. V: 299 “Mr. and Mrs. Dove” (Mansfield), VII: 180 “Mr. and Mrs. Frank Berry” (Thackeray), V: 23 Mr. and Mrs. Nobody (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 275–276 Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead: Poems (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 143 “Mr. and Mrs. Scotland Are Dead” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 “Mr. Apollinax” (Eliot), VII: 144 Mr. Beluncle (Pritchett), Supp. III: 311, 313, 314–315

Mr. Bennett and Mrs. Brown (Woolf), VI: 247, 267, 275, 290; VII: xiv, xv “Mr. Bennett and Mrs. Brown” (Woolf), Supp. II: 341; Retro. Supp. I: 309 “Mr. Bleaney” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281 “Mr. Bodkin” (Hood), IV: 267 Mr. Britling Sees It Through (Wells), VI: 227, 240 “Mr. Brown’s Letters to a Young Man About Town” (Thackeray), V: 38 Mr. Bunyan’s Last Sermon (Bunyan), II: 253 Mr. C[olli]n’s Discourse of Free–Thinking (Swift), III: 35 “Mr. Crabbe—Mr. Campbell” (Hazlitt), III: 276 “Mr. Dottery’s Trousers” (Powys), VIII: 248, 249 “Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service” (Eliot), VII: 145 “Mr. Feasey” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214 Mr. Foot (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57 Mr. Fortune’s Maggot (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 374–375, 379 Mr Fox (Comyns), VIII: 53, 56, 64–65 “Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story” (Eliot), V: 190; Retro. Supp. II: 103–104 “Mr. Gladstone Goes to Heaven” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 51 “Mr. Graham” (Hood), IV: 267 Mr. H (Lamb), IV: 80–81, 85 “Mr. Harrison’s Confessions” (Gaskell), V: 14, 15 Mister Heracles (Armitage), VIII: 1 Mr. John Milton’s Character of the Long Parliament and Assembly of Divines . . . (Milton), II: 176 Mister Johnson (Cary), VII: 186, 187, 189, 190–191 “Mr. Know–All” (Maugham), VI: 370 Mr. Macaulay’s Character of the Clergy in the Latter Part of the Seventeenth Century Considered (Babington), IV: 291 “Mr. McNamara” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 Mr. Meeson’s Will (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 Mr. Noon (Lawrence), Retro. Supp. II: 229–230 “Mr. Norris and I” (Isherwood), VII: 311–312 Mr. Norris Changes Trains (Isherwood), VII: xx, 311–312 “Mr. Pim and the Holy Crumb” (Powys), VIII: 255, 257 Mr. Polly (Wells), see History of Mr. Polly, The Mr. Pope’s Welcome from Greece (Gay), II: 348 Mr. Prohack (Bennett), VI: 260, 267 “Mr. Reginald Peacock’s Day” (Mansfield), VII: 174 “Mr. Robert Herricke His Farewell unto Poetrie” (Herrick), II: 112 “Mr. Robert Montgomery’s Poems” (Macaulay), IV: 280 Mr Sampath (Naipaul), Supp. I: 400 Mr. Scarborough’s Family (Trollope), V: 98, 102

396

“Mr. Sludge ‘the Medium’ ” (Browning), IV: 358, 368; Retro. Supp. II:26–27 Mr. Smirke; or, The Divine in Mode (Marvell), II: 219 Mr. Stone and the Knights Companion (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383, 389 “Mr. Strugnell” (Cope), VIII: 73 Mr. Tasker’s Gods (Powys), VIII: 2 VIII: 51, 249–250 “Mr. Tennyson” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 Mr. Waller’s Speech in the Painted Chamber (Waller), II: 238 “Mr. Waterman” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228–229, 231, 235, 237 Mr. Weston’s Good Wine (Powys), VII: 21; VIII: 245, 248, 252–254, 255, 256 Mr. Whatnot (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 13 “Mr. Whistler’s Ten O’Clock” (Wilde), V: 407 Mr. Wrong (Howard), Supp. XI: 141, 142 “Mistletoe, a Christmas Tale, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 Mistral, Frederic, V: 219 Mistras, The (Cowley), II: 194, 198, 202, 236 “Mrs. Acland’s Ghosts” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 “Mrs. Bathurst” (Kipling), VI: 193–194 Mrs. Beer’s House: An Autobiography of Childhood (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 4, 7–8, 14 Mrs. Browning: A Poet’s Work and Its Setting (Hayter), IV: 322 “Mrs. Cibber” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273 Mrs. Craddock (Maugham), VI: 367 Mrs. Dalloway (Woolf), VI: 275, 279; VII: xv, 18, 21, 24, 28–29; Supp. IV: 234, 246; Retro. Supp. I: 316–317 Mrs. de Winter (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 125–126 Mrs. Dot (Maugham), VI: 368 Mrs. Eckdorf in O’Neill’s Hotel (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501, 508 Mrs. Fisher; or, The Future of Humour (Graves), VII: 259–260 Mrs. Harris’s Petition (Swift), Retro. Supp. I: 283 “Mrs. Jaypher found a wafer” (Lear), V: 86 Mrs. Leicester’s School (Lamb and Lamb), IV: 80, 85 Mrs. McGinty’s Dead (Christie; U.S. title, Blood Will Tell), Supp. II: 135 “Mrs. Medwin” (James), VI: 69 “Mrs. Nelly’s Complaint,”II: 268 Mistress of Men (Steel), Supp. XII: 275 “Mistress of Vision, The” (Thompson), V: 447–448 “Mrs. Packletide’s Tiger” (Saki), Supp. VI: 242 Mrs. Perkins’s Ball (Thackeray), V: 24, 38 Mrs. Shakespeare: The Complete Works (Nye), Supp. X: 196 “Mrs. Silly” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 “Mrs. Simpkins” (Smith), Supp. II: 470 “Mrs. Temperley” (James), VI: 69

MRS.−MOON Mrs. Warren’s Profession (Shaw), V: 413; VI: 108, 109; Retro. Supp. II: 312– 313 Mistry, Rohinton, Supp. X: 137–149 “Mists” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 Mist’s Weekly Journal (newspaper), III: 4 Mitchell, David, Supp. XIV: 193–209 Mitchell, James Leslie, see Gibbon, Lewis Grassic Mitford, Mary Russell, IV: 311, 312 Mitford, Nancy, VII: 290; Supp. X: 151– 163 Mithridates (Lee), II: 305 Mixed Essays (Arnold), V: 213n, 216 “Mixed Marriage” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 415 Mo, Timothy, Supp. IV: 390 “Moa Point” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 Mob, The (Galsworthy), VI: 280, 288 Moby–Dick (Melville), VI: 363 Mock Doctor, The (Fielding), III 105 Mock Speech from the Throne (Marvell), II: 207 Mock–Mourners, The: . . . Elegy on King William (Defoe), III: 12 Mockery Gap (Powys), VIII: 251, 256 “Model Prisons” (Carlyle), IV: 247 Mock’s Curse: Nineteen Stories (Powys), VIII: 251, 252, 256 Modern Comedy, A (Galsworthy), VI: 270, 275 Modern Fiction (Woolf), VII: xiv; Retro. Supp. I: 308–309 Modern Husband, The (Fielding), III: 105 Modern Irish Short Stories (ed. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 “Modern Love” (Meredith), V: 220, 234, 244 Modern Love, and Poems of the English Roadside . . . (Meredith), V: xxii, 220, 234 Modern Lover, A (Moore), VI: 86, 89, 98 Modern Manners (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 207 “Modern Money–Lending, and the Meaning of Dividends: A Tract for the Wealthy” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 Modern Movement: 100 Key Books from England, France, and America, 1880– 1950, The (Connolly), VI: 371 Modern Painters (Ruskin), V: xx, 175– 176, 180, 184, 282 Modern Painting (Moore), VI: 87 Modern Poet, The: Poetry, Academia, and Knowledge Since the 1750s (Crawford), Supp. XI: 82–83 Modern Poetry: A Personal Essay (MacNeice), VII: 403, 404, 410 “Modern Science: A Criticism” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “Modern Times” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 “Modern Times” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 Modern Utopia, A (Wells), VI: 227, 234, 241, 244 “Modern Warning, The” (James), VI: 48, 69

Modernism and Romance (Scott–James), VI: 21 Modes of Modern Writing: Metaphor, Metonymy, and the Typology of Modern Literature, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 365, 377 “Modest Proposal” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 46 Modest Proposal, A (Swift), III: 21, 28, 29, 35; Supp. IV: 482 “Moestitiae Encomium” (Thompson), V: 450 Moffatt, James, I: 382–383 Mohocks, The (Gay), III: 60, 67 Mohr, Jean, Supp. IV: 79 Moi, Toril, Retro. Supp. I: 312 “Moisture–Number, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Molière (Jean Baptiste Poquelin), II: 314, 318, 325, 336, 337, 350; V: 224 Moll Flanders (Defoe), III: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 13, 95; Retro. Supp. I: 72–73 Molloy (Beckett), Supp. I: 51–52; Supp. IV: 106; Retro. Supp. I: 18, 21–22 Molly Sweeney (Friel), Supp. V: 127 “Molly Gone” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 118 Moly (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 266–268 “Moly” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 Molyneux, William, III: 27 “Moment, The: Summer ’s Night” (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 309 “Moment in Eternity, A” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 204 “Moment of Cubism, The” (Berger), Supp. IV: 79 Moment of Love, A (Moore), see Feast of Lupercal, The Moments of Being (Woolf), VII: 33; Retro. Supp. I: 305, 315 Moments of Grace (Jennings), Supp. V: 217–218 Moments of Vision, and Miscellaneous Verses (Hardy), VI: 20 Monastery, The (Scott), IV: xviii, 39 Monckton Milnes, Richard (Lord Houghton), IV: 211, 234, 235, 251, 252, 254, 302, 351; V: 312, 313, 334; Retro. Supp. I: 185–186 “Monday; or, The Squabble” (Gay), III: 56 Monday or Tuesday (Woolf), VII: 20, 21, 38; Retro. Supp. I: 307 Mondo Desperado (McCabe), Supp. IX: 127, 136–137 Money: A Suicide Note (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 32–35, 37, 40 Money in the Bank (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 459 “Money–Man Only” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 213–214 “Money Singing” (Motion), Supp. VII: 261 Monk, The (Lewis), III: 332–333, 335, 345; Supp. III: 384 Monkfish Moon (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 85–88, 95, 100 Monks and the Giants, The (Frere), see Whistlecraft

397

Monks of St. Mark, The (Peacock), IV: 158, 169 Monk’s Prologue, The (Chaucer), II: 70 Monk’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 31 Monk’s Tale, The (Lydgate), I: 57 “Monna Innominata” (Rossetti), V: 251 “Mono–Cellular” (Self), Supp. V: 402 Monody on the Death of the Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan . . . (Byron), IV: 192 “Monody to the Memory of Chatterton” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Monody to the Memory of Sir Joshua Reynolds” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202 “Monody to the Memory of the Late Queen of France” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 202 Monro, Harold, VI: 448 “Mons Meg” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81–82 Monsieur (Durrell), Supp. I: 118, 119 Monsieur de Pourceaugnac (Molière), II: 325, 337, 339, 347, 350 Monsieur d’Olive (Chapman), I: 244–245 “M. Prudhomme at the International Exhibition” (Swinburne). V: 333 Monsieur Thomas (Fletcher), II: 45, 61, 65 Monsignor Quixote (Greene), Supp. I: 18–19; Retro. Supp. II: 166 Monster (Beamish and Galloway), Supp. XII: 117 Monstre Gai (Lewis), VII: 72, 80 “Mont Blanc” (Shelley), IV: 198; Retro. Supp. I: 248 Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, II: 326 Montague, John, VI: 220 Montaigne, Michel Eyquem de, II: 25, 30, 80, 104, 108, 146; III: 39 Monte Verité (du Maurier), Supp. III: 143–144, 147, 148 Montemayor, Jorge de, I: 164, 302 Montezuma’s Daughter (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Montgomery, Robert, IV: 280 Month (periodical), V: 365, 379 Month in the Country, A (tr. Friel), Supp. V: 124 Montherlant, Henry de, II: 99n Monthly Review (periodical), III: 147, 188 Montrose, marquess of, II: 222, 236–237, 238 “Monument Maker, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 117 Monumental Column, A. Erected to . . . Prince of Wales (Webster), II: 68, 85 “Monuments of Honour” (Webster), II: 68, 85 Monye, A. A., Supp. II: 350 Monypenny, W. F., IV: 292, 295, 300, 307, 308 “Moon and a Cloud, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 91 Moon and Sixpence, The (Maugham), VI: xiii, 365, 374, 375–376 Moon Country: Further Reports from Iceland (Armitage), VIII: 2 “Moon Fever” (Nye), Supp. X: 205

MOON−MOTH Mooncranker’s Gift (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 354, 356–357 Moonlight (Pinter), Retro. Supp. I: 226 “Moonlight Night on the Port” (Keyes), VII: 439 Moonlight on the Highway (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 231 Moonraker (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 94 Moon’s Ottery (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 5, 11–12 “Moonshine” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Moonstone, The (Collins), III: 340, 345; Supp. VI: 91, 93, 100–102 “Moor, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 Moorcock, Michael, Supp. V: 24, 25, 32 Moore, Brian, Supp. IX: 141–155 Moore, G. E., Supp. I: 217; Supp. II: 406–407; Supp. III: 46, 49 Moore, George, IV: 102; V: xxi, xxvi, 129, 153; VI: xii 85–99, 207, 239, 270, 365 Moore, John Robert, III: 1, 12 Moore, Marianne, IV: 6; Supp. IV: 262– 263 Moore, Thomas, IV: xvi, 193, 205; V: 116 “Moore’s Life of Lord Byron” (Macaulay), IV: 281–282 “Moorings” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 Moorland Cottage, The (Gaskell), V: 14, 15 Moorman, Mary, IV: 4, 25 Moor’s Last Sigh, The (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 433, 438, 444, 446, 448, 451–454, 456 Moortown (Hughes), Supp. I: 354, 357; Retro. Supp. II: 211–212 “Mora Montravers” (James), VI: 69 Moral and Political Lecture, A (Coleridge), IV: 56 Moral Epistle, Respectfully Dedicated to Earl Stanhope (Landor), IV: 99 Moral Ending and Other Stories, A (Warner), Supp. VII: 379 Moral Essays (Pope), III: 74–75, 77, 78; Retro. Supp. I: 145; Retro. Supp. I: 235 Moralities (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260, 261 “Morality and the Novel” (Lawrence), VII: 87 Morality Play (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 362, 364–365 Morall Fabillis of Esope the Phrygian, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136–142, 145 “Morals of Pruning, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 Morando, the Tritameron of Love (Greene), VIII: 142–143 “Morbidezza” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 275 “Mordecai and Cocking” (Coppard), VIII: 95 More, Hannah, IV: 269 More, Paul Elmer, II: 152 More, Sir Thomas, I: 325; II: 24; IV: 69, Supp. VII: 233–250 “More a Man Has the More a Man Wants, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 420–421, 425

More Dissemblers Besides Women (Middleton), II: 3, 21 “More Essex Poems” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110–111 More New Arabian Nights: The Dynamiter (Stevenson), V: 395 More Nonsense, Pictures, Rhymes, Botany (Lear), V: 78, 87 More Poems (Housman), VI: 152, 157, 161–162 More Pricks than Kicks (Beckett), Supp. I: 45–46; Retro. Supp. I: 19 More Reformation: A Satyr upon Himself . . . (Defoe), III: 13 More Short–Ways with the Dissenters (Defoe), III: 13 More Stories (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 More Tales I Tell My Mother (ed. Fairbairns et al.), Supp. XI: 163 More Trivia (Connolly), Supp. III: 98 More Women than Men (Compton– Burnett), VII: 61–62 Morgan, Edwin, Supp. IX: 157–170 Morgan, Margery M., VI: xiii, xiv–xv, xxxiv Morgann, Maurice, IV: xiv, 168 Morgante Maggiore (Pulci), IV: 182 Morison, James Augustus Cotter, IV: 289, 291 Morkinskinna, VIII: 242 Morland, Dick see Hill, Reginald Morley, Frank, IV: 79, 86 Morley, John, VI: 2, 157, 336 Morley, Lord John, III: 201, 205; IV: 289, 291; V: 279, 280, 284, 290, 313, 334 “Morning” (Davie), Supp. VI: 112 “Morning Call” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Morning Chronicle, The (periodical), IV: 43, 128, 129; V: 41 “Morning Coffee” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 “Morning Glory” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 “Morning, Midday, and Evening Sacrifice” (Hopkins), V: 370 Morning Post (periodical), III: 269; VI: 351; Supp. XIII: 207, 210, 211, 213 Morning Star (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Morning Sun” (MacNeice), III: 411 Mornings in Mexico (Lawrence), VII: 116, 117 “Morning–watch, The” (Vaughan), II: 187 Moronic Inferno, The (AAnd Other Visits to America“) (Amis), Supp. IV: 42, 43 “Morpho Eugenia” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 140, 153–154 Morrell, Ottoline, VII: 103 Morrell, Sir Charles, V: 111 Morris, Jan, Supp. X: 171–189 Morris, Margaret, VI: 274 Morris, May, V: 298, 301, 305 Morris, William, IV: 218; V: ix, xi, xii, xix, xxii–xxvi, 236–238, 291–307, 312, 365, 401, 409; VI: 103, 167–168, 283 Morris & Co., V: 295, 296, 302

398

“Morris’s Life and Death of Jason” (Swinburne), V: 298 Morrison, Arthur, VI: 365–366 Mortal Causes (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 251–252 Mortal Coils (Huxley), VII: 200 Mortal Consequences (Symons), Supp. IV: 3 Morte Arthur, Le, I: 72, 73 Morte Darthur, Le (Malory), I: 67, 68– 79; V: 294; Retro. Supp. II: 237–239, 240–251 “Morte d’Arthur” (Tennyson), IV: xx, 332–334, 336 “Mortier Water–Organ Called Oscar, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Mortification” (Herbert), II: 127 Mortimer His Fall (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 166 Mortmere Stories, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 251–252 Morvern Callar (Warner), Supp. XI: 281, 282–286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 293 Mosada, a Dramatic Poem (Yeats), VI: 221 Moseley, Humphrey, II: 89 Moses (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36 Moses (Rosenberg), VI: 433 Moses’ Rock (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 Moses the Lawgiver (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Mosquito” (Lawrence), VII: 119 Mossycoat (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 “Most Extraordinary Case, A” (James), VI: 69 Most Piteous Tale of the Morte Arthur Saunz Guerdon, The (Malory), I: 72, 77 “Moth” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Mother, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 Mother and Son (Compton–Burnett), VII: 64, 65, 68–69 “Mother and Son” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 297 Mother Bombie (Lyly), I: 203–204 “Mother Country” (Rossetti), V: 255 Mother Country, The (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 154 Mother Courage (Brecht), VI: 123 “Mother Dressmaking” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 167 Mother Hubberd’s Tale (Spenser), I: 124, 131 Mother Ireland (O’Brien), Supp. V: 338 “Mother–May–I” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 137 “Mother Kamchatka; or, Mr. Mainchance in Search of the Truth” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 “Mother of the Muses, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161 “Mother of the World, The” (Powys), VIII: 251, 252 Mother Poem (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 41, 42, 46 Mother, Sing for Me (Ngu˜gı˜). See Maitu˜ njugı˜ra

MOTH−MY BR “Mother Speaks, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 125 “Mother to Child Asleep” (Cornford), VIII: 107 “Mother Tongue” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 Mother, What Is Man? (Smith), Supp. II: 462 Mother’s Day (Storey), Supp. I: 420 “Mother’s Sense of Fun” (Wilson), Supp. I: 153, 157–158 “Moths and Mercury–Vapor Lamp” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 Motion, Andrew, Supp. VII: 251–267 “Motions of the Earth, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 Motteux, Pierre, II: 352, 353 “Mount Badon” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 282–283 Mount of Olives, The; or, Solitary Devotions . . . (Vaughan), II: 185, 201 Mount Zion (Betjeman), VII: 364 “Mount Zion” (Hughes), Supp. I: 341 Mountain Bard, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 106 “Mountain Path” (Cornford), VIII: 107 “Mountain Shadow” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 87 Mountain Town in France, A (Stevenson), V: 396 “Mountaineering Poetry: The Metaphorical Imperative” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 86 Mountains and Molehills (Cornford), VIII: 106, 107–108, 109 Mountolive (Durrell), Supp. I: 104, 106, 108, 109 “Mourning” (Marvell), II: 209, 212 Mourning Bride, The (Congreve), II: 338, 347, 350 Mourning Muse of Alexis, The: A Pastoral (Congreve), II: 350 Mousetrap, The (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 134 “Move, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74–75 Movevent, The, Supp. IV: 256 Moving Finger, The (Christie), Supp. II: 132 “Moving In” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 “Moving In” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75 Moving Out (Behan), Supp. II: 67, 68, 70 “Moving Round the House” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226 Moving Target, A (Golding), Supp. I: 88 Moving the Center: The Struggle for Cultural Freedoms (Ngu˜ gı˜), VIII: 217, 225 “Mower to the Glo–Worms, The” (Marvell), II: 209 “Mowgli’s Brothers” (Kipling), VI: 199 Moxon, Edward, IV: 83, 86, 252 Much Ado About Nothing (Shakespeare), I: 310–311, 327 Much Obliged (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460 “Muchelney Abbey” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258

“Mud Vision, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 281 Mudlark Poems & Grand Buveur, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Mudtower, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 253 Muggeridge, Malcolm, VI: 356; VII: 276; Supp. II: 118, 119 “Mugumo” (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 220 Muiopotmos (Spenser), I: 124 Muir, Edwin, I: 247; IV: 27, 40; Supp. V: 208; Supp. VI: 197–209 Muir, K., IV: 219, 236 Mulberry Bush, The (Wilson), Supp. I: 154–155 Mulberry Garden, The (Sedley), II: 263– 264, 271 “Mulberry Tree, The” (Bowen), Supp. II: 78, 92 Mulberry Tree, The (Bowen), Supp. II: 80 Mulcaster, Richard, I: 122 Muldoon, Paul, Supp. IV: 409–432 Mule on the Minaret, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 274 Mules (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 414–415 Mullan, John, Retro. Supp. I: 69–70 Müller, Max, V: 203 “Mulwhevin” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 “Mum” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 70–71 Mum and Mr. Armitage (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 23 Mummer’s Wife, A (Moore), VI: xii, 86, 90, 98 “Mummia” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52, 60 “Mummy, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 “Mummy to the Rescue” (Wilson), Supp. I: 153 “Mundus and Paulina” (Gower), I: 53–54 Mundus Muliebris; or, The Ladies–Dressing Room Unlock’d (Evelyn), II: 287 Mundy Scheme, The (Friel), Supp. V: 119 Munera Pulveris (Ruskin), V: 184 “Municipal Gallery Revisited, The” (Yeats), VI: 216; Retro. Supp. I: 337–338 Munnings, Sir Alfred, VI: 210 “Murad the Unlucky” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 “Murder” (Nye), Supp. X: 198 Murder at the Vicarage (Christie), Supp. II: 130, 131 “Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts” (De Quincey), IV: 149–150 Murder in the Calais Coach (Christie), see Murder on the Orient Express Murder in the Cathedral (Eliot), VII: 153, 157, 159; Retro. Supp. II: 132 Murder in Triplicate (James), Supp. IV: 320, 327 “Murder, 1986” (James), Supp. IV: 340 Murder of John Brewer, The (Kyd), I: 218 Murder of Quality, A (le Carré), Supp. II: 300, 302–303 Murder of Roger Ackroyd, The (Christie), Supp. II: 124, 128, 135 “Murder of Santa Claus, The” (James), Supp. IV: 340

399

Murder of the Man Who Was Shakespeare, The (Hoffman), I: 277 Murder on the Orient Express (Christie; U.S. title, Murder in the Calais Coach), Supp. II: 128, 130, 134, 135 Murderous Michael, I: 218 “Murdered Drinker, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 “Murders in the Rue Morgue, The” (Poe), III: 339 Murdoch, Iris, III: 341, 345; VI: 372; Supp. I: 215–235; Supp. IV: 100, 139, 145, 234 Murmuring Judges (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 294, 296–297, 298 Murnau, F. W., III: 342 Murphy (Beckett), Supp. I: 46–47, 48, 51, 62, 220; Retro. Supp. I: 19–20 Murphy, Richard, VI: 220; Supp. V: 313– 331 Murray, Gilbert, VI: 153, 273, 274 Murray, John, IV: 182, 188, 190, 193, 294 Murray, Les, Supp. VII: 269–288 Murray, Nicholas, Supp. IV: 171 Murray, Sir James, III: 113 Murry, John Middleton, III: 68; VI: 207, 375, 446; VII: 37, 106, 173–174, 181– 182 “Muse, The” (Cowley), II: 195, 200 “Muse Among the Motors, A” (Kipling), VI: 202 “Musée des Beaux Arts” (Auden), VII: 379, 385–386; Retro. Supp. I: 8 “Muses Dirge, The” (James), II: 102 “Museum” (MacNeice), VII: 412 Museum of Cheats, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Museum Pieces (Plomer), Supp. XI: 221 “Music” (Owen), VI: 449 Music: An Ode (Swinburne), V: 333 Music at Night (Priestley), VII: 225–226 Music Cure, The (Shaw), VI: 129 “Music for Octopi” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Music of Division, The (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 Music of Time novel cycle (Powell), see Dance to the Music of Time, A Music on Clinton Street (McCabe), Supp. IX: 127 “Music on the Hill, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 243–244 “Musical Instrument, A” (Browning), IV: 315 “Musician, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 73 Musicks Duell (Crashaw), II: 90–91 Musil, Robert, Supp. IV: 70 Muslin (Moore), VI: 98; see Drama in Muslin, A Mustapha (Greville), Supp. XI: 108, 117 “Mute Phenomena, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173 “Mutual Life” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 188 “My Aged Uncle Arly” (Lear), V: 85–86 My Beautiful Laundrette (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 155–156 My Birds (Davies), Supp. XI: 92 My Brother (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 230–231

MY BR−NAKE My Brother Evelyn and Other Profiles (Waugh), Supp. VI: 269, 276 “My Canadian Uncle” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 224 “My Care” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 108, 109 My Child, My Sister (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74, 76, 77, 81 “My Christ Is No Statue” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 “My Company” (Read), VI: 437 My Cousin Rachel (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134, 139, 140, 141, 147 My Darling Dear, My Daisy Flower (Skelton), I: 83 “My Daughter the Fox” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 109 My Days and Dreams (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 35–36, 40, 45 My Dear Dorothea: A Practical System of Moral Education for Females (Shaw), VI: 109, 130 “My Death” (Hart), Supp. XI: 125 “My delight and thy delight” (Bridges), VI: 77 “My Diary“: The Early Years of My Daughter Marianne (Gaskell), V: 15 “My Doves” (Browning), IV: 313 “My Dream” (Rossetti), V: 256 “My Dyet” (Cowley), II: 197, 198 My Early Life (Churchill), VI: 354 “My Father” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 “My Father, William Blake, and a Buddhist Monk United in Songs of Experience” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 59 My Father’s Son (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 212, 216–217, 220 My Father’s Trapdoors (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “My First Acquaintance with Poets” (Hazlitt), IV: 126, 132 “My First Book” (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 260 “My First Marriage” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 236 “My Friend Bingham” (James), VI: 69 My Fellow Devils (Hartley), Supp. VII: 127–128, 132 “My Friend Bruce Lee” (McCabe), Supp. IX: 136 “My galley charged with forgetfulness” (Wyatt), I: 110 My Garden (Davies), Supp. XI: 92 My Garden Book (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 229, 230, 231 “My Ghost” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 “My Grandparents” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19 My Guru and His Disciple (Isherwood), VII: 318 My House in Umbria (Trevor), Supp. IV: 516–517 “My House Is Tiny” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106–107 “My Hundredth Tale” (Coppard), VIII: 97 My Idea of Fun: A Cautionary Tale (Self), Supp. V: 396–398 “My Joyce” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364 “My Lady” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 81

“My Lady Love, My Dove” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 217 My Lady Ludlow (Gaskell), V: 15 “My Last Duchess” (Browning), IV: 356, 360, 372; Retro. Supp. II: 22–23 “My Last Duchess” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271 “My Last Mistress” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 300–301 My Life as a Fake (Carey), Supp. XII: 54, 60, 61, 62 “My Life up to Now” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 255, 265, 266, 268, 269, 273 “My love whose heart is tender said to me” (Rossetti), V: 251 “My Lover” (Cope), VIII: 72–73 “My Luncheon Hour” (Coppard), VIII: 87 “My lute awake!” (Wyatt), I: 105–106 My Man Jeeves (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455 “My Man of Flesh and Straw” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 “My Mother” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 221 “My own heart let me more have pity on” (Hopkins), V: 375–376 “My Own Life” (Hume), Supp. III: 229 “My pen take pain a little space” (Wyatt), I: 106 “My Picture Left in Scotland” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 152 My Revolutions (Kunzru), Supp. XIV: 172–175 My Sad Captains (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 262–264 “My Sad Captains” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 263–264 “My Sailor Father” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 My Sister Eileen (McKenney), Supp. IV: 476 “My Sister’s Sleep” (Rossetti), V: 239, 240, 242 “My Sister’s War” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 492 “My Son the Fanatic” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 157–158 My Son’s Story (Gordimer), Supp. II: 233, 240–242 “My Spectre” (Blake), V: 244 “My spirit kisseth thine” (Bridges), VI: 77 “My true love hath my heart, and I have his” (Sidney), I: 169 “My Uncle” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 My Uncle Oswald (Dahl), Supp. IV: 213, 219, 220 My Very Own Story (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 11, 13 My World as in My Time (Newbolt), VI: 75 My Year (Dahl), Supp. IV: 225 Myer, Valerie Grosvenor, Supp. IV: 230 Myers, William Francis, VII: xx, xxxviii Myles Before Myles, A Selection of the Earlier Writings of Brian O’Nolan (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 322, 323, 324 Myrick, K. O., I: 160, 167 “Myself in India” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 227, 229–230

400

Myself When Young: Confessions (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 Mysteries, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 150, 163 Mysteries of Udolpho, The (Radcliffe), III: 331–332, 335, 345; IV: xvi, 111; Supp. III: 384 Mysterious Affair at Styles, The (Christie), Supp. II: 124, 129–130 “Mysterious Kôr” (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 82, 93 Mystery of Charles Dickens, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 13 Mystery of Edwin Drood, The (Dickens), see Edwin Drood “Mystery of Sasaesa Valley” (Doyle), Supp. II: 159 Mystery of the Blue Train (Christie), Supp. II: 125 Mystery of the Charity of Charles Péguy, The (Hill), Supp. V: 189, 196–198 Mystery of the Fall (Clough), V: 159, 161 Mystery of the Sea, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 Mystery Revealed: . . . Containing . . . Testimonials Respecting the . . . Cock Lane Ghost, The (Goldsmith), III: 191 Mystic Masseur, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 383, 386, 387, 393 “Mystique of Ingmar Bergman, The” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 6 “Mysticism and Democracy” (Hill), Supp. V: 192–193 Myth of Modernism (Bergonzi), Supp. IV: 364 Myth of Shakespeare, A (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276 Myth of the Twin, The (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19–21 “Myth of the Twin, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19 “Mythical Journey, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Mythologiae sive explicationis fabularum (Conti), I: 266 “Mythological Sonnets” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “Mythology” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 “Myths” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67

’N Droë wit seisoen (Brink), Supp. VI: 50 ’n Oomblik in die wind (Brink), Supp. VI: 49 “Naaman” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “Nabara, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 127 Nabokov, Vladimir, Supp. IV: 26–27, 43, 153, 302 Nacht and Traüme (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 29 Nada the Lily (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Nadel, G. H., I: 269 Naipaul, V. S., VII: xx; Supp. I: 383– 405; Supp. IV: 302 Naive and Sentimental Lover, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 300, 310–311, 317 “Nakamura” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 Naked Warriors (Read), VI: 436

NAMA−NEW A “Namaqualand After Rain” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 Name and Nature of Poetry, The (Housman), VI: 157, 162–164 Name of Action, The (Greene), Supp. I: 3 Name of the Rose, The (Eco), Supp. IV: 116 “Nameless One, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 129 “Names” (Cope), VIII: 79 “Names” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99 “Naming of Offa, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 195 “Naming of Parts” (Reed), VII: 422 Nannie’s Night Out (O’Casey), VII: 11–12 Napier, Macvey, IV: 272 “Napier’s Bones” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74 Napoleon of Notting Hill, The (Chesterton), VI: 335, 338, 343–344 Napoleon III in Italy and Other Poems (Browning), see Poems Before Congress Narayan, R. K., Supp. IV: 440 Narcissus (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36 “Narcissus” (Gower), I: 53–54 “Narcissus Bay” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267, 268 Nares, Edward, IV: 280 Narrative of All the Robberies, . . . of John Sheppard, A (Defoe), III: 13 “Narrative of Jacobus Coetzee, The” (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 79–80 Narrow Corner, The (Maugham), VI: 375 Narrow Place, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 204, 206 “Narrow Place, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Narrow Road to the Deep North (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 427, 428–429, 430, 435 “Narrow Sea, The” (Graves), VII: 270 “Narrow Vessel, A” (Thompson), V: 441 Nashe, Thomas, I: 114, 123, 171, 199, 221, 278, 279, 281, 288; II: 25; Supp. II: 188; Retro. Supp. I: 156 “Nathair” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67 Nation (periodical), VI: 455; Supp. XIII: 117, 118, 127 Nation Review (publication), Supp. IV: 346 National Being, The: Some Thoughts on Irish Polity (Russell), VIII: 277, 287, 288, 292 National Observer (periodical), VI: 350 National Standard (periodical), V: 19 National Tales (Hood), IV: 255, 259, 267 “National Trust” (Harrison), Supp. V: 153 Native Companions: Essays and Comments on Australian Literature 1936– 1966 (Hope), Supp. VII: 151, 153, 159, 164 “Native Health” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 “Nativity” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Natura” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 “Natura Naturans” (Clough), V: 159–160 Natural Causes (Motion), Supp. VII: 254, 257–258, 263

Natural Curiosity, A (Drabble), Supp. IV: 231, 249–250 Natural Daughter, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 211 “Natural History” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 243 Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne, The, (White), Supp. VI: 279– 284, 285–293 Natural History of Religion, The (Hume), Supp. III: 240–241 “natural man,”VII: 94 “Natural Son” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327, 329 “Natural Sorrow, A” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 Naturalist’s Calendar, with Observations in Various Branches of Natural History, A (White), Supp. VI: 283 Naturalist’s Journal (White), Supp. VI: 283, 292 “Naturally the Foundation Will Bear Your Expenses” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 Nature (Davies), Supp. XI: 91 Nature in English Literature (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42, 43 “Nature, Language, the Sea: An Essay” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315 Nature of a Crime, The (Conrad), VI: 148 Nature of Blood, The (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 391–394 Nature of Cold Weather, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 227–229, 236 “Nature of Cold Weather, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228,237 “Nature of Gothic, The” (Ruskin), V: 176 Nature of History, The (Marwick), IV: 290, 291 “Nature of Man, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 251 Nature of Passion, The (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 226 “Nature of the Scholar, The” (Fichte), V: 348 Nature Poems (Davies), Supp. III: 398 “Nature That Washt Her Hands in Milk” (Ralegh), I: 149 Natwar–Singh, K., VI: 408 Naufragium Joculare (Cowley), II: 194, 202 Naulahka (Kipling and Balestier), VI: 204 “Naval History” (Kelman), Supp. V: 250 “Naval Treaty, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 169, 175 Navigation and Commerce (Evelyn), II: 287 “Navy’s Here, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Naylor, Gillian, VI: 168 Nazarene Gospel Restored, The (Graves and Podro), VII: 262 Nazism, VI: 242 “NB” (Reading), VIII: 266 Neal, Patricia, Supp. IV: 214, 218, 223 Near and Far (Blunden), VI: 428 “Near Lanivet” (Hardy), VI: 17 “Near Perigord” (Pound), V: 304 Neb (Thomas), Supp. XII: 280, 289

401

“Necessary Blindness, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 Necessity of Art, The (Fischer), Supp. II: 228 Necessity of Atheism, The (Shelley and Hogg), IV: xvii, 196, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 244 “Necessity of Not Believing, The” (Smith), Supp. II: 467 Necessity of Poetry, The (Bridges), VI: 75–76, 82, 83 “Necessity’s Child” (Wilson), Supp. I: 153–154 “Neck” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 217 “Ned Bratts” (Browning), IV: 370; Retro. Supp. II: 29–30 Ned Kelly and the City of the Bees (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Ned Skinner” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 415 “Need to Be Versed in Country Things, The” (Frost), Supp. IV: 423 Needham, Gwendolyn, V: 60 Needle’s Eye, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 234, 241, 242–243, 245, 251 “Needlework” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 “Negative Love” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 93 “Neglected Graveyard, Luskentyre” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 182, 189, 194 “Negro Girl, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204, 212 “Negus” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 44 “Neighbours” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Neighbours in a Thicket (Malouf), Supp. XII: 217, 219–220 Neizvestny, Ernst, Supp. IV: 88 “Nell Barnes” (Davies), Supp. XI: 97–98 “Nelly Trim” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Nelson, W., I: 86 “Nemesis” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63–64 “Neolithic” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 90 Nerinda (Douglas), VI: 300, 305 Nero Part I (Bridges), VI: 83 Nero Part II (Bridges), VI: 83 Nesbit, E., Supp. II: 140, 144, 149 “Nest in a Wall, A” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Nest of Tigers, A: Edith, Osbert and Sacheverell in Their Times (Lehmann), VII: 141 Nether World, The (Gissing), V: 424, 437 Netherwood (White), Supp. I: 131, 151 “Netting, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 318 Nettles (Lawrence), VII: 118 “Netty Sargent’s Copyhold” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Neurotic, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 129 Neutral Ground (Corke), VII: 93 “Neutral Tones” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 110, 117 Never Say Never Again (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 New Age (periodical), VI: 247, 265; VII: 172; Supp. XIII: 131–132 New and Collected Poems 1934–84 (Fuller), Supp. VII: 68, 72, 73, 74, 79 New and Collected Poems, 1952–1992 (Hill), Supp. V: 184

NEW A−NEWS New and Improved Grammar of the English Tongue, A (Hazlitt), IV: 139 New and Old: A Volume of Verse (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 New and Selected Poems (Davie), Supp. VI: 108 New and Selected Poems (Hart), Supp. XI: 122 New and Selected Poems of Patrick Galvin (ed. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 New and Useful Concordance, A (Bunyan), II: 253 New Apocalypse, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 184 New Arabian Nights (Stevenson), V: 384n, 386, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 263 New Arcadia (Sidney), Retro. Supp. II: 332 New Atlantis (Bacon), I: 259, 265, 267– 269, 273 “New Ballad of Tannhäuser, A” (Davidson), V: 318n New Bath Guide (Anstey), III: 155 New Bats in Old Belfries (Betjeman), VII: 368–369 New Bearings in English Poetry (Leavis), V: 375, 381; VI: 21; VII: 234, 244– 246 “New Beginning, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 New Belfry of Christ Church, The (Carroll), V: 274 “New Cemetery, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 New Characters . . . of Severall Persons . . . (Webster), II: 85 New Chatto Poets 2 (ed. Ehrhardt et al.), Supp. XI: 71 New Cratylus, The: Notes on the Craft of Poetry (Hope), Supp. VII: 151, 155 New Country, Supp. XIII: 252–253 New Country (ed. Roberts), VII: xix, 411 “New Delhi Romance, A” (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 236–237 New Discovery of an Old Intreague, An (Defoe), III: 12; Retro. Supp. I: 67 New Divan, The (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 159, 161, 163 New Dominion, A (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 230–231 “New Drama” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 170 New Dunciad, The (Pope), III: 73, 78; Retro. Supp. I: 238 “New Empire Within Britain, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 436, 445 “New England Winter, A” (James), VI: 69 New Essays by De Quincey (ed. Tave); IV: 155 New Estate, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 55–57, 58 New Ewart, The: Poems 1980–82 (Ewart), Supp. VII: 34, 44, 45 New Family Instructor, A (Defoe), III: 14 “New Forge” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 New Form of Intermittent Light for Lighthouses, A (Stevenson), V: 395 New Grub Street (Gissing), V: xxv, 426, 427, 429, 430, 434–435, 437; VI: 377;

Supp. IV: 7 “New Hampshire” (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 New Inn; The Noble Gentlemen (Jonson), II: 65; Retro. Supp. I: 165 New Journey to Paris, A (Swift), III: 35 “New King for the Congo: Mobutu and the Nihilism of Africa” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 398 New Light on Piers Plowman (Bright), I: 3 New Lines (Conquest), Supp. IV: 256 New Lives for Old (Snow), VII: 323 New Love–Poems (Scott), IV: 39 New Machiavelli, The (Wells), VI: 226, 239, 244 New Magdalen, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 102 New Meaning of Treason, The (West), Supp. III: 440, 444 New Men, The (Snow), VII: xxi, 324, 328–329, 330 New Method of Evaluation as Applied to ð, The (Carroll), V: 274 New Monthly (periodical), IV: 252, 254, 258 “New Morality, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “New Novel, The” (James), VI: xii New Numbers (periodical), VI: 420; Supp. III: 47 New Oxford Book of Irish Verse, The (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 New Oxford Book of Sixteenth Century Verse, The (ed. Jones), Supp. XI: 116 New Poems (Adcock), Supp. XII: 11, 13 New Poems (Arnold), V: xxiii, 204, 209, 216 “New Poems” (Bridges), VI: 77 New Poems (Davies), Supp. III: 398 New Poems (Davies), Supp. XI: 85, 88, 96, 97 New Poems (Fuller), Supp. VII: 76–77 New Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 266, 274 New Poems (Thompson), V: 444, 446, 451 New Poems by Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning (ed. Kenyon), IV: 321 New Poems Hitherto Unpublished or Uncollected . . . (Rossetti), V: 260 New Policemen, The (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 291, 294–295, 296 “New Women” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 13 New Quixote, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57 New Review (periodical), VI: 136 New Rhythm and Other Pieces, The (Firbank), Supp. II: 202, 205, 207, 222 New Satyr on the Parliament, A (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 67 New Selected Poems 1964–2000 (Dunn), Supp. X: 67, 70–71, 76, 81 New Selected Poems (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 131 New Signatures (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 125 New Signatures (ed. Roberts), VII: 411; Supp. II: 486

402

“New Song, A” (Heaney), Supp. II: 273 New Statesman (periodical), VI: 119, 250, 371; VII: 32; Supp. IV: 26, 66, 78, 80, 81; Supp. XII: 2, 186, 199; Supp. XIII: 167 New Stories I (ed. Drabble), Supp. IV: 230 New Territory (Boland), Supp. V: 35, 36 New Testament in Modern English (Phillips), I: 383 New Testament in Modern Speech (Weymouth), I: 382 New Voyage Round the World, A (Dampier), III: 7, 24 New Voyage Round the World, A (Defoe), III: 5, 13 New Way to Pay Old Debts, A (Massinger), Supp. XI: 180, 184, 185, 186–190, 191 New Weather (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 412– 414, 416 “New Weather” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 413 New Witness (periodical), VI: 340, 341 “New World A’Comin’” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 36–37 New Worlds for Old (Wells), VI: 242 New Writing IV, Supp. XIII: 91–92 New Writings of William Hazlitt (ed. Howe), IV: 140 New Year Letter (Auden), VII: 379, 382, 388, 390, 393; Retro. Supp. I: 10 “New Year Wishes for the English” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “New Year’s Burden, A” (Rossetti), V: 242 “New Year’s Gift to the King” (Dunbar), VIII: 118 “New York” (Russell), VIII: 291 Newbolt, Henry, VI: 75, 417 Newby, T. C., V: 140 Newcomes, The (Thackeray), V: xxii, 18, 19, 28–31, 35, 38, 69 Newell, K. B., VI: 235, 237 “Newgate”novels, V: 22, 47 Newman, F. W., V: 208n Newman, John Henry, II: 243; III: 46; IV: 63, 64; V: xi, xxv, 156, 214, 283, 340; Supp. VII: 289–305 “News” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 66 “News” (Traherne), II: 191, 194 News and Weather, The (Fallon), Supp. XII: 108–110, 114 “News for the Church” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 “News from Ireland, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504–505 News from Nowhere (Morris), V: xxv, 291, 301–304, 306, 409 “News from the Sun” (Ballard), Supp. V: 22 “News in Flight” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77, 78 “News of the World” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114 News of the World: Selected and New Poems (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114–115 News of the World: Selected Poems (Fallon), Supp. XII: 105–106, 112 Newspaper, The (Crabbe), III: 275, 286

NEWS−NO, THANK YOU JOHN” (ROSSETTI), V: 256 Newspoems (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 “Newsreel” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 127 “Newstead Abbey” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 Newton, Isaac, Supp. III: 418–419 Newton, J. F., IV: 158 Newton, John, III: 210 “Newts” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Next Life, The” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36, 41 “Next of Kin” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 2 “Next, Please” (Larkin), Supp. I: 278 “Next Time, The” (James), VI: 69 Ngaahika ndeenda (Ngu˜gı˜ wa Thiong’o/ Ngu˜gı˜ wa Mı˜riı˜), VIII: 215–216, 223– 224 Ngu˜gı˜ wa Thiong’o, Supp. V: 56; VIII: 211–226 Nibelungenlied, VIII: 231 Nice and the Good, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 226, 227 “Nice Day at School” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 “Nice to Be Nice” (Kelman), Supp. V: 245–246 Nice Valour, The (Fetcher and Middleton), II: 21, 66 Nice Work (Lodge), Supp. IV: 363, 366, 372, 378–380, 383, 385 Nice Work (television adaptation), Supp. IV: 381 Nicholas Nickleby (Dickens), IV: 69; V: xix, 42, 50–53, 54, 71 Nicholls, Bowyer, IV: 98 Nichols, Robert, VI: 419 Nicholson, Norman, Supp. VI: 211–224 Nichomachean Ethics (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 149 “Nicht Flittin” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 70–71 Nicoll, Allardyce, II: 363 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, IV: 121, 179; Supp. IV: 3, 6, 9, 10, 12, 17, 50, 108 Nigger of the “Narcissus,”The (Conrad), VI: 136, 137, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 71–73 Nigger Question, The (Carlyle), IV: 247, 250 Night (Pinter), Supp. I: 376 Night (Harris), Supp. V: 138, 139 Night (O’Brien), Supp. V: 338 “Night, The” (Vaughan), II: 186, 188 Night and Day (Rosenberg), VI: 432 Night and Day (Stoppard), Supp. I: 451; Retro. Supp. II: 352–353 Night and Day (Woolf), VII: 20, 27; Retro. Supp. I: 307, 316 “Night and the Merry Man” (Browning), IV: 313 “Night Before the War, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Night Fears and Other Stories (Hartley), Supp. VII: 121–122 Night Feed (Boland), Supp. V: 50 “Night Feed” (Boland), Supp. V: 50 “Night Kitchen” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 230 Night Mail (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7

“Night of Frost in May” (Meredith), V: 223 Night on Bald Mountain (White), Supp. I: 131, 136, 149–151 “Night Out” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 Night Out, A (Pinter), Supp. I: 371–372, 375; Retro. Supp. I: 223 “Night Patrol” (West), VI: 423 Night School (Pinter), Supp. I: 373, 375 “Night Sister” (Jennings), Supp. V: 215 “Night Songs” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Night Taxi” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272–273, 274 Night the Prowler, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 132 Night Thoughts (Young), III: 302, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 43 Night to Remember, A (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Night to Remember, A (film), Supp. IV: 2 Night Walk and Other Stories, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 259, 260 Night Walker, The (Fletcher and Shirley), II: 66 Night Watch (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229–230 “Night Wind, The” (Brontë), V: 133, 142 “Nightclub” (MacNeice), VII: 414 Night–Comers, The (Ambler), see State of Siege Night–Comers, The (film), Supp. IV: 3 Night–Crossing (Mahon), Supp. VI: 167–168, 169 “Nightfall (For an Athlete Dying Young)” (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 121 Nightfishing, The (Graham), Supp. VII: 105, 106, 111–113, 114, 116 “Nightingale and the Rose, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 365 “Nightingale’s Nest, The” (Clare), Supp. XI: 50, 60 “Nightmare, A” (Rossetti), V: 256 Nightmare Abbey (Peacock), III: 336, 345; IV: xvii, 158, 162, 164–165, 170, 177 “Nightpiece to Julia, The” (Herrick), II: lll Nightrunners of Bengal (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Nights at the Alexandra (Trevor), Supp. IV: 514–515 Nights at the Circus (Carter), Supp. III: 79, 87, 89–90, 91–92 “Night’s Fall Unlocks the Dirge of the Sea” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110 “Nightwalker” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Nightwalker and Other Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262, 263–264 Nin, Anaïs, Supp. IV: 110, 111 Nina Balatka (Trollope), V: 101 Nine Essays (Housman), VI: 164 Nine Experiments (Spender), Supp. II: 481, 486 Nine Tailors, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 343, 344–345 “Ninemaidens” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 494 “1938” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 1985 (Burgess), Supp. I: 193 Nineteen Eighty–four (Orwell), III: 341; VII: xx, 204, 274, 279–280, 284–285

403

1982 Janine (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 83–85, 86 1914 (Brooke), Supp. III: 48, 52, 56–58 “1914” (Owen), VI: 444 1914 and Other Poems (Brooke), VI: 420; Supp. III: 48, 55 1914. Five Sonnets (Brooke), VI: 420 1900 (West), Supp. III: 432, 445 “Nineteen Hundred and Nineteen” (Yeats), VI: 217; Retro. Supp. I: 335 ”1953,” A Version of Racine’s Andromaque (Raine), Supp. XIII: 170–171 “1916 Seen from 1922” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 45 “Nineteen Songs” (Hart), Supp. XI: 132 “1938” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “Nineteenth Century, The” (Thompson), V: 442 Nineteenth Century: A Dialogue in Utopia, The (Ellis), VI: 241n Nip in the Air, A (Betjeman), VII: 357 Niven, Alastair, VII: xiv, xxxviii Njáls saga, VIII: 238, 240 “Njamba Nene” stories (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 222 No (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 2 No Abolition of Slavery . . . (Boswell), III: 248 No Continuing City (Longley), VIII: 163, 165, 167–169, 170, 171, 175 “No Easy Thing” (Hart), Supp. XI: 132 No Enemy (Ford), VI: 324 No Exit (Sartre), III: 329, 345 “No Flowers by Request” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 No Fond Return of Love (Pym), Supp. II: 374–375, 381 No Fool Like an Old Fool (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 “No Ghosts” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 No Home but the Struggle (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 255, 257, 258–259 “No Immortality?” (Cornford), VIII: 105, 109 No Laughing Matter (Wilson), Supp. I: 162–163 No Man’s Land (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117–118, 121 No Man’s Land (Pinter), Supp. I: 377 No Mercy: A Journey to the Heart of the Congo (O’Hanlon), Supp. XI: 196, 202–206, 207, 208 No More Parades (Ford), VI: 319, 329 No Name (Collins), Supp. VI: 91, 93–94, 97–98, 102 No Other Life (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 151, 152–153 No Painted Plumage (Powys), VIII: 245, 254–255, 256, 257, 258 No Quarter (Waugh), Supp. VI: 275 “No Rest for the Wicked” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 167 “No Return” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218 “No Road” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 “No Room” (Powys), VIII: 249, 254, 258 “No Smoking” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 47 No Star on the Way Back (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 “No, Thank You John” (Rossetti), V: 256

NO TR−NOTE No Truce with the Furies (Thomas), Supp. XII: 282, 285, 286, 290, 291– 292 No Truce with Time (Waugh), Supp. VI: 274 No Wit, No Help Like a Woman’s (Middleton), II: 3, 21 “No Muses” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 222 “No Witchcraft for Sale” (Lessing), Supp. I: 241, 242 “No worst, There is none” (Hopkins), V: 374 Noah and the Waters (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 126, 127 “Noble Child is Born, The” (Dunbar). See Et Nobis Puer Natus Est Noble Jilt, The (Trollope), V: 102 Noble Numbers (Herrick), see His Noble Numbers Nobleman, The (Tourneur), II: 37 Noblesse Oblige (Mitford), Supp. X: 163 “Nocturnal Reverie” (Finch), Supp. IX: 76 Nocturnal upon S. Lucy’s Day, A (Donne), I: 358, 359–360; II: 128; Retro. Supp. II: 91 “Nocturne” (Coppard), VIII: 88 “Nocturne” (Murphy), Supp. V: 325 Noh theater, VI: 218 Noise (Kunzru), Supp. XIV: 165, 176 Noises Off (Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 “Noisy Flushes the Birds” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 324–325 “Noisy in the Doghouse” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 324, 325 “Noli emulari” (Wyatt), I: 102 “Noli Me Tangere Incident” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 17 Nollius, II: 185, 201 Nomadic Alternative, The (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 52, 58 “Nona Vincent” (James), VI: 69 “Nones” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 2 Nonsense Songs, Stories, Botany and Alphabets (Lear), V: 78, 84, 87 Non–Stop Connolly Show, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 28, 30, 35–38, 39 Nooks and Byways of Italy, The (Ramage), VI: 298 “Noon at St. Michael’s” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 174 “Noonday Axeman” (Murray), Supp. VII: 272 “No–One” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 281, 286 “Nora on the Pavement” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 276 Normal Skin, A (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23–24 “Normal Skin, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 Norman Douglas (Dawkins), VI: 303– 304 Norman Conquests, The (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 14 Normyx, pseud. of Norman Douglas North, Thomas, I: 314

North (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 273–275; Supp. IV: 412, 420–421, 427; Retro. Supp. I: 124, 125, 129–130 “North, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 20, 21 “North Africa” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 North America (Trollope), V: 101 North and South (Gaskell), V: xxii, 1–6, 8, 15 “North and South, The” (Browning), IV: 315 North Face (Renault), Supp. IX: 175– 176 “North London Book of the Dead, The” (Self), Supp. V: 400 “North Sea” (Keyes), VII: 437 “North Sea off Carnoustie” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260 North Ship, The (Larkin), Supp. I: 276– 277 “North Wind, The” (Bridges), VI: 80 Northanger Abbey (Austen), III: 335– 336, 345; IV: xvii, 103, 104, 107–110, 112–114, 122; Retro. Supp. II: 4–6 Northanger Novels, The (Sadleir), III: 335, 346 Northern Echo, Supp. XIII: 235, 236– 237 “Northern Farmer, New Style” (Tennyson), IV: 327 “Northern Farmer, Old Style” (Tennyson), IV: 327 Northern Lasse, The (Brome), Supp. X: 52, 55, 61 Northern Lights (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 153, 155–156 Northern Lights: A Poet’s Sources (Brown), Supp. VI: 61, 64 “Northern Line, The: End of Leave, 1950s” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 230 Northern Memoirs (Franck), II: 131 Northward Ho! (Dekker, Marston, Webster), I: 234–235, 236, 244; II: 68, 85 Norton, Charles Eliot, IV: 346; V: 3, 9, 299; VI: 41 Norton, Thomas, I: 214 “Nose, The” (Gogol), III: 340, 345 Nosferatu (film), III: 342; IV: 180 “Nostalgia in the Afternoon” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 126 Nostromo (Conrad), VI: 140–143; Retro. Supp. II: 77–80 Not . . . not . . . not . . . not . . . not enough oxygen (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 “Not Abstract” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 “Not After Midnight” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135 “Not Celia, that I juster am” (Sedley), II: 265 Not for Publication (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 Not Honour More (Cary), VII: 186, 194– 195 Not I (Beckett), Supp. I: 61; Retro. Supp. I: 27–28 “Not Ideas, But Obsessions” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 399

404

“Not Looking” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Not Not While the Giro” (Kelman), Supp. V: 246 Not Not While the Giro and Other Stories (Kelman), Supp. V: 242, 244–246 “Not Now for My Sins’ Sake” (Reid), Supp. VII: 325–326 “Not on Sad Stygian Shore” (Butler), Supp. II: 111 “Not Palaces” (Spender), Supp. II: 494 “Not Proven” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Not–So–Stories (Saki), Supp. VI: 240 Not That He Brought Flowers (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284 Not to Disturb (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 201, 210 Not Waving But Drowning (Smith), Supp. II: 463 “Not Waving But Drowning” (Smith), Supp. II: 467 Not Without Glory (Scannell), VII: 424, 426 Not Without Honor (Brittain), Supp. X: 33, 38 “Not yet Afterwards” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 “Notable Discovery of Cosenage, A” (Greene), VIII: 144 “Note for American Readers” (Byatt), Supp. IV: 149 “Notes from a Spanish Village” (Reid), Supp. VII: 334,335–336 Note on Charlotte Brontë, A (Swinburne), V: 332 “Note on F. W. Bussell” (Pater), V: 356– 357 “Note on ’To Autumn,’ A” (Davenport), IV: 227 “Note on Zulfikar Ghose’s ’Nature Strategies“’ (Harris), Supp. V: 145 “Note to the Difficult One, A” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 Notebook (Maugham), VI: 370 “Notebook, A” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135, 140, 145 Note–Book of Edmund Burke (ed. Somerset), III: 205 Notebook on William Shakespeare, A (Sitwell), VII: 127, 139, 140 Note–Books (Butler), Supp. II: 100, 102, 105, 108–111, 115, 117, 118, 119 Notebooks (Thomas), Supp. I: 170 Notebooks of Henry James, The (ed. Matthiessen and Murdock), VI: 38 Notebooks of Robinson Crusoe, and Other Poems, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216, 217 Notebooks of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The (ed. Coburn), IV: 48, 53, 56 Notes and Index to . . . the Letters of Sir Walter Scott (Corson), IV: 27, 39 Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco (Dryden), II: 297, 305 Notes and Reviews (James), V: 199 Notes by an Oxford Chiel (Carroll), V: 274 Notes for a New Culture: An Essay on Modernism (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 2, 12–13

NOTE−O’BRI Notes for Poems (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 “Notes from a Book of Hours” (Jennings), Supp. V: 211 “Notes from a War Diary” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 Notes from the Land of the Dead and Other Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 266, 274 Notes of a Journey from Cornhill to Grand Cairo (Thackeray), V: 25, 37, 38 Notes of a Journey Through France and Italy (Hazlitt), IV: 134, 140 Notes of a Son and Brother (James), VI: 59, 65–66 Notes of an English Republican on the Muscovite Crusade (Swinburne), V: 332 “Notes on Being a Foreigner” (Reid), Supp. VII: 323 “Notes on Designs of the Old Masters at Florence” (Swinburne), V: 329 Notes on English Divines (Coleridge), IV: 56 Notes on Joseph Conrad (Symons), VI: 149 “Notes on Language and Style” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135–136, 141–143, 146 Notes on Life and Letters (Conrad), VI: 67, 148 Notes on Novelists (James), V: 384, 392; VI: 149 Notes on Old Edinburgh (Bird), Supp. X: 23 Notes on . . . Pictures Exhibited in the Rooms of the Royal Academy (Ruskin), V: 184 Notes on Poems and Reviews (Swinburne), V: 316, 329, 332 Notes on Sculptures in Rome and Florence . . . (Shelley), IV: 209 “Notes on Technical Matters” (Sitwell), VII: 139 Notes on the Construction of Sheep–Folds (Ruskin), V: 184 Notes on the Royal Academy Exhibition, 1868 (Swinburne), V: 329, 332 Notes on “The Testament of Beauty“ (Smith), VI: 83 Notes on the Turner Gallery at Marlborough House (Ruskin), V: 184 “Notes on Writing a Novel” (Bowen), Supp. II: 90 Notes Theological, Political, and Miscellaneous (Coleridge), IV: 56 Nothing (Green), Supp. II: 263–264 Nothing for Anyone (Reading), VIII: 264, 267, 274 Nothing Like Leather (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313–314 Nothing Like the Sun (Burgess), Supp. I: 194, 196 Nothing Sacred (Carter), Supp. III: 80, 86–87 Nothing So Simple as Climbing (Dutton), Supp. XII: 85 “Notice in Heaven” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 “Notice in Hell” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163

Nott, John, II: 102 “Nottingham and the Mining Country” (Lawrence), VII: 88, 89, 91, 121; Retro. Supp. II: 221 Nouvelles (Beckett), Supp. I: 49–50 Novak, Maximillian, Retro. Supp. I: 66– 67, 68–69 Novel and the People, The (Fox), Supp. IV: 466 Novel Now, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 194 Novel on Yellow Paper (Smith), Supp. II: 460, 462, 469, 473, 474–476 Novelist, The (portrait; Kitaj), Supp. IV: 119 Novelist at the Crossroads, and Other Essays on Fiction, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 365 “Novelist at Work, The” (Cary), VII: 187 “Novelist Today: Still at the Crossroads?, The” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 367 “Novelist’s Poison, The” (Keneally), Supp. IV: 343 Novels of E. M. Forster, The (Woolf), VI: 413 Novels of George Eliot: A Study in Form, The (Hardy), V: 201 Novels of George Meredith, and Some Notes on the English Novel, The (Sitwell), V: 230, 234 Novels Up to Now (radio series), VI: 372 “November” (Armitage), VIII: 3–4 “November” (Bridges), VI: 79–80 “November 1, 1931” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 33 “November 24th, 1989” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226 Novum organum (Bacon), I: 259, 260, 263–264, 272; IV: 279 “Now”(Thomas), Supp. I: 174 Now and in Time to Be (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 “Now I know what love may be” (Cameron), see “Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor” “Now in the Time of This Mortal Living” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214 “Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal” (Tennyson), IV: 334 Now We Are Six (Milne), Supp. V: 295, 302–303 “Now Let Me Roll” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 “Now, Zero” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Nuance” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286 Nude with Violin (Coward), Supp. II: 155 Number9Dream (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 193, 195, 196–200, 206 Numbers (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249 “Numina at the Street Parties, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Numismata: A Discourse of Medals . . . (Evelyn), II: 287 “Nunc Dimittis” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215, 217 “Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor” (Cameron, N.), Supp. IX: 19–20, 22 Nunquam (Durrell), Supp. I: 94, 103, 113–118, 120 Nuns and Soldiers (Murdoch), Supp. I: 231, 233

405

Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 21 “Nuptial Fish, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 “Nuptiall Song, A; or, Epithalamie, on Sir Clipseby Crew and his Lady” (Herrick), II: 105, 106 “Nuptials of Attilla, The” (Meredith), V: 221 “Nurse” (Cornford), VIII: 107 Nursery Alice, The (Carroll), V: 273 Nursery Rhymes (Sitwell), VII: 138 “Nursery Songs” (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 “Nurse’s Song” (Blake), III: 292; Retro. Supp. I: 42 Nussey, Ellen, V: 108, 109, 113, 117, 118, 126, 152 Nutmeg of Consolation, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 258–259 Nuts of Knowledge, The (Russell), VIII: 284 Nye, Robert, Supp. X: 191–207 “Nymph Complaining for the Death of Her Faun, The” (Marvell), II: 211, 215–216 “Nympholept, A” (Swinburne), V: 328

“O

Dreams, O Destinations” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 122 “O! for a Closer Walk with God” (Cowper), III: 210 “O happy dames, that may embrace” (Surrey), I: 115, 120 “O land of Empire, art and love!” (Clough), V: 158 O Mistress Mine (Rattigan), seeLove in Idleness O Rathaille, Aogan, Supp. IV: 418–419 “O Tell Me the Truth About Love” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 6 Ó Tuama, Seán, Supp. V: 266 “O World of many Worlds” (Owen), VI: 445 “O Youth whose hope is high” (Bridges), VI: 159 Oak Leaves and Lavender (O’Casey), VII: 7, 8 Oases (Reid), Supp. VII: 333–337 Ob. (Reading), VIII: 273 “Oban” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 220 “Obedience” (Herbert), II: 126 “Obelisk, The” (Forster), VI: 411 Oberland (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 186, 191 “Obermann Once More” (Arnold), V: 210 Oberon (Jonson), I: 344–345 “Object Lessons” (Boland), Supp. V: 38–39 Object Lessons: The Life of the Woman and the Poet in Our Time (Boland), Supp. V: 35, 36, 37, 42, 43, 46 “Object of the Attack, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Objections to Sex and Violence (Churchill), Supp. IV: 182–183, 184, 198 “Objects, Odours” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 O’Brian, Patrick, Supp. XII: 247–264 O’Brien, Conor Cruise, Supp. IV: 449 O’Brien, E. J., VII: 176

O’BRI−OF EN O’Brien, Edna, Supp. V: 333–346 O’Brien, Flann, see O’Nolan, Brian Obsequies to the Memory of Mr. Edward King (Milton), II: 175 “Observation Car” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Observations” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Observations on a Late State of the Nation (Burke), III: 205 Observations on Macbeth (Johnson), see Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth Observations . . . on Squire Foote’s Dramatic Entertainment . .. . (Boswell), III: 247 Observations Relative . . . to Picturesque Beauty . . . [in] the High–Lands of Scotland (Gilpin), IV: 36 Observations upon the Articles of Peace with the Irish Rebels .. . . (Milton), II: 176 Observator (periodical), III: 41; Supp. IV: 121 O’Casey, Sean, VI: xiv, 214, 218, 314– 315; VII: xviii, 1–15; list of articles, VII: 14–15; Supp. II: 335–336 Occasion for Loving (Gordimer), Supp. II: 227, 228, 231, 232, 233 Occasional Verses (FitzGerald), IV: 353 Occasions of Poetry, The (ed. Wilmer), Supp. IV: 255, 263 Ocean of Story (Stead), Supp. IV: 476 Oceanides, The (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149, 152, 161–162 O’Connor, Frank, Supp. IV: 514; Supp. XIV: 211–230 O’Connor, Monsignor John, VI: 338 O’Connor, Ulick, Supp. II: 63, 70, 76 October and Other Poems (Bridges), VI: 81, 83 “October Dawn” (Hughes), Supp. I: 344 October Ferry to Gabriola (Lowry), Supp. III: 284–285 October Man, The (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 “October Dawn” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 203 “October Salmon” (Hughes), Supp. I: 363; Retro. Supp. II: 213–214 Odd Girl Out, The (Howard), Supp. XI: 141, 142–143, 145 Odd Women, The (Gissing), V: 428, 433– 434, 437 Oddments Inklings Omens Moments (Reid), Supp. VII: 327–329 Ode ad Gustavem regem. Ode ad Gustavem exulem (Landor), IV: 100 “Ode: Autumn” (Hood), IV: 255 “Ode for Music” (Gray), see “Installation Ode“ “Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” (Wordsworth), II: 189, 200; IV: xvi, 21, 22 “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College” (Gray), III: 137, 144 “Ode on a Grecian Urn” (Keats), III: 174, 337; IV: 222–223, 225, 226; Supp. V: 38; Retro. Supp. I: 195– 196

“Ode on Indolence” (Keats), IV: 221, 225–226 “Ode on Melancholy” (Keats), III: 337; IV: 224–225 “Ode on Mrs. Arabella Hunt Singing” (Congreve), II: 348 Ode, on the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell, An (Dryden), II: 304 “Ode on the Death of Mr. Thomson” (Collins), III: 163, 175 “Ode on the Death of Sir H. Morison” (Jonson), II: 199 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington (Tennyson), II: 200; IV: 338 Ode on the Departing Year (Coleridge), IV: 55 Ode on the Installation of . . . Prince Albert as Chancellor of . . . Cambridge (Wordsworth), IV: 25 “Ode on the Insurrection at Candia” (Swinburne), V: 313 “Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” (Milton), Retro. Supp. II: 272 “Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude” (Gray), III: 141, 145 “Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland” (Collins), III: 163, 171–173, 175 Ode on the Proclamation of the French Republic (Swinburne), V: 332 “Ode on the Spring” (Gray), III: 137, 295 “Ode Performed in the Senate House at Cambridge” (Gray), III: 145 Ode Prefixed to S. Harrison’s Arches of Triumph . . . (Webster), II: 85 “Ode to a Lady on the Death of Colonel Ross” (Collins), III: 162 “Ode to a Nightingale” (Keats), II: 122; IV: 212, 221, 222–223, 224, 226; Retro. Supp. I: 195–196 “Ode to Apollo” (Keats), IV: 221, 227 “Ode to Delia Crusca” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Ode to Duty” (Wordsworth), II: 303 “Ode to Evening” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 43 “Ode to Evening” (Collins), III: 166, 173; IV: 227 “Ode to Fear” (Collins), see “Fear“ Ode to Himself (Jonson), I: 336 Ode to Independence (Smollett), III: 158 “Ode to John Warner” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 8 “Ode to Liberty” (Shelley), IV: 203 “Ode to Master Endymion Porter, Upon his Brothers Death, An” (Herrick), II: 112 “Ode to May” (Keats), IV: 221, 222 Ode to Mazzini (Swinburne), V: 333 “Ode to Memory” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Ode to Mr. Congreve” (Swift), III: 30 “Ode to Naples” (Shelley), II: 200; IV: 195 Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte (Byron), IV: 192 “Ode to Pity” (Collins), III: 164 “Ode to Psyche” (Keats), IV: 221–222 “Ode to Rae Wilson” (Hood), IV: 261, 262–263

406

“Ode to Rapture” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Ode to Sir William Temple” (Swift), III: 30 “Ode to Sorrow” (Keats), IV: 216, 224 “Ode to the Harp of...Louisa” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Ode to the Moon” (Hood), IV: 255 “Ode to the Nightingale” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “Ode to the Setting Sun” (Thompson), V: 448, 449 “Ode to the Snowdrop” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 210 “Ode to the West Wind” (Shelley), II: 200; IV: xviii, 198, 203 Ode to Tragedy, An (Boswell), III: 247 “Ode upon Dr. Harvey” (Cowley), II: 196, 198 “Ode: Written at the Beginning of the Year 1746” (Collins), III: 169 Odes (Gray), III: 145 Odes and Addresses to Great People (Hood and Reynolds), IV: 253, 257, 267 Odes in Contribution to the Song of French History (Meredith), V: 223, 234 Odes on Several Descriptive and Allegorical Subjects (Collins), III: 162, 163, 165–166, 175 Odes on the Comic Spirit (Meredith), V: 234 Odes to . . . the Emperor of Russia, and . . . the King of Prussia (Southey), IV: 71 Odette d’Antrevernes (Firbank), Supp. II: 199, 201, 205–206 “Odour, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 269 “Odour of Chrysanthemums” (Lawrence), VII: 114; Retro. Supp. II: 232–233 “Odysseus of Hermes” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 275 Odyssey (Homer), Supp. IV: 234, 267, 428 Odyssey (tr. Cowper), III: 220 “Odyssey” (Longley), VIII: 167 Odyssey (tr. Pope), III: 70, 77 Odyssey, The (Butler translation), Supp. II: 114, 115 Odyssey of Homer, The (Lawrence translation), Supp. II: 283, 294 Odyssey of Homer, done into English Verse, The (Morris), V: 306 Oedipus Tyrannus; or, Swellfoot the Tyrant (Shelley), IV: 208 Of Ancient and Modern Learning (Temple), III: 23 “Of Commerce and Society: The Death of Shelley” (Hill), Supp. V: 186 “Of Democritus and Heraclitus” (Montaigne), III: 39 “Of Discourse” (Cornwallis), III: 39–40 “Of Divine Love” (Waller), II: 235 Of Dramatick Poesie, An Essay (Dryden), see Essay of Dramatick Poesy Of Education (Milton), II: 162–163, 175 “Of Eloquence” (Goldsmith), III: 186 “Of English Verse” (Waller), II: 233–234

OF ES−OLD W “Of Essay Writing” (Hume), Supp. III: 231–232 “Of Greatness” (Cowley), III: 40 Of Human Bondage (Maugham), VI: xiii, 365, 373–374 Of Justification by Imputed Righteousness (Bunyan), II: 253 “Of Liberty” (Cowley), II: 198 Of Liberty and Loyalty (Swinburne), V: 333 Of Liberty and Servitude (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 Of Magnanimity and Chastity (Traherne), II: 202 “Of Masques” (Bacon), I: 268 “Of My Self” (Cowley), II: 195 “Of Nature: Laud and Plaint” (Thompson), V: 443 “Of Only a Single Poem” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 95, 96 “Of Pacchiarotto” (Browning), IV: 366 “Of Plants” (Cowley), Supp. III: 36 “Of Pleasing” (Congreve), II: 349 “Of Poetry” (Temple), III: 23, 190 Of Prelatical Episcopacy . . . (Milton), II: 175 Of Reformation Touching Church Discipline in England (Milton), II: 162, 175 “Of Silence and the Air” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141–142 Of Style (Hughes), III: 40 Of the Characters of Women (Pope), see Moral Essays Of the Friendship of Amis and Amile, Done into English (Morris), V: 306 Of the House of the Forest of Lebanon (Bunyan), II: 253 Of the Knowledge of Ourselves and of God (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 155 Of the Lady Mary (Waller), II: 238 Of the Law and a Christian (Bunyan), II: 253 Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity (Hooker), I: 176, 179–190 Of the Trinity and a Christian (Bunyan), II: 253 “Of the Uncomplicated Dairy Girl” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 Of the Use of Riches, an Epistle to . . . Bathurst (Pope), see Moral Essays Of True Greatness (Fielding), III: 105 Of True Religion, Haeresie, Schism, Toleration, . . . (Milton), II: 176 “Of White Hairs and Cricket” (Mistry), Supp. X: 140–141 Off Colour (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101, 108 “Off the Map” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Offa’s Leechdom” (Hill), Supp. V: 194 “Offa’s Second Defence of the English People” (Hill), Supp. V: 195 Offer of the Clarendon Trustees, The (Carroll), V: 274 “Office for the Dead” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Office Friendships” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 “Office Girl” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 Offıce Suite (Bennett), VIII: 27

Offıcers and Gentlemen (Waugh), VII: 302, 304; see also Sword of Honour trilogy “Officers Mess” (Ewarts), VII: 423; Supp. VII: 37 Offshore (Fitzgerald), Supp. V: 96, 97, 98, 102 “Oflag Night Piece: Colditz” (Riviere), VII: 424 Ogden, C. K., Supp. II: 405, 406, 407– 408, 409, 410, 411, 422, 424 Ogg, David, II: 243 O’Grady, Standish James, Supp. V: 36 “Oh, dreadful is the check—intense the agony” (Brontë), V: 116 “Oh, Madam” (Bowen), Supp. II: 92–93 “Oh! That ’Twere Possible” (Tennyson), IV: 330, 332 Oh What a Lovely War (musical), VI: 436 O’Hanlon, Redmond, Supp. XI: 195–208 Ohio Impromptu (Beckett), Supp. I: 61 “O’Hussey’s Ode to the Maguire” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 Okri, Ben, Supp. V: 347–362 Óláfs saga helga, VIII: 242 “Olalla” (Stevenson), V: 395 “Old, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “Old Aberdeen” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Old Adam, The (Bennett), see Regent, The “Old Andrey’s Experience as a Musician” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Old Atheist Pauses by the Sea, An” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Old Batchelour, The (Congreve), II: 338, 340–341, 349 “Old Benchers of the Inner Temple, The” (Lamb), IV: 74 Old Boys, The (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505– 506, 507, 517 Old Calabria (Douglas), VI: 294, 295– 296, 297, 298, 299, 305 “Old Chartist, The” (Meredith), V: 220 “Old Chief Mshlanga, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 242 “Old China” (Lamb), IV: 82 “Old Church Tower and the Garden Wall, The” (Brontë), V: 134 “Old Colonial Boy, The” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 54 “Old Crofter” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Old Country, The (Bennett), VIII: 30 Old Curiosity Shop, The (Dickens), V: xx, 42, 53, 71 Old Debauchees, The (Fielding), III: 105 Old Devils, The (Amis), Supp. II: 3, 18– 19; Supp. IV: 37 “Old Dispensary” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Old English (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 284 Old English Baron, The (Reeve), III: 345 “Old Familiar Faces, The” (Lamb), IV: 78 “Old Folks at Home” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Old Fools, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 282– 283, 285 Old Fortunatus (Dekker), II: 71, 89 “Old Francis” (Kelman), Supp. V: 249 Old French Romances, Done into English (Morris), V: 306

407

“Old Friend, The” (Cornford), VIII: 106 Old Gang and the New Gang, The (Lewis), VII: 83 “Old Garbo” (Thomas), Supp. I: 181 Old Glory: An American Voyage (Raban), Supp. XI: 227, 232–235 “Old Hands” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226 “Old Harry” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Old Holborn” (Kelman), Supp. V: 256 “Old Homes” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 34, 44 “Old House” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228 Old Huntsman, The (Sassoon), VI: 423, 430, 453 “Old John’s Place” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Old Joiner of Aldgate, The (Chapman), I: 234, 244 “Old Lady” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 Old Lady Shows Her Medals, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 9, 16 Old Law, The (Massigner, Middleton, Rowley), II: 21;Supp. XI: 182 Old Lights for New Chancels (Betjeman), VII: 361, 367, 368 “Old Main Street, Holborn Hill, Millom” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216–217 “Old Man” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210 “Old Man” (Thomas), Supp. III: 402 “Old Man, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 142–143 “Old Man and the Sea, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 164 Old Man of the Mountains, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 220–221, 222 Old Man Taught Wisdom, An (Fielding), III: 105 Old Man’s Love, An (Trollope), V: 102 “Old Meg” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 276 Old Men at the Zoo, The (Wilson), Supp. I: 154, 161 Old Mrs. Chundle (Hardy), VI: 20 Old Mortality (Scott), IV: 33, 39 Old Negatives (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 91–92 Old Norse Literature, VIII: 227–244 “Old Nurse’s Story, The” (Gaskell), V: 14, 15 “Old Poet, The” (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats (Eliot), VII: 167 Old Pub Near the Angel, An (Kelman), Supp. V: 242, 244, 245 “Old Pub Near the Angel, An” (Kelman), Supp. V: 245 Old Reliable, The (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 451 Old Times (Pinter), Supp. I: 376–377 “Old Tongue” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 “Old Toy, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 “Old Vicarage, Grantchester, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 47, 50, 54 Old Whig (periodical), III: 51, 53 Old Wife’s Tale, The (Peele), I: 206–208 Old Wives’ Tale, The (Bennett), VI: xiii, 247, 249, 250, 251, 254–257 “Old Woman” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211, 213

OLD W−ON SO “Old Woman, An” (Sitwell), VII: 135– 136 “Old Woman and Her Cat, An” (Lessing), Supp. I: 253–254 “Old Woman in Spring, The” (Cornford), VIII: 112 “Old Woman of Berkeley, The” (Southey), IV: 67 “Old Woman Speaks of the Moon, An” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 “Old Women, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 “Old Women without Gardens” (Dunn), Supp. X: 67 “Oldest Place, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 Oldham, John, II: 259 Oley, Barnabas, II: 141; Retro. Supp. II: 170–171 “Olga” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 12 Oliphant, Margaret, Supp. X: 209–225 “Olive and Camilla” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Oliver, H. J., I: 281 “Oliver Cromwell and Walter Noble” (Landor), IV: 92 Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches (Carlyle), IV: 240, 244, 246, 249, 250, 342 Oliver Newman (Southey), IV: 71 “Oliver Plunkett” (Longley), VIII: 173 Oliver Twist (Dickens), V: xix, 42, 47– 50, 51, 55, 56, 66, 71 Olney Hymns (Cowper), III: 210, 211, 220 Olor Iscanus . . . (Vaughan), II: 185, 201 Olympia (Manet), Supp. IV: 480 O’Malley, Mary, Supp. IV: 181 Oman, Sir Charles, VI: 387 Omega Workshop, VI: 118 Omen, The (film), III: 343, 345 Omniana; or, Horae otiosiores (Southey and Coleridge), IV: 71 “On a Brede of Divers Colours Woven by Four Ladies” (Waller), II: 233 On a Calm Shore (Cornford), VIII: 113– 114 “On a Chalk Mark on the Door” (Thackeray), V: 34 On a Chinese Screen (Maugham), VI: 371 “On a Croft by the Kirkaig” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 194 “On a Dead Child” (Bridges), VI: 77–78 “On a Drop of Dew” (Marvell), II: 211 “On a Girdle” (Waller), II: 235 “On a Joke I Once Heard from the Late Thomas Hood” (Thackeray), IV: 251– 252 “On a Midsummer Eve” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 “On a Mourner” (Tennyson), IV: 332 “On a Prayer Booke Sent to Mrs. M. R.”Crashaw), II: 181 “On a Raised Beach” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 201, 212–214 “On a Return from Egypt” (Douglas), VII: 444 “On a Train” (Cope), VIII: 80 “On a Troopship” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247, 248, 254

“On Actors and Acting” (Hazlitt), IV: 137 “On Adventure” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 455 On Alterations in the Liturgy (Newman), Supp. VII: 292 “On an Atlantic Steamship” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 38 “On an Insignificant” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 65 On Baile’s Strand (Yeats), VI: 218, 309 On Ballycastle Beach (McGuckian), Supp. V: 282, 284–286 “On Ballycastle Beach” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 285 On Becoming a Fairy Godmother (Maitland), Supp. XI: 174–175 “On Becoming a Non–Stammering Stammerer” (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 208 On Becoming a Writer (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 “On Being English but Not British” (Fowles), Supp. I: 292 On Beulah Height (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 121–122, 123 “On Board the West Hardaway” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 “On Byron and Byronism” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 278 On Christian Doctrine (Milton), Retro. Supp. II: 271 “On Classical Themes” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 “On Craigie Hill” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 “On Dryden and Pope” (Hazlitt), IV: 217 On English Poetry (Graves), VII: 260 “On Fairy–Stories” (Tolkien), Supp. II: 521, 535 “On Familiar Style” (Hazlitt), IV: 138 “On Finding an Old Photograph” (Cope), VIII: 73 “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer” (Keats), IV: 214, 215–216; Retro. Supp. I: 188 “On First Looking into Loeb’s Horace” (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 On Forsyte ’Change (Galsworthy), VI: 270, 275 On Gender and Writing (ed. Wandor), Supp. XI: 163, 174, 176 “On ’God’ and ’Good’ ” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 217–218, 224–225 “On Greenhow Hill” (Kipling), VI: 191 “On Hearing Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 “On Heaven” (Ford), VI: 323 “On Her Leaving Town After the Coronation” (Pope), III: 76 “On Her Loving Two Equally” (Behn), Supp. III: 38 On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 “On Himself” (Herrick), II: 113 On His Grace the Duke of Marlborough (Wycherley), II: 322 “On His Heid–Ake” (Dunbar), VIII: 123 “On Home Beaches” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283 “On Installing an American Kitchen in Lower Austria” (Auden), Retro. Supp.

408

I: 13 “On Jupiter” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 “On Leaving the Cottage of My Birth” (Clare), Supp. XI: 59–60 “On Leaving the Party” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 49 “On Living for Others” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “On Living to One’s–Self” (Hazlitt), IV: 137 “On Marriage” (Crashaw), II: 180 “On Men and Pictures” (Thackeray), V: 37 “On Milton” (De Quincey), IV: 146 “On Mr. Milton’s ’Paradise Lost’” (Marvell), II: 206 “On My First Daughter” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 155 “On My First Son” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 155 “On My Thirty–fifth Birthday” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 “On Not Being Milton” (Harrison), Supp. V: 152–153 “On Not Knowing Greek” (Woolf), VII: 35 “On Not Remembering Some Lines Of A Song” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 59 “On Not Saying Anything” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 “On Palestinian Identity: A Conversation with Edward Said” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 456 “On Passing” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 95 “On Personal Character” (Hazlitt), IV: 136 “On Peter Scupham” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218, 219 “On Poetry: A Rhapsody” (Swift), III: 30, 36 “On Poetry in General” (Hazlitt), IV: 130, 138 “On Preaching the Gospel” (Newman), Supp. VII: 294 “On Preparing to Read Kipling” (Hardy), VI: 195 “On Reading That the Rebuilding of Ypres Approached Completion” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 40 “On Receiving News of the War” (Rosenberg), VI: 432 “On Renoir ’s The Grape–Pickers” (Boland), Supp. V: 40 “On Ribbons” (Thackeray), V: 34 “On Seeing England for the First Time” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 218, 225, 228 “On Seeing the Elgin Marbles” (Keats), IV: 212–213, 214 On Seeming to Presume (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 “On Sentimental Comedy” (Goldsmith), see Essay on the Theatre . . . “On Silence” (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 233 “On Sitting Back and Thinking of Porter’s Boeotia” (Murray), Supp. VII: 274 “On Some Characteristics of Modern Poetry” (Hallam), IV: 234, 235 “On Some Obscure Poetry” (Lander), IV: 98

ON SP−ONE M “On Spies” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 156 “On Stella’s Birthday, . . . A.D. 1718–” (Swift), III: 31 “On Style” (De Quincey), IV: 148 “On the Application of Thought to Textual Criticism” (Housman), VI: 154, 164 On the Black Hill (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 158, 168–170, 173 On the Boiler (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 337 On the Choice of a Profession (Stevenson), V: 396 On the Choice of Books (Carlyle), IV: 250 “On the City Wall” (Kipling), VI: 184 “On the Cliffs” (Swinburne), V: 327 “On the Closing of Millom Iron Works” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 “On the Conduct of the Understanding” (Smith), Supp. VII: 342 “On the Connection Between Homosexuality and Divination” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 On the Constitution of the Church and State (Coleridge), IV: 54, 55, 56; Retro. Supp. II: 64 On the Contrary (Brink), Supp. VI: 56–57 “On the Death of Dr. Robert Levet” (Johnson), III: 120 “On the Death of General Schomberg . . . ” (Farquhar), II: 351 “On the Death of Marshal Keith” (Macpherson), VIII: 181 “On the Death of Mr. Crashaw” (Cowley), II: 198 “On the Death of Mr. William Hervey” (Cowley), II: 198 “On the Death of Sir Henry Wootton” (Cowley), II: 198 “On the Departure” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 On the Dignity of Man (Mirandola), I: 253 “On the Discovery of a Lady’s Painting” (Waller), II: 233 “On the Dismantling of Millom Ironworks” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218– 219 “On the Dunes” (Cornford), VIII: 105 On the Edge of the Cliff and Other Stories (Pritchett), Supp. III: 328 “On the English Novelists” (Hazlitt), IV: 136–137 On the Face of the Waters (Steel), Supp. XII: 271–273, 274 “On the Feeling of Immortality in Youth” (Hazlitt), IV: 126 On the Frontier (Auden and Isherwood), VII: 312; Retro. Supp. I: 7 “On the Genius and Character of Hogarth” (Lamb), IV: 80 “On the Head of a Stag” (Waller), II: 233 “On the Heath” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 275, 279 On the Herpetology of the Grand Duchy of Baden (Douglas), VI: 300, 305 “On the Influence of the Audience” (Bridges), VI: 83

“On the Knocking at the Gate in ’Macbeth’” (De Quincey), IV: 146, 149 “On the Lancashire Coast” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “On the Living Poets” (Hazlitt), IV: 130 On the Look–out: A Partial Autobiography (Sisson), Supp. XI: 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 254 On the Margin (Bennett), VIII: 19, 22 On the Margin (Huxley), VII: 201 “On the means of improving people” (Southey), IV: 102 “On the Medusa of Leonardo da Vinci in the Florentine Gallery” (Shelley), III: 337 “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” (Milton), II: 199; IV: 222 “On the Move” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 259– 260, 261 “On the Origin of Beauty: A Platonic Dialogue” (Hopkins), V: 362; Retro. Supp. II: 187 On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection (Darwin), V: xxii, 279, 287; Supp. II: 98 “On the Periodical Essayists” (Hazlitt), IV: 136 On the Place of Gilbert Chesterton in English Letters (Belloc), VI: 345 “On the Pleasure of Painting” (Hazlitt), IV: 137–138 “On the Profession of a Player” (Boswell), III: 248 “On the Receipt of My Mother’s Picture” (Cowper), III: 208, 220 “On the Renovation of Ellis Island” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 “On the Road with Mrs. G.” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 165 On the Rocks (Shaw), VI: 125, 126, 127; Retro. Supp. II: 324 “On Roofs of Terry Street” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “On the School Bus” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 “On the Scotch Character” (Hazlitt), IV: 132 “On the Sea” (Keats), IV: 216 “On the Second Story” (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 “On the Spirit of Monarchy” (Hazlitt), IV: 132 On the Study of Celtic Literature (Arnold), V: 203, 212, 216 On the Sublime and Beautiful (Burke), III: 195, 198, 205 “On the Table ” (Motion), Supp. VII: 262–263, 264 On the Thermal Influence of Forests (Stevenson), V: 395 “On the Terraces” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 44–45 “On the Toilet Table of Queen Marie– Antoinette” (Nicholls), IV: 98 “On the Tragedies of Shakespeare . . . with Reference to . .. . Stage Representation” (Lamb), IV: 80 “On the Victory Obtained by Blake” (Marvell), II: 211

409

“On the Way to the Castle” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 10–11 “On the Western Circuit” (Hardy), VI: 22 “On the Wounds of Our Crucified Lord” (Crashaw), II: 182 “On the Zattere” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 “On This Island” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 7 “On Toleration” (Smith), Supp. VII: 347 On Translating Homer (Arnold), V: xxii, 212, 215, 216 On Translating Homer: Last Words (Arnold), V: 214, 215, 216 “On Whether Loneliness Ever Has a Beginning” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82 “On Wit and Humour” (Hazlitt), II: 332 “On Wordsworth’s Poetry” (De Quincey), IV: 146, 148 “On Writing a Novel” (Fowles), Supp. I: 293 “On Yeti Tracks” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157 Once a Week (Milne), Supp. V: 298 “Once as me thought Fortune me kissed” (Wyatt), I: 102 “Once at Piertarvit” (Reid), Supp. VII: 327–328 “Once I Did Think” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35 “Once in a Lifetime, Snow” (Murray), Supp. VII: 273 Once in Europa (Berger), Supp. IV: 93, 94 Once on a Time (Milne), Supp. V: 298 “Once Upon a Time” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 233 “One” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 “One, The” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 198 One and Other Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267–268 “One at a Time” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 39 “One Before the Last, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 51 “One by One” (Davies), Supp. XI: 101 ”1 Crich Circle, Littleover, Derby” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 One Day (Douglas), VI: 299, 300, 305 “One Day” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 “One Day” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “One Eye on India” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247 One Fat Englishman (Amis), Supp. II: 10, 11, 15 One Fond Embrace (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 One Foot in Eden (Muir), Supp. VI: 204, 206, 207–208 One for the Grave (MacNeice), VII: 405, 406, 408 One for the Road (Pinter), Supp. I: 378, 381 One Hand Clapping (Burgess), Supp. I: 186 One Hundred Years of Solitude (García Márquez), Supp. IV: 116 One Morning Like a Bird (Miller), Supp. XIV: 179, 180, 181, 185, 186, 189, 190, 191–192

ONE M−ORPH “One Mystery, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 120 One of Our Conquerors (Meredith), V: 232, 233, 234 “One Off the Short List” (Lessing), Supp. I: 244 “One Out of Many” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 395 “One Sea–side Grave” (Rossetti), V: 255 One Small Step (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 123 “One Sunday” (Mistry), Supp. X: 138, 140 “One Thing and Another” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 One Thing Is Needful (Bunyan), II: 253 One Thing More; or, Caedmon Construed (Fry), Supp. III: 191, 196–197 “One Thousand Days in a Balloon” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 437 “One Token” (Davies), Supp. XI: 94 “One Viceroy Resigns” (Kipling), VI: 202 “One We Knew” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 118 “One Who Disappeared” (Motion), Supp. VII: 258 One Who Set Out to Study Fear, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 “One Word More” (Browning), IV: 357 “One Writer’s Education” (Armah), Supp. X: 1 One–Way Song (Lewis), VII: 72, 76 O’Neill, Eugene, Supp. III: 12 Onion, Memory, The (Raine), Supp. XIII: 163, 164–166, 168 Only Child, An (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 212, 213, 214, 216, 217, 221, 222, 225 Only Game, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 119–120 Only Human (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 289, 290–291 “Only our love hath no decay” (Donne), II: 221 Only Penitent, The (Powys), VIII: 255– 256 Only Problem, The (Spark), Supp. I: 212–213 “Only the Devil” (Powys), VIII: 248– 249 “Only This” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 211 O’Nolan, Brian, Supp. II: 321–338; Supp. IV: 412 Open Conspiracy, The, Blueprints for a World Revolution (Wells), VI: 240, 242 Open Court (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272, 273 “Open Court” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 Open Door (Fry), Supp. III: 194 “Open Door, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 Open Door, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411, 415 Open Letter to the Revd. Dr. Hyde in Defence of Father Damien, An (Stevenson), see Father Damien “Open Secrets” (Motion), Supp. VII: 255–256 Opened Ground (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 124

“Opening, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 80 “Opening a Place of Social Prayer” (Cowper), III: 211 “Opera” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 60–61 Opera Et Cetera (Carson), Supp. XIII: 59–61, 63, 65 Opera of Operas, The (Haywood and Hatchett), Supp. XII: 141 Operette (Coward), Supp. II: 152 “Opinions of the Press” (Reading), VIII: 264 Opium and the Romantic Imagination (Hayter), III: 338, 346; IV: 57 “Opium Smoker, The” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271–272 Oppenheim, E. Phillips, VI: 249 Optimists, The (Miller), Supp. XIV: 179, 181, 182, 189–191 Opus 7 (Warner), Supp. VII: 372 Or Shall We Die? (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390 “Or, Solitude” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 Or Where a Young Penguin Lies Screaming (Ewart), Supp. VII: 41 Oracle, Supp. XIII: 202 “Oracle, The” (Coppard), VIII: 88 “Oracles, The” (Housman), VI: 161 Orage, A. R., VI: 247, 265, VII: 172 “Oral” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 79 “Orange March” (Murphy), Supp. V: 322 Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (Winterson), Supp. IV: 541, 542, 543– 545, 546, 547–548, 552, 553, 555, 557 Orators, The (Auden), VII: 345, 380, 382; Retro. Supp. I: 5 “Orchard, The” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 Orchard End (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Orchards half the way, The” (Housman), VI: 159 “Ordeal” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 Ordeal by Innocence (Christie), Supp. II: 125 Ordeal of George Meredith, The, A Biography (Stevenson), V: 230, 234 Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold, The (Waugh), VII: 291, 293, 302–303 Ordeal of Richard Feverel, The (Meredith), V: xxii, 225, 226–227, 234 Ordeal of Sigbjorn Wilderness, The (Lowry), Supp. III: 280 Orestes (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 “Ordered South” (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 261 “Ordered World, An” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 22 “Ordination, The” (Burns), III: 311, 319 Oresteia, The (tr. Harrison), Supp. V: 163 Orestes (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 37–39 “Orf”(Hughes), Supp. I: 359 “Orford” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 Orford, fourth earl of, see Walpole, Horace Orgel, Stephen, I: 237, 239 Orghast (Hughes), Supp. I: 354 Orient Express (Greene), Supp. I: see Stamboul Train Orient Express (tr. Adcock), Supp. XII: 11 “Orient Ode” (Thompson), V: 448

410

“Oriental Eclogues” (Collins), see “Persian Eclogues“ Orientations (Maugham), VI: 367 Origin, Nature, and Object of the New System of Education, The (Southey), IV: 71 Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life (Darwin), Supp. VII: 17, 19, 23–25 Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State, The (Engels), Supp. II: 454 Original and Progress of Satire, The (Dryden), II: 301 Original Letters &c of Sir John Falstaff (White and Lamb), IV: 79, 85 Original Michael Frayn, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 51 Original Papers, containing the Secret of Great Britain from the Restoration to the Accession of the House of Hanover (Macpherson), VIII: 192, 193 “Original Place, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Original Poetry by Victor and Cazire (Shelley and Shelley), IV: 208 Original Power of the Collective Body of the People of England, Examined and Asserted, The (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 68 “Original Simplicitie” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 Original Sin (James), Supp. IV: 333–335 “Original Sins of Edward Tripp, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 Origine of Sciences, The (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 234 Origins (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 289, 291, 292, 296 Origins of the English Imagination, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 13 “Orkney Haiku” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 136 Orkney Tapestry, An (Brown), Supp. VI: 64–65 “Orkney: The Whale Islands” (Brown), Supp. VI: 72 Orkneyinga saga, VIII: 236 Orlando (Woolf), VII: 21, 28, 35, 38; Supp. IV: 557; Retro. Supp. I: 314, 318–319 Orlando furioso (Ariosto), I: 131, 138 Orley Farm (Trollope), V: xxii, 100, 101 Ormond (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 154, 156, 163–165 “Ornithological Section, The” (Longley), VIII: 168, 172 Oroonoko: A Tragedy (Southerne), Supp. III: 34–35 Oroonoko; or, The Royal Slave (Behn), Supp. III: 21, 22–23, 32–36, 39 Orpheus (Hope), Supp. VII: 165 Orpheus (Hughes), Supp. I: 347 Orpheus and Eurydice (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 145–146 “Orpheus in Hell” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “Orpheus; or, Philosophy” (Bacon), I: 267

ORR M−OVID “Orr Mount” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 Ortelius, Abraham, I: 282 Orthodoxy (Chesterton), VI: 336 Orton, Joe, Supp. V: 363–378 Orton Diaries, The (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 367–369 Orwell, George, III: 341; V: 24, 31; VI: 240, 242; VII: xii, xx, 273–287; Supp. I: 28n; Supp. III: 96, 107; Supp. IV: 17, 81, 110–111, 440, 445 Osborne, John, VI: 101; Supp. I: 329– 340; Supp. II: 4, 70, 139, 155; Supp. III: 191; Supp. IV: 180, 281, 283 Osbourne, Lloyd, V: 384, 387, 393, 395, 396, 397 Oscar and Lucinda (Carey), Supp. XII: 49, 50, 53, 57, 58–59 Oscar Wilde. Art and Egoism (Shewan), V: 409, 421 O’Shaughnessy, Arthur, VI: 158 Osiris Rising (Armah), Supp. X: 1–2, 11–12, 14 Othello (Shakespeare), I: 316; II: 71, 79; III: 116; Supp. IV: 285 “Other, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 403 “Other Boat, The” (Forster), VI: 406, 411–412 Other House, The (James), VI: 48, 49, 67 Other House, The (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 263–265 “Other Kingdom” (Forster), VI: 399, 402 Other Lovers (Kay), Supp. XIII: 100– 101, 104, 107–108 Other People: A Mystery Story (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 39–40 Other People’s Clerihews (Ewart), Supp. VII: 46 “Other People’s Houses” (Reid), Supp. VII: 336 Other People’s Worlds (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501, 506, 511–512, 517 Other Places (Pinter), Supp. I: 378 “Other Tiger, The” (tr. Reid), Supp. VII: 332–333 “Other Times” (Nye), Supp. X: 198–199 Other Tongues: Young Scottish Poets in English, Scots, and Gaelic (ed. Crawford), Supp. XI: 67 Other Voices (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163 “Others, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39, 40 Otho the Great (Keats and Brown), IV: 231, 235 Otranto (Walpole), see Castle of Otranto, The “Otter, An” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 204–205 “Otters” (Longley), VIII: 174 Ouch (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 3–4 Ounce, Dice, Trice (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 Our Betters (Maugham), VI: 368, 369 “Our Bias” (Auden), VII: 387 Our Corner (periodical), VI: 103 Our Country’s Good (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 Our Exagmination Round His Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress (Beckett et al.), Supp. I: 43n

Our Exploits at West Poley (Hardy), VI: 20 “Our Father” (Davie), Supp. VI: 113 “Our Father’s Works” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42 Our Family (Hood), IV: 254, 259 Our First Leader (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 186 Our Friend the Charlatan (Gissing), V: 437 “Our Hunting Fathers” (Auden), VII: 108 “Our Lives Now” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114 Our Man in Havana (Greene), Supp. I: 7, 11, 13, 14–15; Retro. Supp. II: 161 “Our Mother” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Our Mother’s House (Gloag), Supp. IV: 390 Our Mutual Friend (Dickens), V: xxiii, 42, 44, 55, 68–69, 72; Supp. IV: 247 Our Old Home (Hawthorne), VI: 34 “Our Parish” (Dickens), V: 43, 46 Our Republic (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 “Our Parish” (Dickens), V: 43, 46 Our Song (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 273 Our Spoons Came From Woolworths (Comyns), VIII: 56–58 “Our Thrones Decay” (Russell), VIII: 285 “Our Village—by a Villager” (Hood), IV: 257 Our Women: Chapters on the Sex–Discord (Bennett), VI: 267 Out (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 104, 105–106 “Out and Away” (Kavan), Supp. VII: 202 Out Late (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 217, 223–224 Out of Bounds (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292–293 Out of India (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235– 236 Out of India (Kipling), VI: 204 Out of Ireland (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “Out of Ireland” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “Out of the Ordinary” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 65–66, 77 Out of the Picture (MacNeice), VII: 405 Out of the Red, into the Blue (Comyns), VIII: 63 Out of the Shelter (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364, 365, 370–371, 372 “Out of the signs” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 Out of the Silent Planet (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 252–253 Out of the Whirlpool (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 Out of This World (Swift), Supp. V: 437– 438 Outback (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Outcast, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329 Outcast of the Islands, An (Conrad), VI: 136, 137, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 71 Outcasts, The (Sitwell), VII: 138 Outcry, The (Julia), VI: 67 “Outdoor Concert, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269 “Outer Planet, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217

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Outidana, or Effusions, Amorous, Pathetic and Fantastical (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 28–29 Outline of History: Being a Plain History of Life and Mankind, The (Wells), VI: 245 Outlines of Romantic Theology (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 275, 284 Outlook (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 191 “Outlook, Uncertain” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 Outlying Stations, The (Warner), Supp. XI: 294 “Outpost of Progress, An” (Conrad), VI: 136, 148 Outriders: A Liberal View of Britain, The (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 “Outside the Whale” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 455 Outskirts (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 154 “Outstation, The” (Maugham), VI: 370, 371, 380 “Outward Bound” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 “Outward–Bound Ship, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 161 “Ovando” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 225 “Over Mother, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 288 “Over Sir John’s Hill” (Thomas), Supp. I: 179 Over the Frontier (Smith), Supp. II: 462, 474 “Over the Hill” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Over the Hills” (Thomas), Supp. III: 400 “Over the Rainbow” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 434 Over the River (Galsworthy), VI: 272, 275 Over the River (Gregory), VI: 318 Over to You: Ten Stories of Flyers and Flying (Dahl), Supp. IV: 208–211, 213 Overbury, Sir Thomas, IV: 286 “Overcoat, The” (Gogol), III: 340, 345 Overcrowded Barracoon, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 384 “Overcrowded Barracoon, The” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 402 “Overloaded Man, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Overruled (Shaw), VI: 129 “Overture” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270–271 “Overtures to Death” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 122 Overtures to Death (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 127–128 Ovid, II: 110n, 185, 292, 304, 347; III: 54; V: 319, 321 “Ovid on West 4th” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 176 “Ovid in the Third Reich” (Hill), Supp. V: 187 Ovid’s Art of Love Paraphrased (Fielding), III: 105 Ovid’s Banquet of Sense (Chapman), I: 237–238 Ovid’s Epistles, Translated by Several Hands (Dryden), Supp. III: 36

OVID−PARA Ovid’s Fasti (tr. Frazer), Supp. III: 176 Owen, Wilfred, VI: xvi, 329, 416, 417, 419, 423, 443–460; VII: xvi, 421; list of poems, VI: 458–459; Supp. IV: 57, 58 “Owen Wingrave,” (James), VI: 69 “Owl, The” (Thomas), VI: 424; Supp. III: 403–404 “Owl and Mouse” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218 “Owl and the Pussy–cat, The” (Lear), V: 83–84, 87 Owls and Artificers (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77 Owners (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 180, 181–182, 198 “Oxen, The” (Hardy), VI: 16 Oxford (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 176, 178 Oxford Book of English Verse, The (ed. Quiller–Couch), II: 102, 121 Oxford Book of Oxford, The (ed. Morris), Supp. X: 178 Oxford Book of Modern Verse, The, VI: 219 Oxford Book of Regency Verse, The (ed. Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276 Oxford Book of Mystical Verse, The (ed. Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 274 Oxford Book of Twentieth–Century English Verse, The (Larkin), Supp. I: 286 Oxford Book of War Poetry, The (ed. Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Oxford Companion to English Literature, Supp. IV: 229, 231, 247, 252; Supp. IX: 276 Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, The (ed. Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276 Oxford Lectures on Poetry (Bradley), IV: 216, 236 “Oxford Leave” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 37 “Oxford”papers (De Quincey), IV: 148 Oxford Poetry (eds. Day Lewis and Auden), Supp. III: 117; Retro. Supp. I: 3; Supp. IX: 17 “Oxford Staircase” (Murphy), Supp. V: 315 Oxford University and the Co–operative Movement (Russell), VIII: 287 Oxford University Chest (Betjeman), VII: 356 Oxygen (Miller), Supp. XIV: 179, 180, 181, 185, 186–190, 191

“P. & O.,” (Maugham), VI: 370–371 “P. D. James’ Dark Interiors” (Majeske), Supp. IV: 330 P. R. B.: An Essay on the Pre’Raphaelite Brotherhood, 1847–1854 (Waugh), VII: 291 “P.S.” (Reading), VIII: 265–266 Pablo Ruiz Picasso: A Biography (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 255–256 Pacchiarotto and How He Worked in Distemper (Browning), IV: 359, 374; see also “Of Pacchiarotton“ Pacific 1860 (Coward), Supp. II: 155 Pacificator, The (Defoe), III: 12; Retro. Supp. I: 67

“Pack Horse and the Carrier, The” (Gay), III: 59–60 Pack My Bag: A Self Portrait (Green), Supp. II: 247–248, 251, 255 Packer, Lona Mosk, V: 251, 252–253, 260 “Pad, Pad” (Smith), Supp. II: 470 “Paddiad, The” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 193–194 Paddock and the Mouse, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 141–142, 147 Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha (Doyle), Supp. V: 78, 89–91, 92 Pagan and Christian Creeds (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 47–48 Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance (Wind), V: 317n Pagan Place, A (O’Brien), Supp. V: 338– 339 Pagan Poems (Moore), VI: 98 Page of Plymouth, The (Jonson/Dekker), Retro. Supp. I: 157 Pageant and Other Poems, A (Rossetti), V: 251, 260 “Pageant of Knowledge” (Lydgate), I: 58 “Pageants” (Spenser), I: 123 Paid on Both Sides (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 4–5 Painful Adventures of Pericles, Prince of Tyre (Wilkins), I: 321 “Painful Case, A” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 172 “Painful Pleasure of Suspense, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 222 “Pains of Sleep, The” (Coleridge), IV: xvii, 48, 56 Painter, William, I: 297; II: 76 Painter of His Own Dishonour, The (tr. FitzGerald), IV: 344–345 Painter of Our Time (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 81–84, 88 Painter’s Eye, The (James), VI: 67 Painting and the Fine Arts (Haydon and Hazlitt), IV: 140 “Painting It In” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 Pair of Blue Eyes, A: A Novel (Hardy), VI: 3, 4, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 110, 111–112 “Palace of Art, The” (Tennyson), IV: 331 “Palace of Pan, The” (Swinburne), V: 328 Palace of Pleasure (Painter), I: 297, 313; II: 76 Palace of the Peacock (Harris), Supp. V: 132–136 Palace Pier (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 279 “Pale Butterwort” (Longley), VIII: 177 Pale Companion, The (Motion), Supp. VII: 252 Pale Criminal, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 187, 190–191 Pale Fire (Nabokov), Supp. IV: 26, 27 Pale Horse, The (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 135 Pale View of the Hills, A (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 301, 303, 304, 305–306, 307–309, 310 Paleface (Lewis), VII: 72, 75 Paley, William, IV: 144

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Paley, Grace, Supp. IV: 151 Palgrave, Francis Turner, II: 208; IV: xxii, 196 Palicio (Bridges), VI: 83 “Palindrome Stitch, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73–74 Pall Mall Gazette, Supp. XIII: 237–241 Palladas: Poems (Harrison), Supp. V: 163 Palladis Tamia (Meres), I: 296 “Palladium” (Arnold), V: 209 Palmer, George Herbert, Retro. Supp. II: 173 Palmer, John, II: 267, 271 Palmerin of England, II: 49; tr. Southey, IV: 71 “Palmer ’s ’Heroides’ of Ovid” (Housman), VI: 156 Palmyra (Peacock), IV: 158, 169 Pamela (Richardson), III: 80, 82–85, 92, 94, 95, 98; Retro. Supp. I: 80, 83, 85–86 Pamphlet Against Anthologies, A (Graves), VI: 207; VII: 260–261 “Pan and Pitys” (Landor), IV: 96 “Pan and Thalassius” (Swinburne), V: 328 “Pan; or, Nature” (Bacon), I: 267 “Pandora” (James), VI: 69 Pandosto (Greene), I: 165, 322; VIII: 131, 135–138, 139 “Panegerick to Sir Lewis Pemberton, A” (Herrick), II: 110 Panegyric to Charles the Second, Presented . . . the Day of His Coronation . . . (Evelyn), II: 287 Panegyrick to My Lord Protector, A (Waller), II: 238 Panic Spring (Durrell), Supp. I: 95, 96 Panofsky, Erwin, I: 237 “Panoptics” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 “Pantarkes, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 “Panthea” (Wilde), V: 401 “Paperback Writer: Dream of the Perfect Novel” (Warner), Supp. XI: 281 Paoli, Pasquale di, III: 235, 236, 243 “Paolo to Francesca” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 Paper Houses (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 Paper Men, The (Golding), Supp. I: 88– 89; Retro. Supp. I: 102–103 Paper Money Lyrics, and Other Poems (Peacock), IV: 170 Paperbark Tree, The: Selected Prose (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 271, 273, 274, 277 “Papered Parlour, A” (Powys), VIII: 251 “Papers, The” (James), VI: 69 Papers by Mr. Yellowplush (Thackeray), see Yellowplush Correspondence, The Papillon (tr. O’Brian), Supp. XII: 252 “Parable Island” (Heaney), Supp. II: 280 Paracelsus (Browning), IV: xix, 355, 365, 368, 373; Retro. Supp. II: 20 Parade’s End (Ford), VI: 321, 324, 328, 329–330; VII: xv Paradise (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 Paradise Lost (Milton), I: 188–189; II: 158, 161, 165–171, 174, 176, 198,

PARA−PATI 294, 302; III: 118, 302; IV: 11–12, 15, 47, 88, 93, 95, 186, 200, 204, 229; ed. Bentley, VI: 153; Retro. Supp. I: 184; Retro. Supp. II: 279–284 Paradise News (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366, 374, 381–383, 384, 385 Paradise Regained (Milton), II: 171–172, 174, 176; Retro. Supp. II: 284–285 “Paradox, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 91 “Paradox, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 Paradoxes and Problems (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 97 “Paraffin Lamp, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 69–70 Parallel of the Antient Architecture with the Modern, A (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 “Paraphrase on Oenone to Paris” (Behn), Supp. III: 36 Parasitaster (Marston), see Fawn, The Parasites, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139, 143 Pardoner’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 21, 42 “Parents” (Spender), Supp. II: 483 Parents and Children (Compton’Burnett), VII: 62, 65, 66, 67 Parent’s Assistant, The (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 152 Pargiters, The (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 308, 320 Paridiso (Dante), Supp. IV: 439 Paris by Night (film), Supp. IV: 282, 292 Paris Nights (Bennett), VI: 259, 264 Paris Sketch Book, The (Thackeray), V: 22, 37 Parish Register, The (Crabbe), III: 275, 279, 283 Parisian Sketches (James), VI: 67 Parisina (Byron), IV: 173, 192 Parker, Brian, II: 6 Parker, W. R., II: 165n Parkinson, T., VI: 220 Parlement of Foules (Chaucer), see Parliament of Fowls, The Parleyings with Certain People of Importance in Their Day . . .. (Browning), IV: 359, 374 “Parliament, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 73–74 Parliament of Birds (tr. FitzGerald), IV: 348–349, 353 Parliament of Fowls, The (Chaucer), I: 31, 38, 60; Retro. Supp. II: 39–40 Parliament of Love, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 182, 183 Parliamentary Speeches of Lord Byron, The (Byron), IV: 193 Parnell, Thomas, III: 19 Parnell and His Island (Moore), VI: 86 Parochial and Plain Sermons (Newman), Supp. VII: 292 “Parousia” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 22 Parr, Samuel, IV: 88 Parrot (Haywood), Supp. XII: 142 Parry, William, IV: 191, 193 “Parson Hawker’s Farewell” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Parson’s Daughter, The (Trollope), V: 101

“Parson’s Pleasure” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 217 Parson’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 34–35 “Part of Ourselves, A” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 111–112, 112–113 Part of the Seventh Epistle of the First Book of Horace Imitated (Swift), III: 35 “Parthenogenesis” (Dhomhnaill), Supp. V: 40–41 Partial Portraits (James), V: 95, 97, 102; VI: x, 46 “Particles of a Wave” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 168 “Partie Fine, The” (Thackeray), V: 24, 38 “Parting” (Thomas), Supp. III: 305 “Parting in War–Time” (Cornford), VIII: 112 “Partition” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 14 “Partner, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 Partnership, The (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 354–355, 356 “Party” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215 Party Going (Green), Supp. II: 253–254 Pascal, Blaise, II: 146, 244; V: 339; Supp. IV: 160 Pascali’s Island (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 355, 356, 357–359, 360 Pascoe’s Ghost (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 114, 118 Pasiphaë: A Poem (Swinburne), V: 333 Pasmore (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 410, 411–412, 413, 414–415 Pasquin (Fielding), III: 97, 98, 104, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 82 “Passage” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 97 Passage of Arms (Ambler), Supp. IV: 16 “Passage to Africa, A” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 Passage to India, A (Forster), VI: 183, 397, 401, 401, 408–410; VII: xv; Retro. Supp. II: 146–149 Passage to Juneau: A Sea and Its Meanings (Raban), Supp. XI: 228, 232, 237–238 Passages in the Life of an Individual (Brontë), see Agnes Grey Passages in the Life of Mrs. Margaret Maitland of Sunnyside (Oliphant), Supp. X: 210–211, 214 Passages of Joy, The (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 271–274 Passenger (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 Passenger to Frankfurt (Christie), Supp. II: 123, 125, 130, 132 “Passer’by, A” (Bridges), VI: 78 “Passing Events” (Brontë), V: 122, 123, 151 “Passing of the Dragons, The” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 270–271 Passing of the Essenes, The (Moore), VI: 96, 99 “Passing of the Shee, The” (Synge), VI: 314 “Passing Stranger, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Passion (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 429–430 “Passion, The” (Collins), III: 166, 168, 174 “Passion, The” (Vaughan), II: 187

413

Passion, The (Winterson), Supp. IV: 542, 548, 553–554, 555–556 Passion Fruit: Romantic Fiction with a Twist (Winterson), Supp. IV: 542 Passion of New Eve, The (Carter), Supp. III: 84, 85–86, 91 Passion Play, A (Shaw), VI: 107 Passion, Poison, and Petrification; or, The Fatal Gazogene (Shaw), VI: 129 Passionate Century of Love (Watson), I: 193 Passionate Friends, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 “Passionate Man’s Pilgrimage, The” (Ralegh), I: 148, 149 “Passionate Pilgrim, A” (James), VI: 69 Passionate Pilgrim, The, I: 291, 307 Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales, A (James), VI: 67 Passionate Shepherd to His Love, The (Marlowe), I: 149, 284, 291; IV: 327; Retro. Supp. I: 203–204 “Passionate Woman, A” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 “Passions: An Ode. Set to Music, The” (Collins), III: 163, 175 Passions of the Mind (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 140, 141, 146, 151 “Passport to Eternity” (Ballard), Supp. V: 20 Passwords: Places, Poems, Preoccupations (Reid), Supp. VII: 324, 330, 336 Past and Present (Carlyle), IV: xx, 240, 244, 249, 250, 266n, 301 “Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives” (Landor), IV: 99 “Past Ever Present, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 280–281 “Paste” (James), VI: 69 “Pastels: Masks and Faces” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 273, 275 Pastoral Care (Pope Gregory), Retro. Supp. II: 295 Pastoral Lives of Daphnis and Chloë. Done into English (Moore), VI: 99 “Pastoral Stanzas. Written at Fifteen Years of Age” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199–200 Pastorals (Blunden), VI: 427 Pastorals (Pope), III: 69 Pastorals of Virgil (tr. Thornton), III: 307 Pastors and Masters (Compton’Burnett), VII: 59, 65, 68 Pat and Roald (Farrell), Supp. IV: 223 “Pat Cloherty’s Version of The Maisie” (Murphy), Supp. V: 325 “Patagonia, The,” (James), VI: 49 “Patchwork Quilt, The” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 57 Pater, Walter Horatio, V: xiii, xix, xxiv– xxvi, 286–287, 314, 323, 324, 329, 337–360, 362, 400–401, 403, 408, 410, 411; VI: ix, 4 365 “Pater on Style” (Chandler), V: 359 Paterson, Banjo, Supp. IV: 460 “Path of Duty, The” (James), VI: 69 “Pathetic Fallacy” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Patience (Gawain–Poet), Supp. VII: 83, 84, 96–98

PATI−PERF “Patience, hard thing!” (Hopkins), V: 375 Patmore, Coventry, V: 372, 379, 441 “Patmos” (Durrell), Supp. I: 125 Paton, Alan, Supp. II: 341–359 “Patricia, Edith, and Arnold,” (Thomas), Supp. I: 181 Patrician, The (Galsworthy), VI: 273, 278 “Patricians” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “Patrick Sarsfield’s Portrait” (Murphy), Supp. V: 323 Patriot (Johnson), III: 121 “Patriot, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 Patriot for Me, A (Osborne), Supp. I: 335, 337 “Patrol: Buonomary” (Gutteridge), VII: 432–433 Patronage (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 151, 158 Pattern of Maugham, The (Curtis), VI: 379 Pattern of Painful Adventures, The (Twine), I: 321 Patterns of Culture (Benedict), Supp. III: 186 Paul (Wilson), Supp. VI: 306 Pauli, Charles Paine, Supp. II: 98, 116 Pauline: A Fragment of a Confession (Browning), IV: xix, 354, 355, 373; Retro. Supp. II: 19 Paul’s Departure and Crown (Bunyan), II: 253 Paul’s Letters to His Kinsfolk (Scott), IV: 38 Pausanias’ Description of Greece (Frazer), Supp.III: 172, 173 “Pause en Route” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Pavana Dolorosa” (Hill), Supp. V: 190– 191 Pavane (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 261, 264–270, 275 Pavic, Milorad, Supp. IV: 116 “Pavilion on the Links, The” (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 263 “Pawnbroker’s Shop, The” (Dickens), V: 45, 47, 48 Pax Britannica: The Climax of an Empire (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 179–181, 183 Paying Guest, The (Gissing), V: 437 Payne, W. L., III: 41n “Peace” (Brooke), VI: 420; Supp. III: 56, 57 “Peace” (Collins), III: 166, 168 “Peace” (Hopkins), V: 370 “Peace” (Vaughan), II: 186, 187 Peace and the Protestant Succession, The (Trevelyan), VI: 392–393 Peace Conference Hints (Shaw), VI: 119, 129 “Peace from Ghosts” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 Peace in Our Time (Coward), Supp. II: 151, 154 Peace of the World, The (Wells), VI: 244 Peaceable Principles and True (Bunyan), II: 253 “Peaches, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 181

Peacock, Thomas Love, III: 336, 345; IV: xv, xvii–xix, xxii, 157–170, 177, 198, 204, 306; V: 220; VII: 200, 211 Peacock Garden, The (Desai), Supp. V: 55, 62–63 Pearl (Arden), Supp. II: 39–40 Pearl (Gawain–Poet), Supp. VII: 83, 84, 91–96, 98 “Pearl, Matth.13. 45., The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 175 “Pearl Necklace, A” (Hall), Supp. VI: 119 Pearl’Maiden (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Pearsall Smith, Logan, VI: 76 “Peasant, A” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284 Peasant Mandarin, The: Prose Pieces (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 271 “Peasants, The” (Lewis), VII: 447 Pecket, Thomas, Supp. III: 385 Peckham, Morse, V: 316, 335 Pedlar, The (Wordsworth), IV: 24 Peele, George, I: 191–211, 278, 286, 305 “Peele Castle” (Wordsworth), see AElegiac Stanzas, Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle . . . A “Peep into a Picture Book, A” (Brontë), V: 109 Peer Gynt (Ibsen), Supp. III: 195 Pegasus (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 129–130 “Pegasus” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 193 Pelagea and Other Poems (Coppard), VIII: 89, 98 Pelican History of English Literature, The, I: 102 Pell, J. P., V: 161 Pelles, George, VI: 23 Pemberly; or, Pride and Prejudice Continued (Tennant), see Pemberly: The Sequel to Pride and Prejudice Pemberly: The Sequel to Pride and Prejudice (Tennant), Supp. IX: 237–238, 239–240 “Pen Llyˆ(Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 “Pen, Pencil and Poison” (Wilde), V: 405, 407; Retro. Supp. II: 367–368 Pen Portraits and Reviews (Shaw), VI: 129 Pen Shop, The (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272, 273, 274 Pendennis (Tackeray), see History of Pendennis, The “Penelope” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 17 “Penelope” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 Penelope (Maugham), VI: 369 Penfriends from Portlock (Wilson), Sup. VI: 298, 304 Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry, The (ed. Motion), Supp. VII: 252, 254, 255, 257 Penguin Book of Contemporary Irish Poetry, The (ed. Fallon and Mahon), Supp. XII: 101 Penguin Book of Lesbian Short Stories, The (ed. Winterson), Supp. IV: 542 Penguin Book of Light Verse (ed. Ewart), Supp. VII: 43, 47 Penguin Book of Love Poetry, The (ed. Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292

414

Penguin Book of Modern British Short Stories (ed. Bradbury), Supp. IV: 304 Penguin Book of Religious Verse, The (ed. Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 Penguin Modern Poets II (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 Penguin Modern Poets 9 (ed. Burnside, Crawford and Jamie), Supp. XI: 67 Peniel (Hart), Supp. XI: 122, 128–130, 132 Penitential Psalms (Wyatt), I: 101–102, 108, 111 Pennies from Heaven (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229, 231 “Pennines in April” (Hughes), Supp. I: 344 “Penny Plain and Twopence Coloured, A” (Stevenson), V: 385 Penny Wheep (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 202, 205 Penny Whistles (Stevenson), see Child’s Garden of Verses, A Penpoints, Gunpoints, and Dreams: Towards a Critical Theory of the Arts and the State in Africa (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 216, 225 Pensées (Pascal), Supp. IV: 160 “Penshurst, To” (Jonson), II: 223 “Pension Beaurepas, The” (James), VI: 69 Pentameron and Pentalogia, The (Landor), IV: 89, 90–91, 93, 100 “Pentecost Castle, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 189, 190, 199 “Pentecostal” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220– 221 “Penthouse Apartment, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 Pentland Rising, The (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 260 Penultimate Poems (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45–46 “Penwith” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 492 People Who Knock on the Door (Highsmith), Supp. V: 178 People with the Dogs, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 473 People’s Otherworld, The (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 277–279 “People’s Park and the Battle of Berkeley, The” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 374 Pepys, Samuel, II: 145, 195, 273, 274, 275, 278, 280–288, 310 Per Amica Silentia Lunae (Yeats), VI: 209 “Perchance a Jealous Foe” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 Percy, Thomas, III: 336; IV: 28–29 Percy Bysshe Shelley (Swinburne), V: 333 “Perdita” (Warner), Supp. VII: 379 Perduta Gente (Reading), VIII: 265, 271–272, 273 Père Goriot (Balzac), Supp. IV: 238 Peregrine Pickle (Smollett), III: 149, 150, 152–153, 158 Perelandra (Lewis), Supp. I: 74; Supp. III: 249, 252, 253–254 Perennial Philosophy, The (Huxley), VII: xviii, 206 “Perfect” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 215

PERF−PIBR Perfect Alibi, The (Milne), Supp. V: 310 “Perfect Critic, The” (Eliot), VII: 163 “Perfect Day” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 Perfect Fool, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74, 75 Perfect Happiness (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Perfect Spy, A (le Carré), Supp. II: 300– 302, 304, 305 Perfect Wagnerite, The (Shaw), VI: 129 “Perfect World, A” (Motion), Supp. VII: 265, 266 Performing Flea (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460 “Perhaps” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 287 Pericles (Shakespeare), I: 321–322; II: 48 Pericles and Aspasia (Landor), IV: xix, 89, 92, 94–95, 100 Pericles and Other Studies (Swinburne), V: 333 Perimeter: Caroline Blackwood at Greenham Common, On the (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 14–15 Peripatetic, The (Thelwall), IV: 103 Perkin Warbeck (Ford), II: 89, 92, 96, 97, 100 Perkin Warbeck (Shelley), Supp. III: 371 Perkins, Richard, II: 68 “Permanent Cabaret” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 131 Permanent Red: Essays in Seeing (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 81 Permanent Way, The (Warner), Supp. XI: 294 Pernicious Consequences of the New Heresie of the Jesuites . .. . , The (tr. Evelyn), II: 287 Peronnik the Fool (Moore), VI: 99 Perpetual Curate, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 213–216 Perry, Thomas Sergeant, VI: 24 Persephone in Hades (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 133, 139, 141, 142 Persian Boy, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 185–186 “Persian Eclogues” (Collins), III: 160, 164–165, 175 “Persian Passion Play, A” (Arnold), V: 216 “Person, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 268, 270 Personae (Pound), Supp. III: 398 Personal and Possessive (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 Personal Heresy, The: A Controversy (Lewis), Supp. III: 249 Personal History, Adventures, Experience, and Observation of David Copperfield, The (Dickens), see David Copperfield Personal Landscape (periodical), VII: 425, 443 Personal Places (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 “Personal Problem” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 198 Personal Record, A (Conrad), VI: 134, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 69 Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving (Stoker), Supp. III: 381

Persons from Porlock (MacNeice), VII: 408 Persse, Jocelyn, VI: 55 Persuasion (Austen), IV: xvii, 106–109, 111, 113, 115–120, 122; Retro. Supp. II: 12–13 “Perturbations of Uranus, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73 “Pervasion of Rouge, The” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45 “Peshawar Vale Hunt, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 295–296 “Pessimism in Literature” (Forster), VI: 410 Pesthouse, The (Crace), Supp. XIV: 17, 18, 19, 23–24, 30–31 Petals of Blood (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 212, 215, 220–221 Peter Bell (Wordsworth), IV: xviii 2 Peter Bell the Third (Shelley), IV: 203, 207 “Peter Grimes” (Crabbe), III: 283, 284– 285 Peter Ibbetson (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139 Peter Pan; or, The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up (Barrie), Supp. III: 2, 6–8 “Peter Wentworth in Heaven” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 Petrarch’s Seven Penitential Psalms (Chapman), I: 241–242 Peveril of the Peak (Scott), IV: xviii, 36, 37, 39 Pfeil, Fred, Supp. IV: 94 Phaedra (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 157 Phaedra (Seneca), II: 97 Phaedra’s Love (Kane), VIII: 148, 149, 156 “Phaèthôn” (Meredith), V: 224 “Phallus in Wonderland” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Phantasmagoria (Carroll), V: 270, 273 Phantasmagoria; or, Sketches of Life and Literature (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149, 150–153, 156 “Phantom–Wooer, The” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 30 Pharos, pseud. of E. M. Forster Pharos and Pharillon (Forster), VI: 408 Pharsalia (tr. Marlowe), I: 276, 291 Phases of Faith (Newman), V: 208n “Pheasant in a Cemetery” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 224 “Phebus and Cornide” (Gower), I: 55 Philadelphia, Here I Come! (Friel), Supp. V: 111, 116–118 Philanderer, The (Shaw), VI: 107, 109; Retro. Supp. II: 312 Philaster (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 45, 46, 52–54, 55, 65 Philby Conspiracy, The (Page, Leitch, and Knightley), Supp. II: 302, 303, 311–312 Philip (Thackeray), see Adventures of Philip on His Way Through the World, The Philip Larkin (Motion), Supp. VII: 253 Philip Sparrow (Skelton), I: 84, 86–88 Philip Webb and His Work (Lethaby), V: 291, 292, 296, 306

415

Philips, Ambrose, III: 56 Philips, Katherine, II: 185 Phillips, Caryl, Supp. V: 379–394 Phillipps, Sir Thomas, II: 103 Phillips, Edward, II: 347 “Phillis is my only Joy” (Sedley), II: 265 “Phillis, let’s shun the common Fate” (Sedley), II: 263 Phillpotts, Eden, VI: 266 “Philosopher, The” (Brontë), V: 134 “Philosopher and the Birds, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 318 Philosopher’s Pupil, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 231, 232–233 Philosophical Discourse of Earth, An, Relating to . . .. Plants, &c. (Evelyn), II: 287 Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, A (Burke), see On the Sublime and Beautiful Philosophical Essays Concerning Human Understanding (Hume), Supp. III: 238 Philosophical Investigation, A (Kerr), Supp. XII: 186, 187, 191–193, 195, 196 Philosophical Lectures of S. T. Coleridge, The (ed. Cobum), IV: 52, 56 “Philosophical View of Reform, A” (Shelley), IV: 199, 209; Retro. Supp. I: 254 “Philosophy of Furniture, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 “Philosophy of Herodotus” (De Quincey), IV: 147–148 Philosophy of Melancholy, The (Peacock), IV: 158, 169 Philosophy of Nesessity, The (Bray), V: 188 Philosophy of Rhetoric (Richards), Supp. II: 416, 423 Philosophy of the Unconscious (Hartmann), Supp. II: 108 Phineas Finn (Trollope), V: 96, 98, 101, 102 Phineas Redux (Trollope), V: 96, 98, 101, 102 Phoebe Junior (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214, 217, 219 Phoenix (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 420 Phoenix, The, Retro. Supp. II: 303 Phoenix, The (Middleton), II: 21, 30 Phoenix and the Turtle, The (Shakespeare), I: 34, 313 “Phoenix Park” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 “Phoenix Rose Again, The” (Golding), Supp. I: 66 Phoenix Too Frequent, A (Fry), Supp. III: 194–195, 201–202 “Pioneers” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 “Photograph of My Grandfather, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19 Photographs and Notebooks (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 61–62 “Photograph of Emigrants” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 Physicists, The (Snow), VII: 339–340 Physico’Theology (Derham), III: 49 “Pibroch” (Hughes), Supp. I: 350

PICA−PLAT Picasso, Pablo, Supp. IV: 81, 87, 88 Piccolomini; or, The First Part of Wallenstein, The (Coleridge), IV: 55–56 Pickering, John, I: 213, 216–218 Pickwick Papers (Dickens), V: xix, 9, 42, 46–47, 48, 52, 59, 62, 71 Pico della Mirandola, II: 146; V: 344 “Pictor Ignotus, Florence 15” A (Browning), IV: 356, 361; Retro. Supp. II: 27 “Pictorial Rhapsody, A” (Thackeray), V: 37 Picture, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 184 Picture and Text (James), VI: 46, 67 “Picture of a Nativity” (Hill), Supp. V: 186 Picture of Dorian Gray, The (Wilde), III: 334, 345; V: xxv, 339, 399, 410–411, 417, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 368 “Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers, The” (Marvell), II: 211, 215 Picture of Palermo (tr. Robinson), Supp. XIII: 213 “Picture This” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 Picturegoers, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 364, 367–368, 369, 371, 372, 381, 382 “Pictures” (Kelman), Supp. V: 250 Pictures at an Exhibition (Thomas), Supp. IV: 487–488 “Pictures from a Japanese Printmaker” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Pictures from an Ecclesiastical Furnisher’s” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Pictures from Italy (Dickens), V: 71 Pictures in the Hallway (O’Casey), VII: 9, 12 Pictures of Perfection (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 121, 122–123 Picturesque Landscape and English Romantic Poetry (Watson), IV: 26 “Piece of Cake, A” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 208, 209 “Pied Beauty” (Hopkins), V: 367; Retro. Supp. II: 196 “Pied Piper of Hamelin, The” (Browning), IV: 356, 367 Pied Piper of Lovers (Durrell), Supp. I: 95 “Pipistrelles” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 “Pier Bar” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Pier’Glass, The (Graves), VII: 263–264 Pierrot mon ami (Queneau), Supp. I: 220 Piers Plowman (Langland), I: 1–18 Pietà (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284, 285 “Pietà” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 Pietrkiewicz, Jerzy, Supp. IV: 98 “Piffingcap” (Coppard), VIII: 88, 92 “Pig”(Dahl), Supp. IV: 221 “Pig, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Pig Earth (Berger), Supp. IV: 90, 92, 93 Pigeon, The (Galsworthy), VI: 271, 274, 287–288 Pigeon Pie (Mitford), Supp. X: 156–157 “Pigeons” (Reid), Supp. VII: 329 “Pigs” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 87 “Pigs” (Murray), Supp. VII: 282 Pigs Have Wings (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 453–454, 458–459, 462 “Pike, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 42, 43

Pilgrim, The (Fletcher), II: 65 Pilgrim, The (Vanbrugh), II: 289, 305, 325, 336 “Pilgrim Fathers” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 Pilgrim to Compostella, The (Southey), IV: 71 Pilgrimage (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 179, 180, 181–188, 190–191, 192 “Pilgrimage of Pleasure, The” (Swinburne), V: 332 Pilgrimage of the Life of Man (Lydgate), I: 57 “Pilgrimages” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 Pilgrims of Hope (Morris), V: 301, 306 Pilgrim’s Progress, The (Bunyan), I: 16, 57; II: 240, 241, 243, 244, 245–250, 253; III: 82; V: 27; Supp. IV: 242 Pilgrim’s Progress (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 121–122 Pilgrim’s Regress, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 250–252, 264 Pilkington, John, Supp. IV: 164 “Pillar of the Cloud” (Newman), see “Lead, Kindly Light“ “Pillar of the Community, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Pillars of Society, The (Ibsen), V: xxiv, 414 “Pillow hot . . . , The” (tr. McKane), Supp. IV: 494 “Pillow hot . . . , The” (tr. Thomas), Supp. IV: 494 Pillowman, The (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233–234, 238, 241, 243–246 Pinch of Snuff, A (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 114 Pincher Martin (Golding), Supp. I: 67, 72–75, 76, 77, 83, 218n; Retro. Supp. I: 97 Pindar, II: 198–199; IV: 95, 316 Pindaric Ode, Humbly Offer’d to the King . . . , A (Congreve), II: 350 “Pindaric Poem to the Reverend Doctor Burnet, A” (Behn), Supp. III: 41 Pindarique Ode on the victorious Progress of Her Majesties Arms, A (Congreve), II: 350 Pindarique Odes (Cowley), II: 197, 199, 202 Pinero, Arthur Wing, V: 413; VI: 269, 368 Pink Furniture (Coppard), VIII: 91, 97 Pinter, Harold, Supp. I: 367–382; Supp. IV: 180, 290, 390, 437, 456; Retro. Supp. I: 215–228 Pinter Problem, The (Quigley), Retro. Supp. I: 227 “Pioneers, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 Piozzi, Hester Lynch, III: 134, 246 Pipelines (Bevan and Galloway), Supp. XII: 117 Pippa Passes (Browning), IV: 356, 362– 363, 370, 373; Retro. Supp. II: 20–21 Piranesi Giovanni Battista, III: 325, 338 Pirate, The (Scott), IV: 36, 39 “Pirate and the Apothecary, The” (Stevenson), V: 391 “Pisgah” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219

416

“Pit and the Pendulum, The” (Poe), III: 339 Pit Strike (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 Pithy, Pleasant, and Profitable Works of John Skelton, The (ed. Stow), I: 94 Pitter, Ruth, Supp. XIII: 131–147 Pitter on Cats (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135, 144 “Pity” (Collins), III: 166 “Pity of It, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 “Pixie” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 42 Pizarro (Sheridan), III: 267–270 Place at Whitton, A (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 “Place in Tuscany, A” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Place of Friendship in Greek Life and Thought, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 Place of the Lion, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 281, 284 “Place of the Uranian in Society, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 43, 44 Place Where Souls Are Born: A Journey to the Southwest, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 343, 347, 357–358 “Placeless Heaven, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 280; Retro. Supp. I: 131 Places (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172, 183 “Places, Loved Ones” (Larkin), Supp. I: 278 Plain Man and His Plain Wife, The (Bennett), VI: 264, 267 Plain Speaker, The (Hazlitt), IV: 131, 134, 136, 140 Plain Tales from the Hil1s (Kipling), VI: 168, 204 Plain’Dealer, The (Wycherley), II: 308, 318–320, 321, 322, 343 Plaine Mans Path’Way to Heaven, The (Dent), II: 241, 246 “Plains, The” (Fuller), VII: 430; Supp. VII: 69 “Plan, The” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 340 Plan of a Dictionary of the English Language, The (Johnson), III: 113, 121; see also Dictionary of the English Language, A Plan of a Novel . . . With Opinions on AMansfield Park”and AEmma“ . . . (Austen), IV: 112, 122 Plan of the English Commerce, A (Defoe), III: 14 Planes of Bedford Square, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 “Planetist” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 79 “Plantations, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 “Planter of Malata, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Plas–yn–Rhiw” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Plath, Sylvia, Supp. I: 346, 350; Supp. IV: 252, 430; Retro. Supp. II: 199, 200–201, 216–218 Plato, IV: 47–48, 54; V: 339; Supp. III: 125; Supp. IV: 13 Plato and Platonism (Pater), V: 339, 355, 356

PLAT−POEM Plato Papers: A Novel, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 4, 11, 13 Plato Papers: A Prophesy, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 13 “Platonic Blow, by Miss Oral” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 12 “Platonic Ideas and Heredity” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 “Platonic Love” (Cowley), II: 197 Play (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 58; Retro. Supp. I: 27 Play from Romania, A, see Mad Forest Playboy of the Western World, The (Synge), VI: xiv, 308, 309–310, 312– 313, 316; Retro. Supp. I: 291, 298– 300 Player of Games, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 1, 9, 10 “Players, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 100– 101 Playground of Europe, The (Stephen), V: 282, 289 Playing Away (Phillips), Supp. V: 380 “Playing with Terror” (Ricks), Supp. IV: 398 Playmaker, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “Plays” (Landor), IV: 98 Plays and Poems of Thomas Lovell Beddoes (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 18, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 28–29, 30 Plays for England (Osborne), Supp. I: 335 Plays for Puritans (Shaw), VI: 109 Plays of William Shakespeare, The (ed. Johnson), III: 115–117, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 138, 144 Plays: One (Arden), Supp. II: 30 Plays: Pleasant and Unpleasant (Shaw), VI: ix, 104, 107–112; Retro. Supp. II: 313–315 Plaza de Toros, The (Scott), Supp. I: 266 Plea for Justice, A (Russell), VIII: 289 “Poem” (Armitage), VIII: 5 Plea of the Midsummer Fairies, The (Hood), IV: 253, 255, 261, 267 Pleasant Notes upon Don Quixote (Gayton), I: 279 “Pleasaunce” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 95 “Please Baby Don’t Cry” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 9 “Please Identify Yourself” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 Pleasure (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 Pleasure Dome, The (Greene), Supp. I: 3, 9 “Pleasure Island” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 12 Pleasure of Poetry, The (Sitwell), VII: 129–130 Pleasure of Reading, The (Fraser), Supp. V: 20 Pleasure Steamers, The (Motion), Supp. VII: 253–255, 257 Pleasures of a Tangled Life (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 183 “Pleasures of a Technological University, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158– 159

Pleasures of the Flesh (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38–39 Pleasures of War, The (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163 Plebeian (periodical), III: 51, 53 Pléiade, I: 170 Plenty (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 286–287, 293 Plomer, William, Supp. XI: 209–225 Plot Discovered, The (Coleridge), IV: 56 Plotinus, III: 291 Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction (Highsmith), Supp. V: 167, 171, 174, 177 Plough, The (Walker), V: 377 Plough and the Stars, The (O’Casey), VI: 214; VII: xviii, 5–6 “Ploughland” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219 Ploughman and Other Poems (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 187–188 Ploughman, and Other Poems, A (White), Supp. I: 130 Ploughman’s Lunch, The (McEwan), Supp. IV: 389, 390, 399–400 Plumb, Sir John Harold, IV: 290; VI: xv, xxxiv, 391n Plumed Serpent, The (Lawrence), VII: 87–88, 91, 109–110, 123; Retro. Supp. II: 231 Plutarch, II: 185 Plutarch’s Lives (tr. Goldsmith), III: 191 Plutarch’s Lives. The translation called Dryden’s . . . (ed. Clough), V: 157, 170 Plutus, The God of Riches (tr. Fielding), III: 105 Plymley, Peter, see Smith, Sydney PN Review (periodical), Supp. IV: 256; Supp. XIII: 223 Pocket Guide to Traditional Irish Music (Carson), Supp. XIII: 61 Podro, Joshua, VII: 262 Poe, Edgar Allan, III: 329, 333, 334, 338–339, 340, 343, 345; IV: 311, 319; V: xvi, xx–xxi; VI: 371 “Poem” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 91–92 “Poem” (Welch), Supp. IX: 269–270 “Poem About a Ball in the Nineteenth Century” (Empson), Supp. II: 180– 181, 183 “Poem about Poems About Vietnam, A” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 294–295, 302 “Poem as Abstract” (Davie), Supp. VI: 106 “Poem by the Boy Outside the Fire Station” (Armitage), VIII: 4 “Poem Composed in Santa Barbara” (Cope), VIII: 78 “Poem from the North,” (Keyes), VII: 439 “Poem for My Father” (Reid), Supp. VII: 325 “Poem in October” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177, 178–179 Poem in St. James’s Park, A (Waller), II: 238 “Poem in Seven Books, A” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 37

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“Poem in Winter” (Jennings), Supp. V: 213–214 “Poem of Lewis” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 “Poem of the Midway” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “Poem on His Birthday” (Thomas), Supp. I: 179 Poem on the Late Civil War, A (Cowley), II: 202 “Poem on the Theme of Humour, A” (Cope), VIII: 81 Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton, A (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 418–419 “Poem Upon the Death of O. C., A” (Marvell), II: 205, 211 “Poem with the Answer, A” (Suckling), II: 228 Poemata et Epigrammata, . . . (Crashaw), II: 201 Poemata et inscriptiones (Landor), IV: 100 Poems [1853] (Arnold), V: xxi, 165, 209, 216 Poems [1854] (Arnold), V: 216 Poems [1855] (Arnold), V: 216 Poems [1857] (Arnold), V: 216 Poems (Bridges), VI: 83 Poems (Brooke), Supp. III: 51–53 Poems [1844] (Browning), IV: xx, 311, 313–314, 321, 356 Poems [1850] (Browning), IV: 311, 321 Poems (Byron), IV: 192 Poems (Carew), II: 238 Poems (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 35 Poems (Clough), V: 170 Poems (Cornford), VIII: 102, 103 Poems (Cowley), II: 194, 198, 199, 202 Poems (Crabbe), III: 286 Poems (Eliot), VII: 146, 150 Poems (Empson), Supp. II: 180 Poems (Gay), III: 55 Poems (Golding), Supp. I: 66 “Poems, 1912–13” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 117 Poems (Hood), IV: 252, 261, 266 Poems (Jennings), Supp. V: 208 Poems (Keats), IV: xvii, 211, 213–214, 216, 235; Retro. Supp. I: 183, 187– 188 Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 Poems (Lovell and Southey), IV: 71 Poems (Meredith), V: xxi, 219, 234 Poems (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199, 202, 205, 206, 207 Poems (C. Rossetti), V: 260 Poems [1870] (D. G. Rossetti), V: xxiii, 237, 238, 245 Poems [1873] (D. G. Rossetti), V: 245 Poems [1881] (D. G. Rossetti), V: 238, 245 Poems (Ruskin), V: 184 Poems (Sassoon), VI: 429 Poems (Southey), IV: 71 Poems (Spender), Supp. II: 483, 486– 487 Poems [1833] (Tennyson), IV: 326, 329, 338

POEM−POET Poems [1842] (Tennyson), IV: xx, 326, 333–334, 335, 338 Poems (Thompson), V: 439, 451 Poems (Waller), II: 238 Poems (Wilde), V: 401–402, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 361–362 Poems, The (Landor), IV: xvi, 99 Poems, The (Swift), III: 15n, 35 Poems, The (Thomas), Supp. I: 170 Poems Against Economics (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 273–275 Poems and Ballads (Swinburne), V: xxiii, 309, 310, 313, 314–321, 327, 330, 332 “Poems and Ballads of Goethe” (Clough), V: 170 Poems and Ballads: Second Series (Swinburne), V: xxiv, 314, 327, 332 Poems and Ballads: Third Series (Swinburne), V: 332 Poems and Letters of Bernard Barton (ed. FitzGerald), IV: 343–344, 353 Poems and Lyrics of the Joy of Earth (Meredith), V: 221, 224, 234 Poems and Melodramas (Davie), Supp. VI: 113 Poems and Metrical Tales (Southey), IV: 71 Poems and Prose Remains of A. H. Clough, The (ed. Clough and Symonds), V: 159, 170 Poems and Songs, The (Burns), III: 310n, 322 Poems and Songs (Ewart), Supp. VII: 34, 36–37 Poems and Translations (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 Poems Before Congress (Browning), IV: 312, 315, 321 Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Lear), V: 78, 87 Poems by Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell (Brontës), V: xx, 131–134, 151 Poems by John Clare (Clare), Supp. XI: 63 Poems by the Author of the Growth of Love (Bridges), VI: 83 Poems by the Way (Morris), V: 306 Poems by Two Brothers (Tennyson and Tennyson), IV: 337–338 Poems, Centuries, and Three Thanksgivings (Traherne), Supp. XI: 263–264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 278 Poems Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (Burns), III: 315 Poems, Chiefly Lyrical (Tennyson), IV: xix, 326, 329, 331, 338 Poems Chiefly of Early and Late Years (Wordsworth), IV: xx, 25 Poems, Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery (Clare), Supp. XI: 49, 54–55 Poems, Elegies, Paradoxes, and Sonnets (King), Supp. VI: 162 “Poems for Angus” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 193 Poems for Donalda (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 217 Poems for Young Ladies (Goldsmith), III: 191

Poems from Centre City (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 Poems from the Arabic and Persian (Landor), IV: 99 Poems from the Russian (Cornford), VIII: 110–111 Poems from Villon, and Other Fragments (Swinburne), V: 333 Poems in Prose (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 371 Poems, in Two Volumes (Wordsworth), IV: 22, 24 Poems 1926–1966 (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 136, 145–146 Poems, 1930 (Auden), VII: xix Poems 1938–1945 (Graves), VII: 267– 268 Poems, 1943–1947 (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 128 Poems 1950 (Bunting), Supp. VII: 5, 13 Poems 1960–2000 (Adcock), Supp. XII: 2, 11, 13, 14–15 Poems 1962–1978 (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173–174 Poems of Conformity (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 274 Poems of Dedication (Spender), Supp. II: 489, 490 Poems of Edmund Blunden, The (Blunden), Supp. XI: 36, 37, 44 Poems of Felicity (Traherne), II: 191, 202; Supp. XI: 266 Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, The (ed. Chambers), II: 187 Poems of John Keats, The (ed. Allott), IV: 223n 224, 234–235 “Poems of 1912–13” (Hardy), VI: 14 Poems of Ossian, The (Macpherson), III: 336; VIII: 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 188, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194 Poems of the War and After (Brittain), Supp. X: 41 Poems of William Dunbar, The (Dunbar), VIII: 118–119 Poems of Wit and Humour (Hood), IV: 257, 266 Poems on His Domestic Circumstances (Byron), IV: 192 Poems on Several Occasions (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Poems on the Death of Priscilla Farmer (Lloyd and Lamb), IV: 78, 85 Poems on the Theatre (Brecht), Supp. IV: 87 Poems on Various Occasions (Byron), IV: 192 Poems on Various Subjects (Coleridge), IV: 43, 55, 78, 85 Poems Original and Translated (Byron), IV: 192 Poems Translated from the French of Madame de la Mothe Guion (tr. Cowper), III: 220 Poems upon Several Occasions: With a Voyage to the Island of Love (Behn), Supp. III: 36 Poems, with the Tenth Satyre of Juvenal Englished (Vaughan), II: 184–185, 201 “Poet, The” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135

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“Poet, The” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 425 Poet and Dancer (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 223, 234, 235 “Poet Hood, The” (Blunden), IV: 267 Poet in the Imaginary Museum, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 115, 117 “Poet in the Imaginary Museum, The” (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 poet laureateship, IV: 61, 310, 311, 324 “Poet on the Island, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 318 “Poet O’Rahilly, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Poet with Sea Horse” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 Poetaster (Jonson), I: 339, 340; Retro. Supp. I: 158 “Poetic Diction in English” (Bridges), VI: 73 Poetic Image, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 “Poetic Imagination, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 202–203 Poetic Mirror, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 109–110 Poetic Unreason (Graves), VII: 257, 260 Poetical Blossomes (Cowley), II: 194, 202 Poetical Calendar (Fawkes and Woty), III: 170n “Poetical Character, The” (Collins), III: 166, 168 Poetical Fragments (Swinburne), V: 333 Poetical Pieces (Lamb), IV: 74 Poetical Register (Jacob), II: 348 Poetical Sketches (Blake), III: 289, 290; Retro. Supp. I: 33–34 Poetical Works, The, . . . (Traherne), II: 201–202 Poetical Works, The (Southey), IV: 71 Poetical Works (Bridges), VI: 83 Poetical Works of George Crabbe, The (ed. Carlyle and Carlyle), III: 272n Poetical Works of George Meredith, The (ed. Trevelyan), V: 223, 234 Poetical Works of Gray and Collins, The (ed. Poole and Stone), III: 161n Poetical Works of John Gay, The (ed. Faber), III: 66, 67 Poetical Works of the Late Mrs. Mary Robinson, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199, 202, 204, 206, 207, 213 “Poetics of Sex, The” (Winterson), Supp. IV: 547, 551–552, 553 Poetria nova (Geoffrey of Vinsauf), I: 59 “Poetry”[broadcast] (Bridges), VI: 83 “Poetry” (Moore), IV: 6 Poetry and Belief (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 316, 319 “Poetry and the Other Modern Arts” (Davie), Supp. VI: 115–116 Poetry and Philosophy of George Meredith, The (Trevelyan), VI: 383 Poetry and Prose (ed. Sparrow), VI: 83 “Poetry and Striptease” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 491 Poetry at Present (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 277 Poetry by the Author of Gebir (Landor), IV: 99

POET−PORT Poetry for Children (Lamb and Lamb), IV: 85 Poetry for Supper (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284 “Poetry in Public” (Motion), Supp. VII: 265 Poetry in the Making (Hughes), Supp. I: 347 Poetry Northwest, Supp. XIII: 136 Poetry of Browning, The (Drew), IV: 375 “Poetry of Departures” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 278–279 Poetry of Edward Thomas, The (Motion), Supp. VII: 252, 253, 258, 263 Poetry of Ezra Pound, The (Kenner), VI: 333 “Poetry of Friendship Among Greeks and Romans” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 Poetry of Meditation, The (Martz), V: 366, 382 Poetry of Nonsense, The (Cammaerts), V: 262, 274 “Poetry of Pope, The” (De Quincey), IV: 146 “Poetry of Protest, A” (Davie), Supp. VI: 116 Poetry of the First World War (Hibberd), VI: 460 Poetry of Thomas Hardy, The (Day Lewis), VI: 21 “Poetry of W. B. Yeats, The” (Eliot), VI: 207n, 223 Poetry of W. B. Yeats, The (MacNeice), VII: 404 “Poetry of Wordsworth, The” (De Quincey), IV: 146, 148 “Poetry Perpetuates the Poet” (Herrick), II: 115 Poets and Poetry of Munster, The (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119, 129 Poet’s Calendar, A (Davies), Supp. XI: 101 “Poets Call on the Goddess Echo, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 “Poet’s Epitaph, A” (Davies), Supp. XI: 95–96 “Poet’Scholar, The” (Davie), Supp. VI: 105 “Poets Lie where they Fell, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 167 Poet’s Notebook, A (Sitwell), VII: 127, 139 Poets of the First World War (Stallworthy), VI: 441 Poet’s Pilgrimage, A (Davies), Supp. XI: 89–91 “Poet’s Pilgrimage to Waterloo, The” (Southey), IV: 66, 71 Poet’s Polemic, A: Otro Mundo Es Posible: Poetry, Dissidence and Reality TV (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 31 Poet’s Tongue, The (Auden and Garrett), Supp. IV: 256; Retro. Supp. I: 6–7 “Poet’s Vow, The” (Browning), IV: 313 “Poggio” (Durrell), Supp. I: 126 Point Counter Point (Huxley), VII: xviii, 201, 202–204 “Point of It, The” (Forster), V: 208 Point Valaine (Coward), Supp. II: 152

Pointed Roofs (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 179, 181–182, 187–188, 189, 190 Points of View (Maugham), VI: 374, 377 Pointz Hall (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 308 “Poison” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 206, 215 Pol Pot, Supp. IV: 247 Polanski, Roman, III: 343 Polaris (Weldon), Supp. IV: 521 “Police, The: Seven Voices” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 Polidori, John, III: 329, 334, 338; Supp. III: 385 Polite Conversations (Swift), III: 36 Political Economy of Art, The (Ruskin), V: 184 Political Essays (Hazlitt), IV: 129, 139 Political History of the Devil, The (Defoe), III: 5, 14 Political Justice (Godwin), IV: 43 “Political Kiss, A” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 “Political Poem” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 Political Romance, A (Sterne), III: 127, 135 Political Situation, The (Schreiner), Supp. I: 453 Political Thought in England, 1848–1914 (Walker), IV: 304 Politicks of Laurence Sterne, The (Curtis), III: 127n “Politics” (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 “Politics and the English Language” (Orwell), Supp. III: 107; Supp. IV: 455 “Politics of King Lear, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 202 “Politics of Mecca, The” (Lawrence), Supp. II: 286–287 “Politics vs. Literature” (Orwell), VII: 273, 282 Poliziano, Angelo, I: 240 Poll Degree from a Third Point of View, The (Stephen), V: 289 Pollock, Jackson, Supp. IV: 80 Polly (Gay), III: 55, 65–67 “Polonius” (FitzGerald), IV: 353 Polonius: A Collection of Wise Saws and Modern Instances (FitzGerald), IV: 344, 353 Polychronicon (Higden), I: 22 Polychronicon (tr. Trevisa), Supp. IX: 243–252, 256–259 “Pomegranates of Patmos, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 160 Pomes Penyeach (Joyce), VII: 42 Pomona (Evelyn), II: 287 Pompeii (Macaulay), IV: 290 “Pompeii” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 122 Pompey the Great (tr. Dorset et al.), II: 270, 271 “Ponte di Paradiso, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Pooh Perplex: A Freshman Casebook (Crews), Supp. V: 311 Poole, A. L., III: 161n Poole, Thomas, IV: 42, 43, 51 “Poor” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 Poor Clare (Hartley), Supp. VII: 132 “Poor Ghost” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 6 “Poor Koko” (Fowles), Supp. I: 303

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“Poor Man, The” (Coppard), VIII: 94 “Poor Man and the Lady, The” (Hardy), VI: 2, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 112 “Poor Man Escapes, A” (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 85 “Poor Man’s Guide to Southern Tuscany, A” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Poor Man’s Plea, The (Defoe), III: 2, 12; Retro. Supp. I: 74–75 “Poor Marguerite” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 212 “Poor Mary” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Poor Mathias” (Arnold), V: 207 Poor Miss Finch (Collins), Supp. VI: 102–103 Poor Mouth, The (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 333–335 “Poor Richard” (James), VI: 69 Poor Things (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 85–87 Poor Tom (Muir), Supp. VI: 198 Pope, Alexander, I: 326, 328; II: 195– 197, 236, 259, 261, 263, 298, 308– 309, 311, 321, 332, 335, 344; III: 1, 19, 20, 33, 46, 50, 54, 56, 60, 62, 68– 79, 95, 118, 167n, 234, 278, 280–282, 288; IV: 104, 182, 187, 189–190, 280; V: 319; Supp. III: 421–422; Retro. Supp. I: 76, 229–242 Pope’s Wedding, The (Bond), Supp. I: 422, 423–425, 426, 427, 435 Popery: British and Foreign (Landor), IV: 100 “Poplar Field, The” (Cowper), III: 218 Popper, Karl, Supp. IV: 115 “Poppies” (Nye), Supp. X: 204–205 “Poppy grows upon the shore, A” (Bridges), VI: 78 Popular Education of France with Notices of that of Holland and Switzerland, The (Arnold), V: 216 “Popular Fallacies” (Lamb), IV: 82 Porcupine, The (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 68, 73, 74 “Pornography” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 “Pornography and Obscenity” (Lawrence), VII: 91, 101, 122 “Pornography” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 394–395 “Porphyria’s Lover” (Browning), IV: 360; V: 315; Retro. Supp. II: 22 Porson, Richard, IV: 63 “Portico” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327 “Portobello Road, The” (Spark), Supp. I: 200 “Portrait, The” (Gogol), III: 340, 345 “Portrait, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 “Portrait, The” (Rossetti), V: 239 Portrait, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Portrait of a Gentleman in Slippers (Milne), Supp. V: 300 “Portrait of a Grandfather, The” (Bridges), VI: 78 “Portrait of a Lady” (Eliot), VII: 144 Portrait of a Lady, The (James), V: xxiv, 51; VI: 25, 26, 35–38; Supp. IV: 243 “Portrait of an Emperor, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 “Portrait of Mr. W. H., The” (Wilde), V: 405–406, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 365–

PORT−PREO 366 Portrait of Rossetti (Grylls), V: 247, 249, 260 “Portrait of the Artist, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 272 “Portrait of the Artist, A” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 168 Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog (Thomas), Supp. I: 176, 180, 181, 182 Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, A (Joyce), VII: xiv, 45–47; critical studies, VII: 57; Supp. IV: 364, 371; Retro. Supp. I: 169, 170, 173–175 “Portrait of the Artist as Émigré” (Berger), see Painter of Our Time, A “Portrait of the Beatnik: Letter from California” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 5–6, 9 “Portrait of the Engineer, A” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Portrait of the Lakes (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 223 Portrait of Orkney (Brown), Supp. VI: 65 “Portraits” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 494 Portraits Contemporains (Sainte’Beuve), V: 212 Portraits from Memory (Russell), VI: 170 “Portraits in the Nude” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 Portraits of Places (James), VI: 67 “Ports” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24 Portugal History, The; or, A Relation of the Troubles . . . in the Court of Portugal . . . (Pepys), II: 288 “Pose (After the Painting Mrs. Badham by Ingres)” (Boland), Supp. V: 40 Positions (Mulcaster), I: 122 “Positive Season, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104–105 Positives (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 264, 265, 266 Possession: A Romance (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 149, 151–153 Post Captain (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 254– 255 “Post Office” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 9 Postal Problem, A (Carroll), V: 274 “Posterity” (Larkin), Supp. I: 282 Posthumous Fragments of Margaret Nicholson . . . (ed. Shelley), IV: 208 Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, The (Dickens), see Pickwick Papers Posthumous Poems (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Posthumous Poems (Shelley), IV: 208 Posthumous Poems, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Posthumous Tales (Crabbe), III: 278, 286 “Postmodern Blues” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 Post’Mortem (Coward), Supp. II: 149– 150, 151 “Postponing the Bungalow” (Dunn), Supp. X: 68 “Postscript” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 81 “Postscript: for Gweno” (Lewis), VII: 444, 446 “Postscripts” (radio broadcasts), VII: 212

Poet Geranium, The (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213, 216–217 Pot of Broth, The (Yeats), VI: 218 “Potato Gatherers, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 114 Potter, Beatrix, Supp. III: 287–309 Potter, Cherry, Supp. IV: 181 Potter, Dennis, Supp. X: 227–242 Potter’s Thumb, The (Steel), Supp. XII: 270–271 Potting Shed, The (Greene), Supp. I: 13; Retro. Supp. II: 162 “Potting Shed Tutti—Frutti” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 Pottle, F. A., III: 234n, 239, 240, 247, 249 Pound, Ezra, I: 98; IV: 323, 327, 329, 372; V: xxv, 304, 317n; VI: 207, 216, 247, 323, 417; VII: xiii, xvi, 89, 148, 149; Supp. III: 53–54, 397, 398; Supp. IV: 99, 100, 114–115, 116, 411, 559 Pound on Demand, A (O’Casey), VII: 12 “Pour Commencer” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 297 “Poussin” (MacNeice), VII: 411 Powell, Anthony, VI: 235; VII: xxi, 343– 359; Supp. II: 4; Supp. IV: 505 Powell, Edgar, VI: 385 Powell, L F., III: 234n Power and the Glory, The (Greene; U.S. title, The Labyrinthine Ways), Supp. I: 5, 8, 9–10, 13, 14, 18; Retro. Supp. II: 156–157 Power in Men (Cary), VII: 186, 187 Power of Grace Illustrated (tr. Cowper), III: 220 Powers, Mary, Supp. IV: 423, 428 Powys, T. F., VII: 21, 234; VIII: 245– 259 Practical Criticism (Richards), Supp. II: 185, 405, 418–421, 423, 430 Practical Education (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 152 Practice of Piety, The (Bayly), II: 241 Practice of Writing, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366, 381 Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, IV: 269, 283; V: 14 Praeterita (Ruskin), V: 174, 175, 182, 184 “Prague Milk Bottle, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 262 “Praise for Mercies, Spiritual and Temporal” (Blake), III: 294 “Praise for the Fountain Opened” (Cowper), III: 211 Praise of Age, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 “Praise of My Lady” (Morris), V: 295 “Praise of Pindar, The” (Cowley), II: 200 Praise Singer, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 181–182, 187 “Praise II” (Herbert), II: 129; Retro. Supp. II: 177 Praises (Jennings), Supp. V: 219 Prancing Nigger (Firbank; British title, Sorrow in Sunlight), Supp. II: 200, 202, 204, 205, 211, 213, 218–220, 222, 223

420

Prater Violet (Isherwood), VII: 313–314 Pravda (Hare and Brenton), Supp. IV: 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 293 Praxis (Weldon), Supp. IV: 522, 525– 526, 528, 533 “Prayer” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141, 142 “Prayer, A” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 179 “Prayer Before Birth” (MacNeice), VII: 415 “Prayer for My Daughter, A” (Yeats), VI: 217, 220; Supp. V: 39; Retro. Supp. I: 333 “Prayer 1” (Herbert), II: 122; Retro. Supp. II: 179 “Prayer to St. Blaise” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 “Prayers of the Pope, The” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 283 Prayers Written at Vailima (Stevenson), V: 396 Praz, Mario, I: 146, 292, 354; II: 123; III: 329, 337, 344–345, 346; V: 412, 420; VII: 60, 62, 70 “Preamble” (Nye), Supp. X: 198 “Precautions in Free Thought” (Butler), Supp. II: 99 “Predators, The” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 Predictions for the Year 1708 (Swift), III: 35 Pre’eminent Victorian: A Study of Tennyson, The (Richardson), IV: 339 “Preface” (Arnold), Supp. II: 57 “Preface: Mainly About Myself” (Shaw), VI: 129 Preface to Paradise Lost, “ (Lewis), Supp. III: 240, 265 Preface to the Dramatic Works of Dryden (ed. Congreve), II: 348, 350 Prefaces (Dryden), IV: 349 “Prefaces” (Housman), VI: 156 “Prefatory Letter on Reading the Bible for the First Time” (Moore), VI: 96 “Prefatory Poem to My Brother’s Sonnets” (Tennyson), IV: 327, 336 “Preference” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Prehistories (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219, 220, 223 Preiching of the Swallow, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 139–140 “Prelude” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 36 “Prelude” (Mansfield), VII: 177, 179, 180 “Prelude, A” (Lawrence), VII: 114 Prelude, The (Wordsworth) IV: ix–x, xxi, 1, 2, 3, 11–17, 24, 25, 43, 151, 315; V: 310 “Prelude and History” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Prelude to Life, A” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267 “Preludes” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 121 “Preludes” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 “Premature Rejoicing” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 43 Premonition to Princes, A (Ralegh), I: 154 Preoccupations: Selected Prose 1968– 1978 (Heaney), Supp. II: 268–269, 272, 273

PRE’−PROB Pre’Raphaelite Imagination, The (Dixon Hunt), VI: 167 “Pre–Raphaelite Paintings” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 Pre’Raphaelitism (Ruskin), V: 184 Prerogative of Parliaments, The (Ralegh), I: 157–158 “Presage of the Ruin of the Turkish Empire, A” (Waller), II: 233 Presbyterians’ Plea of Merit, The (Swift), III: 36 Prescott, William H., VI: 394 “Presence” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 “Presence, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288–289 Presence of Spain, The (Morris), see Spain “Present” (Cope), VIII: 80–81 Present and the Past, The (Compton’Burnett), VII: 61, 62 “Present and the Past: Eliot’s Demonstration, The” (Leavis), VII: 237 “Present Estate of Pompeii” (Lowry), Supp. III: 281–282 “Present King of France Is Bald, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 Present Laughter (Coward), Supp. II: 153–154, 156 Present Position of History, The (Trevelyan), VI: 383 Present State of All Nations, The (Smollet), III: 158 “Present State of the Manners, Society, Etc., Etc., of the Metropolis of England, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 213 Present State of the Parties in Great Britain, The (Defoe), III: 13 Present State of Wit, The (Gay), III: 44, 67 “Present Time, The” (Carlyle), IV: 247– 248 Present Times (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 419–420 “Preserve and Renovate” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 “Preserved” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 44 President’s Child, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 530–531 Press Cuttings: A Topical Sketch (Shaw), VI: 115, 117, 118–119, 129 Press, John, VI: xvi, xxxiv; VII: xxii, xxxviii “Presser, The” (Coppard), VIII: 86, 96–97 Preston, Thomas, I: 122, 213 Pretty Lady, The (Bennett), VI: 250, 251, 259 “Pretty Maids All in a Row” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 Previous Convictions (Connolly), Supp. III: 110 Prévost, Antoine, III: 333 Price, Alan, VI: 314 Price, Cecil, III: 258n, 261, 264, 268, 271 Price, Cormell, VI: 166, 167 Price, Richard, IV: 126 “Price, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260

Price of Everything, The (Motion), Supp. VII: 253, 254, 260–262 Price of Salt, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 167, 169–170 “Price of Sixpense, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 Price of Stone, The (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 315, 316, 326–329 “Price of Stone, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 327 “Price of Things, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 “Pride” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108–109 Pride and Prejudice (Austen), III: 91, 336; IV: xvii, 103–104, 108–120, 122; Supp. IV: 235, 521; Retro. Supp. II: 7–9 Pride and Prejudice (television adaptation, Weldon), Supp. IV: 521 “Pride of the Village” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 44 Pride’s Cure (Lamb), see John Woodvie Priest to the Temple, A; or, The Country Parson His Character etc. (Herbert), II: 120, 141; Retro. Supp. II: 176 Priestley, J. B., IV: 160, 170; V: xxvi, 96; VII: xii, xviii, 60, 209–231 Priestley, Joseph, III: 290 “Prima Belladonna” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “Prime Minister” (Churchill), VI: 349 Prime Minister, The (Trollope), V: xxiv, 96, 97, 98–99, 101, 102 Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, The (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 201, 204–206 Primer, The; or, Offıce of the B. Virgin Mary (Dryden), II: 304 Prince, F. T., VII: xxii 422, 427 Prince Caspian (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 260 Prince Hohenstiel’Schwangau, Saviour of Society (Browning), IV: 358, 369, 374 Prince of Dreamers, A (Steel), Supp. XII: 275 Prince Otto (Stevenson), V: 386, 395 Prince Prolétaire (Swinburne), V: 333 “Prince Roman” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Prince’s Progress, The” (Rossetti), V: 250, 258, 259 Prince’s Progress and Other Poems, The (Rossetti), V: 250, 260 Princess, The (Tennyson), IV: xx, 323, 325, 328, 333–334, 336, 338 Princess Casamassima, The (James), VI: 27, 39, 41–43, 67 Princess Cinderella and Her Wicked Sisters (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 “Princess of Kingdom Gone, The” (Coppard), VIII: 92 Princess Zoubaroff, The (Firbank), Supp. II: 202, 204, 205, 215–216 Principia Ethica (Moore), Supp. III: 49 Principles and Persuasions (West), VI: 241 Principles of Literary Criticism (Richards), Supp. II: 405, 411–417 Pringle, David, Supp. V: 32 “Printers Devil, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 Prior, Matthew, II: 265

421

Prioress’s Prologue, The (Chaucer), I: 37 Prioress’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 22, 34 “Prison” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Prison Cell and Barrel Mystery, The (Reading), VIII: 263 “Prisoner, The” (Brontë), V: 142, 143, 254 “Prisoner, The” (Browning), IV: 313–314 Prisoner of Chillon, The (Byron), IV: 180, 192 Prisoner of Grace (Cary), VII: 186, 194– 195 Prisoners (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 265 Prisoners of Mainz, The (Waugh), Supp. VI: 269 “Prisoner’s Progress” (MacNeice), VII: 406 Prisons We Choose to Live Inside (Lessing), Supp. I: 239, 254–255 Pritchett, V. S., IV: 120, 298, 306; Supp. III: 99, 102, 211, 311–331 “Private, A” (Thomas), Supp. III: 403, 404, 406 Private Ear, The (Shaffer), Supp. I: 317– 318, 322, 323, 327 “Private Life, The” (James), VI: 48, 67, 69; Retro. Supp. I: 2 Private Life of Henry Maitland, The (Roberts), V: 425, 427, 438 Private Lives (Coward), Supp. II: 139, 147–149, 155–156 Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 103, 114–118 Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, The (Gissing), V: 424, 425, 427, 430–432, 436, 437 Private Papers of James Boswell . . . , The (ed. Pottle and Scott), III: 234n, 247, 249 “Private Place, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “Private Property” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “Private Tuition by Mr. Bose” (Desai), Supp. V: 65 Private View, A (Brookner), Supp. IV: 135 Privy Seal (Ford), VI: 324, 326 “Prize, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 “Prize–Winning Poem, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 “Pro and Con on Aragon” (Stead), Supp. IV: 466 Pro populo anglicano defensio . . . (Milton), II: 176 Pro populo anglicano definsio secunda (Milton), II: 176 “Probable Future of Metaphysics, The” (Hopkins), V: 362 “Problem, The” (Swift), III: 32 Problem in Greek Ethics, Being an Inquiry into the Phenomenon of Sexual Inversion, Addressed Especially to Medical Psychologists and Jurists, A (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 253–254, 261 Problem in Modern Ethics, Being an Inquiry into the Phenomenon of Sexual Inversion, Addressed Especially to Medical Psychologists and Jurists, A

PROB−PUBL (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 259–260 Problem of Pain, The (Lewis), Supp. I: 71; Supp. III: 248, 255–256 “Problem of Prose, The” (Leavis), VII: 248 “Problem of Thor Bridge, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 172, 174 Process of Real Freedom, The (Cary), VII: 186 “Process of Separation, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23 “Procession, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 259–260 “Procrastination” (Crabbe), III: 281, 285 Prodigal Child, A (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 419 Prodigal Son, The: Third Parable for Church Performance (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 “Proferred Love Rejected” (Suckling), II: 227 Professional Foul (Stoppard), Supp. I: 451, 453; Retro. Supp. II: 351–352 “Professions for Women” (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 310 Professor, The (Brontë), V: xxii, 112, 122, 123, 125, 132, 134–137, 148, 150, 151, 152; Retro. Supp. I: 52 “Professor, The” (Thackeray), V: 21, 37 “Professor Fargo” (James), VI: 69 Professors and Gods (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77 Professor’s Love Story, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 4 “Profile of Arthur J. Mason, A” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 304 Profitable Meditations . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Programme Note” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 Progress and Poverty (George), VI: viii Progress of Julius, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139, 140, 144 Progress of Liberty, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204, 211, 213 “Progress of Poesy” (Gray), II: 200; III: 140 “Progress of Poesy, The” (Arnold), V: 209 “Progress of the Soul, The” (Donne), II: 209 Progymnasmata (More), Supp. VII: 236 “Project for a New Novel” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 Project for the Advancement of Religion . . . , A (Swift), III: 26, 35, 46 “Proletariat and Poetry, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 120 Prolific and the Devourer, The (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10 Prologue (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136 “Prologue to an Autobiography” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385 Prometheus Bound (Aeschylus), IV: 199 Prometheus Bound, Translated from the Greek of Aeschylus (Browning), IV: 310, 321 Prometheus on His Crag (Hughes), Supp. I: 354–355, 363

Prometheus the Firegiver (Bridges), VI: 83 Prometheus Unbound (Shelley), III: 331; IV: xviii, 176, 179, 196, 198, 199– 201, 202, 207, 208; VI: 449–450; Supp. III: 370; Retro. Supp. I: 250, 251–253 “Promise, The” (James), VI: 49 Promise and Fulfillment (Koestler), Supp. I: 33 Promise of Love (Renault), see Purposes of Love Promised Land, The (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36 Promos and Cassandra (Whetstone), I: 313 Promus of Formularies and Elegancies, A (Bacon), I: 264, 271 “Propagation of Knowledge” (Kipling), VI: 200 Proper Marriage, A (Lessing), Supp. I: 238, 244 Proper Studies (Huxley), VII: 198, 201 Properties of Things, On the (tr. Trevisa), see De Proprietatibus Rerum “Property of Colette Nervi, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 500 Prophecy (Seltzer), III: 345 Prophecy of Dante, The (Byron), IV: 193 Prophesy to the Wind (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 221–222 Prophetess, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 55, 66 Prophetic Book, The (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 “Prophetic Book, The” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 “Prophets, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 9 “Prophet’s Hair, The” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 438 Proposal for Correcting . . . the English Tongue, A (Swift), III: 29, 35 Proposal for Giving Badges to the Beggars . . . of Dublin, A (Swift), III: 36 Proposal for Making an Effectual Provision for the Poor, A (Fielding), III: 105; Retro. Supp. I: 81 Proposal for Putting Reform to the Vote, A (Shelley), IV: 208 Proposals for an Association of . . . Philanthropists . . . (Shelley), IV: 208 Proposals for Publishing Monthly . . . (Smollett), III: 148 Proposals for the Universal Use of Irish Manufacture . . . (Swift), III: 27–28, 35 Propositions for the Advancement of Experimental Philosophy, A (Cowley), II: 196, 202 Prose of John Clare, The (Clare), Supp. XI: 53, 58 Prose Works, The (Swift), III: 15n 35 Proserpine, The (Rossetti), V: 295 Prosody of AParadise Lost”and ASamson Agonistes,”The (Bridges), VI: 83 “Prospect from the Silver Hill, The” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 22 Prospero’s Cell (Durrell), Supp. I: 96, 100, 110–111

422

Protestant Monastery, The; or, A Complaint against the Brutality of the Present Age (Defoe), III: 14 “Proteus; or, Matter” (Bacon), I: 267 Prothalamion (Spenser), I: 124, 131 “Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak” (Landor), IV: 99 Proust, Marcel, V: xxiv, 45, 174, 183; Supp. I: 44–45; Supp. IV: 126, 136, 139 Proust Screenplay, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 378 Provence (Ford), VI: 324 “Proverbs of Hell” (Blake), III: 298; Retro. Supp. I: 38 Providence (Brookner), Supp. IV: 124– 125, 131 “Providence” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 177 “Providence and the Guitar” (Stevenson), V: 395 Provincial Pleasures (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 223 Provok’d Husband, The (Cibber), II: 326, 337 Provok’d Wife, The (Vanbrugh), II: 325, 329–332, 334, 336, 360 Provost, The (Galt), IV: 35 Prussian Offıcer, The, and Other Stories (Lawrence), VII: 114 Pryce’Jones, Alan, VII: 70 Prynne, William, II: 339; Supp. III: 23 “Psalm of Montreal, A” (Butler), Supp. II: 105 “Psalms of Assize” (Hill), Supp. V: 193 Pseudodoxia Epidemica (Browne), II: 149–150, 151, 155, 156, 345n Pseudo–Martyr (Donne), I: 352–353, 362; Retro. Supp. II: 97 Psmith Journalist (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 450 Psyche’s Task (Frazer), Supp. III: 185 Psycho (film), III: 342–343 Psycho Apocalypté, a Lyrical Drama (Browning and Horne), IV: 321 Psychoanalysis and the Unconscious (Lawrence), VII: 122; Retro. Supp. II: 234 “Psychology of Advertising, The” (Sayers), Supp. III: 345 Psychology of the Poet Shelley (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 45 Psychology of the Unconscious (Jung), Supp. IV: 3 “Psychopolis” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 395–396 Puberty Tree, The (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 “Puberty Tree, The” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 492–493 Public Address (Blake), III: 305 Public Burning, The (Coover), Supp. IV: 116 Public Eye, The (Shaffer), Supp. I: 317, 318–319, 327 “Public Footpath To” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219 Public Image, The (Spark), Supp. I: 200, 208–209, 218n Public Ledger (periodical), III: 179, 188

PUBL−QUIE Public School Life: Boys, Parents, Masters (Waugh), Supp. VI: 267, 270 Public School Verse (Cameron), Supp. IX: 17 “Public Son of a Public Man, The” (Spender), Supp. II: 483 “Public–House Confidence” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 22–23 Publick Employment and an Active Life Prefer’d to Solitude (Evelyn), II: 287 Publick Spirit of the Whigs, The (Swift), III: 35 “Puck and Saturn” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 “Puck Is Not Sure About Apollo” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 Puck of Pook’s Hill (Kipling), VI: viii, 169, 204 Puffball (Weldon), Supp. IV: 531, 533– 534 Pulci, Luigi, IV: 182, 188 Pullman, Philip, Supp. XIII: 149–161 Pumpkin Eater, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 374 Punch (periodical), IV: 263; V: xx, 19, 23, 24–25; VI: 367, 368; Supp. II: 47, 49 Punch’s Prize Novelists (Thackeray), V: 22, 38 “Punishment Enough” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 29 “Pupil, The” (James), VI: 49, 69 Purcell, Henry, Retro. Supp. II: 196 Purcell Commemoration Ode (Bridges), VI: 81 Purchas’s Pilgrimage, IV: 46 Pure in Heart, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 126 Pure Poetry. An Anthology (Moore), VI: 99 Purgatorio (Dante), Supp. IV: 439 Purgatorio (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 124 Purgatorio II (Eliot), VII: 151 Purgatory (Yeats), VI: 219 Puritan, The (anonymous), I: 194; II: 21 Puritain and the Papist, The (Cowley), II: 202 Purity of Diction in English Verse (Davie), Supp. VI: 107, 114 “Purl and Plain” (Coppard), VIII: 96 “Purple” (Owen), VI: 449 Purple Dust (O’Casey), VII: 7, 8 “Purple Jar, The” (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 153 Purple Plain, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Purposes of Love (Renault), Supp. IX: 172–173 Pursuit of Love, The (Mitford), Supp. X: 151–152, 156, 158–161, 163 Pushkin, Aleksander, III: 339, 345; Supp. IV: 484, 495 Puss in Boots: The Adventures of That Most Enterprising Feline (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 Put Out More Flags (Waugh), VII: 290, 297–298, 300, 313 Puttenham, George, I: 94, 114, 119, 146, 214

Puzzleheaded Girl, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 476 “Puzzling Nature of Blue, The” (Carey), Supp. XII: 55 “Pygmalion” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 28–29 “Pygmalion” (Gower), I: 53–54 Pygmalion (Shaw), VI: xv, 108, 115, 116–117, 120; Retro. Supp. II: 322 “Pylons, The” (Spender), Supp. II: 48 Pym, Barbara, Supp. II: 363–384 Pynchon, Thomas, Supp. IV: 116, 163 Pynson, Richard, I: 99 Pyramid, The (Golding), Supp. I: 81–82; Retro. Supp. I: 100–101 “Pyramis or The House of Ascent” (Hope), Supp. VII: 154 “Pyramus and Thisbe” (Gower), I: 53– 54, 55

“Q

ua cursum ventus” (Clough), V: 160 Quadrille (Coward), Supp. II: 155 “Quaint Mazes” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 Quakers Past and Present, The (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 187 “Quality of Sprawl, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278–279 Quality Street (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 8 “Quantity Theory of Insanity, The” (Self), Supp. V: 402 Quantity Theory of Insanity, The: Together with Five Supporting Propositions (Self), Supp. V: 395, 400–402 Quantum of Solace (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 Quarantine (Crace), Supp. XIV: 17–18, 26–27, 28 Quare Fellow, The (Behan), Supp. II: 65, 68–70, 73 Quaritch, Bernard, IV: 343, 346, 348, 349 Quarles, Francis, II: 139, 246 “Quarrel, The” (Cornford), VIII: 113 Quarterly Review (periodical), IV: xvi, 60–61, 69, 133, 204–205, 269–270; V: 140 Quartermaine, Peter, Supp. IV: 348 Quartet (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 390–392, 403 Quartet in Autumn (Pym), Supp. II: 380– 382 Queen, The; or, The Excellency of Her Sex (Ford), II: 88, 89, 91, 96, 100 “Queen Annelida and False Arcite” (Browning), IV: 321 Queen Is Crowned, A (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Queen Mab (Shelley), IV: xvii, 197, 201, 207, 208; Retro. Supp. I: 245–246 Queen Mary (Tennyson), IV: 328, 338 Queen of Corinth, The (Field, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Queen of Hearts, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 95 Queen of Sheba, The (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 136–139, 143 “Queen of Sheba, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 137, 138, 142 “Queen of Spades, The” (Pushkin), III: 339–340, 345

423

Queen of Stones (Tennant), Supp. IX: 231, 233–235 Queen of the Air, The (Ruskin), V: 174, 180, 181, 184 Queen of the Dawn (Haggard), Supp. III: 222 Queen Sheba’s Ring (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Queen Victoria (Strachey), Supp. II: 512–514 Queen Was in the Parlor, The (Coward), Supp. II: 141, 146 Queen Yseult (Swinburne), V: 333 Queenhoo’Hall (Strutt), IV: 31 “Queenie Fat and Thin” (Brooke’Rose), Supp. IV: 103 Queen’Mother, The (Swinburne), V: 312, 313, 314, 330, 331, 332 Queen’s Tragedy, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Queen’s Wake, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 106᎑107, 110 Queery Leary Nonsense (Lear), V: 87 Quennell, Peter, V: xii, xviii, 192, 193, 194; VI: 237; Supp. III: 107 Quentin Durward (Scott), IV: xviii, 37, 39 “Quest, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 249 Quest sonnets (Auden), VII: 380–381; Retro. Supp. I: 2, 10 “Question” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 “Question, A” (Synge), VI: 314 “Question, The” (Shelley), IV: 203 “Question for Walter, A” (Longley), VIII: 163–164 “Question in the Cobweb, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 Question of Attribution, A (Bennett), VIII: 30, 31 Question of Blood, A (Rankin), Supp. X: 245, 257 “Question of Form and Content, A” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 297–298 “Question of Place, A” (Berger), Supp. IV: 92 Question of Proof, A (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 131 Question of Upbringing, A (Powell), VII: 343, 347, 350, 351 “Question Time” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 54 Questions about the . . . Seventh’Day Sabbath (Bunyan), II: 253 “Questions in a Wood” (Graves), VII: 268 “Qui laborat orat” (Clough), V: 160 “Quidditie, The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 179 Quiet American, The (Greene), Supp. I: 7, 13, 14; Supp. IV: 369; Retro. Supp. II: 160–161 Quiet Life, A (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 17, 21–22, 26–27 Quiet Memorandum, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 374 “Quiet Neighbours” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Quiet Wedding (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311

QUIE−READ “Quiet Woman, The” (Coppard), VIII: 93 “Quiet Woman of Chancery Lane, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235, 237 Quigley, Austin E., Retro. Supp. I: 227 Quiller’Couch, Sir Arthur, II: 121, 191; V: 384 Quillinan, Edward, IV: 143n Quinlan, M. J., III: 220 Quinn Manuscript, VII: 148 Quintessence of Ibsenism, The (Shaw), VI: 104, 106, 129 “Quintets for Robert Morley” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278, 283 Quinx (Durrell), Supp. I: 119, 120 “Quip, The” (Herbert), II: 126 “Quis Optimus Reipvb. Status (What Is The Best Form of the Commonwealth?)” (More), Supp. VII: 238 “Quite Early One Morning” (Thomas), Supp. I: 183 “Quitting Bulleen” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 316 Quoof (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 418–421, 422, 423, 425 “Quorum Poram” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 137

“R.

E.” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21 “R. I. P.” (Gissing), V: 43 “R. I. P.” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 R.L.S. and His Sine Qua Non (Boodle), V: 391, 393, 397 R. S. Thomas: Selected Prose (Thomas), Supp. XII: 279, 282 Raban, Jonathan, Supp. XI: 227–241 “Rabbit Catcher, The” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 217–218 Rabelais, François, III: 24; Supp. IV: 464 “Race, Racist, Racism” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101 Rachel Papers, The (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 27, 28–29, 30 Rachel Ray (Trollope), V: 101 Racine, Jean Baptiste, II: 98; V: 22 Racing Demon (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 294–296, 298 Radcliffe (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 410, 414, 415–416, 418–419 Radcliffe, Ann, III: 327, 331–332, 333, 335–338, 345; IV: xvi, 30, 35, 36, 111, 173, 218; Supp. III: 384 Radcliffe Hall: A Case of Obscenity? (Brittain), Supp. X: 47 Radiant Way, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 231, 234, 247–249, 250 Radical Imagination, The (Harris), Supp. V: 140, 145 Radon Daughters (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 233, 235, 237, 238 Rafferty, Terrence, Supp. IV: 357, 360 Raffety, F. W., III: l99n Raft of the Medusa, The (Géricault), Supp. IV: 71–72 “Rage for Order” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 170

Rage of the Vulture, The (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 356, 357, 359–360 Raiders’ Dawn (Lewis), VII: 445, 448 Railway Accident, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 249–250, 251–252, 253, 260 “Railway Library, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 Railway Man and His Children, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 Rain (Maugham), VI: 369 “Rain” (Thomas), VI: 424; Supp. III: 400, 401 Rain and the Glass: New and Selected Poems, The (Nye), Supp. X: 199 “Rain Charm for the Duchy” (Hughes), Supp. I: 365; Retro. Supp. II: 214 “Rain Horse, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 “Rain in Spain, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 328 “Rain in the Eaves, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 200 “Rain Stick, The” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132–133 Rain upon Godshill (Priestley), VII: 209, 210 “Rain Upon the Roof, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 Rainbow, The (Lawrence), VI: 232, 276, 283; VII: 88, 90, 93, 98–101; Retro. Supp. II: 227–228 “Rainbow Sign, The” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 159–161 Raine, Craig, Supp. XIII: 163–178 Raine, Kathleen, III: 297, 308 “Rainy Night, A” (Lowry), Supp. III: 270 Raj Quartet (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 260, 261–262, 266–272 “Rajah’s Diamond, The” (Stevenson), V: 395 Rajan, B., VI: 219 Rake’s Progress, The (Auden/Kallman), Retro. Supp. I: 10 Raknem, Ingwald, VI: 228 Ralegh, Sir Walter, I: 145–159, 277, 278, 291; II: 138; III: 120, 122, 245; VI: 76, 157; Retro. Supp. I: 203–204 Raleigh, Sir Walter, see Ralegh, Sir Walter Ralph the Heir (Trollope), V: 100, 102 “Ram, The” (Armitage), VIII: 12 Rambler (Newman), Supp. VII: 299 Rambler (periodical), II: 142; III: 94, 110–111, 112, 119, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 137, 140–141, 149 Rambles Among the Oases of Tunisia (Douglas), VI: 305 “Ramification” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Ramillies and the Union with Scotland (Trevelyan), VI: 392–393 Ramsay, Allan, III: 312, 313; IV: 28 Ramsay, Andrew, III: 99, 100 Randall, Anne Frances, see Robinson, Mary Darby Randall, H. S., IV: 275 Randolph, Thomas, II: 222, 237, 238 “Range” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Rank and Riches (Collins), Supp. VI: 93 Ranke, Leopold von, IV: 288

424

Rankin, Ian, Supp. X: 243–260 Rao, Raja, Supp. IV: 440; Supp. V: 56 Rape of Lucrece, The (Shakespeare), I: 306–307, 325; II: 3 Rape of the Lock, The (Pope), III: 70– 71, 75, 77; Retro. Supp. I: 231, 233 “Rape of the Sherlock, The” (Milne), Supp. V: 297 Rape upon Rape (Fielding), III: 105 “Rapparees” (Murphy), Supp. V: 323 “Raptor” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291–292 “Rapture, A” (Carew), II: 223 “Rapture, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 “Rapunzel Revisited” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170 Rash Act, The (Ford), VI: 319, 331 Rash Resolve, The; or, The Untimely Discovery (Haywood), Supp. XII: 140 “Raising a Glass” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 “Raspberry Jam” (Wilson), Supp. I: 154, 157 “Raspberrying” (Reading), VIII: 263 Rat Trap, The (Coward), Supp. II: 146 &ldquoRatatouille” (Dunn), Supp. X: 74 “Ratcatcher, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214 Ratchford, Fannie, V: 133, 151, 152 “Rational and Humane Society, A” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “Rats, The” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 Rats and Other Poems, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409, 424 Rattigan, Terence, Supp. VII: 307–322 Raven, The (Poe), V: xx, 409 “Ravenna” (Wilde), V: 401, 409 “Ravenswing, The” (Thackeray), V: 23, 35, 36 Raw Material (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411, 414–415, 422, 423 Raw Spirit: In Search of the Perfect Dram (Banks), Supp. XI: 1, 13, 14 “Rawdon’s Roof” (Lawrence), VII: 91 Rawley, William, I: 257 Ray, G. N., V: 37, 39 Ray, Satyajit, Supp. IV: 434, 450 Raymond Asquith: Life and Letters (Jolliffe), VI: 428 Raysor, T. M., IV: 46, 51, 52, 56, 57 Razor’s Edge, The (Maugham), VI: 374, 377–378 Read, Herbert, III: 134; VI: 416, 436– 437; VII: 437 Reade, Winwood, Supp. IV: 2 Reader (periodical), III: 50, 53 Reader, I Married Him (Beer), Supp. XIV: 9, 11 Reader’s Guide to G. M. Hopkins, A (MacKenzie), V: 374, 382 Reader’s Guide to Joseph Conrad, A (Karl), VI: 135 Readie & Easie Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth . . . (Milton), II: 176; Retro. Supp. II: 271 Reading, Peter, VIII: 261–275 “Reading, A” (Cope), VIII: 81–82 “Reading and Writhing in a Double Bind” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 385 “Reading Berryman’s Dream Songs at the Writer’s Retreat” (Cope), VIII: 79

READ−REGI “Reading Lesson, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 316, 325 Reading of Earth, A (Meredith), V: 221, 234 Reading of George Herbert, A (Tuve), II: 124, 130; Retro. Supp. II: 174 Reading of Life, A, and Other Poems (Meredith), V: 234 “Reading Robert Southey to My Daughter” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Reading Scheme” (Cope), VIII: 71 “Reading the Banns” (Armitage), VIII: 8 “Reading the Elephant” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260, 263 Reading Turgenev (Trevor), Supp. IV: 516 Readings in Crabbe’s ATales of the Hall“ (Fitzgerald), IV: 349, 353 Reagan, Ronald, Supp. IV: 485 “Real and Made–Up People” (Amis), Supp. II: 10 “Real Estate” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 318 Real Inspector Hound, The (Stoppard), Supp. I: 443–444; Retro. Supp. II: 345–346 Real Robert Louis Stevenson, The, and Other Critical Essays (Thompson), V: 450, 451 “Real Thing, The” (James), VI: 48, 69 Real Thing, The (Stoppard), Supp. I: 451–452; Retro. Supp. II: 353–354 “Real World, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 127 Realists, The (Snow), VII: 338–339 “Realm of Possibility” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Realms of Gold, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 232, 243–245, 246, 248, 251 “Realpolitik” (Wilson), Supp. I: 154, 157 Reardon, Derek, Supp. IV: 445 “Rear–Guard, The” (Sassoon), VI: 431; Supp. III: 59 “Reason, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Reason and Sensuality (Lydgate), I: 57, 64 Reason of Church Government Urg’d Against Prelaty, The (Milton), II: 162, 175; Retro. Supp. II: 269, 276 “Reason our Foe, let us destroy” (Wycherley), II: 321 Reason Why, The (Rendell), Supp. IX: 196 Reasonable Life, The: Being Hints for Men and Women (Bennett), see Mental Effıciency Reasons Against the Succession of the House of Hanover (Defoe), III: 13 “Reawakening” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 Rebecca (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134, 135, 137–138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145–146, 147 Rebecca and Rowena: A Romance upon Romance (Thackeray), V: 38 Rebel General, The (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 314, 318 “Rebel General, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315 Rebels, The (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 222 Rebus: The St. Leonard’s Years (Rankin), Supp. X: 251, 253

“Recall” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75 Recalled to Life (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 120–121 “Recantation, A” (Kipling), VI: 192–193 “Receipt to Restore Stella’s Youth . . . , A” (Swift), III: 32 “Recessional” (Kipling), VI: 203 Recklings (Hughes), Supp. I: 346, 348 “Reckoning of Meter”, See Háttatal “Recollection, A” (Cornford), VIII: 103, 112 “Recollections” (Pearsall Smith), VI: 76 Recollections of Christ’s Hospital (Lamb), IV: 85 “Recollections of Journey from Essex” (Clare), Supp. XI: 62 “Recollections of Solitude” (Bridges), VI: 74 Recollections of the Lake Poets (De Quincey), IV: 146n, 155 “Reconcilement between Jacob Tonson and Mr. Congreve, The” (Rowe), II: 324 “Record, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 “Record of Badalia Herodsfoot, The” (Kipling), VI: 167, 168 Record of Friendship, A (Swinburne), V: 333 Record of Friendship and Criticism, A (Smith), V: 391, 396, 398 Records of a Family of Engineers (Stevenson), V: 387, 396 Recoveries (Jennings), Supp. V: 211 “Recovery” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 75 “Recovery, The” (Vaughan), II: 185 Recruiting Offıcer, The (Farquhar), II: 353, 358–359, 360, 361, 362, 364 “Rector, The” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214 Rector and the Doctor’s Family, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214–215 Rectory Umbrella and Mischmasch, The (Carroll), V: 264, 273 “Recycling” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 89 “Red”(Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 218 Red Badge of Courage, The (Crane), Supp. IV: 116 Red Book, The (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 59–63 Red Christmas (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 116– 117 Red Cotton Night–Cap Country (Browning), IV: 358, 369, 371, 374 Red Days and White Nights (Koestler), Supp. I: 23 Red Dog (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65, 69, 77 “Red Front” (Warner), Supp. VII: 372 “Red Graveyard, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 104 Red Harvest (Hammett), Supp. II: 130 Red House Mystery, The (Milne), Supp. V: 310 Red Peppers (Coward), Supp. II: 153 “Red, Red Rose, A” (Burns), III: 321 Red Roses for Me (O’Casey), VII: 9 “Red Rubber Gloves” (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 104 “Redeeming the Time” (Hill), Supp. V: 186 “Redemption” (Herbert), II: 126–127

425

Redgauntlet (Scott), IV: xviii, 31, 35, 39 Redgrove, Peter, Supp. VI: 225–238 “Red–Headed League, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 170 Redimiculum Matellarum [A Necklace of Chamberpots] (Bunting), Supp. VII: 4 “Redriff” (Jones), Supp. VII: 176 “Reed, A” (Browning), IV: 313 Reed Bed, The (Healy), Supp. IX: 96, 106, 107 Reed, Henry, VII: 422–423, 449 Reed, J. W., III: 249 Reef (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 85–100 Rees–Mogg, W., II: 288 Reeve, C., III: 345 Reeve, Clara, III: 80 Reeve’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 37, 41 “Reflection from Anita Loos” (Empson), Supp. II: 183–184 Reflections (Greene), Retro. Supp. II: 166–167 “Reflections” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291 “Reflections of a Kept Ape” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 394 “Reflections on a Peninsula” (Koestler), Supp. I: 34 Reflections on Hanging (Koestler), Supp. I: 36 “Reflections on Leaving a Place of Retirement” (Coleridge), IV: 44 “Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine” (Lawrence), VII: 103–104, 110, 119 Reflections on the French Revolution (Burke), III: 195, 197, 201–205; IV: xv, 127; Supp. III: 371, 467, 468, 470 Reflections on the Late Alarming Bankruptcies in Scotland (Boswell), III: 248 Reflections on the Psalms (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264 Reflections on Violence (Hulme), Supp. VI: 145 Reflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning (Wotton), III: 23 Reflections upon the Late Great Revolution (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 64 Reflector (periodical), IV: 80 Reformation of Manners (Defoe), III: 12 “Refusal to mourn, A” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 Refutation of Deism, in a Dialogue, A (Shelley), IV: 208 “Refutation of Philosophies” (Bacon), I: 263 “Regency Houses” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 127–128 Regeneration (Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46, 57–59 Regeneration (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Regeneration” (Vaughan), II: 185, 187 Regent, The (Bennett), VI: 259, 267 Regicide, The (Smollett), III: 158 “Regina Cara” (Bridges), VI: 81 Reginald (Saki), Supp. VI: 240–242 “Reginald at the Theatre” (Saki), Supp. VI: 241–242 Reginald in Russia and Other Sketches (Saki), Supp. VI: 243–246

REGI−RESU “Reginald on the Academy” (Saki), Supp. VI: 240 “Reginald’s Choir Treat” (Saki), Supp. VI: 241, 249 Region of the Summer Stars, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 283 “Regret” (Swinburne), V: 332 Rehabilitations (Lewis), Supp. III: 249 Rehearsal, The (Buckingham), II: 206, 294 Rehearsal Transpros’d, The (Marvell), II: 205, 206–207, 209, 218, 219; Retro. Supp. II: 257–258, 264–266 Reid, Alastair, Supp. VII: 323–337 Reid, J. C., IV: 254, 267 Reign of Sparrows, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 “Reiteration” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 “Reiterative” (Reading), VIII: 274 Rejected Address (Smith), IV: 253 “Relapse, The” (Vaughan), II: 187 Relapse, The; or, Virtue in Danger (Vanbrugh), II: 324, 326–329, 332, 334, 335, 336; III: 253, 261 Relation Between Michael Angelo and Tintoret, The (Ruskin), V: 184 Relationship of the Imprisonment of Mr. John Bunyan, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Relative Values (Coward), Supp. II: 155 Relatively Speaking (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 4, 13 “Relativity” (Empson), Supp. II: 182 “Release from Fever” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 23 “Relief” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36, 37–38 Religio Laici; or, A Layman’s Faith (Dryden), I: 176, 189; II: 291, 299, 304 Religio Medici (Browne), II: 146–148, 150, 152, 156, 185; III: 40; VII: 29 “Religion” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 100, 103–104 “Religion” (Vaughan), II: 189 Religious Courtship: . . . Historical Discourses on . . . Marrying . . . (Defoe), III: 13 “Religious Musings” (Coleridge), IV: 43; Retro. Supp. II: 52 Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (Percy), III: 336; IV: 28–29 Reliquiae Wottonianae, II: 142 “Remain, ah not in youth alone” (Landor), IV: 99 Remains (Newman), Supp. VII: 295 Remains of Elmet (Hughes), Supp. I: 342; Retro. Supp. II: 210–211 Remains of Sir Fulke Grevill, Lord Brooke, The: Being Poems of Monarchy and Religion (Greville), Supp. XI: 108 Remains of Sir Walter Ralegh, The, I: 146, 157 Remains of the Day, The (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 301–302, 304, 305, 306, 307, 311–314 Remake (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 98, 99, 102 “Remarkable Rocket, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 365

Remarks on Certain Passages of the 39 Articles (Newman), Supp. VII: 295– 296 Remarks Upon a Late Disingenuous Discourse (Marvell), II: 219; Retro. Supp. II: 266 “Rembrandt’s Late Self–Portraits” (Jennings), Supp. V: 211 Remede de Fortune (Machaut), Retro. Supp. II: 37 “Remember” (Rossetti), VII: 64 Remember Me (Weldon), Supp. IV: 535– 536 “Remember Me When I Am Gone Away” (Rossetti), V: 249 “Remember Young Cecil” (Kelman), Supp. V: 245 Remembering Babylon (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218, 227–229 “Remembering Carrigskeewaun” (Longley), VIII: 174 “Remembering Lunch” (Dunn), Supp. X: 74 “Remembering Old Wars” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Remembering Sion (Ryan), VII: 2 “Remembering the 90s” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 “Remembering the Thirties” (Davie), Supp. VI: 106 “Remembrances” (Clare), Supp. XI: 52 Remembrances of Words and Matter Against Richard Cholmeley, I: 277 Reminiscences (Carlyle), IV: 70n, 239, 240, 245, 250 “Reminiscences of Charlotte Brontë” (Nussey), V: 108, 109, 152 Reminiscences of the Impressionistic Painters (Moore), VI: 99 Remorse (Coleridge), IV: 56 Remorse: A Study in Saffron (Wilde), V: 419 “Removal” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74, 75 “Removal from Terry Street, A” (Dunn), Supp. X 69–70 “Renaissance, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 250 “Renaissance and Modern Times, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 44 Renaissance in Italy, The (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 249, 255–259 Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry, The (Pater), see Studies in the History of the Renaissance Renan, Joseph Ernest, II: 244 Renault, Mary, Supp. IX: 171–188 Rendell, Ruth, Supp. IX: 189–206 Renegade Poet, And Other Essays, A (Thompson), V: 451 Renegado, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 182, 184, 193 “Renounce thy God” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “Renunciation” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251 “Repeated Rediscovery of America, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 319 “Repentance” (Herbert), II: 128 Repentance of Robert Greene, The (Greene), VIII: 132, 134 “Rephan” (Browning), IV: 365

426

Replication (Skelton), I: 93 Reply to the Essay on Population, by the Rev. T. R. Malthus, A (Hazlitt), IV: 127, 139 “Report from Below, A” (Hood), IV: 258 “Report on a Threatened City” (Lessing), Supp. I: 250n “Report on an Unidentified Space Station” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 “Report on Experience” (Blunden), VI: 428;Supp. XI: 39 Report on the Salvation Army Colonies (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 “Report to the Trustees of the Bellahouston Travelling Scholarship, A” (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 79–80, 82, 90 “Reported Missing” (Scannell), VII: 424 Reports on Elementary Schools, 1852– 1882 (Arnold), V: 216 Reprinted Pieces (Dickens), V: 72 Reprisal, The (Smollett), III: 149, 158 Reproof: A Satire (Smollett), III: 158 Reptonian, The, Supp. XIII: 250 “Republic of Fife, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138–139 “Requiem” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 “Requiem” (Stevenson), V: 383; Retro. Supp. I: 268 “Requiem” (tr. Thomas), Supp. IV: 494– 495 “Requiem for the Croppies” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 127–128 “Requiescat” (Arnold), V: 211 “Requiescat” (Wilde), V: 400 Required Writing (Larkin), Supp. I: 286, 288 “Re–Reading Jane” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 Rescue, The (Conrad), VI: 136, 147 Resentment (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 “Reservoirs” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 279 Residues (Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 “Resignation” (Arnold), V: 210 “Resolution and Independence” (Wordsworth), IV: 19–20, 22; V: 352 “Resound my voice, ye woods that hear me plain” (Wyatt), I: 110 Responsibilities (Yeats), VI: 213; Retro. Supp. I: 330 “Responsibility” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 189 Responsio ad Lutherum (More), Supp. VII: 242–243 Ressoning betuix Aige and Yowth, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Ressoning betuix Deth and Man, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Restoration (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434, 435 Restoration of Arnold Middleton, The (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 411, 412–413, 414, 415, 417 “Resurgam” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 139– 140 “Resurrection, The” (Cowley), II: 200 Resurrection, The (Yeats), VI: xiv, 222 “Resurrection and Immortality” (Vaughan), II: 185, 186 Resurrection at Sorrow Hill (Harris), Supp. V: 144

RESU−RICH Resurrection Men (Rankin), Supp. X: 245, 256–257 Resurrection of the Dead, The, . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Retaliation” (Goldsmith), III: 181, 185, 191 “Reticence of Lady Anne, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 245 “Retired” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291 “Retired Cat, The” (Cowper), III: 217 “Retirement” (Vaughan), II: 187, 188, 189 “Retreat, The” (King), Supp. VI: 153 “Retreate, The” (Vaughan), II: 186, 188– 189 “Retrospect” (Brooke), Supp. III: 56 “Retrospect: From a Street in Chelsea” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 121 “Retrospective Review” (Hood), IV: 255 “Return, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Return, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 “Return, A” (Russell), VIII: 284 “Return, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 “Return in Harvest” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222 Return from Parnassus, The, part 2, II: 27 “Return from the Freudian Islands, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 155–156, 157 “Return from the Islands” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Return of Eva Peron, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 396, 397, 398, 399 Return of the Druses, The (Browning), IV: 374 “Return of the Iron Man, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 346 Return of the King, The (Tolkien), Supp. II: 519 Return of the Native, The (Hardy), V: xxiv, 279; VI: 1–2, 5, 6, 7, 8; Retro. Supp. I: 114 Return of the Soldier, The (West), Supp. III: 440, 441 Return of Ulysses, The (Bridges), VI: 83 Return to Abyssinia (White), Supp. I: 131 Return to My Native Land (tr. Berger), Supp. IV: 77 Return to Night (Renault), Supp. IX: 175 Return to Oasis (Durrell), VII: 425 “Return to the Council House” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214 Return to Yesterday (Ford), VI: 149 Returning (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 “Returning, We Hear the Larks” (Rosenberg), VI: 434–435 Revaluation (Leavis), III: 68; VII: 234, 236, 244–245 “Reveille” (Hughes), Supp. I: 350 Revelation of Love, A (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 149, 150, 153–162, 163– 165 Revelations of Divine Love (Julian of Norwich), I: 20–21; Supp. XII: 155 “Revenge, A” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271 Revenge for Love, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 74, 81

Revenge Is Sweet: Two Short Stories (Hardy), VI: 20 Revenge of Bussy D’Ambois, The (Chapman), I: 251–252, 253; II: 37 Revenger’s Tragedy, The, II: 1–2, 21, 29, 33–36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 70, 97 Revengers’ Comedies, The (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10 Reverberator, The (James), VI: 67 “Reverie” (Browning), IV: 365 Reveries over Childhood and Youth (Yeats), VI: 222 Reversals (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 255– 256 “Reversals” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 Reverse of the Medal, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256, 257, 258, 260 Review (periodical), II: 325; III: 4, 13, 39, 41, 42, 51, 53 “Review, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 269 Review Christmas Annuals, Supp. XIII: 242 Review of Reviews, Supp. XIII: 241–243 Review of some poems by Alexander Smith and Matthew Arnold (Clough), V: 158 Review of the Affairs of France, A . . . (Defoe), III: 13; Retro. Supp. I: 65 Review of the State of the British Nation, A (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 65 “Reviewer’s ABC, A” (Aiken), VII: 149 Revised Version of the Bible, I: 381–382 “Revision” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Revival of Learning, The (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 256 Revolt in the Desert (Lawrence), Supp. II: 288, 289–290, 293 Revolt of Aphrodite, The (Durrell), see Tunc; Nunquam Revolt of Islam, The (Shelley), IV: xvii, 198, 203, 208; VI: 455; Retro. Supp. I: 249–250 “Revolt of the Tartars” (De Quincey), IV: 149 Revolt of the Triffıds, The (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 281 Revolving Lights (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 184–185, 190 “Revolution” (Housman), VI: 160 Revolution in Tanner ’s Lane, The (Rutherford), VI: 240 Revolution Script, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 141, 143 Revolutionary Epick, The (Disraeli), IV: 306, 308 Revolving Lights (Richardson), Retro. Supp. I: 313–314 Revue des Deux Mondes (Montégut), V: 102 Revue d’ethnographie et de sociologie, Supp. XIII: 44 “Revulsion” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110, 112 “Rex Imperator” (Wilson), Supp. I: 155, 156 “Reynard the Fox” (Masefield), VI: 338 Reynolds, G. W. M., III: 335 Reynolds, Henry, Supp. IV: 350 Reynolds, John, II: 14 Reynolds, John Hamilton, IV: 215, 221, 226, 228, 229, 232, 233, 253, 257,

427

259, 281 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, II: 336; III: 305 “Rhapsody of Life’s Progress, A” (Browning), IV: 313 “Rhapsody on a Windy Night” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 121–122 Rhetor (Harvey), I: 122 “Rhetoric” (De Quincey), IV: 147 “Rhetoric” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 “Rhetoric and Poetic Drama” (Eliot), VII: 157 “Rhetoric of a Journey” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Rhetoric of the Unreal: Studies in Narrative and Structure, Especially of the Fantastic, A (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 97, 99, 115, 116 “Rhineland Journal” (Spender), Supp. II: 489 Rhoda Fleming (Meredith), V: xxiii, 227n, 234 “Rhodian Captain” (Durrell), Supp. I: 124 Rhododaphne (Peacock), IV: 158, 170 Rhyme? and Reason? (Carroll), V: 270, 273 Rhyme Stew (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 “Rhyming Cufflinks” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 Rhys, Jean, Supp. II: 387–403; Supp. V: 40; Retro. Supp. I: 60 “Rhythm and Imagery in British Poetry” (Empson), Supp. II: 195 “Ribblesdale” (Hopkins), V: 367, 372; Retro. Supp. II: 191 Ribner, Irving, I: 287 Riccoboni, Luigi, II: 348 Riceyman Steps (Bennett), VI: 250, 252, 260–261 Rich, Barnaby, I: 312 Rich (Raine), Supp. XIII: 167–168 “Rich” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168 Rich Get Rich (Kavan), Supp. VII: 208– 209 Richard II (Shakespeare), I: 286, 308 Richard III (Shakespeare), I: 285, 299– 301 “Richard Martin” (Hood), IV: 267 Richard Rolle of Hampole, I: 20 Richard Temple (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251, 252 Richards, I. A., III: 324; V: 367, 381; VI: 207, 208; VII: xiii, 233, 239; Supp. II: 185, 193, 405–431 Richard’s Cork Leg (Behan), Supp. II: 65, 74 Richards, Grant, VI: 158 Richardson, Betty, Supp. IV: 330 Richardson, Dorothy, VI: 372; VII: 20; Supp. IV: 233; Retro. Supp. I: 313– 314; Supp. XIII: 179–193 Richardson, Elaine Cynthia Potter, see Kincaid, Jamaica Richardson, Joanna, IV: xxv, 236; V: xi, xviii Richardson, Samuel, III: 80–93, 94, 98, 333; VI: 266 Supp. II: 10; Supp. III: 26, 30–31; Supp. IV: 150; Retro. Supp. I: 80 “Richey” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6

RICH−ROBI “Richt Respeck for Cuddies, A” (tr. Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 168 Ricks, Christopher, Supp. IV: 394, 398 Riddarasögur, VIII: 236 “Riddle of Houdini, The” (Doyle), Supp. II: 163–164 Riddle of Midnight, The (film, Rushdie), Supp. IV: 436, 441 “Ride from Milan, The” (Swinburne), V: 325, 333 “Ride Round the Parapet, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 122 Riders in the Chariot (White), Supp. I: 131, 132, 133, 136, 141–143, 152 Riders to the Sea (Synge), VI: xvi, 308, 309, 310–311; Retro. Supp. I: 296 Ridiculous Mountains, The (Dutton), Supp. XII: 85 Riding, Laura, VI: 207; VII: 258, 260, 261, 263, 269; Supp. II: 185; Supp. III: 120 Riding Lights (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 181, 185–186, 190, 194 Riffaterre, Michael, Supp. IV: 115 Rigby, Elizabeth, V: 138 “Right Apprehension” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 Right at Last and Other Tales (Gaskell), V: 15 Right Ho, Jeeves (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 458, 461 “Right Season, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 104 Right to an Answer, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 187, 188–189, 190, 195, 196 Righter, Anne, I: 224, 269, 329 Rights of Great Britain asserted against the Claims of America (Macpherson), VIII: 193 Rights of Passage (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 34, 36–38, 39, 40, 41, 45 RígsÞula, VIII: 231 Rilke, Rainer Maria, VI: 215; Supp. IV: 480 Rimbaud, Jean Nicolas, Supp. IV: 163 “Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The” (Coleridge), see “Ancient Mariner, The“ Riming Poem, The, Retro. Supp. II: 304 Ring, The (Wagner), V: 300 Ring and the Book, The (Browning), IV: xxiii, 358, 362, 369, 373, 374; Retro. Supp. II: 28–29 Ring Round the Moon (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 207 “Ringed Plover by a Water’s Edge” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Rings of Saturn, The (Sebald), VIII: 295, 303–305, 308 Rings on a Tree (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 190 Ripley Under Ground (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171 Ripley Under Water (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171 Ripley’s Game (Highsmith), Supp. V: 171 Ripple from the Storm, A (Lessing), Supp. I: 244–245 Rise and Fall of the House of Windsor, The (Wilson), Sup. VI: 308

“Rise of Historical Criticism, The” (Wilde), V: 401, 419 Rise of Iskander, The (Disraeli), IV: 308 Rise of the Russian Empire, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 239 “Rising, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66–67 “Rising Five” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Rising of the Moon, The (Gregory), VI: 315, 316 Risk of Darkness, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 126 Ritchie, Lady Anne, V: 10 “Rite and Fore–Time” (Jones), Supp. VII: 176 Rite of the Passion, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276–277 “Rites” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 40, 45 Rites of Passage (Golding), Supp. I: 86– 87; Retro. Supp. I: 103–104 “Rites of Passage” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 266 “Ritual of Departure” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 “Rival, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Rival Ladies, The (Dryden), II: 293, 297, 305 Rivals, The (Sheridan), III: 253, 257– 259, 270 Rive, Richard, Supp. II: 342–343, 350 River (Hughes), Supp. I: 363; Retro. Supp. II: 212–214 “River, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “River” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 320 River Between, The (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 218– 219 River Dudden, The, a Series of Sonnets (Wordsworth), IV: 24 River Girl, The (Cope), VIII: 69, 74–75 “River God, The” (Smith), Supp. II: 472 River Town, A (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347, 348 River War, The (Churchill), VI: 351 Rivers, W. H. R., Supp. IV: 46, 57, 58 Riverside Chaucer, The (ed. Benson), Retro. Supp. II: 49 Riverside Villas Murder, The (Amis), Supp. II: 12 Riviere, Michael, VII: 422, 424 “Road from Colonus, The” (Forster), VI: 399 “Road Hazard, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Road Rage (Rendell), Supp. IX: 196, 198 “Road These Times Must Take, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 126–127 “Road to Emmaus, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 70 Road to Hudderslfield: A Journey to Five Continents, The (Morris), see World Bank: A Prospect, The Road to Samarcand, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Road to the Big City, A” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Road to Volgograd (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409 Road to Wigan Pier, The (Orwell), VII: 274, 279–280 Road to Xanadu, The (Lowes), IV: 47, 57

428

“Road Uphill, The,” (Maughm), VI: 377 “Roads” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24 “Roads” (Stevenson), V: 386 “Roads” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404, 406 Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 Roaring Girl, The (Dekker and Middleton), II: 3, 21 Roaring Queen, The (Lewis), VII: 82 Rob Roy (Scott), IV: xvii, 33, 34, 39 Robbe–Grillet, Alain, Supp. IV: 99, 104, 115, 116 Robbery Under Law (Waugh), VII: 292, 294 Robbins, Bruce, Supp. IV: 95 Robe of Rosheen, The (O’Casey), VII: 12 Robene and Makyne (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Robert Bridges and Gerard Manley Hopkins (Ritz), VI: 83 Robert Bridges 1844–1930 (Thompson), VI: 83 “Robert Bridges: His Work on the English Language” (Daryush), VI: 76 Robert Browning (ed. Armstrong), IV: 375 Robert Browning (Chesterton), VI: 344 Robert Browning (Jack), IV: 375 Robert Browning: A Collection of Critical Essays (Drew), IV: 375 Robert Burns (Swinburne), V: 333 Robert Graves: His Life and Work (Seymour–Smith), VII: 272 Robert Louis Stevenson (Chesterton), V: 391, 393, 397; VI: 345 Robert Louis Stevenson (Cooper), V: 397, 398 Robert Louis Stevenson. An Essay (Stephen), V: 290 Robert Louis Stevenson: Man and Writer (Stewart), V: 393, 397 Robert Macaire (Stevenson), V: 396 Robert of Sicily: Opera for Children (Fry and Tippett), Supp. III: 194 Robert Southey and His Age (Carnall), IV: 72 Robert the Second, King of Scots (Jonson/ Chettle/Dekker), Retro. Supp. I: 157 Roberts, Keith, Supp. X: 261–276 Roberts, Michael, VII: xix, 411 Roberts, Morley, V: 425, 427, 428, 438 Robertson, Thomas, V: 330; VI: 269 Robin Hood: A Fragment, by the Late Robert Southey, and Caroline Southey, IV: 71 Robinson, Henry Crabb, IV: 11, 52, 56, 81 Robinson, Henry Morton, VII: 53 Robinson, Lennox, VI: 96 Robinson, Mary Darby, Supp. XIII: 195– 216 Robinson (Spark), Supp. I: 201, 202–203 Robinson Crusoe (Defoe), III: 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10–12, 13, 24, 42, 50, 95; Supp. I: 73; Retro. Supp. I: 65–66, 68, 70–71 “Robinson Tradition, The” (Milne), Supp. V: 304 “Robinson’s Life Sentence” (Armitage), VIII: 6

ROBI−ROUN “Robinson’s Resignation” (Armitage), VIII: 6 Roche, Denis, Supp. IV: 115 Roche, Maurice, Supp. IV: 116 Rochester, earl of, II: 208n, 255, 256, 257–261, 269–270; Supp. III: 39, 40, 70 Rock, The (Eliot), VII: 153 “Rock, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 341, 342; Retro. Supp. II: 199 Rock Face (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213, 216–217 Rock Pool, The (Connolly), Supp. III: 98–100 Rockaby (Beckett), Supp. I: 61; Retro. Supp. I: 28–29 “Rocking–Horse Winner, The” (Lawrence), Supp. IV: 511 Roderick Hudson (James), VI: 24, 26– 28, 42, 67 Roderick Random (Smollett), III: 150– 152, 158 Roderick, The Last of the Goths (Southey), IV: 65–66, 68, 71 Rodinsky’s Room (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 241, 242, 244 Rodker, John, VI: 327 Roe Head journals (Brontë), V: 119–122 “Roger Ascham and Lady Jane Grey” (Landor), IV: 92 “Roger Bear’s Philosophical Pantoum” (Cope), VIII: 76–77 Roger Fry (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 308 Rogers, Charles, III: 249 Rogers, Woodes, III: 7 “Rois Fainéants” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 14 “Roísín Dubh” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 129 Rojas Zorilla, Francisco de, II: 325 Rokeby (Scott), IV: 38 Roland Whately (Waugh), Supp. VI: 270 “Roll for Joe, A” (Kelman), Supp. V: 244–245 “Rolling English Road, The” (Chesterton), I: 16 Rollins, Hyder, IV: 231, 232, 235 Rollo, Duke of Normandy (Chapman, Fletcher, Jonson, Massinger), II: 45, 66 Roman Actor, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 180–181, 183 Roman de la rose, I: 28, 49; tr. Chaucer, I: 28, 31 Roman de Troie (Benoît de Sainte– Maure), I: 53 Roman expérimental (Zola), V: 286 Roman Forgeries; or, A True Account of False Records Discovering the Impostures and Counterfeit Antiquities of the Church of Rome (Traherne), II: 190, 191, 201; Supp. XI: 264, 265, 276–277 Roman History, The (Goldsmith), III: 180, 181, 191 Roman Poems (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249 Roman Quarry and Other Sequences, The (Jones), Supp. VII: 167, 171 “Roman Thoughts in Autumn” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 317

Romance (Conrad and Ford), VI: 146, 148, 321 “Romance” (Sitwell), VII: 132–133 Romance and Realism (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 43, 45–46 “Romance in Ireland” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330 “Romance of Certain Old Clothes, The” (James), VI: 69 “Romance of the Lily, The” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 28 “Romania” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 11 Romantic Adventures of A Milkmaid, The (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 Romantic Agony, The (Praz), III: 337, 346; V: 412, 420 Romantic Image (Kermode), V: 344, 359, 412 Romantic Poetry and the Fine Arts (Blunden), IV: 236 “Romanticism and Classicism” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135, 138, 142–145 Romany Rye, The; A Sequel to “Lavengro” (Borrow), Supp. XII: 17, 27–28 “Romaunt of Margaret, The” (Browning), IV: 313 Romeo and Juliet (Shakespeare), I: 229, 305–306, 320; II: 281; IV: 218 Romola (Eliot), V: xxii, 66, 194–195, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 110–111 Romulus and Hersilia; or, The Sabine War (Behn), Supp. III: 29 “Rondeau Redoublé” (Cope), VIII: 71 Rondeaux Parisiens (Swinburne), V: 333 “Roof–Tree” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Rookwood (Ainsworth), V: 47 Room, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 129–130 “Room, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Room, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 367, 369; Retro. Supp. I: 216, 218, 221–222 “Room Above the Square” (Spender), Supp. II: 494 Room at the Top (Braine), Supp. IV: 238 Room of One’s Own, A (Woolf), VII: 22– 23, 25–26, 27, 38; Supp. III: 19, 41– 42; Supp. V: 36; Retro. Supp. I: 310– 314 Room with a View, A (Forster), VI: 398, 399, 403–404; Retro. Supp. II: 141– 143 “Rooms, The” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 298 “Rooms of Other Women Poets, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 37 Root and Branch (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 293–296 Rootham, Helen, VII: 129 Roots (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 43, 44, 45 “Roots” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 43 Roots of Coincidence (Koestler), Supp. I: 39 “Roots of Honour, The” (Ruskin), V: 179–180 Roots of the Mountains, The (Morris), V: 302, 306 Roppen, G., V: 221n Rosalind and Helen (Shelley), IV: 208

429

Rosalynde (Lodge), I: 312 Rosamond, Queen of the Lombards (Swinburne), V: 312–314, 330, 331, 332, 333 Rose, Ellen Cronan, Supp. IV: 232 “Rose, The” (Southey), IV: 64 Rose, The (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330 Rose and Crown (O’Casey), VII: 13 Rose and the Ring, The (Thackeray), V: 38, 261 Rose Blanche (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390 Rose in the Heart, A (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 “Rose in the Heart of New York, A” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 340–341 “Rose Mary” (Rossetti), V: 238, 244 Rose of Life, The (Braddon), VIII: 49 Rosemary’s Baby (film), III: 343 Rosenberg, Bruce, Supp. IV: 7 Rosenberg, Eleanor, I: 233 Rosenberg, Isaac, VI: xvi, 417, 420, 432– 435; VII: xvi; Supp. III: 59 Rosenberg, John, V: 316, 334 Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Stoppard), Supp. I: 440–443, 444, 451; Retro. Supp. II: 343–345 Rosenfeld, S., II: 271 Rosengarten (Bevan and Galloway), Supp. XII: 117 “Roses on the Terrace, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329, 336 “Rosie Plum” (Powys), VIII: 251 Rosie Plum and Other Stories (Powys), VIII: 251, 252 “Rosiphelee” (Gower), I: 53–54 Ross (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 320, 321 Ross, Alan, VII: xxii, 422, 433–434 Ross, John Hume (pseud., Lawrence), Supp. II: 286, 295 Rossetti, Christina, V: xi–xii, xix, xxii, xxvi, 247–260; Supp. IV: 139 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, IV: 346; V: ix, xi, xii, xviii, xxiii–xxv, 235–246, 247– 253, 259, 293–296, 298, 299, 312– 315, 320, 329, 355, 401; VI: 167 Rossetti, Maria V: 251, 253 Rossetti, William, V: 235, 236, 245, 246, 248–249, 251–253, 260 Rossetti (Waugh), VII: 291 Rossetti and His Circle (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 51 “Rossetti’s Conception of the ’Poetic’ ” (Doughty), V: 246 Røstvig, Maren–Sofie, I: 237 “Rosyfingered, The” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 “Rot, The” (Lewis), VII: 73 Rotten Elements, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 255, 257 “Rotter, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 204 Rotting Hill (Lewis), VII: 72 Rough Justice (Braddon), VIII: 37, 49 Rough Shoot (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 “Roull of Corstorphin” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80–81 Round and Round the Garden (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 5 Round of Applause, A (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187–188, 190, 194–195

ROUN−SAGA Round Table, The (Hazlitt), IV: xvii, 129, 137, 139 Round Table, The; or, King Arthur’s Feast (Peacock), IV: 170 “Round Table Manners” (Nye), Supp. X: 202–203 Round the Sofa (Gaskell), V: 3, 15 Roundabout Papers (Thackeray), V: 34, 35, 38 Roundheads, The; or, The Good Old Cause (Behn), Supp. III: 25 Rounding the Horn: Collected Poems (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292–294, 298, 302 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, III: 235, 236; IV: xiv, 207; Supp. III: 239–240 Rover, The (Conrad), VI: 144, 147, 148 Rover, The; or, The Banish’d Cavaliers (Behn), Supp. III: 26, 27–29, 31 Royal Edinburgh (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Rowe, Nicholas, I: 326 Rowley, Hazel, Supp. IV: 459, 460 Rowley, William, II: 1, 3, 14, 15, 18, 21, 66, 69, 83, 89, 100 Roxana (Defoe), III: 8–9, 14; Retro. Supp. I: 69, 74 Roy, Arundhati, Supp. V: xxx, 67, 75 Royal Academy, The (Moore), VI: 98 Royal Beasts, The (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 184 Royal Combat, The (Ford), II: 100 Royal Court Theatre, VI: 101 Royal Hunt of the Sun, The (Shaffer), Supp. I: 314, 319–322, 323, 324, 327 “Royal Jelly” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 221 “Royal Man” (Muir), I: 247 “Royal Naval Air Station” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 Royal Pardon, The (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 30 Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, The (FitzGerald), IV: xxii, 342–343, 345– 348, 349, 352, 353; V: 318 Rubin, Merle, Supp. IV: 360 Ruby in the Smoke, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 151 Rudd, Margaret, VI: 209 Rudd, Steele, Supp. IV: 460 Rude Assignment (Lewis), VI: 333; VII: xv, 72, 74, 76 Rude Potato, The (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134, 135, 142–143 Rudolf II, Emperor of Holy Roman Empire, Supp. IV: 174 Rudyard Kipling, Realist and Fabulist (Dobrée), VI: 200–203 Rudyard Kipling to Rider Haggard (ed. Cohen), VI: 204 Ruell, Patrick, see Hill, Reginald Ruffhead, O., III: 69n, 71 Ruffian on the Stair, The (Orton), Supp. V: 367, 370, 372, 373 “Rugby Chapel” (Arnold), V: 203 “Ruin, The” (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 160 Ruin, The, Retro. Supp. II: 305 Ruined Boys, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74, 75 “Ruined Cottage, The,” (Wordsworth), IV: 23, 24

“Ruined Farm, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213 “Ruined Maid, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 Ruins and Visions (Spender), Supp. II: 486, 489 Ruins of Time, The (Spenser), I: 124 Rukeyser, Muriel, Supp. V: 261 Rule a Wife and Have a Wife (Fletcher), II: 45, 65 Rule Britannia (du Maurier), Supp. III: 133, 147 “Rule, Britannia” (Thomson), Supp. III: 412, 425 “Rules and Lessons” (Vaughan), II: 187 Rules for Court Circular (Carroll), V: 274 “Rummy Affair of Old Biffy, The” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455, 457 Ruling Passion (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 113– 114 Rumors of Rain (Brink), Supp. VI: 49–50 Rumour at Nightfall (Greene), Supp. I: 3 “Run”(Motion), Supp. VII: 259 Rungs of Time (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323–324, 325 “Running Stream, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 43–44 Running Wild (Ballard), Supp. V: 30–31 Rural Denmark (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Rural England (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Rural Minstrel, The (Brontë), V: 107, 151 Rural Muse, The: Poems (Clare), Supp. XI: 59, 60, 63 Rural Sports: A Poem (Gay), III: 67 Rushdie, Salman, Supp. IV: 65, 75, 116, 157, 160, 161, 162, 170–171, 174, 302, 433–456; Supp. V: 67, 68, 74 Rushing to Paradise (Ballard), Supp. V: 31 Ruskin, John, IV: 320, 346; V: xii, xviii, xx–xxii, xxvi, 3, 9, 17, 20, 85–86, 173–185, 235, 236, 291–292, 345, 362, 400; VI: 167 Ruskin’s Politics (Shaw), VI: 129 Russ, R. P. see O’Brian, Patrick Russell, Bertrand, VI: xi, 170, 385; VII: 90 Russell, G. W. E., IV: 292, 304 Russell, George William, VIII: 277–293 Russell, John, Supp. IV: 126 Russia House, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 300, 310, 311, 313, 318–319 Russian Interpreter, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 52–53, 54 Russian Nights (Thomas), Supp. IV: 483–486 Rusticus (Poliziano), I: 240 “Ruth” (Crabbe), V: 6 Ruth (Gaskell), V: xxi, 1, 6–7, 15 “Ruth” (Hood), IV: 255 Ryan, Desmond, VII: 2 Rymer, James Malcolm, Supp. III: 385 Rymer, Thomas, I: 328 Ryskamp, C., III: 249

“S. K.” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 S. T. Coleridge (ed. Brett), IV: 57 “Sabbath” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 108

430

“Sabbath” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 145 “Sabbath Morning at Sea, A” (Browning), IV: 313 “Sabbath Park” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 283–284 Sackville, Charles, see Dorset, earl of Sackville, Thomas, I: 169, 214 Sackville–West, Edward, VII: 35, 59 Sacred and Profane Love Machine, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 224 Sacred Flame, The (Maugham), VI: 369 Sacred Fount, The (James), VI: 56–57, 67 Sacred Hunger (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 353, 357, 361, 363–364 “Sacred Ridges above Diamond Creek” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 320 Sacred Wood, The (Eliot), I: 293; V: 310, 334; VII: 149, 164; Retro. Supp. I: 166 “Sacrifice” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 “Sacrifice, The” (Herbert), II: 124, 128 “Sad Poem” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 89 “Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton, The” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 103 Sad One, The (Suckling), II: 226 Sad Shepherd, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 166 “Sad Steps” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “Sadak the Wanderer” (Shelley), IV: 20 Sade, marquis de, V: 316–317 Sadeian Woman, The: An Exercise in Cultural History (Carter), Supp. III: 87–88 Sadleir, Michael, III: 335, 346; V: 100, 101, 102 “Sadness of Cricket, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45–46 Sado (Plomer), Supp. XI: 215–216 “Safe” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 38–39 “Safe as Houses” (Drabble), Supp. IV: 231 “Safety” (Brooke), Supp. III: 57 “Saga of Bjo¸rn Champion of the Folk of Hít–Dale, The”, See Bjarnar saga Hítdœlakappa “Saga of Egill Skalla–Grimr’s Son, The”, See Egils saga Skalla–Grímssonar “Saga of Eiríkr the Red, The”, See Eiríks saga rauða “Saga of Gísli Súrr’s Son, The”, See Gísla saga Súrssonar “Saga of Glúmr of the Slayings, The”, See Víga–Glúms saga “Saga of Gunnlaugr Serpent–Tongue, The”, See Gunnlaugs saga ormstunga “Saga of Hallfreðr the Awkward Poet, The”, See Hallfreðar saga vandræðaskálds, 239 “Saga of Ljótr from Vellir, The”, See Valla–Ljóts saga “Saga of Njáll of the Burning, The”, See Njáls saga “Saga of St Óláfr, The”, See Óláfs saga helga “Saga of the Confederates, The”, See Bandamanna saga “Saga of the Descendants of Sturla, The”, See Sturlunga saga

SAGA−SARR “Saga of the Folk of Bright–Water, The”, See Ljósvetninga saga “Saga of the Folk of Laxdale, The”, Laxdœla saga “Saga of the Foster Brothers, The”, See Fóstbrœðra saga “Saga of the Greenlanders, The”, See Grœnlendinga saga “Saga of the Shingle–Dwellers, The”, See Eyrbyggja saga Saga Library, The (Morris, Magnusson), V: 306 Sagar, Keith, VII: 104 “Sagas of Ancient Times”, See Fornaldarsögur “Sagas of Icelanders”, See Íslendinga sögur “Sagas of Knights”, See Riddarasögur Sage, Lorna, Supp. IV: 346 “Sage to the Young Man, The” (Housman), VI: 159 Said, Edward, Supp. IV: 164, 449 Saigon: Year of the Cat (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 289 Sail Away (Coward), Supp. II: 155 Sailing Alone Around the World (Slocum), Supp. IV: 158 “Sailing the High Seas” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175–176 Sailing to an Island (Murphy), Supp. V: 317–320 “Sailing to an Island” (Murphy), Supp. V: 319 “Sailing to Byzantium” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 333–334 “Sailor, What of the Isles?” (Sitwell), VII: 138 “Sailor’s Mother, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 21 “Saint, The” (Maugham), VI: 377 “Saint, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 315, 318–319 “St. Alphonsus Rodriquez” (Hopkins), V: 376, 378 Saint and Mary Kate, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 217 “St. Anthony’s Shirt” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 115 St. Augustine (West), Supp. III: 433 St Bartholomew’s Eve: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century in Two Cantos (Newman), Supp. VII: 289 Sainte–Beuve, Charles, III: 226, 230; V: 212 “St. Botolph’s” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 217 “St. Bride’s” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141, 142 St. Catherine’s Clock (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 St. Évremond, Charles de, III: 47 St. Francis of Assisi (Chesterton), VI: 341 Saint Ignatius Loyola (Thompson), V: 450, 451 St. Irvine (Shelley), III: 338 St. Irvyne; or, The Rosicrucian (Shelley), IV: 208 St. Ives (Stevenson and Quiller–Couch), V: 384, 387, 396

“St James” (Reading), VIII: 263 Saint Joan (Shaw), VI: xv, 120, 123–125; Retro. Supp. II: 323–324 St. Joan of the Stockyards (Brecht), VI: 123 St. Kilda’s Parliament (Dunn), Supp. X: 66, 73–75, 77 St. Leon (Godwin), III: 332 “St. Martin’s Summer” (Browning), IV: 369 “Sainte Mary Magdalene; or, The Weeper” (Crashaw), see AWeeper, The“ “St. Mawr” (Lawrence), VII: 115; Retro. Supp. II: 232 “St. Patrick’s Day” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 178 St. Patrick’s Day (Sheridan), III: 253, 259, 270 St. Paul and Protestantism (Arnold), V: 216 St. Paul’s boys’ theater, I: 197 St. Ronan’s Well (Scott), IV: 36, 37, 39 “St. Simeon Stylites” (Tennyson), IV: xx, 332 St. Thomas Aquinas (Chesterton), VI: 341 St. Valentine’s Day (Scott), IV: 39 “St. Winefred’s Well” (Hopkins), V: 371 “Saints and Lodgers” (Davies), Supp. XI: 94 Saint’s Knowledge of Christ’s Love, The (Bunyan), II: 253 Saint’s Privilege and Profit, The (Bunyan), II: 253 Saint’s Progress (Galsworthy), VI: 272, 279, 280–281 Saintsbury, George, II: 211; IV: 271, 282, 306; V: 31, 38; VI: 266 Saki (H. H. Munro), Supp. II: 140–141, 144, 149; Supp. VI: 239–252 Salem Chapel (Oliphant), Supp. X: 214– 215, 221 “Sales” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 43 Salámón and Absál . . . Translated from .. . . Jámí (FitzGerald), IV: 342, 345, 353 Salih, Tayeb, Supp. IV: 449 Salinger, J. D., Supp. IV: 28 “Salisbury Plain”poems (Wordsworth), IV: 2, 3, 4, 5–6, 23, 24 Sally Bowles (Isherwood), VII: 311 “Salmon Eggs” (Hughes), Supp. I: 363, 364; Retro. Supp. II: 213 Salomé (Wilde), V: xxvi, 412–413, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 370–371 Salsette and Elephanta (Ruskin), V: 184 Salt Lands, The (Shaffer), Supp. I: 314 “Salt of the Earth, The” (West), Supp. III: 442 “Salt Stream, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231–232 Salt Water (Motion), Supp. VII: 259, 262–264 Salter, F. M., I: 82 Salutation (Russell), VIII: 288 “Salutation, The” (Traherne), II: 191; Supp. XI: 268 Salutation, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 379–380

431

“Salvation of Swithin Forsyte, The” (Galsworthy), VI: 274, 277 “Salvatore” (Maugham), VI: 370 Salve (Moore), VI: 99 Salzburg Tales, The (Stead), Supp. IV: 461 “Same Day” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Sammy and Rosie Get Laid (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 156, 161 Samson Agonistes (Milton), II: 165, 172– 174, 176; Retro. Supp. II: 285–288 Samtíðarsögur, VIII: 236 Samuel Johnson (Krutch), III: 246 Samuel Johnson (Stephen), V: 281, 289 “Samuel Johnson and John Horne (Tooke)” (Landor), IV: 92 Samuel Pepys’s Naval Minutes (ed. Tanner), II: 288 Samuel Pepys’s APenny Merriments”. . . Together with Comments . . . (ed. Thompson), II: 288 Samuel Taylor Coleridge: A Biographical Study (Chambers), IV: 41, 57 Samuel Titmarsh and the Great Hoggarty Diamond (Thackeray), see Great Hoggarty Diamond, The Sanchez, Nellie, V: 393, 397 Sand, George, V: 22, 141, 207 “Sand–Between–the–Toes” (Milne), Supp. V: 302 “Sand Coast Sonnets, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 283 Sandboy, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 58 Sandcastle, The (Murdoch), VII: 66; Supp. I: 222–223, 225 Sanders, M. F., V: 250, 260 Sanderson, Robert, II: 136–137, 140, 142 Sandglass, The (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 85–86, 92–96, 98–100 Sandison, Alan G., VI: xi, xxxiv Sanditon (Austen), IV: 108, 110, 122 Sandkastele (Brink), Supp. VI: 57 Sandra Belloni (Meredith), V: 226, 227, 234 “Sandro Botticelli” (Pater), V: 345, 348 “Sandstone Keepsake” (Heaney), Supp. II: 277 Sangschaw (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 202, 204, 205, 206 Sanity of Art, The (Shaw), VI: 106–107, 129 Sans (Beckett), Supp. I: see Lessness Santal (Firbank), Supp. II: 202, 204, 214–215, 223 Sapho and Phao (Lyly), I: 198, 201–202 “Sapho to Philænis” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 92–93 Sapper, Supp. IV: 500 “Sapphics” (Swinburne), V: 321 Sappho (Durrell), Supp. I: 126–127 Sappho and Phaon, a Series of Legitimate Sonnets, with Thoughts on Poetical Subjects & Anecdotes of the Grecian Poetess (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204, 208–209 “Sappho to Phaon” (Ovid), V: 319 Saramago, Jose, Supp. V: xxx Sardanapalus (Byron), IV: xviii, 178– 179, 193 Sarraute, Nathalie, Supp. IV: 99

SART−SCOR Sarton, May, Supp. II: 82 Sartor Resartus (Carlyle), IV: xii, xix, 231, 239–240, 242–243, 249, 250 Sartre, Jean–Paul, III: 329, 345; Supp. I: 216, 217, 221, 222, 452–453; Supp. III: 109; Supp. IV: 39, 79, 105, 259 Sartre: Romantic Rationalist (Murdoch), Supp. I: 219–220, 222 Sassoon, Siegfried, V: 219, 234; VI: xvi, 416, 429–431, 451, 454, 456–457; VII: xvi; Supp. III: 59; Supp. IV: 57–58 “Satan in a Barrel” (Lowry), Supp. III: 270 Satan in Search of a Wife (Lamb), IV: 84, 85 Satanic Verses, The (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 116, 433, 434, 436, 437, 438, 445– 450, 451, 452, 456 Satan’s Invisible World Displayed; or, Despairing Democracy: A Study of Greater New York (Stead), Supp. XIII: 242–243 “Satiety” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271 Satire and Fiction (Lewis), VII: 72, 77 Satire on Satirists, A, and Admonition to Detractors (Landor), IV: 100 Satires (Donne), I: 361; Retro. Supp. II: 86 Satires (Wyatt), I: 100, 101–102, 111 Satires of Circumstance (Hardy), VI: 14, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 117 Satires of Circumstance (Sorley), VI: 421 “Satiric Muse, The ” (Hope), Supp. VII: 163 “Satisfactory, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 319–320 “Saturday; or, The Flights” (Gay), III: 56 Saturday Life, A (Hall), Supp. VI: 120– 122 “Saturday Night” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269 Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409, 410, 413, 416–419 Saturday Review (periodical), V: 279; VI: 103, 106, 366; Supp. II: 45, 48, 53, 54, 55; Supp. XIII: 187 “Saturnalia” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269 “Saturnalia” (Wilson), Supp. I: 158 “Satyr Against Mankind, A” (Rochester), II: 208n, 256, 260–261, 270 “Satyrical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General, A” (Swift), III: 31 Saucer of Larks, The (Friel), Supp. V: 113 “Saul” (Browning), IV: 363 Saunders, Charles, II: 305 Sauter, Rudolf, VI: 284 Sauve Qui Peut (Durrell), Supp. I: 113 Savage, Eliza Mary Ann, Supp. II: 99, 104, 111 Savage, Richard, III: 108 Savage and the City in the Work of T. S. Eliot, The (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 71, 82 Savage Gold (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70 Savage Pilgrimage, The (Carswell), VII: 123 Save It for the Minister (Churchill, Potter, O’Malley), Supp. IV: 181

Save the Beloved Country (Paton), Supp. II: 359, 360 Saved (Bond), Supp. I: 421, 422–423, 425–426, 427, 435 Saved By Grace (Bunyan), II: 253 Savile, George, see Halifax, marquess of Saville (Storey), Supp. I: 419 Saviour of Society, The (Swinburne), V: 333 “Savonarola Brown” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 5l, 56 Savonarola e il priore di San Marco (Landor), IV: 100 Savrola (Churchill), VI: 351 “Say not of me that weakly I declined” (Stevenson), V: 390 “Say not the struggle nought availeth” (Clough), V: 158–159, 165, 166, 167 Sayers, Dorothy L., III: 341; VI: 345; Supp. II: 124, 126, 127, 135; Supp. III: 333–353; Supp. IV: 2, 3, 500 “Scale” (Self), Supp. V: 403–404 “Scales, The” (Longley), VIII: 176 “Scalding, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Scandal (Wilson), Supp. VI: 302–303, 308 “Scandal in Bohemia, A” (Doyle), Supp. I: 173 Scandal of Father Brown, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 Scandalous Woman, A (O’Brien), Supp. V: 339 Scannell, Vernon, VII: 422, 423–424 “Scapegoat” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Scapegoat, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 136, 139, 140–141 “Scapegoat, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 312, 317–318 Scapegoats and Rabies (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 Scarcity of Love, A (Kavan), Supp. VII: 213, 214 Scarecrow and His Servant, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152–153 “Scarecrow in the Schoolmaster’s Oats, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 Scarlet Tree, The (Sitwell), VII: 128–129 Scarperer, The (Behan), Supp. II: 67 Scarron, Paul, II: 354 “Scenes” (Dickens), V: 44–46 Scenes and Actions (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 37 “Scènes de la Vie Bohème: Episode of a Night of May” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 272 Scenes from Italy’s War (Trevelyan), VI: 389 “Scenes from the Fall of Troy” (Morris), V: 297 Scenes of Clerical Life (Eliot), V: xxii, 2, 190–191, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 103– 104 Scenic Railway, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 260, 261–262 “Scenic Railway, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 261–262 Scenic Route, The (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 Sceptick (Ralegh), I: 157

432

Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm, V: 347 Scheme and Estimates for a National Theatre, A (Archer and Barker), VI: 104, 113 Schepisi, Fred, Supp. IV: 345 Schiller, Friedrich von, IV: xiv, xvi 173, 241 Schindler ’s Ark (Keneally), see Schindler’s List Schindler’s List (Keneally), Supp. IV: 343, 346, 348, 354–357, 358 “Schir, I complayne off iniuris” (Dunbar), VIII: 119, 121 “Schir, Ye have mony Servitouris” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 Schirmer Inheritance, The (Ambler), Supp. IV: 4, 13–16, 21 Schlegel, A. W., I: 329; IV: vii, xvii; V: 62 Schneider, Elizabeth, V: 366, 382 “Scholar, The” (Cornford), VIII: 113 “Scholar and Gypsy” (Desai), Supp. V: 65 “Scholar Gipsy, The” (Arnold), V: xxi, 209, 210, 211, 216 School for Husbands (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175 School for Wives (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175 School for Scandal, The (Sheridan), III: 97, 100, 253, 261–264, 270 School of Abuse (Gosson), I: 161 School of Athens, The (Renault), Supp. IX: 185 School of Donne, The (Alvarez), II: 125n “School of Eloquence, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 150, 151–157 “School Stories” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 449 “School Story, A” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 502 “School Teacher” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 Schoolboy Verses (Kipling), VI: 200 “Schoolboys” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 393 Schools and Universities on the Continent (Arnold), V: 216 Schopenhauer, Arthur, Supp. IV: 6 Schreber’s Nervous Illness (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Schreiner, Olive, Supp. II: 435–457 Schwindel. Gefühle (Sebald). See Vertigo Science and Poetry (Richards), VI: 207, 208; Supp. II: 405, 412, 413, 414, 417–418, 419 Science of Ethics, The (Stephen), V: 284– 285, 289 “Science of History, The” (Froude), IV: 324 Science of Life, The (Wells), VI: 225 “Science of the Future, The: A Forecast” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 Scilla’s Metamorphosis (Lodge), I: 306 “Scipio, Polybius, and Panaetius” (Landor), IV: 94 Scoop (Waugh), VII: 297 Scornful Lady, The (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 65 “Scorpion, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213–214

SCOR−SECO Scorpion and Other Poems (Smith), Supp. II: 463 Scorpion God, The (Golding), Supp. I: 82–83 Scot, William, Supp. III: 20, 22, 23 “Scotch Drink” (Burns), III: 315 “Scotland” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 72 “Scotland” (Reid), Supp. VII: 331 “Scotland in the 1890s” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 Scotland, the Place of Visions (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 177 “Scots and Off–Scots Words” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 80–81 “Scots Gamelan” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 69–70 Scots Hairst, A (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 99 Scots Musical Museum (Johnson), III: 320, 322 Scots Quair, A (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 99, 100, 101, 104, 106–113 Scott, Geoffrey, III: 234n, 238, 249 Scott, John, IV: 252, 253 Scott, Paul, Supp. I: 259–274; Supp. IV: 440 Scott, Robert Falcon, II: 273 Scott, Sir Walter II: 276; III: 146, 157, 326, 335, 336, 338; IV: viii, xi, xiv, 27–40, 45, 48, 102, 111, 122, 129, 133–136, 167, 168, 173, 254, 270, 281; V: 392; VI: 412; Supp. III: 151, 154, 167 Scott Moncrieff, Charles, VI: 454, 455 Scottish Assembly, A (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 70, 71–72, 73, 75, 78 Scottish Chapbook, Supp. XII: 204 Scottish Invention of English Literature, The (ed. Crawford), Supp. XI: 76, 82, 83 Scottish Journey (Muir), Supp. VI: 198, 201 Scottish Scene; or, The Intelligent Man’s Guide to Albyn (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 99–100, 102–106 Scott–James, Rolfe Arnold, VI: x, xxxiv, 1 Scott–Kilvert, Ian Stanley, VI: xvi, xxxiv; VII: xxii Scott–King’s Modern Europe (Waugh), VII: 301 “Scott’s Arks” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82 Scotus, Duns, see Duns Scotus, John Scourge of Villainy, The (Marston), II: 25, 26, 40 Scrapbook (Mansfield), VII: 181 Screams and Other Poems, The (Richards), Supp. II: 407, 427 Screwtape Letters, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 255, 256–257 “Scribe in the Woods, The” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 56 “Script for an Unchanging Voice” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 292 Scriptorum illustrium maioris Britanniae catalogus (Bale), I: 1 Scrutiny (periodical), VII: 233, 238, 243, 251–252, 256; Supp. III: 107 Scudéry, Georges de, III: 95

Sculptura; or, The History . . . of Chalcography and Engraving in Copper (Evelyn), II: 287 Scum of the Earth (Koestler), Supp. I: 26 Scupham, Peter, Supp. XIII: 218–232 “Scylla and Charybdis” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Sea, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 427, 432– 433, 435 Sea, The Sea, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 231, 232 Sea and Sardinia (Lawrence), VII: 116– 117 Sea and the Mirror, The (Auden), VII: 379, 380, 388, 389; Retro. Supp. I: 11 “Sea and the Skylark, The” (Hopkins), V: 367 Sea Change, The (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 137, 139–140, 146 “Sea in Winter, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 173, 175 “Sea Limits” (Rossetti), V: 241 Sea Gull, The (tr. Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 “Sea Horse Family, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 “Sea–Sand” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106 Sea to the West (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 213, 218–219 “Sea to the West” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 “Sea Urchin” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Sea Voyage, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 43, 66 “Sea Voyage, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 Seafarer, The, Retro. Supp. II: 303–304 “Seafarer, The” (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 160 “Seafarer, The” (Pound), Supp. IV: 100, 115 Sea–King’s Daughter and Eureka!, The (Brown), Supp. VI: 71–73 “Seals at High Island” (Murphy), Supp. V: 324 “Sea–Mists of the Winter, The” (Lewis), VII: 84 “Seamless Garment, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 211–212, 213 Sean O’Casey: The Man Behind the Plays (Cowasjee), VII: 4 Search, The (Snow), VII: 321–322, 323– 324 “Search, The” (Vaughan), VII: 187 “Search After Happiness, The” (Brontë), V: 110 Search After Sunrise: A Traveller’s Story (Brittain), Supp. X: 46 “Searching for a Gift” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 “Seaside Walk, A” (Browning), IV: 313 Season at Sarsaparilla, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 149 Season in Purgatory (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 Season Songs (Hughes), Supp. I: 357– 359; Retro. Supp. II: 208–209 Seasonable Counsel; or, Advice to Sufferers (Bunyan), II: 253

433

Season’s Greetings (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 13, 14 “Seasons, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Seasons, The (Thomson), Supp. III: 409, 410, 411, 412–419, 420, 428; Retro. Supp. I: 241 “Seated Woman” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “Sea–watching” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288 Sebald, W. G., VIII: 295–309 Sebastian (Durrell), Supp. I: 120 Seccombe, Thomas, V: 425, 437 Second Angel, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 187, 194, 195–197 “Second Best, The” (Arnold), V: 209 “Second Best” (Brooke), Supp. III: 49 Second Book of Odes (Bunting), Supp. VII: 13–14 Second Brother, The (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 22, 23 “Second Coming, The” (Yeats), VI: xiv; Retro. Supp. I: 332–333 Second Curtain, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 71, 72, 81 Second Defence of the People of England, The (Milton), II: 164; Retro. Supp. II: 270 Second Epistle of the Second Book (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 230 Second Funeral of Napoleon, The (Thackeray), V: 22, 38 “Second Hand Clothes” (Dunn), Supp. X: 74 “Second Hut, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240–241 Second Journal to Eliza, The, III: 135 Second Jungle Book, The (Kipling), VI: 204 “Second Language” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 60 Second Life, The (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 158, 159, 163−168 “Second Life, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 165 Second Maiden’s Tragedy, The (Middleton), II: 2, 3, 8–10, 21 Second Mrs. Tanqueray, The (Pinero), V: 413 Second Nun’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 31, 34, 43 “Second Opinion” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 Second Part of Conny–Catching, The (Greene), VIII: 144–145 Second Part of Mr. Waller’s Poems, The (Waller), II: 238 Second Part of Pilgrim’s Progress, The (T. S.), II: 248 Second Part of the Bloody Conquests of Mighty Tamburlaine, The (Marlowe), see Tamburlaine, Part 2 Second Part of The Rover, The (Behn), Supp. III: 27 2nd Poems (Graham), Supp. VII: 109– 110 Second Satire (Wyatt), I: 111 Second Sex, The (Beauvoir), Supp. IV: 232 “Second Sight” (Longley), VIII: 173

SECO−SENS Second Treatise on Government (Locke), Supp. III: 33 “Second Visit, A” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Second World War (Churchill), VI: 359– 360 Secord, Arthur Wellesley, III: 41 “Secret Agent, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 3 Secret Agent (Conrad), Supp. IV: 1 Secret Agent, The (Conrad), VI: 143–144, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 80–81 Secret Brother, The (Jennings), Supp. V: 216 Secret Dispatches from Arabia (Lawrence), Supp. II: 295 “Secret Garden, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Secret Glass, The (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 20 Secret History of the Present Intrigues of the Court of Caramania, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 141 Secret History of the White Staff, The, . . . (Defoe), III: 13 “Secret History of World War 3, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 Secret Ladder, The (Harris), Supp. V: 132, 135, 139 Secret Lives (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 220 Secret Love; or, The Maiden Queen (Dryden), II: 305 Secret Narratives (Motion), Supp. VII: 255–256, 257, 263 Secret of Father Brown, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 Secret Pilgrim, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 319 Secret Rapture, The (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 292, 293–294, 296 Secret Rose (Yeats), VI: 222 “Secret Sharer, The” (Conrad), VI: 145– 147 “Secret Sharer, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 256, 259 Secret Villages (Dunn), Supp. X: 67–68 Secret Water (Ransome), Supp. I: 68 Secrets (Davies), Supp. XI: 100 “Section 28” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160 “Secular, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315 Secular Lyrics of the XIVth and XVth Centuries (Robbins), I: 40 “Secular Masque, The” (Dryden), II: 289, 290, 305, 325 “Sedge–Warblers” (Thomas), Supp. III: 406 Sedley, Sir Charles, II: 255, 261, 263– 266, 271 “Seductio ad Absurdam” (Lowry), Supp. III: 285 “Seed Growing Secretly, The” (Vaughan), II: 189 Seed of Chaos: What Mass Bombing Really Means (Brittain), Supp. X: 45 “Seed Picture, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281, 285 Seeds of Time, The (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 290

Seeing Things (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 124, 131–132 Seek and Find (Rossetti), V: 260 “Seers” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 34 “Seesaw” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 275–276 Seicentismo e Marinismo in Inghilterra (Praz), II: 123 Sejanus (Jonson), I: 235, 242, 249, 345– 346; Retro. Supp. I: 161, 164 Select British Poets; or, New Elegant Extracts from Chaucer to the Present Time (Hazlitt), IV: 139 Select Collection of Original Scottish Airs (Thomson), III: 322 “Select Meditations” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 264, 265, 266 Select Poets of Great Britain (Hazlitt), IV: 139 Selected Essays of Cyril Connolly, The (ed. Quennell), Supp. III: 107 Selected Letters of Edwin Muir (Muir), Supp. VI: 203 Selected Life, A (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Selected Plays [of Lady Gregory] (ed. Coxhead), VI: 317 Selected Poems (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 Selected Poems (Armitage), VIII: 1–2 Selected Poems (Beer), Supp. XIV: 1, 2, 5 Selected Poems (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 27 Selected Poems (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73, 76, 78, 79 Selected Poems (Gunn and Hughes), Supp. IV: 257 Selected Poems (Harrison), Supp. V: 150, 157, 160 Selected Poems (Hope), Supp. VII: 156, 159 Selected Poems (Hughes), Supp. I: 364– 365 Selected Poems (Mahon), Supp. VI: 166– 167, 169–174Selected Poems (Mahon), Supp. VI: 166–167, 169–174 Selected Poems (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119, 120–121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129 Selected Poems (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 413 Selected Poems (Murray), Supp. VII: 270 Selected Poems (Plomer), Supp. XI: 223 Selected Poems (Smith), Supp. II: 463 Selected Poems (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199, 203, 204, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 212, 213 Selected Poems (Russell), VIII: 292 Selected Poems (Spender), Supp. II: 486, 489 Selected Poems (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256, 261–263 Selected Poems (D.M. Thomas), Supp. IV: 490, 494 Selected Poems (R.S. Thomas), Supp. XII: 282 Selected Poems of Boris Pasternak (tr. Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Selected Poems of Edward Thomas (ed. Thomas), Supp. XII: 282

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Selected Poems of Fulke Greville (Greville), Supp. XI: 105, 109, 114, 116 Selected Poems of Kyriakos Charalambides (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 Selected Poems of Malcolm Lowry (tr. Birney), Supp. III: 282 Selected Poems of Séan ó Ríordáin (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 77 Selected Poems 1954–1992 (Brown), Supp. VI: 70–72 Selected Poems 1956–1994 (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 317, 318, 319, 320 Selected Poems, 1959–1989 (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Selected Poems 1964–1983 (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 Selected Poems 1976–1997 (Motion), Supp. VII: 252, 257 Selected Prose (Housman), VI: 154 Selected Speeches (Disraeli), IV: 308 Selected Stories (Friel), Supp. V: 113 Selected Stories (Gordimer), Supp. II: 231, 232, 234, 242 Selected Stories (Plomer), Supp. XI: 223 “Selected Translations” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 248 Selected Writings (Symons), Supp. XIV: 269, 273 Selected Writings of Fulke Greville (Greville), Supp. XI: 105, 117 Selection of Kipling’s Verse (Eliot), VI: 202 Self, Will, Supp. IV: 26; Supp. V: 395– 408 “Self and its Affliations, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 Self and Self–Management (Bennett), VI: 264 “Self Justification” (Harrison), Supp. V: 155–156 Self Portrait (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 197–198 “Self Portrait” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222 “Self Portrait: Nearing Sixty” (Waugh), Supp. VI: 276 “Selfish Giant, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 365 “Self–Release” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 “Self–Renewal” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 “Self’s the Man” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281 “Self–Scrutiny” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 “Self–Unseeing, The” (Hardy), VI: 13; Retro. Supp. I: 118 Selimus, I: 220 Seltzer, David, III: 343, 345 “Selves” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272 Selvon, Samuel, Supp. IV: 445 “Semi–Monde,” (Coward), Supp. II: 146 “Semiology and Rhetoric” (de Man), Supp. IV: 114 Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65, 70, 72–73 “Send–Off, The” (Owen), VI: 447, 452 Seneca, I: 214–215; II: 25, 28, 71, 97 “Sensation Novels” (Oliphant), Supp. X: 221

SENS−SHAD Sense and Sensibility (Austen), III: 91, 336; IV: xvii, 108, 109, 111, 112, 114– 122; Retro. Supp. II: 6–7 Sense of Detachment, A (Osborne), Supp. I: 339 Sense of Movement, The (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 259–262 Sense of the Past, The (James), VI: 64–65 Sense of the World, A (Jennings), Supp. V: 210, 212, 214 “Sensitive Plant, The” (Shelley), IV: 203 “Sentence, The” (tr. McKane), Supp. IV: 494–495 “Sentence, The” (tr. Thomas), Supp. IV: 494–495 “Sentimental Blues” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 “Sentimental Education, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 Sentimental Journey, A (Sterne), III: 124, 127, 132–134, 135 Sentimental Tommy (Barrie), Supp. III: 3 Sentiments of a Church–of–England Man, The (Swift), III: 26 “Sentry, The” (Owen), VI: 448, 451 Separate Saga of St Óláfr, The, VIII: 235 Separate Tables: Table by the Window and Table Number Seven (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 313, 318–319 “Sephestia’s Song to Her Child” (Greene), VIII: 143 “September 1, 1939” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 10, Retro. Supp. I: 14 “September Dawn” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224, 226 “September Soliloquy” (Cornford), VIII: 114 “September Song” (Hill), Supp. V: 187 September Tide (du Maurier), Supp. III: 143 “Septuagesima” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 16 “Sepulchre” (Herbert), II: 128 “Sequence” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 6 Sequence for Francis Parkman, A (Davie), Supp. VI: 108–109, 115 “Sequence in Hospital” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 Sequence of Sonnets on the Death of Robert Browning, A (Swinburne), V: 333 Serafino Aquilano, I: 103, 105, 110 “Seraph and the Zambesi, The,” (Spark), Supp. I: 199 “Seraphim, The” (Browning), IV: 312, 313 Seraphim, The, and Other Poems (Browning), IV: xix, 311, 312–313, 321 “Serenade” (Sitwell), VII: 135 Sergeant Lamb (Graves), VII: 258 “Serial Dreamer, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 262 Serious and Pathetical Contemplation of the Mercies of God, in Several Most Devout and Sublime Thanksgivings for the Same, A (Traherne), II: 201; Supp. XI: 274–276 Serious Concerns (Cope), VIII: 67, 69, 75–79

Serious Money (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 180, 184, 192–195, 198 Serious Reflections During . . . ARobinson Crusoe“ (Defoe), III: 12, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 71 Serjeant Musgrave’s Dance (Arden), Supp. II: 25–28, 29, 30, 35, 38 “Sermon, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 228–229, 232, 235, 237 Sermon Preached at Pauls Crosse, the 25. Of November. 1621, A (King), Supp. VI: 152 “Sermon to Our Later Prodigal Son” (Meredith), V: 223 Sermons (Donne), I: 364–366; II: 142; Retro. Supp. II: 96 Sermons: An Exposition upon the Lord’s Prayer (King), Supp. VI: 152, 155, 158, 161 Sermons and Devotional Writings of Gerard Manley Hopkins, The (ed. Devlin), V: 372, 381 Sermons, Chiefly on the Theory of Religious Belief, Preached Before the University of Oxford (Newman), Supp. VII: 296 “Serpent–Charm, The” (Gissing), V: 437 Servant, The (Pinter), Supp. I: 374; Retro. Supp. I: 226 “Servant Boy” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 128 “Servant Girl Speaks, A” (Lawrence), VII: 118 “Servants’ Quarters, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 Service of Clouds, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 126 “Serving Maid, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Sesame and Lilies (Ruskin), V: 180, 184 “Session of the Poets, A” (Suckling), II: 229 “Sestina of the Tramp Royal” (Kipling), VI: 202, 203 Set in Darkness (Rankin), Supp. X: 245, 255–256 Set of Six, A (Conrad), VI: 148 Seth, Vikram, Supp. X: 277–290 Seton, Ernest Thempson, Supp. IV: 158 “Setteragic On” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Setting the World on Fire (Wilson), Supp. I: 165–166 “Settlements” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 24 “Settlers” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 8 “Seven Ages, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 11 Seven at a Stroke (Fry), Supp. III: 194 Seven Cardinal Virtues, The (ed. Fell), Supp. XI: 163 “Seven Conjectural Readings” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 Seven Days in the New Crete (Graves), VII: 259 Seven Deadly Sins, The (ed. Fell), Supp. XI: 163 “Seven Deadly Sins: A Mask, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 “Seven Good Germans” (Henderson), VII: 426

435

Seven Journeys, The (Graham), Supp. VII: 111 Seven Lamps of Architecture, The (Ruskin), V: xxi, 176, 184 Seven Lectures on Shakespeare and Milton (Coleridge), IV: 56 “Seven Letters” (Graham), Supp. VII: 111 Seven Men (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 55–56 Seven Men and Two Others (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 55 Seven Men of Vision: An Appreciation (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 “7, Middagh Street” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 411, 422, 424 ”7 Newton Road, Harston, Cambridge” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 Seven Pillars of Wisdom (Lawrence), VI: 408; Supp. II: 283, 284, 285, 286, 287–291 “Seven Poets, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 69 Seven Poor Men of Sydney (Stead), Supp. IV: 461–464 “Seven Rocks, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216–217 “Seven Sages, The” (Yeats), Supp. II: 84–85 Seven Seas, The (Kipling), VI: 204 Seven Short Plays (Gregory), VI: 315 Seven Types of Ambiguity (Empson), I: 282; II: 124, 130; VII: 260; Supp. II: 179, 180, 183, 185–189, 190, 197 Seven Winters (Bowen), Supp. II: 77–78, 91 Seven Women (Barrie), Supp. III: 5 Sevenoaks Essays (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249, 256 “1740” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 271 “1738” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 297 Seventh Man: Migrant Workers in Europe, A (Berger), Supp. IV: 79 Several Perceptions (Carter), Supp. III: 80, 81, 82–83 “Several Questions Answered” (Blake), III: 293 “Severe Gale 8” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99 Severed Head, A (Murdoch), Supp. I: 215, 224, 225, 228 Severn and Somme (Gurney), VI: 425 “Sewage Pipe Pool, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 203 “Sex That Doesn’t Shop, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 246 Sexing the Cherry (Winterson), Supp. IV: 541, 542, 545, 547, 549, 552, 554, 556, 557 “Sex–Love: And Its Place in Free Society” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “Sexton’s Hero, The” (Gaskell), V: 15 Sexual Inversion (Ellis and Symonds), Supp. XIV: 261–262 Sexual Politics (Millett), Supp. IV: 188 Seymour–Smith, Martin, VII: xviii, xxxviii Shabby Genteel Story, A (Thackeray), V: 21, 35, 37 “Shack, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 Shade Those Laurels (Connolly), Supp. III: 111–112

SHAD−SHEW Shadow Dance (Carter), III: 345; Supp. III: 79, 80, 81, 89 Shadow in the North, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151 Shadow in the Plate, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151 Shadow of a Gunman, The (O’Casey), VI: 316; VII: xviii, 3–4, 6, 12 “Shadow of Black Combe, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 Shadow of Cain, The (Sitwell), VII: xvii, 137 Shadow of Dante, A (Rossetti), V: 253n Shadow of Hiroshima, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Shadow of Night (Chapman), I: 234, 237 Shadow of the Glen, The (Synge), VI: 308, 309, 310, 316 Shadow of the Sun, The (Byatt), Supp. IV: 140, 141, 142–143, 147, 148, 149, 155 Shadow Play (Coward), Supp. II: 152– 153 “Shadow Suite” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 35 Shadow–Line, The: A Confession (Conrad), VI: 135, 146–147, 148 “Shadows” (Lawrence), VII: 119 “Shadows in the Water” (Traherne), II: 192; Supp. XI: 269 Shadows of Ecstasy (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 279–280 Shadows of the Evening (Coward), Supp. II: 156 Shadowy Waters, The (Yeats), VI: 218, 222 Shadwell, Thomas, I: 327; II: 305, 359 “Shadwell Stair” (Owen), VI: 451 Shaffer, Anthony, Supp. I: 313 Shaffer, Peter, Supp. I: 313–328 Shaftesbury, earl of, Supp. III: 424 Shaftesbury, seventh earl of, IV: 62 Shaftesbury, third earl of, III: 44, 46, 198 Shahnameh (Persian epic), Supp. IV: 439 Shakes Versus Shav (Shaw), VI: 130 Shakespear, Olivia, VI: 210, 212, 214 Shakespeare, William, I: 188, 295–334; II: 87, 221, 281, 302; III: 115–117; IV: 149, 232, 352; V: 41, 328; and Collins, IV: 165, 165n, 170; and Jonson, I: 335–337, II: 281; Retro. Supp. I: 158, 165; and Kyd, I: 228–229; and Marlowe, I: 275–279, 286; and Middleton, IV: 79–80; and Webster, II: 71–72, 74–75, 79; influence on English literature, II: 29, 42–43, 47, 48, 54–55, 79, 82, 84; III: 115–116, 167n; IV: 35, 51–52; V: 405; Supp. I: 196, 227; Supp. II: 193, 194; Supp. IV: 158, 171, 283, 558 Shakespeare (Swinburne), V: 333 “Shakespeare and Stage Costume” (Wilde), V: 407 Shakespeare and the Allegory of Evil (Spivack), I: 214 Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 202 Shakespeare and the Idea of the Play (Righter), I: 224

“Shakespeare and the Stoicism of Seneca” (Eliot), I: 275 “Shakespeare as a Man” (Stephen), V: 287 Shakespeare Wallah (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 237–238 Shakespeare’s Predecessors in the English Drama (Ellis and Symonds), Supp. XIV: 262 Shakespeare’s Sonnets Reconsidered (Butler), Supp. II: 116 Shall I Call Thee Bard: A Portrait of Jason Strugnell (Cope), VIII: 69 Shall We Join the Ladies? (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 9, 16–17 Shaman (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 “Shamdev; The Wolf–Boy” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157 Shame (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 116, 433, 436, 440, 443, 444–445, 448, 449 Shamela (Fielding), III: 84, 98, 105; Retro. Supp. I: 80; Retro. Supp. I: 82–83 Shamrock Tea (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63–65 Shape of Things to Come, The (Wells), VI: 228, 241 “Shape–Changer, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 318–319 “Shapes and Shadows” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 178 SHAR: Hurricane Poem (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 35–36 Sharawaggi: Poems in Scots (Crawford and Herbert), Supp. XI: 67–71, 72 Shards of Memory (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 233, 234–235 “Shark! Shark!” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 109 “Sharp Trajectories” (Davie), Supp. VI: 116 Sharp, William, IV: 370 Sharpeville Sequence (Bond), Supp. I: 429 Sharrock, Roger, II: 246, 254 Shaving of Shagpat, The (Meredith), V: 225, 234 Shaw, George Bernard, III: 263; V: xxii, xxv, xxvi, 284, 301, 305–306, 423, 433; VI: viii, ix, xiv–xv, 101–132, 147, 343; Supp. II: 24, 45, 51, 54, 55, 117–118, 288, 296–297; Supp. III: 6; Supp. IV: 233, 288, 292; Retro. Supp. II: 309–325 Shaw Gives Himself Away: An Autobiographical Miscellany (Shaw), VI: 129 Shaw–Stewart, Patrick, VI: 418–419, 420 She (Haggard), Supp. III: 211, 212, 213, 219–222, 223–227 She Stoops to Conquer (Goldsmith), II: 362; III: 177, 181, 183, 188, 191, 256 She Wou’d if She Cou’d (Etherege), II: 266, 268, 271 Sheaf of Verses, A (Hall), Supp. VI: 119 “Sheep” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 209 Sheep and the Dog, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 138–139, 141 “Sheepdog Trials in Hyde Park” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 “Sheer Edge” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219

436

“She’s all my fancy painted him” (Carroll), V: 264 Shelf Life (Powell), Supp. IV: 258 “Shell” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 109 Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, III: 329– 331, 336, 341, 342, 345; IV: xv, xvi, xvii, 118, 197, 201, 202, 203; Supp. III: 355–373, 385; Supp. IV: 546; Retro. Supp. I: 246 Shelley, Percy Bysshe, II: 102, 200; III: 329, 330, 333, 336–338; IV: vii–xii, 63, 132 158–159, 161, 163, 164, 168– 169, l72, 176–179, 182, 195–210, 217, 234, 281, 299, 349, 354, 357, 366, 372; V: 214, 330, 401, 403; VI: 453; Supp. III: 355, 357–358, 364–365, 370; Supp. IV: 468; Retro. Supp. I: 243–257 Shelley (Swinburne), V: 333 Shelley (Thompson), V: 450, 451 Shelley: A Life Story (Blunden), IV: 210 Shelley and Keats as They Struck Their Contemporaries (Blunden), IV: 210 Shelley’s Idols of the Cave (Butler), IV: 210 “Shelley’s Skylark” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 119 Shells by a Stream (Blunden), Supp. XI: 37 Shelmalier (McGuckian), Supp. V: 280, 290–292 “Shelmalier” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 291 Shelter, The (Phillips), Supp. V: 380 Sheol (Raine), Supp. XIII: 173 Shepheardes Calendar (Spenser), see Shepherd’s Calendar, The Shepheard’s Oracles, The (Quarles), II: 139 Shepherd, Ettrick, see Hogg, James Shepherd, and Other Poems of Peace and War, The (Blunden), Supp. XI: 36, 42 “Shepherd and the Nymph, The” (Landor), IV: 96 Shepherd of the Giant Mountains, The (tr. Smedley), V: 265 “Shepherd’s Brow, The” (Hopkins), V: 376, 378n Shepherd’s Calendar, The (Spenser), I: 97, 121, 123, 124–128, 162 Shepherd’s Calendar, The; with Village Stories, and Other Poems (Clare), Supp. XI: 59 “Shepherd’s Carol” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 214–215 Shepherd’s Life, A (Hudson), V: 429 Shepherd’s Week, The (Gay), III: 55, 56, 67 Sheppey (Maugham), VI: 377 Sherburn, George, III: 73, 78 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, II: 334, 336; III: 32, 97, 101, 252–271 Sheridan, Susan, Supp. IV: 459 Sherlock Holmes and the Limehouse Horror (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151 “Sherthursdaye and Venus Day” (Jones), Supp. VII: 177 Shewan, R., V: 409n, 421 Shewing of a Vision, The (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 155

SHEW−SILV Shewings of the Lady Julian, The (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 155 Shewing–Up of Blanco Posnet, The: A Sermon in Crude Melodrama (Shaw), VI: 115, 117, 124, 129 “Shian Bay” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110– 111 “Shield of Achilles, The” (Auden), VII: 388, 390–391, 397–398; Retro. Supp. I: 10 Shikasta (Lessing), Supp. I: 250, 251, 252, 253 Shining, The (King), III: 345 “Shining Gift, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 Ship of Birth, The (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74–75 “Ship of The Wind, The” (Longley), VIII: 175 “Ship That Found Herself, The” (Kipling), VI: 170 Shipman’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 36 “Ships” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Shipwreck (Fowles), Supp. I: 292 Shipwrecked, The (Greene), see England Made Me Shires, The (Davie), Supp. VI: 111–112 Shirley, James, II: 44, 66, 87 Shirley (Brontë), V: xxi, 12, 106, 112, 145–147, 152; Retro. Supp. I: 53, 54, 60 Shirley Sanz (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313 Shrimp and the Anemone, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 119, 124–125 “Shoals Returning, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Shoemaker of Merano, The (Hall), Supp. VI: 130 Shoemaker’s Holiday, The (Dekker), II: 89 “Shooting an Elephant” (Orwell), VII: 273, 276, 282 Shooting Niagara—“nd After? (Carlyle), IV: xxii, 240, 247, 250 “Shore Road, The” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187, 195 Short Account of a Late Short Administration, A (Burke), III: 205 Short Character of . . . [the Earl of Wharton], A (Swift), III: 35 Short Historical Essay . . . , A (Marvell), II: 219 “Short History of British India, A” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 “Short History of the English Novel, A” (Self), Supp. V: 403 Short History of the English People (Green), VI: 390 Short Stories, Scraps, and Shavings (Shaw), VI: 129 short story, VI: 369–370; VII: xvii, 178– 181 “Short Story, The” (Bowen), Supp. II: 86 Short Story, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224 Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage, A (Collier), II: 303, 325, 338, 340, 356; III: 44

Short View of the State of Ireland, A (Swift), III: 28, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 276 Short Vindication of AThe Relapse”and AThe Provok’d Wife,”A, . . . by the Author (Vanbrugh), II: 332, 336 Shortened History of England, A (Trevelyan), VI: 395 Shorter, Clement, V: 150, 151–153 Shorter Finnegans Wake, A (Burgess), Supp. I: 197 Shorter Poems (Bridges), VI: 72, 73, 81 Shortest Way to Peace and Union, The (Defoe), III: 13 Shortest Way with the Dissenters, The (Defoe), III: 2, 3, 12–13; Retro. Supp. I: 64–65, 67 “Shot, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210 Shot, The (Kerr), Supp. XII: 194–195 “Shot Down over Libya” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 202, 207–208, 209 Shot in the Park, A (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 “Should lanterns shine” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 Shoulder of Shasta, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 Shout, The (Graves), VII: 259 “Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse” (Donne), I: 367, 368 “Show Saturday” (Larkin), Supp. I: 283, 285 Shrapnel Academy, The (Weldon), Supp. IV: 529–530, 531 Shropshire Lad, A (Housman), VI: ix, xv, 157, 158–160, 164 Shroud for a Nightingale (James), Supp. IV: 319, 320, 323, 326–327 “Shrove Tuesday in Paris” (Thackeray), V: 22, 38 “Shutterbug, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Shuttlecock (Swift), Supp. V: 429–431 “Siberia” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 126 “Sibylla Palmifera” (Rossetti), V: 237 Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge), IV: 56 “Sibyl’s Prophecy, The”, See Vo¸luspá “Sic Tydingis Hard I at the Sessioun” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “Sic Vita” (King), Supp. VI: 162 Sicilian Carousel (Durrell), Supp. I: 102 Sicilian Lover, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 209 Sicilian Romance, A (Radcliffe), III: 338 “Sick King in Bokhara, The” (Arnold), V: 210 Sidgwick, Henry, V: 284, 285 Sidhwa, Bapsi, Supp. V: 62 Sidley, Sir Charles, see Sedley, Sir Charles Sidney, Sir Philip, I: 123, 160–175; II: 46, 48, 53, 80, 158, 221, 339; III: 95; Retro. Supp. I: 157; Retro. Supp. II: 327–342 Siege (Fry), Supp. III: 194 Siege of Corinth, The (Byron), IV: 172, 192; see also Turkish tales Siege of London, The (James), VI: 67 Siege of Pevensey, The (Burney), Supp. III: 71

437

Siege of Thebes, The (Lydgate), I: 57, 61, 65 “Siena” (Swinburne), V: 325, 332 “Sierra Nevada” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254–255 “Siesta of a Hungarian Snake” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 166 “Sigh, A” (Finch), Supp. IX: 67–68 “Sighs and Grones” (Herbert), II: 128 “Sight” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 207 Sight for Sore Eyes, A (Rendell), Supp. IX: 195, 200–201 Sight, The Cavern of Woe, and Solitude (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 207 Sign of Four, The (Doyle), Supp. II: 160, 162–163, 164–165, 167, 171, 173, 176 Sign of the Cross, The (Barrett), VI: 124 Signal Driver (White), Supp. I: 131, 151 Signals of Distress (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 19, 23, 25–26 “Significance of Nothing, The” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 “Signpost, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 403, 404 “Signs” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 263 Signs of Change (Morris), V: 306 “Signs of the Times” (Carlyle), IV: 241– 242, 243, 249, 324; V: viii Sigurd the Volsung (Morris), see Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs, The Silas Marner (Eliot), V: xxii, 194, 200; Retro. Supp. II: 108–110 “Silecroft Shore” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Silence (Pinter), Supp. I: 376 “Silence” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 270 Silence Among the Weapons (Arden), Supp. II: 41 Silence in the Garden, The (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505, 506, 515–516, 517 “Silence Is Possible” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 14 “Silent One, The” (Gurney), VI: 427 Silent Passenger, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 335 “Silent Voices, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329 Silent Voices: An Anthology of Romanian Women Poets (tr. Deletant and Walker), Supp. XII: 11 Silent Woman, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 163 Silex Scintillans: . . . (Vaughan), II: 184, 185, 186, 201 Silhouettes (Symons), Supp. XIV: 267, 272, 276, 278 Sillitoe, Alan, Supp. V: 409–426 Silmarillion, The (Tolkien), Supp. II: 519, 520, 521, 525, 527 Silver, Brenda, Retro. Supp. I: 305 “Silver Blaze” (Doyle), Supp. II: 167 Silver Box, The (Galsworthy), VI: 273, 284–285 Silver Bucket, The (Orton), Supp. V: 364 Silver Chair, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248 Silver Circus (Coppard), VIII: 96–97 “Silver Crucifix on My Desk, A” (Hart), Supp. XI: 127–128 “Silver Plate, A” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 168

SILV−SKEL “Silver Screen, The” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36, 40 Silver Spoon, The (Galsworthy), VI: 275 Silver Stair, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 273, 274 Silver Tassie, The (O’Casey), VII: 6–7 Silverado Squatters, The (Stevenson), V: 386, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 262 “Silvia” (Etherege), II: 267 “Sim” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 104, 105– 106 Simenon, Georges, III: 341 Simisola (Rendell), Supp. IX: 196, 198– 199 Simmons, Ernest, V: 46 Simmons, James, Supp. IV: 412 “Simon Lee” (Wordsworth), IV: 7, 8–9, 10 Simonetta Perkins (Hartley), Supp. VII: 122–123, 126 Simonidea (Landor), IV: 100 Simple and Religious Consultation (Bucer), I: 177 “Simple Simon” (Coppard), VIII: 97 “Simple Susan” (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 153 Simpleton of the Unexpected Isles, The (Shaw), VI: 125, 126, 127, 129 “Simplicities” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324–325 Simplicity (Collins), III: 166 “Simplification of Life” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “Simplify Me When I’m Dead” (Douglas), VII: 440 Simpson, Alan, Supp. II: 68, 70, 74 Simpson, Percy, I: 279 Simpson, Richard, IV: 107, 122 “Simultaneous Translation” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 73 Sinai Sort, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186–187 “Since thou, O fondest and truest” (Bridges), VI: 74, 77 “Sincerest Critick of My Prose, or Rhime” (Congreve), II: 349 Sinclair, Iain, Supp. XIV: 231–248 “Sindhi Woman” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 293 Singer, S. W., III: 69 “Singing, 1977” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 Singing Detective, The (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229 Singing School: The Making of a Poet (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 291–292, 301–303 Singing the Sadness (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 123 Single Man, A (Isherwood), VII: 309, 316–317 Singleton’s Law (Hill), see Albion! Albion! Sing–Song (Rossetti), V: 251, 255, 260 Singular Preference, The (Quennell), VI: 237, 245 Sinjohn, John, pseud. of John Galsworthy “Sinking” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135 “Sins and Virtues” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 21–22

Sins of the Fathers and Other Tales (Gissing), V: 437 Sir Charles Grandison (Richardson), III: 80, 90–91, 92; IV: 124 “Sir David Brewster Invents the Kaleidoscope” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 71 “Sir Dominick Ferrand” (James), VI: 69 “Sir Edmund Orme” (James), VI: 69 “Sir Eustace Grey” (Crabbe), III: 282 “Sir Galahad and the Islands” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 43 Sir Gawain and the Carl of Carlisle, I: 71 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, (Gawain–Poet), I: 2, 28, 69, 71; Supp. VII: 83, 84–91, 94, 98 Sir George Otto Trevelyan: A Memoir (Trevelyan), VI: 383, 391 Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite (Trollope), V: 100, 102 Sir Harry Wildair, Being the Sequel of AThe Trip to the Jubilee“ (Farquhar), II: 352, 357, 364 Sir Hornbook; or, Childe Launcelot’s Expedition (Peacock), IV: 169 Sir John Vanbrugh’s Justificahon of . . . the Duke of Marlborough’s Late Tryal (Vanbrugh), II: 336 Sir Launcelot Greaves (Smollett), III: 149, 153, 158 Sir Martin Mar–All; or, The Feign’d Innocence (Dryden), II: 305 Sir Nigel (Doyle), Supp. II: 159 Sir Proteus, a Satirical Ballad (Peacock), IV: 169 Sir Thomas More; or, Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society (Southey), IV: 69, 70, 71, 280 Sir Thomas Wyatt (Dekker and Webster), II: 68 Sir Tom (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 Sir Tristrem (Thomas the Rhymer), IV: 29 “Sir Walter Scott” (Carlyle), IV: 38 Sir Walter Scott: The Great Unknown (Johnson), IV: 40 “Sir William Herschel’s Long Year” (Hope), Supp. VII: 164–165 “Sire de Maletroit’s Door, The” (Stevenson), V: 395 Siren Land (Douglas), VI: 293, 294, 295, 297, 305 “Sirens, The” (Manifold), VII: 426 Sirian Experiments, The: The Report by Ambien II, of the Five (Lessing), Supp. I: 250, 252 Sirocco (Coward), Supp. II: 141, 146, 148 “Siskin” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 Sisson, C. H., Supp. XI: 243–262 Sisson, C. J., I: 178n, 326 Sister Anne (Potter), Supp. III: 304 “Sister Helen” (Rossetti), IV: 313; V: 239, 245 “Sister Imelda” (O’Brien), Supp. V: 340 “Sister Maude” (Rossetti), V: 259 Sister Songs (Thompson), V: 443, 449, 450, 451 Sister Teresa (Moore), VI: 87, 92, 98

438

Sisterly Feelings (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 6, 10, 11–12, 13, 14 “Sisters” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Sisters, The (Conrad), VI: 148 “Sisters, The” (Joyce), Retro. Supp. I: 171–172 Sisters, The (Swinburne), V: 330, 333 Sisters and Strangers: A Moral Tale (Tennant), Supp. IX: 235, 236 Sisters by a River (Comyns), VIII: 54, 55, 56 “Sitting, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 128–129 “Situation in Catalonia, The” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 90–93 Situation of the Novel, The (Bergonzi), Supp. IV: 233 Sitwell, Edith, I: 83; III: 73, 78; VI: 454; VII: xv–xvii, 127–141 Sitwell, Osbert, V: 230, 234; VII: xvi, 128, 130, 135; Supp. II: 199, 201– 202, 203 Sitwell, Sacheverell, VII: xvi, 128 Six (Crace), Supp. XIV: 18, 30 Six Distinguishing Characters of a Parliament–Man, The (Defoe), III: 12 Six Dramas of Calderón. Freely Translated (FitzGerald), IV: 342, 344–345, 353 Six Epistles to Eva Hesse (Davie), Supp. VI: 111 “Six o’clock in Princes Street” (Owen), VI: 451 Six of Calais, The (Shaw), VI: 129 Six Poems (Thomas), Supp. III: 399 Six Queer Things, The (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 35 Six Stories Written in the First Person Singular (Maugham), VI: 374 Six Voices: Contemporary Australian Poets (Wallace–Crabb)e ed.), VIII: 314– 315 “Six Weeks at Heppenheim” (Gaskell), V: 14, 15 “Six Years After” (Mansfield), VII: 176 “Six Young Men” (Hughes), Supp. I: 344; Retro. Supp. II: 203–204 “Sixpence” (Mansfield), VII: 175, 177 Sixteen Occasional Poems 1990–2000 (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 88, 91–92 Sixteen Self Sketches (Shaw), VI: 102, 129 Sixth Beatitude, The (Hall), Supp. VI: 120, 122, 130 Sixth Heaven, The (Hartley), Supp. VII: 124, 125, 127 “Sixth Journey, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 109 “Sixty Drops of Laudanum” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 117 Sizemore, Christine Wick, Supp. IV: 336 “Skating” (Motion), Supp. VII: 251, 256 Skeat, W. W., I: 17 “Skeins o Geese” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 139 “Skeleton, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 325 “Skeleton of the Future (at Lenin’s Tomb), The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 211

SKEL−SNOW Skelton, John, I: 81–96 “Sketch, A” (Rossetti), V: 250 Sketch Book (Irving), III: 54 “Sketch from Private Life, A” (Byron), IV: 192 “Sketch of the Great Dejection, A” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 274 “Sketch of the Past, A” (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 314–315 Sketches and Essays (Hazlitt), IV: 140 “Sketches and Reminiscences of Irish Writers” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 114 Sketches and Reviews (Pater), V: 357 Sketches and Studies in Italy (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251 Sketches and Travels in London (Thackeray), V: 38 Sketches by Boz (Dickens), V: xix, 42, 43–46, 47, 52, 71 “Sketches for a Self–Portrait” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 128 Sketches from Cambridge, by a Don (Stephen), V: 289 Sketches in Italy and Greece (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251–252 Sketches in the Life of John Clare, Written by Himself (Clare), Supp. XI: 50, 53 “Sketches of Irish Writers” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119, 124 Sketches of the Principal Picture–Galleries in England (Hazlitt), IV: 132, 139 “Skin” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 216 Skin (Kane), VIII: 148, 149, 157–158 Skin Chairs, The (Comyns), VIII: 53, 55, 62–63 Skin Game, The (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 280, 288 Skírnismál, VIII: 230 Skotlands rímur, VIII: 243 Skriker, The (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 180, 197–198 Skull Beneath the Skin, The (James), Supp. II: l27; Supp. IV: 335–336, 337 Skull in Connemara, A (McDonagh), Supp. XII: 233, 235, 236, 237, 238, 245 “Sky Burning Up Above the Man, The” (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 Skyhorse (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 301 “Skylarks” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 206 Skylight (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 298–299 “Skylight, The” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 Slag (Hare), Supp. IV: 281, 283 “Slate” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 “Slaves in Love” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 13 “Sleep” (Cowley), II: 196 “Sleep, The” (Browning), IV: 312 “Sleep and Poetry” (Keats), IV: 214–215, 217, 228, 231; Retro. Supp. I: 184, 188 Sleep Has His House (Kavan), see House of Sleep, The Sleep It Off, Lady (Rhys), Supp. II: 389, 401, 402 Sleep of Prisoners, A (Fry), Supp. III: 194, 195, 199–200

Sleep of Reason, The (Snow), VII: 324, 331–332 Sleep with Me (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 155 Sleepers of Mars (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 282 Sleepers of Roraima (Harris), Supp. V: 132 Sleep of the Great Hypnotist, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 “Sleeping at Last” (Rossetti), V: 251– 252, 259 Sleeping Beauty, The (Sitwell), VII: 132 Sleeping Fires (Gissing), V: 437 Sleeping Lord and Other Fragments, The (Jones), Supp. VII: 167, 170, 178– 180 Sleeping Murder (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 134 Sleeping Prince, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 318–319 Sleepwalkers, The: A History of Man’s Changing Vision of the Universe (Koestler), Supp. I: 37–38 Sleuths, Inc. (Eames), Supp. IV: 3 “Slice of Cake, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 230 Slight Ache, A (Pinter), Supp. I: 369, 371; Retro. Supp. I: 222–223 “Slips” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281–282 Slipstream: A Memoir (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 136, 141, 143, 144, 145–146 Slocum, Joshua, Supp. IV: 158 Slot Machine, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 “Slough” (Betjeman), VII: 366 Slow Chocolate Autopsy: Incidents from the Notorious Career of Norton, Prisoner of London (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 233–234, 237, 245 Slow Digestions of the Night, The (Crace), Supp. XIV: 29 “Slumber Did My Spirit Seal, A” (Wordsworth), IV: 18 “Small Boy” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 194 Small Boy and Others, A (James), VI: 65 Small Containers, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Small Family Business, A (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 12, 14 Small g: A Summer Idyll (Highsmith), Supp. V: 179 Small House at Allington, The (Trollope), V: xxiii, 101 “Small Personal Voice, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 238 Small Place, A (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 225–226, 230, 231 “Small Plant, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 Small Town in Germany, A (le Carré), Supp. II: 300, 303–305, 307 “Small World” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 41–42 Small World: An Academic Romance (Lodge), Supp. IV: 363, 366, 371, 372, 374, 376–378, 384, 385 “Small World: An Introduction” (Lodge), Supp. IV: 377 Smeaton, O., III: 229n

439

Smeddum: A Lewis Grassic Gibbon Anthology (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 99, 100, 102, 103, 104, 105 “Smeddum” (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 105 “Smile” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 491–492 “Smile of Fortune, A” (Conrad), VI: 148 Smile Please (Rhys), Supp. II: 387, 388, 389, 394, 395, 396 Smiles, Samuel, VI: 264 Smiley’s People (le Carré), Supp. II: 305, 311, 314–315 Smith, Adam, IV: xiv, 144–145; V: viii Smith, Alexander, IV: 320; V: 158 Smith, Edmund, III: 118 Smith, George, V: 13, 131, 132, 147, 149, 150, 279–280 Smith, Henry Nash, VI: 24 Smith, Iain Chrichton, Supp. IX: 207– 225 Smith, James, IV: 253 Smith, Janet Adam, V: 391, 393, 395– 398 Smith, Logan Pearsall, Supp. III: 98, 111 Smith, Nichol, III: 21 Smith, Stevie, Supp. II: 459–478 Smith, Sydney, IV: 268, 272; Supp. VII: 339–352 Smith, William Robertson, Supp. III: 171 Smith (Maugham), VI: 368 Smith and the Pharaohs and Other Tales (Haggard), Supp. III: 214, 222 Smith, Elder & Co. (publishers), V: 131, 140, 145, 150; see also Smith, George Smith of Wootton Major (Tolkien), Supp. II: 521 Smithers, Peter, III: 42, 53 “Smithfield Market” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 57 “Smoke” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 177 “Smokers for Celibacy” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 Smollett, Tobias, III: 146–159; V: xiv 52 Smyer, Richard I., Supp. IV: 338 “Snail Watcher, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 Snail Watcher and Other Stories, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Snake” (Lawrence), VII: 119; Retro. Supp. II: 233–234 Snake’s Pass, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 “Snap–dragon” (Lawrence), VII: 118 Snapper, The (Doyle), Supp. V: 77, 82– 85, 88 “Snayl, The” (Lovelace), II: 231 “Sneaker’s A (Mahon), Supp. VI: 175– 176 “Sniff, The” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 319, 320–321 “Sniper, The” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 414 Snobs of England, The (Thackeray), see Book of Snobs, The Snodgrass, Chris, V: 314 Snooty Baronet (Lewis), VII: 77 Snorra Edda, VIII: 243 Snow, C. P., VI: 235; VII: xii, xxi, 235, 321–341 “Snow” (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 “Snow” (MacNeice), VII: 412

SNOW−SON, T “Snow and Wind Canticle to an Unborn Child” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 “Snow Joke” (Armitage), VIII: 3 Snow on the North Side of Lucifer (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424, 425 Snow Party, The (Mahon), Supp. VI: 169, 172–173 “Snow Party, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 172 “Snow White’s Journey to the City” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Snowing Globe, The (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218, 219 “Snowmanshit” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Snowstop (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 411 “Snow–White and the Seven Dwarfs” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 “So crewell prison howe could betyde, alas” (Surrey), I: 113 “So Good of Their Kind” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 “So I Thought She Must Have Been Forgiven” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 So Lovers Dream (Waugh), Supp. VI: 272 “So Much Depends” (Cope), VIII: 78 “So On He Fares” (Moore), VI: 93 “So sweet love seemed that April morn” (Bridges), VI: 77 “So to Fatness Come” (Smith), Supp. II: 472 “So you think I Am a Mule?” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Soaking The Heat (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 153 “Soap–Pig, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 423 “Social Life in Roman Britain” (Trevelyan), VI: 393 “Social Progress and Individual Effort” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 Social Rights and Duties (Stephen), V: 289 Socialism and the Family (Wells), VI: 244 Socialism and the New Life (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36 Socialism: Its Growth and Outcome (Morris and Box), V: 306 “Socialism: Principles and Outlook” (Shaw), VI: 129 Society for Pure English Tracts, VI: 83 “Sociological Cure for Shellshock, A” (Hibberd), VI: 460 “Sofa in the Forties, A” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133 Soft Side, The (James), VI: 67 Soft Voice of the Serpent and Other Stories, The (Gordimer), Supp. II: 226 “Soho Hospital for Women, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 7 “Sohrab and Rustum” (Arnold), V: xxi, 208, 209, 210, 216 “Soil Map, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 282 Soldier (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 “Soldier, The” (Brooke), VI: 420, 421; Supp. III: 57, 58 “Soldier, The” (Hopkins), V: 372

Soldier and a Scholar, A (Swift), III: 36 Soldier of Humour (ed. Rosenthal), VII: 73 Soldier, Soldier (Arden), Supp. II: 28 Soldier’s Art, The (Powell), VII: 349 “Soldiers Bathing” (Prince), VII: xxii 427 “Soldier’s Declaration, A” (Sassoon), Supp. IV: 57 Soldier’s Embrace, A (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232 “Soldiers of the Queen” (Kipling), VI: 417 “Soldiers on the Platform” (Cornford), VIII: 111 Soldiers Three (Kipling), VI: 204 “Sole of a Foot, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 357 “Solemn Meditation, A” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135, 141 Solid Geometry (McEwan), Supp. IV: 390, 398 “Solid House, A” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 Solid Mandala, The (White), Supp. I: 131, 143–145, 148, 152 “Solid Objects” (Woolf), VII: 31 “Soliloquies” (Hill), Supp. V: 187 Soliloquies (St. Augustine), Retro. Supp. II: 297 Soliloquies of a Hermit (Powys), VIII: 246, 247, 249 “Soliloquy by the Well” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 “Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister” (Browning), IV: 356, 360, 367 Soliman and Perseda, I: 220 “Solitary Confinement” (Koestler), Supp. I: 36 “Solitary Reaper, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 22 “Solitary Shapers, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 320 “Solitude” (Carroll), V: 263 “Solitude” (Milne), Supp. V: 303 “Solitude” (Traherne), II: 192 Sollers, Philippe, Supp. IV: 115, 116 Solomon, Simeon, V: 312, 314, 320 Solomon’s Temple Spiritualized (Bunyan), II: 253 Solon, II: 70 “Solstice” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Solstices (MacNeice), VII: 416 “Solution, The” (James), VI: 69 Some Advice . . . to the Members of the October Club (Swift), III: 35 Some Arguments Against Enlarging the Power of the Bishop (Swift), III: 35 Some Branch Against the Sky (Dutton), Supp. XII: 83 Some Branch Against the Sky: Gardening in the Wild (Dutton), Supp. XII: 84 “Some Days Were Running Legs” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 Some Do Not (Ford), VI: 319 Some Early Impressions (Stephen), V: 278, 281, 290 Some Free Thoughts upon the Present State of Affairs (Swift), III: 27, 36 Some Friends of Walt Whitman: A Study in Sex–Psychology (Carpenter), Supp.

440

XIII: 45 Some Gospel–Truths Opened According to the Scriptures (Bunyan), II: 253 Some Imagist Poets (ed. Lowell), Supp. III: 397 Some Irish Essays (Russell), VIII: 286 “Some More Light Verse” (Cope), VIII: 77 Some Lie and Some Die (Rendell), Supp. IX: 191–192, 197–198 Some Observations upon a Paper (Swift), III: 35 Some Papers Proper to Be Read Before the Royal Society (Fielding), III: 105 Some Passages in the Life of Major Gahagan (Thackeray), see Tremendous Adventures of Major Gahagan, The Some Popular Fallacies About Vivisection (Carroll), V: 273 Some Reasons Against the . . . Tyth of Hemp . . . (Swift), III: 36 Some Reasons to Prove That No Person Is Obliged . . . as a Whig, etc. (Swift), III: 35 Some Recent Attacks: Essays Cultural and Political (Kelman), Supp. V: 257 Some Remarks on the Barrier Treaty (Swift), III: 35 Some Remarks upon a Pamphlet (Swift), III: 35 Some Reminiscences (Conrad), VI: 148 Some Tame Gazelle (Pym), Supp. II: 366–367, 380 Some Time Never: A Fable for Supermen (Dahl), Supp. IV: 211, 213, 214 “Some Time with Stephen: A Diary” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 161 Some Versions of Pastoral (Empson; US. title, English Pastoral Poetry), Supp. II: 179, 184, 188, 189–190, 197 “Someone Had To” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 126 Someone Like You (Dahl), Supp. IV: 206, 214, 215 Somers, Jane, see Diaries of Jane Somers, The Somerset Maugham (Brander), VI: 379 Somerset Maugham (Curtis), VI: 379 Somervell, Robert, VI: 385 Something Childish, and Other Stories (Mansfield), VII: 171 “Something Else” (Priestley), VII: 212– 213 Something Fresh (Wodehouse), see Something New Something in Disguise (Howard), Supp. XI: 135, 141, 142 Something Leather (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 82, 83–86, 91 Something New (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 452, 453 “Something the Cat Dragged In” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 “Sometime I fled the fire that me brent” (Wyatt), I: 103–104 Somewhere Is Such a Kingdom: Poems, 1952–1971 (Hill), Supp. V: 184 Somnium Scipionis (Cicero), IV: 189 “Son, The” (Swift), Supp. V: 432–433

SON O−SORT Son of Man (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 229, 236–237, 239 Son of the Soil, A (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 Son of Frankenstein (film), III: 342 “Sonata Form” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 127 “Sonata in X” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290–291 “Sonatas in Silence” (Owen), VI: 449, 451, 454 Sone and Air of the Foirsaid Foxe, called Father wer, The: Alswa the Parliament of fourfuttit Beistis, halden be the Lyoun (Henryson), see Trial of the Fox, The “Song” (Blake), III: 290 “Song” (Collins), III: 170 “Song” (Congreve, two poems), II: 347– 348 “Song” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 36 “Song” (Goldsmith), III: 184–185 “Song” (Lewis), VII: 446 “Song” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “Song” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Song, A” (Rochester), II: 258 “Song [3]” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “Song, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 208 Song and Its Fountains (Russell), VIII: 290, 292 “Song at the Beginning of Autumn” (Jennings), Supp. V: 214 Song at the Year’s Turning: Poems, 1942– 1954 (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 Song at Twilight, A (Coward), Supp. II: 156–157 Song for a Birth or a Death (Jennings), Supp. V: 213, 215 “Song for a Birth or a Death” (Jennings), Supp. V: 215 “Song for a Corncrake” (Murphy), Supp. V: 324 “Song for a Phallus” (Hughes), Supp. I: 351 “Song for Coffee–Drinkers” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 125 “Song for the Four Seasons” (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 “Song for the Swifts” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, A (Dryden), II: 304 “Song for Simeon, A” (Eliot), VII: 152 “Song for Sophie: A Granddaughter, born 1998” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229 “Song from Armenia, A” (Hill), Supp. V: 189 “Song from Cymbeline, A” (Collins), III: 163, 169–170 “Song from the Waters” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 30 “Song in Storm, A” (Kipling), VI: 201 “Song in the Songless” (Meredith), V: 223 “Song of a Camera” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 273 Song of Hylas (Morris), VII: 164 Song of Italy, A (Swinburne), V: 313, 332 Song of Liberty, A (Blake), III: 307

“Song of Life, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 98 Song of Life and Other Poems, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 98 Song of Los, The (Blake), III: 307; Retro. Supp. I: 44 “Song of Poplars” (Huxley), VII: 199 “Song of Rahero, The” (Stevenson), V: 396 Song of Roland, I: 69 Song of Songs (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 233 Song of Stone, A (Banks), Supp. XI: 8–9 “Song of Sunday” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 “Song of the Albanian” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 126 “Song of the Amateur Psychologist” (Empson), Supp. II: 181 “Song of the Bower” (Rossetti), V: 243 Song of the Cold, The (Sitwell), VII: 132, 136, 137 “Song of the Fourth Magus” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 “Song of the Heads, The” (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222 “Song of the Militant Romance, The” (Lewis), VII: 79 “Song of the Night” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 269 Song of the Night and Other Poems (Kinsella), Supp. V: 269 “Song of the Old Mother, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224 “Song of the Petrel, A” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 161 “Song of the Rat” (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 “Song of the Shirt, The” (Hood), IV: 252, 261, 263–264 “Song of the Wandering Aengus, The” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 224 “Songs of Women” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 13 “Song Talk” (Nye), Supp. X: 206 “Song. To Celia” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 164 “Song Written at Sea . . .”(Dorset), II: 261–262, 270 “Songbook of Sebastian Arrurruz, The” (Hill), Supp. V: 187, 188–189 Songlines, The (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157, 158, 160, 161, 162, 163, 170–173, 174; Supp. IX: 49, 52, 57–59, 60, 61 Songs, The (Burns), III: 322 Songs and Sonnets (Donne), I: 357, 358, 360, 368 Songs Before Sunrise (Swinburne), V: xxiii, 313, 314, 324–325, 331, 332 “Songs for Strangers and Pilgrims” (Rossetti), V: 251, 254n, 260 “Songs in a Cornfield” (Rossetti), V: 258 Songs of Chaos (Read), VI: 436 Songs of Enchantment (Okri), Supp. V: 348–349, 350, 353, 358–359 Songes and Sonnettes . . . (pub. Tottel), see Tottel’s Miscellany Songs of Experience (Blake), III: 292, 293, 294, 297; Retro. Supp. I: 34, 36–37 Songs of Innocence (Blake), III: 292, 297, 307

441

Songs of Innocence and of Experience (Blake), III: 290, 299, 307; V: xv, 330; Retro. Supp. I: 36, 42–43 Songs of the Psyche (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 “Songs of the PWD Man, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 151 Songs of the Springtides (Swinburne), V: 332 Songs of Travel (Stevenson), V: 385, 396 Songs of Two Nations (Swinburne), V: 332 Songs Wing to Wing (Thompson), see Sister Songs “Songster, The” (Smith), Supp. II: 465 “Sonnet” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29 “Sonnet, A” (Jennings), Supp. V: 207 “Sonnet, 1940” (Ewart), VII: 423 “Sonnet on the Death of Richard West” (Gray), III: 137 “Sonnet to Henry Lawes” (Milton), II: 175 “Sonnet to Liberty” (Wilde), V: 401 “Sonnet to Mr. Cyriack Skinner Upon His Blindness” (Milton), II: 164 “Sonnet to Mrs. Charlotte Smith, on Hearing that Her Son Was Wounded at the Siege of Dunkirk” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 208 “Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 199 “Sonnet to my Friend with an identity disc” (Owen), VI: 449 sonnets (Bridges), VI: 81 sonnets (Shakespeare), I: 307–308 “Sonnets for August 1945” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161–162 “Sonnets for August 1945” (Harrison), Supp. V: 161–162 “Sonnets for Five Seasons” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 “Sonnets from Hellas” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133–134 Sonnets from Scotland (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 “Sonnets from the Portuguese” (Browning), IV: xxi, 311, 314, 320, 321 Sonnets of Michael Angelo Buonarroti and Tommaso Campanella, The (tr. Symonds), Supp. XIV: 260–261 Sonnets of William Wordsworth, The, IV: 25 Sonnets to Fanny Kelly (Lamb), IV: 81, 83 “Sonnets to the Left” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 322 “Sonogram” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Sons and Lovers (Lawrence), VII: 88, 89, 91, 92, 95–98; Retro. Supp. II: 227 “Sons of the Brave” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 Sons of Thunder, The (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 61 Sorceress (Oliphant), Supp. X: 219 “Sorescu’s Circles” (Longley), VIII: 176–177 “Sorrow” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 Sort of Freedom, A (Friel), Supp. V: 115

SON’−SPEE “Son’s Veto, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Sophonisba (Marston), see Wonder of Women, The Sopranos, The (Warner), Supp. XI: 282, 283, 287, 289–290, 294 Sordello (Browning), IV: xix, 355, 371, 373 Sorel, Georges, VI: 170 Sorley, Charles Hamilton, VI: xvi, 415, 417, 420, 421–422 Sorrow in Sunlight (Firbank), see Prancing Nigger “Sorrow of Socks, The” (Cope), VIII: 82 “Sorrow of true love is a great sorrow, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 396 “Sorrows of Innisfail, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 “Sorrows of Memory, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204–205 Sorrows of Young Werther, The (Goethe), IV: xiv, 59; Supp. IV: 28 Sorry Meniscus: Excursions to the Millennium Dome (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 243, 244 “Sort of” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 “Sort of Exile in Lyme Regis, A” (Fowles), Supp. I: 292 “Sospetto d’Herode” (Crashaw), II: 180, 183–184 Sotheby, William, IV: 50 Sot–Weed Factor, The (Barth), Supp. IV: 116 “Souillac: Le Sacrifice d’Abraham” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 285 Soul and Body I, Retro. Supp. II: 301 Soul for Sale, A: Poems (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 193, 199 “So´l−Je´n Parterre” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 161 Soul of Man Under Socialism, The (Wilde), V: 409, 413, 415, 419 “Soul of Man Under Socialism, The” (Wilde), Supp. IV: 288; Retro. Supp. II: 367 “Soul Says” (Hart), Supp. XI: 131 Souls and Bodies (Lodge), see How Far Can You Go? “Soul’s Beauty,” (Rossetti), V: 237 Soul’s Destroyer and Other Poems, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 86, 93–96, 100 “Soul’s Expression, The” (Browning), IV: 313 Souls of Black Folk, The (Du Bois), Supp. IV: 86 “Soul’s Travelling, The” (Browning), IV: 313 Sound Barrier, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 318 “Sound Machine, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 214–215 “Sound of the River, The” (Rhys), Supp. II: 402 “Sounds of a Devon Village” (Davie), Supp. VI: 113 “Sounds of the Day” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 189 Soursweet (film), Supp. IV: 390, 399 Soursweet (Mo), Supp. IV: 390, 400 South Africa (Trollope), V: 102

South African Autobiography, The (Plomer), Supp. XI: 223 South African Winter (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 “South African Writers and English Readers” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 209 South Sea Bubble (Coward), Supp. II: 155 South Seas, The (Stevenson), V: 396 South Wind (Douglas), VI: 293, 294, 300–302, 304, 305; VII: 200 Southam, Brian Charles, IV: xi, xiii, xxv, 122, 124, 337 Southern, Thomas, II: 305 “Southern Night, A” (Arnold), V: 210 Southerne, Thomas, Supp. III: 34–35 Southey, Cuthbert, IV: 62, 72 Southey, Robert, III: 276, 335; IV: viii– ix, xiv, xvii, 43, 45, 52, 58–72, 85, 88, 89, 92, 102, 128, 129, 162, 168, 184– 187, 270, 276, 280; V: xx, 105, 121; Supp. IV: 425, 426–427 “Southey and Landor” (Landor), IV: 93 “Southey and Porson” (Landor), IV: 93, 97 “Southey’s Colloquies“ (Macaulay), IV: 280 Southey’s Common–place Book (ed. Warter), IV: 71 “South–Sea House, The” (Lamb), IV: 81–82 Southward (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66, 67, 71 “South–Wester The” (Meredith), V: 223 Souvenirs (Fuller), Supp. VII: 67, 81 Sovereign Remedy, A (Steel), Supp. XII: 274–275 Sovereignty of Good, The (Murdoch), Supp. I: 217–218, 225 “Soviet Myth and Reality” (Koestler), Supp. I: 27 “Sow’s Ear, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 Space Vampires (Wilson), III: 341 “Space–ship, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 Spain (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 176, 178– 179 “Spain 1937” (Auden), VII: 384; Retro. Supp. I: 8 Spanbroekmolen (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 274–275 Spanish Curate, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 Spanish Fryar, The; or, The Double Discovery (Dryden), II: 305 Spanish Gipsy, The (Middleton and Rowley), II: 100 Spanish Gypsy, The (Eliot), V: 198, 200 “Spanish Maids in England, The” (Cornford), VIII: 112–113 “Spanish Military Nun, The” (De Quincey), IV: 149 “Spanish Oranges” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 Spanish Tragedy, The (Kyd), I: 212, 213, 218, 220, 221–229; II: 25, 28–29, 69 “Spanish Train, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 Spanish Virgin and Other Stories, The (Pritchett), Supp. III: 316, 317

442

Spanner and Pen (Fuller), Supp. VII: 67, 68, 74, 81 Sparagus Garden, The (Brome), Supp. X: 52, 61–62 “Spared” (Cope), VIII: 84 Spark, Muriel, Supp. I: 199–214; Supp. IV: 100, 234 “Sparrow” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Sparrow, John, VI: xv, xxxiv; VII: 355, 363 Sparrow, The (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 Spartacus (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 99, 100–102 “Spate in Winter Midnight” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 “Spätlese, The” (Hope), Supp. VII: 157 Speak, Parrot (Skelton), I: 83, 90–91 Speak for England, Arthur (Bennett), VIII: 22–25 Speak of the Mearns, The (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 113 “Speak to Me” (Tennyson), IV: 332 “Speakeasy Oath, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Speaker (periodical), VI: 87, 335 Speaker of Mandarin (Rendell), Supp. IX: 192, 198 “Speaking a Foreign Language” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 Speaking Likenesess (Rossetti), V: 260 Speaking Stones, The (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104–105, 114 “Speaking Stones, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 “Special Type, The” (James), VI: 69 “Specimen of an Induction to a Poem” (Keats), IV: 214 Specimens of English Dramatic Poets (Lamb), IV: xvi 79, 85 Specimens of German Romance (Carlyle), IV: 250 Specimens of Modern Poets: The Heptalogia . . . (Swinburne), V: 332 Speckled Bird, The (Yeats), VI: 222; Retro. Supp. I: 326 Spectator (periodical), III: 39, 41, 44, 46–50, 52, 53; V: 86, 238; VI: 87; Supp. IV: 121 Spectatorial Essays (Strachey), Supp. II: 497, 502 “Spectre of the Real, The” (Hardy), VI: 20 Speculations (Hulme), Supp. VI: 134, 140 Speculative Instruments (Richards), Supp. I: 426 Speculum hominis (Gower), I: 48 Speculum meditantis (Gower), I: 48 Speculum Principis (Skelton), I: 84 Spedding, James, I: 257n, 259, 264, 324 Speech Against Prelates Innovations (Waller), II: 238 Speech . . . Against Warren Hastings (Sheridan), III: 270 Speech . . . for the Better Security of the Independence of Parliament (Burke), III: 205 Speech, 4 July 1643 (Waller), II: 238 Speech . . . in Bristol upon . . . His Parliamentary Conduct, A (Burke),

SPEE−STAF III: 205 Speech on American Taxation (Burke), III: 205 Speech . . . on Mr. Fox’s East India Bill (Burke), III: 205 Speech on Moving His Resolutions for Conciliation with the Colonies (Burke), III: 205 Speech on Parliamentary Reform (Macaulay), IV: 274 Speech on the Anatomy Bill (Macaulay), IV: 277 Speech on the Army Estimates (Burke), III: 205 Speech on the Edinburgh Election (Macaulay), IV: 274 Speech on the People’s Charter (Macaulay), IV: 274 Speech on the Ten Hours Bill (Macaulay), IV: 276–277 Speech Relative to the Nabob of Arcot’s Debts (Burke), III: 205 Speech to the Electors of Bristol (Burke), III: 205 Speeches on Parliamentary Reform (Disraeli), IV: 308 Speeches on the Conservative Policy of the Last Thirty Years (Disraeli), IV: 308 Speeches, Parliamentary and Miscellaneous (Macaulay), IV: 291 Speedy Post, A (Webster), II: 69, 85 Spell, The (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 120, 132–134 Spell, The: An Extravaganza (Brontë), V: 151 Spell for Green Corn, A (Brown), Supp. VI: 72–73 Spell of Words, A (Jennings), Supp. V: 219 “Spelt from Sybil’s Leaves” (Hopkins), V: 372–373 Spence, Joseph, II: 261; III: 69, 86n Spencer, Baldwin, Supp. III: 187–188 Spencer, Herbert, V: 182, 189, 284 Spender, Stephen, VII: 153, 382, 410; Supp. II: 481–495; Supp. III: 103, 117, 119; Supp. IV: 95 Spengler, Osvald, Supp. IV: 1, 3, 10, 11, 12, 17 Spenser, Edmund, I: 121–144, 146; II: 50, 302; III: 167n; IV: 59, 61, 93, 205; V: 318 Sphinx (Thomas), Supp. IV: 485 “Sphinx, The” (Rossetti), V: 241 Sphinx, The (Wilde), V: 409–410, 415, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 371 “Sphinx; or, Science” (Bacon), I: 267 “Spider, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Spider (Weldon), Supp. IV: 521 Spielmann, M. H., V: 137, 152 Spiess, Johann, III: 344 Spingarn, J. E., II: 256n “Spinoza” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 “Spinster Sweet–Arts, The” (Tennyson), IV: 327 “Spiral, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 Spiral Ascent, The (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 251, 254–259, 260

Spire, The (Golding), Supp. I: 67, 79– 81, 83; Retro. Supp. I: 99–100 “Spirit, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 267 “Spirit Dolls, The” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 292 “Spirit is Too Blunt an Instrument, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 Spirit Level, The (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132–133 Spirit Machines (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 76–79 Spirit of British Administration and Some European Comparisons, The (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249, 258 Spirit of Man, The (ed. Bridges), II: 160; VI: 76, 83 Spirit of the Age, The (Hazlitt), III: 276; IV: xi, 39, 129, 131, 132–134, 137, 139 Spirit of Whiggism, The (Disraeli), IV: 308 Spirit Rise, A (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Spirit Watches, The (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134, 135, 142 Spirits in Bondage (Lewis), Supp. III: 250 Spiritual Adventures (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 Spiritual Exercises (Loyola), V: 362, 367, 371, 373n; Retro. Supp. II: 188 Spiritual Exercises (Spender), Supp. II: 489 “Spiritual Explorations” (Spender), Supp. II: 489, 490 “Spite of thy hap hap hath well happed” (Wyatt), I: 103 Spitzer, L., IV: 323n, 339 Spivack, Bernard, I: 214 Spivak, Gayatri, Retro. Supp. I: 60 “Spleen, The” (Finch), Supp. IX: 69–70, 76 “Splinters, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68–69 Splitting (Weldon), Supp. IV: 535 Spoils, The (Bunting), Supp. VII: 5, 7–9 Spoils of Poynton, The (James), VI: 49–50 “Spoilt Child, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 251 “Spoons” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 108 Sport of Nature, A (Gordimer), Supp. II: 232, 239–240, 241, 242 “Spot of Night Fishing (for Kenny Crichton), A” (Warner), Supp. XI: 294 Spottiswoode, John, II: 142 Sprat, Thomas, II: 195, 196, 198, 200, 202, 294; III: 29 “Spraying the Potatoes” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 190 Spreading the News (Gregory), VI: 309, 315, 316 Sprigg, Christopher St. John, see Caudwell, Christopher “Sprig of Lime, The” (Nichols), VI: 419 “Spring, The” (Carew), II: 225 “Spring, The” (Cowley), II: 197 “Spring” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 70–71 “Spring” (Hopkins), V: 368 “Spring, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142

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Spring (Thomson), Supp. III: 413–414, 415, 416, “Spring and Fall” (Hopkins), V: 371–372, 381; Retro. Supp. II: 196–197 Spring Days (Moore), VI: 87, 91 Spring Fever (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 451 “Spring Hail” (Murray), Supp. VII: 272, 279, 281 Spring Morning (Cornford), VIII: 102, 103, 104, 112 “Spring Morning” (Milne), Supp. V: 302 “Spring Nature Notes” (Hughes), Supp. I: 358 “Spring 1942” (Fuller), VII: 429 “Spring Offensive” (Owen), VI: 455, 456, 458 “Spring Song” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 110 “Spring Song” (Milne), Supp. V: 309– 310 Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter (Hughes), Supp. I: 357 Spring–Heeled Jack (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 sprung rhythm, V: 363, 365, 367, 374, 376, 379, 380 Spy in the Family, A (Waugh), Supp. VI: 276 Spy on the Conjurer, A (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Spy Story, The (Cawelti and Rosenberg), Supp. IV: 7 Spy Who Came In from the Cold, The (le Carré), Supp. II: 299, 301, 305, 307– 309, 313, 315, 316, 317 Spy Who Loved Me, The (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 Spy’s Wife, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117, 119 Square Cat, The (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 Square Egg and Other Sketches, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 242, 250–251 Square Rounds (Harrison), Supp. V: 164 Squaring the Circle (Stoppard), Supp. I: 449–450, 451 Squaring the Waves (Dutton), Supp. XII: 88–89 “Squarings” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 132 “Squatter” (Mistry), Supp. X: 140–142 “Squaw, The” (Stoker), Supp. III: 382– 383 Squire Arden (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 “Squire Hooper” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121, 418, 420 Squire, J. C., VII: xvi “Squire Petrick’s Lady” (Hardy), VI: 22 Squire Trelooby (Congreve, Vanbrugh, Walsh), II: 325, 336, 339, 347, 350 Squire’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 23, 24 “Squirrel and the Crow, The” (Cope), VIII: 81 “Sredni Vashtar” (Saki), Supp. VI: 245– 246 “Stabilities” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256 Stade, George, Supp. IV: 402 “Staff and Scrip, The” (Rossetti), V: 240 Staffordshire Sentinel (periodical), VI: 248

STAG−STON “Stag in a Neglected Hayfield” (MacCraig), Supp. VI: 192 Stage Coach, The, II: 353, 358, 364 Stained Radiance (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Stalin, Joseph, Supp. IV: 82 Stalky & Co. (Kipling), VI: 204; Supp. IV: 506 Stallworthy, Jon, VI: 220, 438; Supp. X: 291–304 Stallybrass, Oliver, VI: 397 Stamboul Train (Greene; US. title, Orient Express), Supp. I: 3, 4–5; Retro. Supp. II: 152 Stand Up, Nigel Barton (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 228, 230–233 Standard of Behavior, A (Trevor), Supp. IV: 505 Standing Room Only (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 11 Stanley, Arthur, V: 13, 349 Stanley and Iris (film), Supp. IV: 45 Stanley and The Women (Amis), Supp. II: 17–18 Stanleys of Alderley, The (ed. Mitford), Supp. X: 156 Stans puer ad mensam (Lydgate), I: 58 “Stanzas” (Hood), IV: 263 “Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse” (Arnold), V: 210 “Stanzas in Memory of the Author of ’Obermann’ ” (Arnold), V: 206 “Stanzas Inscribed to a Once Dear Friend, When Confined by Severe Indisposition, in March 1793” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204 “Stanzas, Written Between Dover and Calais, July 20, 1792” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 203–204 “Stanzas Written in Dejection” (Shelley), IV: 201 “Stanzas, written on the 14th of February to my once dear Valentine” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204 Staple of News, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Star (periodical), VI: 103 Star Factory, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 53, 55, 56, 61–63 Star over Bethlehem (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Star Turns Red, The (O’Casey), VII: 7–8 “Starcross Ferry, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 8 Stares (Fuller), Supp. VII: 81 “Stare’s Nest by My Window, The” (Yeats), VI: 212 Staring at the Sun (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 70–71 “Starlight Night, The” (Hopkins), V: 366, 367; Retro. Supp. II: 190 “Stars” (Brontë), V: 133, 142 Stars of the New Curfew (Okri), Supp. V: 347, 348, 352, 355, 356–357 Start in Life, A (Brookner), see Debut, The Start in Life, A (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 413 Starting Point (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 130–131

State of France, . . . in the IXth Year of . . . , Lewis XIII, The (Evelyn), II: 287 State of Independence, A (Phillips), Supp. V: 380, 383–384 State of Innocence, The (Dryden), II: 290, 294, 305 “State of Poetry, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 215 “State of Religious Parties, The” (Newman), Supp. VII: 294 State of Siege (Ambler; formerly The Night–Comers), Supp. IV: 4, 16 State of the Art, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 10–11 “State of the Country, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 “State of the Nation, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 111 States of Emergency (Brink), Supp. VI: 53–54 Statesman’s Manual, The (Coleridge), IV: 56; Retro. Supp. II: 64 Statement, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 152 “Statements, The” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 39 Station Island (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 277–279 “Station Island” (Heaney), Supp. II: 277–278; Retro. Supp. I: 124, 130– 131 Stations (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 129 “Statue and the Bust, The” (Browning), IV: 366 “Statue in Stocks–Market, The” (Marvell), II: 218 “Statue of life, A” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 214 “Statues, The” (Yeats), VI: 215 Staying On (Scott), Supp. I: 259, 272– 274 Stead, Christina, Supp. IV: 459–477 Stead, William Thomas, Supp. XIII: 233–247 “Steam Washing Co., The” (Hood), IV: 267 Steel, Flora Annie, Supp. XII: 265–278 “Steel, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278 Steel Glass, The (Gascoigne), I: 149 Steele, Richard, II: 359; III: 7, 18, 19, 38–53 “Steep and her own world” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 Steep Holm (Fowles), Supp. I: 292 “Steep Stone Steps” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 Steevens, G. W., VI: 351 Steevens, George, I: 326 Steffan, Truman Guy, IV: 179, 193 Stein, Arnold, Retro. Supp. II: 181 Stein, Gertrude, VI: 252; VII: 83; Supp. IV: 416, 542, 556, 557–558 Steiner, George, Supp. IV: 455 “Stella at Wood–Park” (Swift), III: 32 “Stella Maris” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 270, 277–278 “Stella’s Birth Day, 1725” (Swift), III: 32 “Stella’s Birthday . . . A.D. 1720–21” (Swift), III: 32

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“Stella’s Birthday, March 13, l727” (Swift), III: 32 Stella’s Birth–Days: A Poem (Swift), III: 36 Stendhal, Supp. IV: 136, 459 Step by Step (Churchill), VI: 356 Stepdaughter, The (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 3, 10, 16 Stephen, Janus K., IV: 10–11, 268 Stephen, Leslie, II: 156, 157; III: 42; IV: 301, 304–306; V: xix, xxv, xxvi, 277–290, 386; VII: xxii, 17, 238 Stephen Hero (Joyce), VII: 45–46, 48 Stephens, Frederick, V: 235, 236 Stephens, James, VI: 88 Steps to the Temple. Sacred Poems, with Other Delights of the Muses (Crashaw), II: 179, 180, 184, 201 Sterling, John, IV: 54 Stern, Gladys Bronwen, IV: 123; V: xiii, xxviii, 395 Stern, J. B., I: 291 Stern, Laurence, III: 124–135, 150, 153, 155, 157; IV: 79, 183; VII: 20; Supp. II: 204; Supp. III: 108 Sterts and Stobies (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67 Stet (Reading), VIII: 261, 269–271, 273 Steuart, J. A., V: 392, 397 Stevens, Wallace, V: 412; Supp. IV: 257, 414; Supp. V: 183 Stevenson, Anne, Supp. VI: 253–268 Stevenson, L., V: 230, 234 Stevenson, Robert Louis, I: 1; II: 153; III: 330, 334, 345; V: xiii, xxi, xxv, vxvi, 219, 233, 383–398; Supp. IV: 61; Retro. Supp. I: 259–272 Stevenson and Edinburgh: A Centenary Study (MacLaren), V: 393, 398 Stevenson Companion, The (ed. Hampden), V: 393, 395 Stevensoniana (ed. Hammerton), V: 393, 397 Stewart, J. I. M., I: 329; IV: xxv; VII: xiv, xxxviii Stiff Upper Lip (Durrell), Supp. I: 113 Still by Choice (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 136, 145 Still Centre, The (Spender), Supp. II: 488, 489 “Still Falls the Rain” (Sitwell), VII: xvii, 135, 137 Still Life (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 145, 147–149, 151, 154 Still Life (Coward), Supp. II: 153 Stirling, William Alexander, earl of, see Alexander, William Stoats in the Sunlight (Conn), Supp. XIII: 70, 71–72 “Stoic, A” (Galsworthy), VI: 275, 284 Stoker, Bram, III: 334, 342, 343, 344, 345; Supp. III: 375–391 Stokes, John, V: xiii, xxviii Stolen Bacillus, The, and Other Incidents (Wells), VI: 226, 243 “Stolen Child, The” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 329 Stolen Light: Selected Poems (Conn), Supp. XIII: 79 Stone, C., III: 161n

STON−STRU “Stone” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 92 “Stone Age Decadent, A” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 321 “Stone and Mr. Thomas, The” (Powys), VIII: 258 “Stone Mania” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 Stone Virgin (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 355, 356, 357, 360–361, 362, 365 “Stone–In–Oxney” (Longley), VIII: 169, 175 Stones of the Field, The (Thomas), Supp. XII: 282, 283, 284 Stones of Venice, The (Ruskin), V: xxi, 173, 176–177, 180, 184, 292 “Stony Grey Soil “(Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 189–190 Stony Limits and Other Poems (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 202, 212– 216 “Stooping to Drink” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Stoppard, Tom, Supp. I: 437–454; Retro. Supp. II: 343–358 Storey, David, Supp. I: 407–420 Storey, Graham, V: xi, xxviii, 381 Stories, Dreams, and Allegories (Schreiner), Supp. II: 450 Stories from ABlack and White“ (Hardy), VI: 20 Stories of Frank O’Connor, The (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 219 Stories of Red Hanrahan (Yeats), VI: 222 Stories of the Seen and Unseen (Oliphant), Supp. X: 220 Stories, Theories and Things (Brooke– Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 110 “Stories, Theories and Things” (Brooke– Rose)), Supp. IV: 116 “Storm” (Nye), Supp. X: 204᎑205 “Storm” (Owen), VI: 449 “Storm, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 70–71 “Storm, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 86 “Storm, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 126–127 Storm, The; or, A Collection of . . . Casualties and Disasters . . . (Defoe), III: 13; Retro. Supp. I: 68 Storm and Other Poems (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 “Storm Bird, Storm Dreamer” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 “Storm in Istanbul” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 130 “Storm is over, The land hushes to rest, The” (Bridges), VI: 79 “Stormpetrel” (Murphy), Supp. V: 315 “Stormscape” (Davies), Supp. XI: 87 “Storm–Wind” (Ballard), Supp. V: 22 “Story, A” (Smitch, I. C.), Supp. IX: 222 “Story, A” (Thomas), Supp. I: 183 Story and the Fable, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 198 “Story by Maupassant, A” (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 226 “Story in It, The” (James), VI: 69 “Story of a Masterpiece, The” (James), VI: 69 Story of a Non–Marrying Man, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 253–254 “Story of a Panic, The” (Forster), VI: 399

“Story of a Year, The” (James), VI: 69 Story of an African Farm, The (Schreiner), Supp. II: 435, 438, 439, 440, 441, 445–447, 449, 451, 453, 456 Story of Fabian Socialism, The (Cole), VI: 131 Story of Grettir the strong, The (Morris and Magnusson), V: 306 Story of Rimini, The (Hunt), IV: 214 Story of San Michele, The (Munthe), VI: 265 Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs, The (Morris), V: xxiv, 299–300, 304, 306 Story of the Glittering Plain, The (Morris), V: 306 Story of the Injured Lady, The (Swift), III: 27 Story of the Malakand Field Force (Churchill), VI: 351 Story of the Sundering Flood, The (Morris), V: 306 “Story of the Three Bears, The” (Southey), IV: 58, 67 “Story of the Unknown Church, The” (Morris), V: 293, 303 Story of the Volsungs and . . . Songs from the Elder Edda, The (Morris and Magnusson), V: 299, 306 Story So Far, The (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2 “Storyteller, The” (Berger), Supp. IV: 90, 91 Story–Teller, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 174–175 Storyteller, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410 Story–Teller’s Holiday, A (Moore), VI: 88, 95, 99 Stout, Mira, Supp. IV: 75 Stovel, Nora Foster, Supp. IV: 245, 249 Stowe, Harriet Beecher, V: xxi, 3 Strachey, J. St. Loe, V: 75, 86, 87 Strachey, Lytton, III: 21, 28; IV: 292; V: 13, 157, 170, 277; VI: 155, 247, 372, 407; VII: 34, 35; Supp. II: 497–517 Strado, Famiano, II: 90 Strafford: An Historical Tragedy (Browning), IV: 373 Strait Gate, The . . . (Bunyan), II: 253 “Strand at Lough Beg, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 278 Strange and the Good, The (Fuller), Supp. VII: 81 “Strange and Sometimes Sadness, A” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 303, 304 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The (Stevenson), III: 330, 342, 345; V: xxv, 383, 387, 388, 395; VI: 106; Supp. IV: 61; Retro. Supp. I: 263, 264–266 “Strange Comfort Afforded by the Profession” (Lowry), Supp. III: 281 Strange Fruit (Phillips), Supp. V: 380 Strange Meeting (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 120–121, 122, 127 “Strange Meeting” (Owen), VI: 444, 445, 449, 454, 457–458 Strange Necessity, The (West), Supp. III: 438

445

“Strange Ride of Morrowbie Jukes, The” (Kipling), VI: 175–178 Strange Ride of Rudyard Kipling, The (Wilson), VI: 165; Supp. I: 167 Strange World, A (Braddon), VIII: 37 Stranger, The (Kotzebue), III: 268 Stranger Still, A (Kavan), Supp. VII: 207–208, 209 Stranger With a Bag, A (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 Strangers: A Family Romance (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 Strangers and Brothers cycle (Snow), VII: xxi, 322, 324–336 Strangers on a Train (Highsmith), Supp. V: 167, 168–169 Strapless (film), Supp. IV: 282, 291–292 “Strategist, The” (Saki), Supp. VI: 243 “Stratton Water” (Rossetti), V: 239 Strauss, Richard, Supp. IV: 556 “Strawberry Hill” (Hughes), Supp. I: 342 Strawgirl (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99 Strayed Reveller, The (Arnold), V: xxi, 209, 216 “Street in Cumberland, A” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 Street Songs (Sitwell), VII: 135 “Streets of the Spirits” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 “Strength of Heart” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114 “Strephon and Chloe” (Swift), III: 32; Retro. Supp. I: 284, 285 Strickland, Agnes, I: 84 Strictures on AConingsby“ (Disraeli), IV: 308 “Strictures on Pictures” (Thackeray), V: 37 Striding Folly (Sayers), Supp. III: 335 Strife (Galsworthy), VI: xiii, 269, 285– 286 Strike at Arlingford, The (Moore), VI: 95 Strindberg, August, Supp. III: 12 Stringham, Charles, IV: 372 Strings Are False, The (MacNeice), VII: 406 Strip Jack (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 250– 251, 253 Strode, Ralph, I: 49 Strong, Roy, I: 237 Strong Poison (Sayers), Supp. III: 339, 342, 343, 345 Strong Words: Modern Poets on Modern Poetry (ed. Herbert and Hollis), Supp. XIII: 31 Stronger Climate, A: Nine Stories (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 235 Structure and Distribution of Coral Reefs, On the (Darwin), Supp. VII: 19 Structural Analysis of Pound’s Usura Canto: Jakobsonand Applied to Free Verse, A (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 114 Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, The (Habermas), Supp. IV: 112 Structure in Four Novels by H. G. Wells (Newell), VI: 245, 246 Structure of Complex Words, The (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 192–195,

STUD−SUNL 197 “Studies in a Dying Culture” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 36 Struggle of the Modern, The (Spender), Supp. II: 492 Struggles of Brown, Jones and Robinson, The (Trollope), V: 102 “Strugnell’s Christian Songs” (Cope), VIII: 78 “Strugnell’s Sonnets” (Cope), VIII: 73–74 Strutt, Joseph, IV: 31 Strutton, Bill, Supp. IV: 346 Struwwelpeter (Hoffman), I: 25; Supp. III: 296 Stuart, D. M., V: 247, 256, 260 “Stubb’s Calendar” (Thackeray), see AFatal Boots, The“ Studies in a Dying Culture (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 43–47 Studies in Classic American Literature (Lawrence), VII: 90; Retro. Supp. II: 234 Studies in Ezra Pound (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 Studies in Prose and Poetry (Swinburne), II: 102; V: 333 Studies in Prose and Verse (Symons), Supp. XIV: 274 Studies in Song (Swinburne), V: 332 “Studies in Strange Sins” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 281 Studies in the History of the Renaissance (Pater), V: xxiv, 286–287, 323, 338– 339, 341–348, 351, 355–356, 400, 411 Studies in the Prose Style of Joseph Addison (Lannering), III: 52 Studies in Words (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 264 Studies of a Biographer (Stephen), V: 280, 285, 287, 289 Studies of the Greek Poets (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 254–255 Studies on Modern Painters (Symons), Supp. XIV: 274 “Studio 5, the Stars” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 Study in Scarlet, A (Doyle), Supp. II: 159, 160, 162, 163, 164, 167, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176 Study in Temperament, A (Firbank), Supp. II: 201, 206–207 Study of Ben Jonson, A (Swinburne), V: 332 Study of Shakespeare, A (Swinburne), V: 328, 332 Study of the Women Characters of Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell and George Eliot, A (Beer), Supp. XIV: 9 “Study of Thomas Hardy” (Lawrence), VI: 20; Retro. Supp. II: 234 Study of Victor Hugo, A (Swinburne), V: 332 “Stuff Your Classical Heritage” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 321–322 Sturlunga saga, VIII: 242 “Style” (Pater), V: 339, 347, 353–355 Stylistic Development of Keats, The (Bate), Retro. Supp. I: 185

Subhuman Redneck Poems (Murray), Supp. VII: 271, 283–284 Subject of Scandal and Concern, A (Osborne), Supp. I: 334 “Sublime and the Beautiful Revisited, The” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 216–217, 223 “Sublime and the Good, The” (Murdoch), Supp. I: 216–217, 218, 220 Subsequent to Summer (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 Substance of the Speech . . . in Answer to . . . the Report of the Committee of Managers (Burke), III: 205 Substance of the Speeches for the Retrenchment of Public Expenses (Burke), III: 205 Subtle Knife, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 153, 156–157 “Suburban Dream” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 Success (Amis), Supp. IV: 26, 27, 31– 32, 37 “Success” (Empson), Supp. II: 180, 189 Success and Failure of Picasso, The (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 88 “Successor, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 23, 27 Such (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 104, 105, 106–108 Such a Long Journey (Mistry), Supp. X: 142–146 “Such Darling Dodos” (Wilson), Supp. I: 154 “Such nights as these in England . . . A (Swinburne), V: 310 Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made On (tr. FitzGerald), IV: 349, 353 Such, Such Were the Joys (Orwell), VII: 275, 282 Such Was My Singing (Nichols), VI: 419 Suckling, Sir John, I: 337; II: 222, 223, 226–229 “Sudden Heaven” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 “Sudden Light” (Rossetti), V: 241, 242 Sudden Times (Healy), Supp. IX: 96, 100–103 “Suddenly” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 289 Sue, Eugène, VI: 228 “Suet Pudding, A” (Powys), VIII: 255 Suffrage of Elvira, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 386–387, 388 “Sufism” (Jennings), Supp. V: 217 Sugar and Other Stories (Byatt), Supp. IV: 140, 151 Sugar and Rum (Unsworth), Supp. VII: 357, 361–363, 366 “Suicide” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 7 Suicide Bridge: A Book of the Furies: A Mythology of the South and East (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 233, 234, 237, 245 “Suicide Club, The” (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 263 Suitable Boy, A (Seth), Supp. X: 277, 279, 281–288, 290 “Suitcases” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Suite in Three Keys (Coward), Supp. II: 156–157

446

Suits, The (tr. Delanty), Supp. XIV: 76 “Sullens Sisters, The” (Coppard), VIII: 90 Sultan in Oman (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 Sultry Month, A: Scenes of London Literary Life in 1846 (Hayter), IV: 322 Sum Practysis of Medecyn (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 147 Summer (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434–435 Summer (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 414, 416, 417, 418, 419 “Summer Afternoon” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 Summer Before the Dark, The (Lessing), Supp. I: 249, 253 Summer Bird–Cage, A (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 234–236, 241 Summer Day’s Dream (Priestley), VII: 229 Summer Islands (Douglas), VI: 295, 305 “Summer Lightning” (Davie), Supp. VI: 112–113 Summer Lightning (Wodehouse), see Fish Preferred “Summer Night, A” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 6 Summer Palaces (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220–222, 223 Summer Rites (Rankin), Supp. X: 246 “Summer Waterfall, Glendale” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 182 Summer Will Show (Warner), Supp. VII: 376 “Summerhouse on the Mound, The” (Bridges), VI: 74 Summers, M., III: 345 “Summer’s Breath” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 324 “Summer’s Day, On a” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 215 Summing Up, The (Maugham), VI: 364, 374 Summit (Thomas), Supp. IV: 485, 489 Summoned by Bells (Betjeman), VII: 355, 356, 361, 373–374 Sumner, Rosemary, Retro. Supp. I: 115 “Sun & Moon” (Longley), VIII: 176 “Sun and the Fish, The” (Woolf), Retro. Supp. I: 308 Sun Before Departure (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424, 425 Sun King, The (Mitford), Supp. X: 167 Sun Poem (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 41, 46 “Sun used to shine, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 395 “Sun Valley” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “Sunburst” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “Sunday” (Hughes), Supp. I: 341–342, 348 “Sunday” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 252 “Sunday Afternoon” (Bowen), Supp. II: 77 Sunday Morning at the Centre of the World (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 66 “Sundew, The” (Swinburne), V: 315, 332 “Sunken Rock, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 162 “Sunlight” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 268

SUNL−SYLV “Sunlight in a Room” (Hart), Supp. XI: 127 “Sunlight on the Garden” (MacNeice), VII: 413 “Sunne Rising, The” (Donne), II: 127; Retro. Supp. II: 88–89, 90–91 Sunset Song (Gibbon), Supp. XIV: 106, 107–109, 113 “Sunny Prestatyn” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 Sunny Side, The (Milne), Supp. V: 298 “Sunrise, A” (Owen), VI: 449 Sun’s Darling, The (Dekker and Ford), II: 89, 100 Sun’s Net, The (Brown), Supp. VI: 69 Sunset Across the Bay (Bennett), VIII: 27 Sunset and Evening Star (O’Casey), VII: 13 Sunset at Blandings (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 452–453 “Sunset on Mount Blanc” (Stephen), V: 282 “Sunsets” (Aldington), VI: 416 “Sunsum” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 39 “Suntrap” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Sunup” (Murphy), Supp. V: 325 “Super Flumina Babylonis” (Swinburne), V: 325 “Superannuated Man, The” (Lamb), IV: 83 Supernatural Horror in Literature (Lovecraft), III: 340 Supernatural Omnibus, The (Summers), III: 345 “Superstition” (Bacon), III: 39 “Superstition” (Hogg), Supp. X: 104, 110 “Superstitious Man’s Story, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 Supper at Emmaus (Caravaggio), Supp. IV: 95 Supplication of Souls (More), Supp. VII: 244–245 “Supports, The” (Kipling), VI: 189 “Supposed Confessions of a Second–rate Sensitive Mind in Dejection” (Owen), VI: 445 Supposes (Gascoigne), I: 298, 303 “Sure” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 291 “Sure Proof” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 191 “Surface Textures” (Desai), Supp. V: 65 Surgeon’s Daughter, The (Scott), IV: 34– 35, 39 Surgeon’s Mate, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256 Surprise, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 135 Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life (Lewis), Supp. III: 247, 248 “Surrender, The” (King), Supp. VI: 151, 153 Surrey, Henry Howard, earl of, I: 97, 98, 113 Surroundings (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 189– 190, 195 Survey of Experimental Philosophy, A (Goldsmith), III: 189, 191 Survey of Modernist Poetry, A (Riding and Graves), VII: 260; Supp. II: 185 “Surview” (Hardy), VI: 13 “Survival” (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 290

“Survivor” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Survivor, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 Survivors, The (Beer), Supp. XIV: 2 “Survivors” (Ross), VII: 433 Suspense (Conrad), VI: 147 Suspension of Mercy, A (Highsmith), Supp. V: 174–175 “Suspiria de Profundis” (De Quincey), IV: 148, 153, 154 “Sussex Auction, A” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 187 Sverris saga, VIII: 242 “Swallow, The” (Cowley), II: 198 Swallow (Thomas), Supp. IV: 483, 484– 485 “Swallows” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 “Swallows’ Nest, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 “Swan, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 207, 223, 224 “Swan, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 138 “Swan, A Man, A” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 47 “Swan Bathing, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 Swan Song (Galsworthy), VI: 275 “Swans Mating” (Longley), VIII: 171– 172, 173 “Swans on an Autumn River” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Swatting Flies” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 Swearer’s Bank, The (Swift), III: 35 Swedenborg, Emanuel, III: 292, 297; Retro. Supp. I: 39 Sweeney Agonistes (Eliot), VII: 157–158 “Sweeney Among the Nightingales” (Eliot), VII: xiii, 145 Sweeney Astray (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 277, 278; Retro. Supp. I: 129 “Sweeney Erect” (Eliot), VII: 145 Sweeney poems (Eliot), VII: 145–146; see also ASweeney Among the Nightingales; ASweeney Erect“ “Sweeney Redivivus” (Heaney), Supp. II: 277, 278 Sweet Dove Died, The (Pym), Supp. II: 378–380 Sweet Dreams (Frayn), Supp. VII: 56, 58–60, 61, 65 “Sweet Other Flesh” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 Sweet Smell of Psychosis (Self), Supp. V: 406 “Sweet Things” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272 Sweet William (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 18, 20–22, 24 “Sweet William’s Farewell to Black–ey’d Susan” (Gay), III: 58 “Sweetheart of M. Brisieux, The” (James), VI: 69 Sweets of Pimlico, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 297, 298–299, 301 Sweet–Shop Owner, The (Swift), Supp. V: 427–429 Swift, Graham, Supp. IV: 65; Supp. V: 427–442 Swift, Jonathan, II: 240, 259, 261, 269, 273, 335; III: 15–37, 39, 44, 53, 55, 76; IV: 160, 257, 258; VII: 127; Retro. Supp. I: 273–287

447

“Swift has sailed into his rest” (Yeats), III: 21 “Swifts” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 208–209 “Swifts” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 265 “Swigs” (Dunn), Supp. X: 79 Swimming Free: On and Below the Surface of Lake, River, and Sea (Dutton), Supp. XII: 83, 84, 92 Swimming in the Flood (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21–22, 23 “Swimming in the Flood” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 22 “Swimming Lesson, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 22 “Swimming Lessons” (Mistry), Supp. X: 141–142 Swimming Lessons and Other Stories from Ferozsha Baag (Mistry), Supp. X: 138–142 Swimming Pool Library, The (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 119–120, 122–129, 132, 134 “Swim in Co. Wicklow, A” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 178 Swinburne, Algernon Charles, II: 102; III: 174; IV: 90, 337, 346, 370; V: xi, xii, 236, 284, 286, 298–299, 309–335, 346, 355, 365, 401 Swinburne: The Portrait of a Poet (Henderson), V: 335 “Swing, The” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133 “Swing, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 311 “Swing of the Pendulum, The” (Mansfield), VII: 172 Swinging the Maelstrom (Lowry), Supp. III: 272 Swinnerton, Frank, VI: 247, 268; VII: 223 “Switch, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Switch Bitch (Dahl), Supp. IV: 219 Switchers (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 287, 290 Sword of Honour trilogy (Waugh), VII: xx–xxi, 303–306; see also Men at Arms; Offıcers and Gentlemen; Unconditional Surrender “Sword Music” (Stallworthy), Supp. X: 296 Sybil (Disraeli), IV: xii, xx, 296, 300, 301–302, 305, 307, 308; V: viii, x, 2, 4 Sycamore Tree, The (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 99, 101–102 “Sydney and the Bush” (Murray), Supp. VII: 276 Sykes Davies, Hugh, IV: xii, xxv; V: x, xxviii, 103 Sylphid, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 211 Sylva (Cowley), II: 202 Sylva; or, A Discourse of Forest–Trees (Evelyn), II: 275, 287 Sylva sylvarum (Bacon), I: 259, 263, 273 Sylvae (ed. Dryden), II: 301, 304 Sylvia and Ted: A Novel (Tennant), see Ballad of Sylvia and Ted, The Sylvia’s Lovers (Gaskell), V: 1, 4, 6, 7–8, 12, 15

SYLV−TALE Sylvie and Bruno (Carroll), V: 270–271, 273 Sylvie and Bruno Concluded (Carroll), V: 271, 273 Symbolic Logic (Carroll), V: 271, 274 Symbolist Movement in Literature, The (Symons), VI: ix; Supp. XIV: 267, 268–269, 270, 274, 281 Symonds, John Addington, V: 83; Supp. XIV: 249–266 Symons, Arthur, VI: ix; Supp. XIV: 267– 283 Symons, Julian, Supp. IV: 3, 339 “Sympathy in White Major” (Larkin), Supp. I: 282 Synge, John Millington, II: 258; VI: xiv, 307–314, 317; VII: 3, 42; Retro. Supp. I: 289–303 Synge and Anglo–Irish Drama (Price), VI: 317 Synge and the Ireland of His Time (Yeats), VI: 222, 317 Syntactic Structures (Chomsky), Supp. IV: 113–114 “Syntax of Seasons, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 330 “Synth” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 262–263 Syrie Maugham (Fisher), VI: 379 System of Logic (Mill), V: 279 System of Magick, A; or, A History of the Black Art (Defoe), III: 14 Systema medicinae hermeticae generale (Nollius), II: 201 Syzygies and Lanrick (Carroll), V: 273– 274

T.

E. Hulme: The Selected Writings (Hulme), Supp. VI: 135–136, 138, 140, 142, 143 T. E. Lawrence: The Selected Letters (Lawrence), Supp. II: 283, 286, 289, 290, 293, 295, 296, 297 T. Fisher Unwin (publisher), VI: 373 T. S. Eliot (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 5–6, 8 T. S. Eliot (Bergonzi), VII: 169 T.S. Eliot (Raine), Supp. XIII: 175 “T. S. Eliot” (Forster), VII: 144 “T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “T. S. Eliot as Critic” (Leavis), VII: 233 “Tabill of Confessioun, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 119 “Table, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 500 Table Book (Hone), IV: 255 Table Manners (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 5 Table Near the Band, A (Milne), Supp. V: 309 Table Talk (Hazlitt), IV: xviii, 131, 137, 139 Table Talk, and Other Poems (Cowper), III: 220 Table Talk 1941–1944 (Cameron), Supp. IX: 28 Tables Turned, The (Morris), V: 306 “Tables Turned, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 7, 225 Taburlaine the Great, Part I (Marlowe), Retro. Supp. I: 204–206

Taburlaine the Great, Part II (Marlowe), Retro. Supp. I: 206–207 “Tadnol” (Powys), VIII: 248 “Taft’s Wife” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 12 “Tagging the Stealer” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 74 Tagore, Rabindranath, Supp. IV: 440, 454 Tailor of Gloucester, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 301–302 Taill of Schir Chantecleir and the Foxe, The (Henryson), see Cock and the Fox, The Taill of the Uponlondis Mous and the Burges Mous, The (Henryson), see Two Mice, The Táin, The (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264–266 Take a Girl Like You (Amis), Supp. II: 10–11, 18 Taken Care of (Sitwell), VII: 128, 132 Takeover, The (Spark), Supp. I: 211–212 “Taking Down the Christmas Tree” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 Taking Steps (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 12, 13 Talbert, E. W., I: 224 “Talbot Road” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 272, 273–274 “Tale, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Tale of a Scholar” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 251 Tale of a Town, The (Martyn), VI: 95 “Tale of a Trumpet, A” (Hood), IV: 258 Tale of a Tub, A (Swift), II: 259, 269; III: 17, 19, 21–23, 35; Retro. Supp. I: 273, 276, 277–278 Tale of Balen, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Tale of Benjamin Bunny, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 299 Tale of Beowulf, Done out of the Old English Tongue, The (Morris, Wyatt), V: 306 Tale of Ginger and Pickles, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 299 Tale of Jemima Puddle–Duck, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 303 Tale of Johnny Town–Mouse, The (Potter), Supp. III: 297, 304, 307 Tale of King Arthur, The (Malory), I: 68 Tale of Little Pig Robinson, The (Potter), Supp. III: 288, 289, 297, 304–305 Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher, The (Potter), Supp. III: 298, 303 Tale of Mr. Tod, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 299 Tale of Mrs. Tiggy–Winkle, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 301–302 Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse, The (Potter), Supp. III: 298, 301 Tale of Paraguay, A (Southey), IV: 66– 67, 68, 71 Tale of Peter Rabbit, The (Potter), Supp. III: 287, 288, 290, 293, 295–296, 299 Tale of Pigling Bland, The (Potter), Supp. III: 288–289, 290, 291, 304 Tale of Rosamund Gray and Old Blind Margaret, A (Lamb), IV: 79, 85 Tale of Samuel Whiskers, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 297, 301, 305

448

Tale of Sir Gareth of Orkeney that was called Bewmaynes, The (Malory), I: 72, 73; Retro. Supp. II: 243, 247 Tale of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere (Malory), Retro. Supp. II: 243, 244 Tale of Sir Thopas, The (Chaucer), I: 67, 71 “Tale of Society As It Is, A” (Shelley), Retro. Supp. I: 245 Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, The (Potter), Supp. III: 288, 290, 301 Tale of the House of the Wolflings, A (Morris), V: 302, 306 Tale of the Noble King Arthur that was Emperor himself through Dignity of his Hands (Malory), I: 69, 72, 77–79 Tale of the Pie and the Patty–Pan, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 299 Tale of the Sankgreal, The (Malory), I: 69; Retro. Supp. II: 248–249 Tale of the Sea, A (Conrad), VI: 148 Tale of Timmy Tiptoes, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290 “Tale of Tod Lapraik, The” (Stevenson), Retro. Supp. I: 267 Tale of Tom Kitten, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 299, 300, 302, 303 Tale of Two Bad Mice, The (Potter), Supp. III: 290, 300–301 Tale of Two Cities, A (Dickens), V: xxii, 41, 42, 57, 63, 66, 72 “Talent and Friendship” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 270 Talent to Annoy, A (Mitford), Supp. X: 163 Talented Mr. Ripley, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 170 Tales (Crabbe), III: 278, 285, 286; see also Tales in Verse; Tales of the Hall; Posthumous Tales “Tales” (Dickens), V: 46 Tales and Sketches (Disraeli), IV: 308 Tales from a Troubled Land (Paton), Supp. II: 344–345, 348, 354 Tales from Angria (Brontë), V: 151 Tales from Ovid (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 202, 214–216 Tales from Shakespeare (Lamb and Lamb), IV: xvi, 80, 85 Tales I Tell My Mother (ed. Fairbairns et al.), Supp. XI: 163, 164, 175 Tales I Told My Mother (Nye), Supp. X: 195 Tales in Verse (Crabbe), III: 275, 278, 279, 281, 286 Tales of a Grandfather (Scott), IV: 38 Tales of All Countries (Trollope), V: 101 Tales of Good and Evil (Gogol), III: 345 Tales of Hearsay (Conrad), VI: 148 Tales of Hoffmann (Hoffmann), III: 334, 345 Tales of Mean Streets (Morrison), VI: 365 Tales of My Landlord (Scott), IV: 39 Tales of Natural and Unnatural Catastrophes (Highsmith), Supp. V: 179 Tales of St. Austin’s (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 449–450 Tales of Sir Gareth (Malory), I: 68 Tales of the Crusaders (Scott), IV: 39

TALE−ND TH Tales of the Five Towns (Bennett), VI: 253 Tales of the Hall (Crabbe), III: 278, 285, 286; V: xvii, 6 “Tales of the Islanders” (Brontë), V: 107, 114, 135 Tales of the Punjab (Steel), Supp. XII: 266 Tales of the Tides, and Other Stories (Steel), Supp. XII: 275 Tales of Three Cities (James), VI: 67 Tales of Unrest (Conrad), VI: 148 Talfourd, Field, IV: 311 Taliesin (Nye), Supp. X: 193 “Taliessin on the Death of Virgil” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 283 “Taliessin Returns to Logres” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 282 Taliessin Through Logres (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 282–283 Talisman, The (Scott), IV: 39 “Tall Story, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 18 Talk Magazine, Supp. XIII: 174 Talk Stories (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 217, 231 Talkies (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 72–74 Talking Bronco (Campbell), Supp. III: 119 Talking Heads (Bennett), VIII: 27–28 Talking It Over (Barnes), Supp. IV: 65, 67, 68, 72–74 Talking of Jane Austen (Kaye–Smith and Stern), IV: 123 “Talking Skull” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 21 “Talking to Myself” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “Tam o’ Shanter” (Burns), III: 320 Tamburlaine the Great (Marlowe), I: 212, 243, 276, 278, 279–280, 281–282; II: 69, 305 Tamburlaine, Part 2 (Marlowe), I: 281– 282, 283 “Tamer and Hawk” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 258 Taming of the Shrew, The (Shakespeare), I: 298, 302, 303, 327; II: 68 Tamworth Reading Room, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 294 Tancred (Disraeli), IV: 294, 297, 300, 302–303, 307, 308 Tancred and Gismund (Wilmot), I: 216 Tancred and Sigismunda (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 423, 424 Tangier Papers of Samuel Pepys, The (ed. Chappell), II: 288 Tangled Tale, A (Carroll), V: 273 “Tannahill” (Dunn), Supp. X: 74–75 Tanner, Alain, Supp. IV: 79, 95 Tanner, J. R., II: 288 Tanner, Tony, VI: xxxiv Tannhäuser and Other Poems (Clarke), V: 318n “Tano” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 39 Tao of Pooh, The (Hoff), Supp. V: 311 “Tapestry Moths” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235–236 “Tapestry Trees” (Morris), V: 304–305 “Tardy Spring” (Meredith), V: 223 Tares (Thomas), Supp. XII: 284

Tarr (Lewis), VII: xv, 72 “Tarry delight, so seldom met” (Housman), VI: 161 Tarry Flynn (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 186, 194–195, 199 Task, The (Cowper), III: 208, 212–217, 220; IV: xv, 184 “Task, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 205 Tasso, Torquato, II: 49; III: 171 “Taste” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 215, 217 Taste and Remember (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214, 222 Taste for Death, A (James), Supp. IV: 320, 330–331 Taste of Honey, A (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 320 “Taste of the Fruit, The” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 Tate, Nahum, I: 327; II: 305 Tatler (periodical), II: 339; III: 18, 29, 30, 35, 39, 41–45, 46, 51, 52, 53 Tausk, Victor, Supp. IV: 493 Tawney, R. H., I: 253 Tax Inspector, The (Carey), Supp. XII: 51, 54, 59–60, 62 Taxation No Tyranny (Johnson), III: 121; Retro. Supp. I: 142–143 “Taxonomy” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 “Tay Moses, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Taylor, A. L., V: 270, 272, 274 Taylor, A. J. P., IV: 290, 303 Taylor, Henry, IV: 62n Taylor, Jeremy, Supp. IV: 163 Taylor, John, IV: 231, 233, 253 Taylor, Mary, V: 117 Taylor, Thomas, III: 291 Taylor, Tom, V: 330 Te of Piglet, The (Hoff), Supp. V: 311 “Tea”(Saki), Supp. VI: 244 Tea Party (Pinter), Supp. I: 375 “Tea with an Artist” (Rhys), Supp. II: 390 “Tea with Mrs. Bittell” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 328–329 “Teachers” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82 “Teacher’s Tale, The” (Cope), VIII: 83 Teapots and Quails (Lear), V: 87 “Tear” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 “Teare, The” (Crashaw), II: 183 “Tears” (Thomas), VI: 424 “Tears” (Vaughan), II: 187 “Tears are Salt” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 217–218 “Tears, Idle Tears” (Hough), IV: 323n, 339 “Tears, Idle Tears” (Tennyson), IV: 329– 330, 334 “’Tears, Idle Tears’ Again” (Spitzer), IV: 323n, 339 Tears of Amaryllis for Amyntas, The: A Pastoral. (Congreve), II: 350 Tears of Peace, The (Chapman), I: 240– 241 “Teasers, The” (Empson), Supp. II: 190 Tea–Table (periodical), III: 50 Tea–Table Miscellany, The (Ramsay), III: 312; IV: 28–29 Tebbit, Norman, Supp. IV: 449

449

“Technical Manifesto of Futurist Literature” (Marinetti), Supp. III: 396 Technical Supplement, A (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268–269 “Technological Crisis, The” (Richards), Supp. II: 426 “’Teem’” (Kipling), VI: 169, 189 “Teeth” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 101 Teeth ’n’ Smiles (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 283–284 Tel Quel circle, Supp. IV: 115 “Telephone” (Seth), Supp. X: 284 “Tell me, Dorinda, why so gay” (Dorset), II: 262–263 “Tell me no more how fair she is” (King), Supp. VI: 151 “Tell me not here, it needs not saying” (Housman), VI: 160 “Tell me what means that sigh” (Landor), IV: 98 “Tell Me Who to Kill” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 395, 396 “Tell Us” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Tellers and Listeners: The Narrative of Imagination (Hardy), V: 73 Tellers of Tales (Maugham), VI: 372 “Telling Myself” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 “Telling Part, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 103 Temora, an Ancient Epic Poem (Macpherson), VIII: 189–191, 193, 194 “Temper, The” (Herbert), II: 125 Tempest, The (Shakespeare), I: 323–324; II: 55; III: 117 Tempest, The; or, The Enchanted Island (Dryden), II: 305 Temple, Sir William, III: 16, 19, 23, 40, 190 Temple, The (Herbert), II: 119, 121–125, 128, 129, 184; Retro. Supp. II: 172, 173, 174–182 “Temple, The” (Herrick), II: 113 Temple, The (Spender), Supp. II: 485, 493 Temple Bar (Forster), VI: 399 Temple Beau, The (Fielding), III: 96, 98, 105 Temple of Fame, The (Pope), III: 71, 77; Retro. Supp. I: 233 Temple of Glass, The (Lydgate), I: 57, 62, 65 Temporary Kings (Powell), VII: 352 Temporary Life, A (Storey), Supp. I: 408, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414–415, 416, 417–418, 419 “Temporis Partus Masculus” (Bacon), Supp. III: 361 Temptation of Eileen Hughes, The (Moore, B.), Supp. IX: 144, 151 ten Brink, Bernard, I: 98 Ten Burnt Offerings (MacNeice), VII: 415 “Ten Ghazals” (Hart), Supp. XI: 124– 125 “Ten Lines a Day” (Boswell), III: 237 Ten Little Indians, see Ten Little Niggers Ten Little Niggers (Christie; US. title, “nd Then There Were None), Supp. II:

TEN M−THEO 131, 132, 134 “Ten Memorial Poems” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Ten Novels and Their Authors (Maugham), VI: 363–364 “Ten O’Clock Lecture” (Whistler), V: 407; VI: 103 “Ten Pence Story” (Armitage), VIII: 4 Ten Tales Tall & True (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 79, 80, 90–91 Ten Times Table (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 14 “Tenant, The” (Healy), Supp. IX: 96, 104–105 Tenant of Wildfell Hall, The (Brontë), V: xxi, 130, 153; Supp. III: 195; Retro. Supp. I: 50, 52, 53, 54, 55–56 Tender Only to One (Smith), Supp. II: 462 Tenebrae (Hill), Supp. V: 189–192, 199 Tennant, Emma, Supp. IX: 227–241 Tenniel, John, V: 266, 267 “Tennis Court, The” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 504 Tennyson, Alfred Lord, II: 200, 208; IV: viii, xii–xiii, 196, 240, 292, 310, 313, 323–339, 341, 344, 351, 352, 371; V: ix, 77–79, 85, 182, 285, 299, 311, 327, 330, 365, 401; VI: 455–456 Tennyson, Emily, V: 81 Tennyson, Frederic, IV: 350, 351 Tennyson, Hallam, IV: 324, 329, 332, 338 “Tennyson and Picturesque Poetry” (McLuhan), IV: 323n, 338, 339 “Tennyson and the Romantic Epic” (McLuhan), IV: 323n, 339 Tennyson: Poet and Prophet (Henderson), IV: 339 Tenth Man, The (Greene), Supp. I: 1, 11 Tenth Satire (Juvenal), Retro. Supp. I: 139 “Tents, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, The (Milton), II: 176 Teresa of Watling Street (Bennett), VI: 249 “Teresa’s Wedding” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 503 “Tereus” (Gower), I: 54 “Terminal Beach, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 23, 25, 34 Terminal Beach, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 23 Terminations (James), VI: 49, 67 “Terminus” (Emerson), IV: 81 “Terra Australis” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 314 “Terra Firma” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 78 “Terra Incognita” (Lawrence), VII: 119 Terra Nostra (Fuentes), Supp. IV: 116 “Terrapin, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180 Terrible Sonnets (Hopkins), Retro. Supp. II: 197–198 “Territorial” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260 Territorial Rights (Spark), Supp. I: 211, 212 “Terrors of Basket Weaving, The” (Highsmith), Supp. V: 180

Terrors of Dr. Trevils, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 Terry, Ellen, VI: 104 Terry Hogan, an Eclogue (Landor), IV: 100 Terry Street (Dunn), Supp. X: 66, 69–70, 73 Teseide (Boccaccio), I: 30 Tess (Tennant), Supp. IX: 231, 236–238 Tess of the d’Urbervilles: A Pure Woman Faithfully Presented (Hardy), VI: 5, 9, 20; Supp. IV: 243, 471; Retro. Supp. I: 115–116 “Test Case” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Test of Manhood, The” (Meredith), V: 222 Testament (Lydgate), I: 65 Testament of Beauty, The (Bridges), VI: 72, 73, 74, 75, 82 Testament of Cresseid, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 135, 136, 142–145, 146 Testament of Experience: An Autobiographical Story of the Years 1925– 1960 (Brittain), Supp. X: 39–40, 44, 46 Testament of Friendship: The Story of Winifred Holtby (Brittain), Supp. X: 42, 44 Testament of Love, The (Usk), I: 2 Testament of Youth: An Autobiographical Study of the Years 1900–1925 (Brittain), Supp. X: 33–36, 38, 40–41, 43–44, 46–47 Testimonies (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Tête à Tête (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 Tetrachordon: . . . (Milton), II: 175 Textermination (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 97, 100, 112 Texts and Pretexts (Huxley), VII: 204; Retro. Supp. II: 182 Texts for Nothing (Beckett), Supp. I: 51, 53, 60 Thackeray, Anne Isabella, VI: 4 Thackeray, Bal, Supp. IV: 438 Thackeray, William Makepeace, II: 363; III: 124, 125, 146; IV: 240, 251, 254, 257, 266, 272, 301, 306, 340; V: ix, 17–39, 56, 62, 68, 69, 139, 140, 147, 179, 191, 279; Supp. IV: 238, 244 Thackeray (Trollope), V: 102 Thackeray: Prodigal Genius (Carey), V: 39 Thalaba the Destroyer (Southey), III: 335; IV: 64, 65, 71, 197, 217 “Thalassius” (Swinburne), V: 327 Thalia Rediviva (Vaughan), II: 185, 201 “Than on this fals warld I cry fy” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “Thank You, Fog” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 14 Thank You, Jeeves (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 455, 460 “Thanksgiving for a Habitat” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 Thanksgiving Ode, 18 January 1816 (Wordsworth), IV: 24 Thanksgivings (Traherne), II: 190– 191;Supp. XI: 264, 265, 274 “Thanksgivings for the Body” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 274

450

That American Woman (Waugh), Supp. VI: 272 That Hideous Strength (Lewis), Supp. III: 249, 252, 254–255 “That Hollywood Movie with the Big Shark” (Warner), Supp. XI: 294 “That Island Formed You” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 “That Morning” (Hughes), Supp. I: 364 “That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire” (Hopkins), V: 376, 377 “That Now Is Hay Some–tyme Was Grase” (Lydgate), I: 57 “That Raven” (Nye), Supp. X: 198, 202 “That the Science of Cartography Is Limited” (Boland), Supp. V: 43–44, 46 That Time (Beckett), Supp. I: 61; Retro. Supp. I: 28 That Uncertain Feeling (Amis), Supp. II: 7–8 “That Weird Sall Never Daunton Me” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 29–31 Thatcher, Margaret, Supp. IV: 74–75, 437 “Thaw” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 “Thaw, A” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Thealma and Clearchus (Chalkhill), II: 133 Theatre (periodical), III: 50, 53 “Theatre of God’s Judgements” (Beard), Retro. Supp. I: 204 Theatrical Companion to Maugham (Mander and Mitchenson), VI: 379 Theatrum Orbis Terrarum (Ortelius), I: 282 Theatrum Poetarum (Phillips), II: 347 “Their Finest Hour” (Churchill), VI: 358 “Their Lonely Betters” (Auden), VII: 387 “Their Quiet Lives” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Their Very Memory” (Blunden), VI: 428; Supp. XI: 41 “Thieving Boy, A” (Hollinghurst), Supp. X: 122–123 Thelwall, John, IV: 103 Themes and Conventions of Elizabethan Tragedy (Bradbrook), I: 293; II: 78 Themes on a Variation (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160, 166, 170 “Then dawns the Invisible . . . ” (Brontë), V: 143; see also “Prisoner, The“ Theobald, Lewis, I: 324, 326; II: 66, 87; III: 51 “Theodolinde” (James), VI: 69 Theodore (Boyle), III: 95 “Theology” (Hughes), Supp. I: 350 “Theology of Fitness, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 256 Théophile (Swinburne), V: 333 Theophrastus, II: 68, 81; III: 50 “Theory of Everything, A” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 25 Theory of Permanent Adolescence, The (Connolly), Supp. III: 97 “Theory of the Earth” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 167 Theory of the Leisure Class, The (Veblen), VI: 283

THER−THOM Therapy (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366, 381, 383–385 “There” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 “There Are Nights That Are so Still” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 289–290 There Are No Ghosts in the Soviet Union (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 118 There is a Happy Land (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 266–269, 270, 272 “There is a hill beside the silver Thames” (Bridges), VI: 78 “There Is a House Not Made with Hands” (Watts), III: 288 “There Is No Conversation” (West), Supp. III: 442 There Is No Natural Religion (Blake), III: 292, 307; Retro. Supp. I: 35 “There Is No Sorrow” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218 “There Is Nothing” (Gurney), VI: 426– 427 “There was a Saviour” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177, 178 “There was a time” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 “There was an old Derry down Derry” (Lear), V: 82 “There Was an Old Man in a Barge” (Lear), V: 83 “There Was an Old Man of Blackheath” (Lear), V: 86 “There Was an Old Man of Three Bridges” (Lear), V: 86 “There was never nothing more me pained” (Wyatt), I: 103 “There Will Be No Peace” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “There’s Nothing Here” (Muir), Supp. VI: 208 “Thermal Stair, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 114 These Demented Lands (Warner), Supp. XI: 282, 285, 286–289, 294 “These Summer–Birds did with thy Master stay” (Herrick), II: 103 These the Companions (Davie), Supp. VI: 105, 109, 111, 113, 117 These Twain (Bennett), VI: 258 “Theses on the Philosophy of History” (Benjamin), Supp. IV: 87 Thespian Magazine (periodical), III: 263 “Thespians at Thermopylae, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 “They” (Kipling), VI: 199 “They” (Sassoon), VI: 430 “They” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 322 “They All Go to the Mountains Now” (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 103 “They Are All Gone into the World of Light!” (Vaughan), II: 188 They Came to a City (Priestley), VII: 210, 227 “They flee from me” (Wyatt), I: 102 “They Shall Not Grow Old” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 210, 224 They Walk in the City (Priestley), VII: 217 They Went (Douglas), VI: 303, 304, 305 “Thief” (Graves), VII: 267

Thierry and Theodoret (Beaumont, Fletcher, Massinger), II: 66 Thieves in the Night (Koestler), Supp. I: 27–28, 32–33 “Thin Air” (Armitage), VIII: 11 Thin Air (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 291 “Thing Itself, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 321 “Things” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 Things That Have Interested Me (Bennett), VI: 267 Things That Interested Me (Bennett), VI: 267 Things We Do for Love (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3–4, 12–13 Things Which Have Interested Me (Bennett), VI: 267 “Think of England” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36 “Thinking as a Hobby” (Golding), Supp. I: 75 “Thinking of Mr. D.” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 260 Thinking Reed, The (West), Supp. III: 442 “Thir Lady is Fair” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “Third Eyelid, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 “Third Journey, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 109 Third Man, The (Greene), Supp. I: 11; Retro. Supp. II: 159 “Third Person, The” (James), VI: 69 Third Policeman, The (O’Nolan), Supp. II: 322, 326–329, 337, 338 “Third Prize, The” (Coppard), VIII: 96 Third Satire (Wyatt), I: 111 “Third Ypres” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46 “Thirteen Steps and the Thirteenth of March” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 Thirteen Such Years (Waugh), Supp. VI: 272–273 Thirteen–Gun Salute, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 258–259 Thirteenth Disciple, The (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Thirteenth Tribe, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 33 30 Days in Sydney: A Wildly Distorted Account (Carey), Supp. XII: 50, 52, 54, 60, 62 “30 December” (Cope), VIII: 80 “38 Phoenix Street” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 Thirty–Nine Steps, The (Buchan), Supp. II: 299, 306; Supp. IV: 7 31 Poems (Dutton), Supp. XII: 87 36 Hours (film), Supp. IV: 209 “Thirty–Three Triads” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 “This Be the Verse” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284 “This bread I break” (Thomas), Supp. I: 174 “This Day, Under My Hand” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219 “This England” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 This England: An Anthology from Her Writers (ed. Thomas), Supp. III: 404– 405

451

This Gun for Hire (Greene), see Gun for Sale, A This Happy Breed (Coward), Supp. II: 151, 154 “This Hinder Nicht in Dunfermeling” (Dunbar), VIII: 122 “This Is No Case of Petty Right or Wrong” (Thomas), VI: 424; Supp. III: 395 “This Is Thyself” (Powys), VIII: 247 This Is Where I Came In (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 11, 13 “This Is Your Subject Speaking” (Motion), Supp. VII: 257 “This Last Pain” (Empson), Supp. II: 184–185 This Life I’ve Loved (Field), V: 393, 397 “This Lime Tree Bower My Prison” (Coleridge), IV: 41, 44; Retro. Supp. II: 52 This Misery of Boots (Wells), VI: 244 This My Hand (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33, 35, 37, 39–40, 46 This Real Night (West), Supp. III: 443 This Sporting Life (Storey), Supp. I: 407, 408–410, 414, 415, 416 “This Stone Is Thinking of Vienna” (Hart), Supp. XI: 130 This Sweet Sickness (Highsmith), Supp. V: 172–173 This Time Tomorrow (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 213, 222 This Was a Man (Coward), Supp. II: 146 “This was for youth, Strength, Mirth and wit that Time” (Walton), II: 141 This Was the Old Chief ’s Country (Lessing), Supp. I: 239 This Year of Grace! (Coward), Supp. II: 146 Thistle Rises, The (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 208 “Thistles” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 205–206 Thistles and Roses (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211–212 Thom Gunn and Ted Hughes (Bold), Supp. IV: 256, 257 “Thom Gunn at 60” (Hall), Supp. IV: 256 Thomas, D. M., Supp. IV: 479–497 Thomas, Dylan, II: 156; Supp. I: 169– 184; Supp. III: 107; Supp. IV: 252, 263 Thomas, Edward, IV: 218; V: 313, 334, 355, 358; VI: 420–421, 423–425; VII: xvi, 382; Supp. III: 393–408 Thomas, R. S., Supp. XII: 279–294 “Thomas Bewick” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 269 “Thomas Campey and the Copernican System” (Harrison), Supp. V: 151 Thomas Carlyle (Campbell), IV: 250 Thomas Carlyle (Froude), IV: 238–239, 250 Thomas Cranmer of Canterbury (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 284 Thomas De Quincey: A Biography (Eaton), IV: 142, 156 Thomas De Quincey: His Life and Writings (Page), IV: 152, 155 “Thomas Gray” (Arnold), III: 277

THOM−THRE Thomas Hardy (Blunden), Supp. XI: 37 Thomas Hardy: A Bibliographical Study (Purdy), VI: 19 Thomas Hardy and British Poetry (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 Thomas Hobbes (Stephen), V: 289 Thomas Hood (Reid), IV: 267 Thomas Hood and Charles Lamb (ed. Jerrold), IV: 252, 253, 267 Thomas Hood: His Life and Times (Jerrold), IV: 267 Thomas Love Peacock (Priestley), IV: 159–160, 170 Thomas Nabbes (Swinburne), V: 333 Thomas Stevenson, Civil Engineer (Stevenson), V: 395 Thomas the Rhymer, IV: 29, 219 Thomas Traherne: Centuries, Poems, and Thanksgivings (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266 Thompson, E. P., Supp. IV: 95, 473 Thompson, Francis, III: 338; V: xxii, xxvi, 439–452 Thompson, Kate, Supp. XIV: 285–298 Thompson, R., II: 288 Thomson, George, III: 322 Thomson, James, III: 162, 171, 312; Supp. III: 409–429; Retro. Supp. I: 241 Thor, with Angels (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 197–198 “Thorn, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 6, 7 Thornton, R. K. R., V: 377, 382 Thornton, Robert, III: 307 Thorsler, Jr., P. L., IV: 173, 194 Those Barren Leaves (Huxley), VII: 79, 199, 202 Those Were the Days (Milne), Supp. V: 298 Those Were the Days: The Holocaust through the Eyes of the Perpetrators and Bystanders, Supp. IV: 488 “Those White, Ancient Birds” (Hart), Supp. XI: 131–132 Those Who Walk Away (Highsmith), Supp. V: 175 “Thou art an Atheist, Quintus, and a Wit” (Sedley), II: 265–266 “Thou art fair and few are fairer” (Shelley), IV: 203 “Thou art indeed just, Lord” (Hopkins), V: 376, 378 “Thou damn’d Antipodes to Common sense” (Dorset), II: 263 “Thou that know’st for whom I mourne” (Vaughan), II: 187 “Though this the port and I thy servant true” (Wyatt), I: 106 “Though, Phillis, your prevailing charms,”II: 257 “Thought” (Lawrence), VII: 119 “Thought Against Drought” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 141 Thought Power (Besant), VI: 249 “Thought–Fox, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 347 Thoughts (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 20 “Thoughts” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 269 Thoughts and Details on Scarcity . . . (Burke), III: 205

Thoughts for a Convention (Russell), VIII: 288 Thoughts in the Wilderness (Priestley), VII: 212 “Thoughts of a Suicide” (Tennyson), see “Two Voices, The“ Thoughts of Murdo (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 210–211 “Thoughts on Criticism, by a Critic” (Stephen), V: 286 Thoughts on the Ministerial Commission (Newman), Supp. VII: 291 Thoughts on South Africa (Schreiner), Supp. II: 453, 454, 457 Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents (Burke), III: 197 Thoughts on the Education of Daughters; . . . (Wollstonecraft), Supp. III: 466 Thoughts on the . . . Falkland’s Islands (Johnson), III: 121; Retro. Supp. I: 142 “Thoughts on the Shape of the Human Body” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52–53 “Thoughts on Unpacking” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 262 Thrale, Hester, see Piozzi, Hester Lynch “Thrawn Janet” (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 267 Thre Deid Pollis, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146, 148 “Three Against One” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 7 “Three Aquarium Portraits” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234, 236 “Three Baroque Meditations” (Hill), Supp. V: 187, 188 Three Bear Witness (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Three Blind Mice” (Christie), Supp. II: 134 Three Brothers, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 198 Three Brothers, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 217 Three Cheers for the Paraclete (Keneally), Supp. IV: 345 Three Chinese Poets: Translations of Poems by Wang Wei, Li Bai and Du Fu (tr. Seth), Supp. X: 277, 284 Three Clerks, The (Trollope), V: 101 Three Continents (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 233–234, 235 Three Dialogues (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 18–19, 22 Three Essays, Moral and Political (Hume), Supp. III: 239 “Three Folk Poems” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 210 Three Friends (Bridges), VI: 72, 83 Three Glasgow Writers (Kelman), Supp. V: 241 Three Go Back (Mitchell), Supp. XIV: 100 Three Guineas (Woolf), VII: 22, 25, 27, 29, 38; Supp. IV: 399; Retro. Supp. I: 308, 311 Three Histories, The (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 149, 154, 158–159 Three Hours After Marriage (Gay), III: 60, 67

452

3 in 1 (Reading), VIII: 271 Three Letters, Written in Spain, to D. Francisco Riguelme (Landor), IV: 100 “Three Little Pigs, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 “Three Lives of Lucie Cabrol, The” (Berger), Supp. IV: 92–93, 94 Three Memorials on French Affairs . . . (Burke), III: 205 Three Men in New Suits (Priestley), VII: 218 Three Northern Love Stories (Morris and Magnusson), V: 306 Three of Them (Douglas), VI: 300, 305 Three Old Brothers (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 222 Three Perils of Man, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 113–114 Three Perils of Woman, The (Hogg), Supp. X: 113–114 Three Plays (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276–277 Three Plays for Puritans (Shaw), VI: 104, 112, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 315– 317 “Three Poems in Memory of My Mother, Miriam Murray neé Arnall” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278 “Three Poems of Drowning” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110 “Three Poets” (Dunn), Supp. X: 82–83 Three proper, and witty, familiar Letters (Spenser), I: 123 Three Regional Voices: Iain Crichton Smith, Barry Tebb, Michael Longley (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 213 Three Sermons (Swift), III: 36 Three Short Stories (Powys), VIII: 249, 256 Three Sisters, The (tr. Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 Three Sisters, The (tr. Friel), Supp. V: 124 “Three Songs for Monaro Pubs” (Hope), Supp. VII: 158 “Three Stages of Consciousness, The” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 46 “Three Strangers, The” (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 Three Sunsets and Other Poems (Carroll), V: 274 Three Times Table (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163, 168–170, 174 Three Voices of Poetry, The (Eliot), VII: 161, 162 Three Wayfarers, The: A Pastoral Play in One Act (Hardy), VI: 20 “Three Weeks to Argentina” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 “Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of Imperialism” (Spivak), Retro. Supp. I: 60 Three Years in a Curatorship (Carroll), V: 274 Threnodia Augustalis (Goldsmith), III: 191 Threnodia Augustalis: A Funeral . . . Poem to . . . King Charles II (Dryden), II: 304 “Threshold” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 288

THRI−TO A Thrice a Stranger (Brittain), Supp. X: 44 Thrilling Cities (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 96 “Thrissil and the Rois, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 118 Thrissill and the Rois, The (Dunbar), VIII: 121 “Through the Looking Glass” (Auden), VII: 381 Through the Looking–Glass and What Alice Found There (Carroll), V: xxiii, 261, 262, 264, 265, 267–269, 270–273 Through the Panama (Lowry), Supp. III: 269, 280, 282, 283 “Through These Pale Gold Days” (Rosenberg), VI: 435 Thru (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 98, 99, 105, 109–110, 112 “Thrush in February, The” (Meredith), V: 222 “Thrushes” (Hughes), Supp. I: 345 “Thrust & Parry” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66 “Thunder and a Boy” (Jennings), Supp. V: 218 Thunder in the Air (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 Thunderball (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 91, 96 Thunderbolt’s Waxwork (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 Thurley, Geoffrey, Supp. II: 494 “Thursday; or, The Spell” (Gay), III: 56 Thursday’s Child: A Pageant (Fry), Supp. III: 194 Thus to Revisit (Ford), VI: 321, 323 “Thy Beautiful Flock” (Powys), VIII: 254 Thyestes (Seneca), I: 215; II: 71 “Thyrsis” (Arnold), V: 157–158, 159, 165, 209, 210, 211; VI: 73 Thyrza (Gissing), V: 437 “Tiare Tahiti” (Brooke), Supp. III: 56 “Tibby Hyslop’s Dream” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 Tib’s Eve (Carson), Supp. XIII: 65 “Tich Miller” (Cope), VIII: 73 Tickell, Thomas, III: 50 Ticonderoga (Stevenson), V: 395 Tide and Stone Walls (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 424 “Tidings from the Sissioun” (Dunbar), VIII: 126 “Tie” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 66 “Tierra del Fuego” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 38 Tietjens tetralogy (Ford), VI: xii, 319, 328–331; VII: xxi; see also Last Post; Man Could Stand Up, A; No More Parades; Some Do Not “Tiger, The” (Coppard), VIII: 94, 97 Tiger at the Gates (Fry), Supp. III: 195 Tiger in the Well, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151 “Time of Barmecides, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 125 “Tiger! Tiger!” (Kipling), VI: 199 Tigers (Adcock), Supp. XII: 4–5 Tigers Are Better–Looking (Rhys), Supp. II: 389, 390, 401, 402

Tiger’s Bones, The (Hughes), Supp. I: 346–347 “Till September Petronella” (Rhys), Supp. II: 401–402 Till We Have Faces (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 262–264, 265 Tillotson, Kathleen, IV: 34; V: 73 Timber (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 166 Timbuctoo (Tennyson), IV: 338 “Time” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 97 Time and the Conways (Priestley), VII: 212, 224–225 Time and Tide (O’Brien), Supp. V: 341 Time and Tide by Weare and Tyne (Ruskin), V: 184 Time and Time Again (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 2, 4–5, 9, 10, 13–14 Time and Western Man (Lewis), VII: 72, 74, 75, 83, 262 “Time Disease, The” (Amis), Supp. IV: 40 Time Flies: A Reading Diary (Rossetti), V: 260 Time for a Tiger (Burgess), Supp. I: 187 Time Importuned (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 371–372 Time in a Red Coat (Brown), Supp. VI: 66, 69–70 Time in Rome, A (Bowen), Supp. II: 80, 94 Time Machine, The: An Invention (Wells), VI: ix, xii, 226, 229–230 Time Must Have a Stop (Huxley), VII: 205 Time of Hope (Snow), VII: xxi, 321, 324–325 Time of the Crack, The (Tennant), Supp. IX: 229–230 Time of My Life (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 8, 10, 11, 13, 14 “Time of Plague, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 277 Time of the Angels, The (Murdoch), III: 341, 345; Supp. I: 225–226, 227, 228 “Time of the Roses” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 124–125 “Time of Waiting, A” (Graves), VII: 269 Time Present (Osborne), Supp. I: 338 “Time the Tiger” (Lewis), VII: 74 Time to Dance, A (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 126 Time to Go, A (O’Casey), VII: 12 Time to Keep, A (Brown), Supp. VI: 64, 70 Time Traveller, The: The Life of H. G. Wells (MacKenzie and MacKenzie), VI: 228, 246 “Timehri” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 34, 46 “Timekeeping” (Cope), VIII: 81 “Timer” (Harrison), Supp. V: 150 Time’s Arrow; or The Nature of the Offence (Amis), Supp. IV: 40–42 “Time’s Fool” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 142 Time’s Laughingstocks and other Verses (Hardy), VI: 20 Times (periodical), IV: xv, 272, 278; V: 93, 279; Supp. XII: 2 Times Literary Supplement, Supp. IV: 25, 66, 121

453

Time’s Pocket (O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 223 “Time–Tombs, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 Time–Zones (Adcock), Supp. XII: 10– 11, 11–12 “Timing” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 109 Timon of Athens (Shakespeare), I: 318– 319, 321; II: 70 Tin Drum, The (Grass), Supp. IV: 440 Tin Men, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 51–52, 64 Tin Princess, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 151–152 Tinker, C. B., III: 234n, 249, 250 “Tinker, The” (Wordsworth), IV: 21 Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (le Carré), Supp. II: 306, 311–313, 314 Tinker’s Wedding, The (Synge), VI: 311, 313–314; Retro. Supp. I: 296–297 “Tintern Abbey” (Wordsworth), see “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey“ Tiny Tears (Fuller), Supp. VII: 78 Tip of my Tongue, The (Crawford), Supp. XI: 67, 79–82 “Tipperary” (Thomas), Supp. III: 404 “Tirade for the Mimic Muse” (Boland), Supp. V: 49 Tireless Traveller, The (Trollope), V: 102 “Tiresias” (Tennyson), IV: 328, 332–334, 338 “Tiriel” (Blake), III: 298, 302; Retro. Supp. I: 34–35 “Tirocinium; or, A Review of Schools” (Cowper), III: 208 ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore (Ford), II: 57, 88, 89, 90, 92–93, 99, 100 Tit–Bits (periodical), VI: 135, 248 “Tithe Barn, The” (Powys), VIII: 248, 249 Tithe Barn, The and The Dove and the Eage (Powys), VIII: 248 “Tithon” (Tennyson), IV: 332–334; see also “Tithonus“ “Tithonus” (Tennyson), IV: 328, 333 Title, The (Bennett), VI: 250, 264 Title and Pedigree of Henry VI (Lydgate), I: 58 Titmarsh, Michael Angelo, pseud. of William Makepeace Thackeray Titus Andronicus (Shakespeare), I: 279, 305; II: 69 “Titus Hoyt, I A” (Naipaul), Supp. I: 385 “To a Black Greyhound” (Grenfell), VI: 418 “To a Brother in the Mystery” (Davie), Supp. VI: 113–114 “To a Butterfly” (Wordsworth), IV: 21 “To a Cretan Monk in Thanks for a Flask of Wine” (Murphy), Supp. V: 318 “To a Cold Beauty” (Hood), IV: 255 “To a Comrade in Flanders” (Owen), VI: 452 “To a Devout Young Gentlewoman” (Sedley), II: 264 “To a Dictionary Maker” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “To a False Friend. In Imitation of Sappho” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 204–

TO A−TO SE 205 “To a Fat Lady Seen from the Train” (Cornford), VIII: 102 “To a Fine Singer, who had gotten a Cold; . .. . ” (Wycherley), II: 320 “To a Fine Young Woman . . . ” (Wycherley), II: 320 “To a Friend in Time of Trouble” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 274, 275 “To a Friend mourning the Death of Miss—” (Macpherson), VIII: 181 “To A. L.” (Carew), II: 224–225 “To a Lady in a Letter” (Rochester), II: 258 To a Lady More Cruel Than Fair (Vanbrugh), II: 336 “To a Lady on Her Passion for Old China” (Gay), III: 58, 67 “To a Lady on the Death of Colonel Ross . . . ” (Collins), III: 166, 169 “To a Louse” (Burns), III: 315, 317–318 “To a Mountain Daisy” (Burns), III: 313, 315, 317, 318 “To a Mouse” (Burns), III: 315, 317, 318 “To a Nightingale” (Coleridge), IV: 222 “To a Skylark” (Shelley), III: 337 “To a Snail” (Moore), Supp. IV: 262– 263 “To a Very Young Lady” (Etherege), II: 267 “To Alastair Campbell” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 4 “To Althea from Prison” (Lovelace), II: 231, 232 “To Amarantha, That She Would Dishevell Her Haire” (Lovelace), II: 230 “To Amoret Gone from Him” (Vaughan), II: 185 “To Amoret, of the Difference ’twixt Him, . . . ” (Vaughan), II: 185 “To an English Friend in Africa” (Okri), Supp. V: 359 “To an Infant Daughter” (Clare), Supp. XI: 55 “To an Old Lady” (Empson), Supp. II: 182–183 “To an Unborn Pauper Child” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 “To an Unknown Reader” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 78 “To and Fro” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 395 “To Anthea” (Herrick), II: 105–106, 108 “To Any Dead Officer” (Sassoon), VI: 431 To Asmara (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346 “To Augustus” (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 230–231 “To Autumn” (Keats), IV: 221, 226–227, 228, 232 To Be a Pilgrim (Cary), VII: 186, 187, 191, 192–194 “To Be a Poet” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260 “To Be Less Philosophical” (Graves), VII: 266 “To Blossoms” (Herrick), II: 112 “To Call Paula Paul” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 286 To Catch a Spy (Ambler), Supp. IV: 4, 17

“To cause accord or to agree” (Wyatt), I: 109 “To Celia” (Johnson), IV: 327 “To Cesario” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 206 “To Charles Cowden Clarke” (Keats), IV: 214, 215 “To Certain English Poets” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “To Charles Cowden Clarke” (Keats), Retro. Supp. I: 188 To Circumjack Cencrastus; or, The Curly Snake (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 201, 210–211, 216 “To Constantia Singing” (Shelley), IV: 209 “To Daffodills” (Herrick), II: 112 “To Deanbourn” (Herrick), II: 103 “To Dianeme” (Herrick), II: 107, 112 “To E. Fitzgerald” (Tennyson), IV: 336 “To Edward Thomas” (Lewis), VII: 445 “To E. L., on his Travels in Greece” (Tennyson), V: 79 “To Electra” (Herrick), II: 105 “To Everlasting Oblivion” (Marston), II: 25 “To Fanny” (Keats), IV: 220–221 “To George Felton Mathew” (Keats), IV: 214 “To Germany” (Sorley), VI: 421 “To God” (Gurney), VI: 426 “To Helen” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “To His Coy Mistress” (Marvell), II: 197, 198, 208–209, 211, 214–215; Retro. Supp. II: 259–261 “To his inconstant Friend” (King), Supp. VI: 151 “To His Lost Lover” (Armitage), VIII: 8 “To His Love” (Gurney), VI: 426 “To His Lovely Mistresses” (Herrick), II: 113 To His Sacred Majesty, a Panegyrick on His Coronation (Dryden), II: 304 “To His Sweet Savior” (Herrick), II: 114 “To His Wife” (Hill), Supp. V: 189 “To Hope” (Keats), Retro. Supp. I: 188 “To Ireland in the Coming Times” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 330 “To J. F. H. (1897–1934)” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “To Joan Eardley” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 165 “To Julia, The Flaminica Dialis, or Queen– To Keep the Ball Rolling (Powell), VII: 351 “To King Henry IV, in Praise of Peace” (Gower), I: 56 “To Leonard Clark” (Graham), Supp. VII: 116 To Let (Galsworthy), VI: 272, 274, 275, 282 To Lighten My House (Reid), Supp. VII: 325–327 “To Live Merrily, and to Trust to Good Verses” (Herrick), II: 115 To Live with Little (Chapman), I: 254 “To Lizbie Browne” (Hardy), VI: 16 “To Lord Stanhope” (Coleridge), IV: 43

454

“To Louisa in the Lane” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “To Lucasta, Going to the Warres” (Lovelace), II: 229 “To Margot Heinemann” (Cornford), Supp. XIII: 91–92 “To Marguerite—Continued” (Arnold), V: 211 “To Mary Boyle” (Tennyson), IV: 329, 336 “To Mr. Dryden” (Congreve), II: 338 To Mr. Harriot (Chapman), I: 241 “To Mr. Hobs” (Cowley), II: 196, 198 To Mistress Anne (Skelton), I: 83 “To My Brother George” (Keats), IV: 214 “To My Brothers” (Keats), IV: 215 “To My Daughter in a Red Coat” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254 “To my dead friend Ben: Johnson” (King), Supp. VI: 157 “To My Desk” (Dunn), Supp. X: 80 “To My Father” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 To My Fellow Countrymen (Osborne), Supp. I: 330 “To My Friend, Mr. Pope, . . . ” (Wycherley), II: 322 “To My Inconstant Mistris” (Carew), II: 225 To My Lady Morton (Waller), II: 238 To My Lord Chancellor . . . (Dryden), II: 304 “To My Lord Northumberland Upon the Death of His Lady” (Waller), II: 233 “To My Mother Eileen” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 72, 75 To My Mother on the Anniversary of Her Birth, April 27, 1842 (Rossetti), V: 260 “To My Sister” (Wordsworth), IV: 8 “To President Mary Robinson” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 68 “To Night” (Lovelace), II: 231 “To Nobodaddy” (Blake), III: 299 “To Olga Masson” (tr. Thomas), Supp. IV: 495 “To One Who Wanted a Philosophy from Me” (Russell), VIII: 290 “To One Who Was with Me in the War” (Sassoon), VI: 431 “To Penshurst” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 164 “To Perilla” (Herrick), II: 113 “To P. H. T” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “To Please His Wife” (Hardy), VI: 20, 22 “To Poet Bavius” (Behn), Supp. III: 40 To Present the Pretense (Arden), Supp. II: 30 “To R. B.” (Hopkins), V: 376, 378 “To Rilke” (Lewis), VII: 446 “To Room Nineteen” (Lessing), Supp. I: 248 “To Saxham” (Carew), III: 223 To Scorch or Freeze (Davie), Supp. VI: 113–115 “To seek each where, where man doth live” (Wyatt), I: 110 “To seem the stranger lies my lot” (Hopkins), V: 374–375

TO SI−TOUC “To Sir Henry Cary” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 154 To Sir With Love (Braithwaite), Supp. IV: 445 “To Sleep” (Graves), VII: 267 “To Sleep” (Keats), IV: 221 “To Solitude” (Keats), IV: 213–214 “To Stella, Visiting Me in My Sickness” (Swift), III: 31 “To Stella, Who Collected and Transcribed His Poems” (Swift), III: 31 “To Stella . . . Written on the Day of Her Birth . . . ” (Swift), III: 32 To the Air, Supp. IV: 269 “To the Athenian Society” (Defoe), Retro. Supp. I: 67 “To the Author of a Poem, intitled, Successio” (Pope), Retro. Supp. I: 233 “To the Coffee Shop” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 “To the Evening Star” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 34 “To the fair Clarinda, who made Love to Me, imagin’d more than Woman” (Behn), Supp. III: 8 “To the High Court of Parliament” (Hill), Supp. V: 192, 193 “To the King” (Waller), II: 233 “To the King: Complane I Wald” (Dunbar), VIII: 117 To the King, upon His . . . Happy Return (Waller), II: 238 To the Lighthouse (Woolf), V: 281; VI: 275, 278; VII: xv, 18, 21, 26, 27, 28– 29, 36, 38; Supp. IV: 231, 246, 321; Supp. V: 63; Retro. Supp. I: 308, 317–318 “To the Master of Balliol” (Tennyson), IV: 336 To the Memory of Charles Lamb (Wordsworth), IV: 86 “To the Memory of My Beloved, the Author Mr William Shakespeare” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 “To the Memorie of My Ever Desired Friend Dr. Donne” (King), Supp. VI: 156 “To the Merchants of Edinburgh” (Dunbar), VIII: 126 “To the Monument of Sha Jahan” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 59 “To the Muses” (Blake), III: 289; Retro. Supp. I: 34 “To the Name of Jesus” (Crashaw), II: 180 “To the Nightingal” (Finch), Supp. IX: 68–69 “To the Nightingale” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 283 To the North (Bowen), Supp. II: 85, 88–89 “To the Pen Shop” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 “To the Poet Coleridge” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 210 “To the Queen” (Tennyson), IV: 337 To the Queen, upon Her . . . Birthday (Waller), II: 238 “To the Reader” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165

“To the Reader” (Webster), I: 246 “To the Reverend Shade of His Religious Father” (Herrick), II: 113 “To the Rev. W. H. Brookfield” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “To the Royal Society” (Cowley), II: 196, 198 “To the Sea” (Larkin), Supp. I: 283, 285 “To the Shade of Elliston” (Lamb), IV: 82–83 “To the Slow Drum” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 42 “To the Small Celandine” (Wordsworth), IV: 21 “To the Spirit” (Hart), Supp. XI: 127 “To the (Supposed) Patron” (Hill), Supp. V: 184 “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time” (Herrick), II: 108–109 To the Wedding (Berger), Supp. IV: 80 To This Hard House (Friel), Supp. V: 115 “To Thom Gunn in Los Altos, California” (Davie), Supp. VI: 112 “To Three Irish Poets” (Longley), VIII: 167–168 “To True Soldiers” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 154 “To Vandyk” (Waller), II: 233 “To Virgil” (Tennyson), IV: 327 “To wet your eye withouten tear” (Wyatt), I: 105–106 “To what serves Mortal Beauty?” (Hopkins), V: 372, 373 “To Whom It May Concern” (Motion), Supp. VII: 264 To Whom She Will (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 224–226 “To William Camden” (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 152 “To William Godwin” (Coleridge), IV: 43 “To X” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 74 “To Yvor Winters, 1955” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 261 “Toads” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 278, 281 “Toads Revisited” (Larkin), Supp. I: 281 “Toccata of Galuppi’s, A” (Browning), IV: 357 To–Day (periodical), VI: 103 “Today is Sunday” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 36, 45 Todhunter, John, V: 325 “Todd” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 71 Todorov, Tzvetan, Supp. IV: 115–116 Together (Douglas), VI: 299–300, 304, 305 Toil & Spin: Two Directions in Modern Poetry (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 319, 325 Tolkien, J. R. R., Supp. II: 519–535; Supp. IV: 116 “Tollund Man, The” (Heaney), Supp. II: 273, 274; Retro. Supp. I: 128 Tolstoy (Wilson), Supp. VI: 304 Tolstoy, Leo, Supp. IV: 94, 139 “Tom Brown Question, The” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 449 Tom Brown’s Schooldays (Hughes), V: xxii, 157, 170; Supp. IV: 506

455

Tom Jones (Fielding), III: 95, 96–97, 100–102, 105; Supp. II: 194, 195; Retro. Supp. I: 81, 86–89, 90–91; Retro. Supp. I: 81, 86–89, 90–91 Tom O’Bedlam’s Beauties (Reading), VIII: 264–265 Tom Thumb (Fielding), III: 96, 105 “Tom–Dobbin” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 Tomlin, Eric Walter Frederick, VII: xv, xxxviii “Tomlinson” (Kipling), VI: 202 “Tomorrow” (Conrad), VI: 148 “Tomorrow” (Harris), Supp. V: 131 “Tomorrow Is a Million Years” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 Tomorrow Morning, Faustus! (Richards), Supp. II: 427–428 Tomorrow Never Dies (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 “Tom’s Garland” (Hopkins), V: 376 “Tone of Time, The” (James), VI: 69 “Tongue in My Ear: On Writing and Not Writing Foreign Parts” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 123–124 “Tongues of Fire” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 325 Tonight at 8:30 (Coward), Supp. II: 152– 153 Tono–Bungay (Wells), VI: xii, 237–238, 244 Tonson, Jacob, II: 323; III: 69 “Tony Kytes, The Arch–Deceiver” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Tony White’s Cottage” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Too Dearly Bought” (Gissing), V: 437 Too Good to Be True (Shaw), VI: 125, 127, 129 “Too Late” (Browning), V: 366, 369 Too Late the Phalarope (Paton), Supp. II: 341, 351–353 Too Many Husbands (Maugham), VI: 368–369 “Too Much” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 “Toot Baldon” (Motion), Supp. VII: 253 Tooth and Nail (Rankin), see Wolfman Top Girls (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 183, 189–191, 198 Topkapi (film), Supp. IV: 4 “Torridge” (Trevor), Supp. IV: 501 “Tortoise and the Hare, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 226 Tortoises (Lawrence), VII: 118 Tortoises, Terrapins and Turtles (Sowerby and Lear), V: 76, 87 “Torturer ’s Apprenticeship, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 280 “Tory Prime Minister, Maggie May . . . , A” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 456 Totemism (Frazer), Supp. III: 171 “Totentanz” (Wilson), Supp. I: 155, 156, 157 Tottel’s Miscellany, I: 97–98, 114 Touch (Gunn), Supp. IV: 257, 264, 265– 266 “Touch” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 265–266 Touch and Go (Lawrence), VII: 120, 121 Touch of Love, A (screenplay, Drabble), Supp. IV: 230

TOUC−TREA Touch of Mistletoe, A (Comyns), VIII: 54–55, 56, 58–59, 65 Tour Thro’ the Whole Island of Great Britain (Defoe), III: 5, 13; Retro. Supp. I: 75–76 Tour to the Hebrides, A (Boswell), see Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides Tourneur, Cyril, II: 24, 33, 36–41, 70, 72, 85, 97 Toward Reality (Berger), see Permanent Red: Essays in Seeing “Toward the Imminent Days” (Murray), Supp. VII: 274 “Towards an Artless Society” (Lewis), VII: 76 Towards Democracy (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 36, 37–40 “Towards Democracy” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 37–38 Towards the End of Morning (Frayn), Supp. VII: 53–54, 65 Towards the Human (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 209 Towards the Mountain (Paton), Supp. II: 346, 347, 351, 359 Towards Zero (Christie), Supp. II: 132, 134 Tower, The (Fry), Supp. III: 194, 195 Tower, The (Yeats), VI: 207, 216, 220; Retro. Supp. I: 333–335 Towers of Silence, The (Scott), Supp. I: 267–268 Town (periodical), V: 22 “Town and Country” (Brooke), VI: 420 “Town Betrayed, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Townley plays, I: 20 Townsend, Aurelian, II: 222, 237 Townsend Warner, George, VI: 485 Town–Talk (periodical), III: 50, 53 “Trace Elements” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 “Track 12” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 Trackers of Oxyrhyncus, The (Harrison), Supp. V: 163, 164 Tract 90 (Newman), seeRemarks on Certain Passages of the 39 Articles “Tractor” (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 211 Tracts for the Times (Newman), Supp. VII: 291, 293 “Traction–Engine, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 3 “Trade” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 40 “Tradition and the Individual Talent” (Eliot), VII: 155, 156, 163, 164 “Tradition of Eighteen Hundred and Four, A” (Hardy), VI: 22 Tradition of Women’s Fiction, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 231 Tradition, the Writer and Society (Harris), Supp. V: 145, 146 “Traditional Prize Country Pigs” (Cope), VIII: 82–83 “Traditions, Voyages” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 318 Traffics and Discoveries (Kipling), VI: 204 “Tragedy and the Essay, The” (Brontë), V: 135

“Tragedy Of, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220–221, 223 Tragedy of Brennoralt, The (Suckling), II: 226 Tragedy of Byron, The (Chapman), I: 233, 234, 241n, 251 Tragedy of Count Alarcos, The (Disraeli), IV: 306, 308 Tragedy of Doctor Faustus, The (Marlowe), Retro. Supp. I: 200, 207– 208 “Tragedy of Error, A” (James), VI: 25 Tragedy of Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt, The (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66 Tragedy of Sophonisba, The (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 422, 423, 424 Tragedy of the Duchess of Malfi, The (Webster), see Duchess of Malfi, The Tragedy of Tragedies; or, The Life . . . of Tom Thumb, The (Fielding), see Tom Thumb “Tragedy of Two Ambitions, A” (Hardy), VI: 22 Tragic Comedians, The (Meredith), V: 228, 234 Tragic History of Romeus and Juliet, The (Brooke), I: 305–306 Tragic Muse, The (James), VI: 39, 43– 55, 67 “Tragic Theatre, The” (Yeats), VI: 218 Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, The (Hope), Supp. VII: 160–161 Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, The (Marlowe), III: 344 Traherne, Thomas, II: 123, 189–194, 201–203; Supp. XI: 263–280 Trail of the Dinosaur, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 32, 33, 36, 37 Traill, H. D., III: 80 Train of Powder, A (West), Supp. III: 439–440 Trained for Genius (Goldring), VI: 333 Traité du poeme épique (Le Bossu), III: l03 Traitor’s Blood (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117 “Trampwoman’s Tragedy, The” (Hardy), VI: 15; Retro. Supp. I: 120 Transatlantic Review (periodical), VI: 324; Supp. XIII: 190 Transatlantic Sketches (James), VI: 67 “Transfiguration, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 207 “Transformation” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 47 “Transformation Scenes” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 222 Transformed Metamorphosis, The (Tourneur), II: 37, 41 “Transients and Residents” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 271, 273 transition (quarterly periodical), Supp. I: 43n Transitional Poem (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 117, 121–123 “Translation of Poetry, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 168–169 Translations (Friel), Supp. V: 123–124 Translations and Tomfooleries (Shaw), VI: 129

456

“Translations from the Early Irish” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 264 Translations of the Natural World (Murray), Supp. VII: 281–282 Transmission (Kunzru), Supp. XIV: 165, 170–172, 175, 176 “Transparencies” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 262 “Transvaal Morning, A” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 Trap, The (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 184–186 Traps (Churchill), Supp. IV: 179, 180, 183–184, 188, 198 Traulus (Swift), III: 36 Travelers (Jhabvala), Supp. V: 230 “Traveling to My Second Marriage on the Day of the First Moonshot” (Nye), Supp. X: 202 “Traveller” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 Traveller, The (Goldsmith), III: 177, 179, 180, 185–186, 191; Retro. Supp. I: 149 “Traveller, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254, 265 “Travelling” (Healy), Supp. IX: 106 Travelling Behind Glass (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256–257 “Travelling Behind Glass” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 257, 261 “Travelling Companion, The” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Travelling Companions” (James), VI: 25, 69 Travelling Grave, The (Hartley), see Killing Bottle, The Travelling Home (Cornford), VIII: 109, 111, 112 “Travelling Letters” (Dickens), V: 71 Travelling Sketches (Trollope), V: 101 Travels (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 172, 183 Travels in Arabia Deserta (Doughty), Supp. II: 294–295 Travels in Italy (Addison), III: 18 Travels in Nihilon (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410 Travels Through France and Italy (Smollett), III: 147, 153–155, 158 Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes (Stevenson), V: 389, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 262 Travels with My Aunt (Greene), Supp. I: 2, 13, 16; Retro. Supp. II: 161 Travesties (Stoppard), Supp. I: 438, 445, 446, 447–449, 451; Retro. Supp. II: 349–351 Trawler: A Journey Through the North Atlantic (O’Hanlon), Supp. XI: 196, 206–207 “A Treading of Grapes” (Brown), Supp. VI: 70 Treason’s Harbour (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 256 Treasure Island (Stevenson), V: xxv, 383, 385, 386, 394, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 263 “Treasure of Franchard, The” (Stevenson), V: 395 “Treasure, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 57, 58

TREA−TRUE “Treatise for Laundresses” (Lydgate), I: 58 Treatise of Civil Power in Ecclesiastical Causes . . . , The (Milton), II: 176 Treatise of Human Nature, A (Hume), IV: 138; Supp. III: 229, 230–231, 232– 237, 238 Treatise of the Fear of God, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Treatise of the Soul, A (Ralegh), I: 157 Treatise on Method (Coleridge), IV: 56 Treatise on the Astrolabe, A (Chaucer), I: 31 Treatise on the Passion (More), Supp. VII: 245 Trebitsch, Siegfried, VI: 115 Tree, Herbert Beerbohm, Supp. II: 44, 46, 53–54, 55 “Tree, The” (Thomas), Supp. I: 180 “Tree, The” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 317 “Tree at Dawn, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 Tree House, The (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 143 “Tree in Heaven, A” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 138 “Tree of Knowledge, The” (James), VI: 69 Tree of Man, The (White), Supp. I: 129, 131, 134, 136, 137–138, 143 Tree of Strings (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192–193 Tree of the Sun, The (Harris), Supp. V: 139–140 Tree on Fire, A (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 409, 410, 414, 421, 422–423 “Tree Unleaved, The” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 “Trees, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 284, 285 Trelawny, Edward, IV: xiv, 203, 207, 209 Tremaine (Ward), IV: 293 Trembling of the Veil, The (Yeats), VI: 210 Tremendous Adventures of Major Gahagan, The (Thackeray), V: 22, 37 Tremor of Forgery, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 175–176 Tremor of Intent (Burgess), Supp. I: 185, 191–192 “Tremors” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 73 Trench Town Rock (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 36 “Trenches St. Eloi” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 140 Trespass of the Sign, The: Deconstruction, Theology, and Philosophy (Hart), Supp. XI: 122, 128 Trespasser, The (Lawrence), VII: 89, 91, 93–95; Retro. Supp. II: 227 Tretis of the Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo, The (Dunbar), VIII: 120, 123, 124–126 Trevelyan, G. M., I: 375; V: xxiv, 223, 227, 234; VI: xv, 347, 383–396; list of works, VI: 394–396 Trevenen (Davie), Supp. VI: 111 Trevisa, John, Supp. IX: 243–260 Trevor, William, Supp. IV: 499–519 Trevor–Roper, Hugh, Supp. IV: 436 Trial, The (Kafka), III: 340

Trial of a Judge (Spender), Supp. II: 488 Trial of Dedan Kimathi, The (Ngu˜ gı˜/ Mu˜go), VIII: 223 Trial of Elizabeth Cree: A Novel of the Limehouse Murders, The (Ackroyd), Supp. VI: 10 Trial of the Fox, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 138, 139, 140 Trial of the Honourable Augustus Keppel, The (Burke), III: 205 Tribes of Ireland, The (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 119 “Tribune’s Visitation, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 175, 179–180 “Tribute of a Legs Lover” (Dunn), Supp. X: 70 Tributes (Jennings), Supp. V: 216 Trick is to Keep Breathing, The (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117, 119–120, 124, 129 Trick of It, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 61–62 Trick to Catch the Old One, A (Middleton), II: 3, 4–5, 21 “Trickster and the Sacred Clown, Revealing the Logic of the Unspeakable, The” (Belmonte), Supp. IV: 15–16 Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 171, 173, 176, 178, 186–187 Trilby (du Maurier), Supp. III: 134, 135, 136 Trilogy (Beckett), Retro. Supp. I: 18, 20–23 Trilogy of Death (James), Supp. IV: 328, 329, 335, 337 “Trim” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 88 “Trinity at Low Tide” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 Trinity College (Trevelyan), VI: 383, 393 Trip to Scarborough, A (Sheridan), II: 334, 336; III: 253, 261, 270 Triple Thinkers, The (Wilson), VI: 164 “Triple Time” (Larkin), Supp. I: 279 Tristan and Iseult: A Play in Four Acts (Symons), Supp. XIV: 279 “Tristia” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 259 “Tristram and Iseult” (Arnold), V: 210 “Tristram and Iseult: Prelude of an Unfinished Poem” (Swinburne), V: 332 Tristram Shandy (Sterne), III: 124, 126, 127–132, 135, 150, 153; IV: 183; Supp. II: 204, 205 Triumph and Tragedy (Churchill), VI: 361 Triumph of Death (Fletcher), II: 66 Triumph of Gloriana, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Triumph of Honour (Field), II: 66 “Triumph of Life, The” (Shelley), IV: xi, 197, 206–207, 209; Retro. Supp. I: 256 Triumph of Love (Field), II: 66 Triumph of Love, The (Hill), Supp. V: 183, 189, 198–199, 202 Triumph of the Four Foster Children of Desire (Sidney), Retro. Supp. II: 329–330 Triumph of Time (Fletcher), II: 66

457

“Triumph of Time, The” (Swinburne), V: 311, 313, 318–319, 331 “Triumphal March” (Eliot), VII: 152– 153 Triumphs of Love and Innocence, The (Finch), Supp. IX: 74–76 “Triumphs of Odin, The” (Gray), III: 142 “Triumphs of Sensibility” (Warner), Supp. VII: 371 Triumphs of Truth, The (Middleton), II: 3 Triumphs of Wealth and Prosperity, The (Middleton), II: 3 Trivia (Connolly), Supp. III: 98 Trivia; or, The Art of Walking the streets of London (Gay), III: 55, 57, 67 “Troglodyte, The” (Brooke–Rose)), Supp. IV: 103 Troilus and Cressida (Dryden), II: 293, 305 Troilus and Cressida (Shakespeare), I: 313, 314; II: 47, 70; IV: 225; V: 328 Troilus and Criseyde (Chaucer), I: 24, 30, 31, 32–34, 41, 43, 44; IV: 189; Retro. Supp. II: 40–45 Trójumanna saga, VIII: 237 Trollope, Anthony, II: 172–173; IV: 306; V: x, xvii, xxii–xxv, 11, 89–103; VII: xxi; Supp. IV: 229, 230 Trollope, Frances, V: 89 Trollope: A Commentary (Sadleir), V: 100, 102 “Trollope and His Style” (Sykes Davies), V: 103 Trooper Peter Halket of Mashonaland (Schreiner), Supp. II: 454 “Troopship” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 69 “Troopship in the Tropics, A” (Lewis), VII: 446 Trophy of Arms, A: Poems 1926–1935 (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 134, 135, 140– 142 Tropic Seed (Waugh), Supp. VI: 275 “Trouble with Lichen” (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 292–294 Troubled Eden, A, Nature and Society in the Works of George Meredith (Kelvin), V: 221, 234 Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman, The (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65, 69, 73–74 Troublesome Reign of John, King of England, The, I: 301 “Trout, A” (Nye), Supp. X: 201 “Trout Stream, The” (Welch), Supp. IX: 267 “Troy” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Troy Park (Sitwell), VII: 138 Troy–book (Lydgate), I: 57, 58, 59–65, 280 “Truant Hart, The” (Coppard), VIII: 96 “Truce of the Bear, The” (Kipling), VI: 203 True Born Irishman, The (Friel), Supp. V: 126 “True Function and Value of Criticism, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 367 True Heart, The (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 375 True History (Lucian), III: 24

TRUE−TWO K True History of Squire Jonathan and His Unfortunate Treasure, The (Arden), Supp. II: 31 True History of the Kelly Gang (Carey), Supp. XII: 49, 51, 54, 57, 60, 61–62 “True Love” (Nye), Supp. X: 199–200, 202 True Patriot, The (Fielding), III: 105; Retro. Supp. I: True Relation of the Apparition of . . . Mrs. Veal .. . . to . . . Mrs. Bargrave . . . (Defoe), III: 13 True State of the Case of Bosavern Penlez, A (Fielding), III: 105 True Traveller, The (Davies), Supp. XI: 86, 91 True Travellers: A Tramps Opera in Three Acts (Davies), Supp. XI: 93 True Widow, The (Shadwell), II: 115305 True–Born Englishman, The (Defoe), III: 3, 12; Retro. Supp. I: 64, 67 Truelove, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 258–259 “Truly Great” (Davies), Supp. XI: 85 Trumpet (Kay), Supp. XIII: 99, 101–102, 103, 105–107 Trumpet–Major, The: A Tale (Hardy), VI: 5, 6–7, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 114 “Trustie Tree, The” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 270 “Truth” (Bacon), III: 39 “Truth” (Cowper), III: 212 Truth About an Author (Bennett), VI: 264–265 Truth About Blayds, The (Milne), Supp. V: 299 “Truth About the Navy, The” (Stead), Supp. XIII: 239 “Truth in the Cup” (Warner), Supp. VII: 381 “Truth of Imagination, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 8–9 “Truth of Masks, The” (Wilde), Retro. Supp. II: 368 “Truthful Adventure, A” (Mansfield), VII: 172 Trying to Explain (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 “Tryst at an Ancient Earthwork, A” (Hardy), VI: 22 Trystram of Lyonesse (Swinburne), V: 299, 300, 314, 327–328, 332 T.S. Eliot (Raine), Supp. XIII: 175 “T–Song” (Delahunt), Supp. XIV: 51–52 Tsvetayeva, Marina, Supp. IV: 493 Tucker, Abraham, pseud. of William Hazlitt Tudor trilogy (Ford), VI: 319, 323, 325– 327; see also Fifth Queen, The; Fifth Queen Crowned, The; Privy Seal “Tuesday; or, The Ditty” (Gay), III: 56 “Tuft of Violets, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 144 “Tulips” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 281 Tumatumari (Harris), Supp. V: 136, 137 Tumble–down Dick (Fielding), III: 105 “Tumps” (Cope), VIII: 78 Tunc (Durrell), Supp. I: 113–118, 120 “Tunnel” (Barnes), Supp. IV: 75, 76 Tunnel, The (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 184, 189, 190

Tunning of Elinour Rumming, The (Skelton), I: 82, 86–87, 92 “Tunstall Forest” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 Tuppenny Stung (Longley), VIII: 164, 165 Turbott Wolfe (Plomer), Supp. XI: 209, 210–212, 213, 214, 219, 222, 223 “Turf, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 258 Turkish Delight (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181 Turkish Mahomet and Hiren the Fair Greek (Peele), I: 205 Turkish tales (Byron), IV: x, 172, 173– 175 “Turn for the Better, A” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 Turn of the Screw, The (James), III: 334, 340, 345; V: xxvi, 14; VI: 39, 52–53, 69; Supp. IV: 97, 116, 503, 511 Turn of the Years, The (Pritchett), Supp. III: 311 Turner, J. M. W., V: xix, xx, 174–175, 178 “Turns” (Harrison), Supp. V: 154–155 Turning of the Tide, The (Hill), see Castle of the Demon, The “Tursac” (Dunn), Supp. X: 76 Tutchin, John, III: 3 “Tutelar of the Place, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 179–180 Tuve, Rosamund, II: 124, 130; Retro. Supp. II: 174 “TV” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 221 “Twa Dogs, The” (Burns), III: 315, 316 “Twa Herds, The” (Burns), III: 311, 319 Twain, Mark, IV: 106; V: xix, xxiv–xxv “Twelfth Night” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221 Twelfth Night (Shakespeare), I: 312, 320 Twelfth of Never, The (Carson), Supp. XIII: 65–66 Twelve Adventurers and Other Stories (Brontë), V: 151 Twelve, and Other Poems by Aleksandr Blok, The (tr. Stallworthy), Supp. X: 292 Twelve Apostles (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 12 Edmondstone Street (Malouf), Supp. XII: 217 “12 Edmondstone Street” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 218 Twelve Months in a Curatorship (Carroll), V: 274 Twelve Pound Look, The (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 8, 9, 15–16 “Twelve Songs” (Auden), VII: 383, 386 “Twentieth Century Blues” (Coward), Supp. II: 147 Twenty five (Gregory), VI: 309 “Twenty Golden Years Ago” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 123–124 “Twenty Pounds” (Gissing), V: 437 Twenty–five Poems (Thomas), Supp. I: 174, 176, 180 “Twenty–four years” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177 “24th March 1986” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 46 “29 February, 1704” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 114

458

Twenty–One Poems (Sisson), Supp. XI: 249 “Twenty–Seven Articles, The” (Lawrence), Supp. II: 287 ”26th December” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 Twice Over (Kay), Supp. XIII: 100 Twice Through the Heart (Kay), Supp. XIII: 100, 101 Twilight Bar (Koestler), Supp. I: 25 Twilight in Italy (Lawrence), VII: 116 Twin Rivals, The (Farquhar), II: 353, 357–358, 364 “Twin Sets and Pickle Forks” (Dunn), Supp. X: 67–68 Twine, Laurence, I: 321 Twitchell, James B., Supp. III: 383 Twits, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 205, 207, 223 ’Twixt Land and Sea: Tales (Conrad), VI: 148 “Two Analogies for Poetry” (Davie), Supp. VI: 115 Two Autobiographical Plays (Arden), Supp. II: 31 Two Biographical Plays (Arden), Supp. II: 31 “Two Blond Flautists” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 79 “Two Chairs” (Powys), VIII: 251, 252 Two Cheers for Democracy (Forster), VI: 397, 411 “Two Chorale–Preludes” (Hill), Supp. V: 199 “Two Countries” (James), VI: 69 Two Destinies, The (Collins), Supp. VI: 102 Two Drovers, The (Scott), IV: 39 “Two Early French Stories” (Pater), V: 344 “Two Faces, The” (James), VI: 69 Two Faces of January, The (Highsmith), Supp. V: 173–174 Two Foscari, The (Byron), IV: xviii, 178, 193 “Two Fragments: March 199–” (McEwan), Supp. IV: 395 “Two Frenchmen” (Strachey), Supp. II: 500, 502 “Two Fusiliers” (Graves), VI: 452 “Two Gallants” (Joyce), VII: 44 Two Generals, The (FitzGerald), IV: 353 Two Gentlemen of Verona (Shakespeare), I: 302, 311–312 “Two Girls Singing” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 213 Two Great Questions Consider’d, The (Defoe), III: 12 Two Guardians, The (Yonge), V: 253 “Two Hares and a Priest” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 14 Two Heroines of Plumplington, The (Trollope), V: 102 “Two Houses” (Thomas), Supp. III: 399 “Two Impromptus” (Amis), Supp. II: 15 “Two in the Campagna” (Browning), IV: 357, 369 “Two Kinds of Motion” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 255

TWO K−UNDE “Two Kitchen Songs” (Sitwell), VII: 130–131 “Two Knights, The” (Swinburne), V: 315, 333 Two Letters on the Conduct of Our Domestic Parties (Burke), III: 205 Two Letters on the French Revolution (Burke), III: 205 Two Letters . . . on the Proposals for Peace (Burke), III: 205 Two Letters . . . to Gentlemen in the City of Bristol . . . (Burke), III: 205 Two Lives (Seth), Supp. X: 290 Two Lives (Trevor), Supp. IV: 516 Two Magics, The (James), VI: 52, 69 Two Mice, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 137, 140 Two Noble Kinsmen, The (Shakespeare), I: 324, 325; II: 43, 66, 87 Two of Us, The (Frayn), Supp. VII: 57 “Two Old Men Outside an Inn” (Cornford), VIII: 113 Two on a Tower: A Romance (Hardy), VI: 4, 5, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 114 Two or Three Graces (Huxley), VII: 201 Two Paths, The (Ruskin), V: 180, 184 “Two Peacocks of Bedfont, The” (Hood), IV: 256, 267 Two People (Milne), Supp. V: 310 “Two Races of Men, The” (Lamb), IV: 82 “Two Spirits, The” (Shelley), IV: 196 Two Stories: “Come and Dine” and “Tadnol” (Powys), VIII: 248 “2000: Zero Gravity” (Motion), Supp. VII: 266 “2001: The Tennyson/Hardy Poem” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 40 Two Thieves, The (Powys), VIII: 248, 255 Two Thousand Seasons (Armah), Supp. X: 1–3, 6–11, 13 Two Towers, The (Tolkien), Supp. II: 519 Two Voices (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 “Two Voices, The” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Two Ways of It” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 187 Two Women of London: The Strange Case of Ms. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde (Tennant), Supp. IX:238–239, 240 Two Worlds and Their Ways (Compton– Burnett), VII: 65, 66, 67, 69 “Two Year Old” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 “Two Years Old” (Cornford), VIII: 113 “Two–Headed Beast, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 Two–Part Inventions (Howard), V: 418 “Two–Party System in English Political History, The” (Trevelyan), VI: 392 “Two–Sided Man, The” (Kipling), VI: 201 Twyborn Affair, The (White), Supp. I: 132, 148–149 “Tyes, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 401 “Tyger, The” (Blake), III: 296; Retro. Supp. I: 42–43 Tyler, F. W., I: 275n Tylney Hall (Hood), IV: 254, 256, 259, 267

Tynan, Katherine, V: 441 Tynan, Kenneth, Supp. II: 70, 140, 147, 152, 155; Supp. IV: 78 Tyndale, William, I: 375–377 “Typhoon” (Conrad), VI: 136, 148 Tyrannicida (tr. More), Supp. VII: 235– 236 Tyrannick Loce; or, The Royal Martyr (Dryden), II: 290, 294, 305 “Tyre, The” (Armitage), VIII: 11 “Tyronic Dialogues” (Lewis), VII: 82

Udolpho (Radcliffe), see Mysteries of Udolpho, The Ugliest House in the World, The (Davies), Supp. XIV: 35, 36–40 “Ugliest House in the World, The” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 37 Ugly Anna and Other Tales (Coppard), VIII: 89 “Uist” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 Ukulele Music (Reading), VIII: 265, 268–269, 270, 271 “Ula Masondo” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 214 Ulick and Soracha (Moore), VI: 89, 95, 99 “Ultima” (Thompson), V: 441 “Ultima Ratio Regum” (Spender), Supp. II: 488 Ultramarine (Lowry), Supp. III: 269, 270, 271–272, 280, 283, 285 “Ultrasound” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 “Ululu” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 73 Ulysses (Butler), Supp. II: 114 Ulysses (Joyce), V: 189; VII: xv, 42, 46– 47, 48–52;Retro. Supp. I: 169, 176– 179; critical studies, VII: 57–58; Supp. IV: 87, 370, 390, 426 “Ulysses” (Tennyson), IV: xx, 324, 328, 332–334 “Uma Himavutee” (Steel), Supp. XII: 269 “Umbrella Man, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 221 “Un Coeur Simple” (Flaubert), Supp. IV: 69 Un Début dans la vie (Balzac), Supp. IV: 123 “Unarmed Combat” (Reed), VII: 422– 423 “Unattained Place, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 Unbearable Bassington, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 245–248 Unbeaten Tracks in Japan (Bird), Supp. X: 19, 29–30 “Unbidden Guest, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 “Unbuilders, The” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 70 Uncensored (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 311 “Unchangeable, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 43 Unclassed, The (Gissing), V: 437 Unclay (Powys), VIII: 256 Uncle Bernac (Doyle), Supp. II: 159 Uncle Dottery: A Christmas Story (Powys), VIII: 248 “Uncle Ernest” (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 414

459

Uncle Fred in the Springtime (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 460–461 Uncle Silas (Le Fanu), III: 345; Supp. II: 78–79, 81 Uncle Vanya (tr. Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 Unclouded Summer (Waugh), Supp. VI: 274 Uncollected Essays (Pater), V: 357 Uncollected Verse (Thompson), V: 451 Uncommercial Traveller, The (Dickens), V: 72 Unconditional Surrender (Waugh), VII: 303, 304; see also Sword of Honour trilogy Unconscious Memory (Butler), Supp. II: 107–108 Unconsoled, The (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 301, 302, 304, 305, 306–307, 314–316 “Uncovenanted Mercies” (Kipling), VI: 175 “Under a Lady’s Picture” (Waller), II: 234–235 “Under Ben Bulben” (Yeats), VI: 215, 219–220; Retro. Supp. I: 338 “Under Brinkie’s Brae” (Brown), Supp. VI: 64 “Under Carn Brea” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 492 Under Milk Wood (Thomas), Supp. I: 183–184 Under Plain Cover (Osborne), Supp. I: 335–336 Under the Greenwood Tree: A Rural Painting of the Dutch School (Hardy), VI: 1, 2–3, 5, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 112–113 Under the Hill (Beardsley), VII: 292 Under the Hill (Firbank), Supp. II: 202 Under the Ice (Conn), Supp. XIII: 70, 73–75 “Under the Ice” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 Under the Microscope (Swinburne), IV: 337; V: 329, 332, 333 Under the Net (Murdoch), Supp. I: 220, 222, 228, 229–230 Under the Sunset (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 Under the Volcano (Lowry), Supp. III: 269, 270, 273, 274–280, 283, 285 Under the Reservoir (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 Under Twenty–five: An Anthology (ed. O’Donovan, Sanderson, and Porteous), Supp. XII: 51 Under Western Eyes (Conrad), VI: 134, 144–145, 148; Retro. Supp. II: 81–82 “’Under Which King, Bezonian?’” (Leavis), VII: 242 Under World (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 120, 121 Undergraduate Sonnets (Swinburne), V: 333 Underhill, Charles, see Hill, Reginald “Understanding the Ur–Bororo” (Self), Supp. V: 401–402 Undertones of War (Blunden), VI: 428, 429; Supp. XI: 33, 36, 38, 39–41, 47 Underwood (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 166 Underwood, Dale, II: 256n

UNDE−USIN Underwoods (Stevenson), V: 390n, 395; Retro. Supp. I: 267–268 Undine (Schreiner), Supp. II: 444–445 “Undiscovered Planet, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 “Undressing” (Nye), Supp. X: 198, 200 Undying Fire, The (Wells), VI: 242 Unequal Marriage; or, Pride and Prejudice Twenty Years Later, An (Tennant), see Unequal Marriage: Pride and Prejudice Continued, An Unequal Marriage: Pride and Prejudice Continued, An (Tennant), Supp. IX: 237–238, 239–240 “Unfinished Draft, An” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 30 Unfinished Portrait (Christie), Supp. II: 133 “Unfortunate” (Brooke), Supp. III: 55 “Unfortunate Lover, The” (Marvell), II: 211 Unfortunate Traveller, The (Nashe), I: 114, 281 “Ungratefulnesse” (Herbert), II: 127 Unguarded Hours (Wilson), Supp. VI: 299, 308 “Unhappy Families” (Carter), Supp. IV: 459 Unhappy Favorite, The (Banks), II: 305 Unholy Trade, The (Findlater), VII: 8–9, 14 Unicorn, The (Murdoch), III: 341, 345; Supp. I: 215, 225, 226, 228 Unicorn, The (Rosenberg), VI: 433 Unicorn from the Stars, The (Yeats and Gregory), VI: 318 “Unimportant Fire, An” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 445 “Union, A” (Davies), Supp. XIV: 38 Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Families of Lancaster and York, The (Hall), I: 299 “Union Reunion” (Wilson), Supp. I: 153, 155, 157 Union Street (Barker), Supp. IV: 45, 46– 50, 57 Universal Chronicle (periodical), III: 111 Universal Gallant, The (Fielding), III: 105 “University of Mainz, The” (Waugh), Supp. VI: 269 “University Feud, The: A Row at the Oxford Arms” (Hood), IV: 258 Unjust War: An Address to the Workingmen of England (Morris), V: 305 Unkindness of Ravens, An (Rendell), Supp. IX: 199 Unknown, The (Maugham), VI: 369 “Unknown Bird, The” (Thomas), Supp. III: 402 “Unknown Man” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 76 Unknown Shore, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 248, 251, 252 “Unknown Shores” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 490 Unlikely Stories, Mostly (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 90 Unlimited Dream Company, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 28–29

Unlit Lamp, The (Hall), Supp. VI: 120– 122, 123–125 “Unluckily for a Death” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 Unmentionable Man, An (Upward), Supp. XIII: 250, 260–261 “Unmentionable Man, An” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 260–261 Unnamable, The (Beckett), Supp. I: 45, 51, 52, 53–54, 55, 56, 60; Supp. IV: 106; Retro. Supp. I: 22–23 Unnatural Causes (James), Supp. IV: 320, 321, 324–326 Unnatural Death (Sayers), Supp. II: 135; Supp. III: 338–339, 340, 343 Unnaturall Combat, The (Massinger), Supp. XI: 183 Unofficial Rose, An (Murdoch), Supp. I: 222, 223–224, 229, 232 Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 330, 340 Unprofessional Tales (Douglas), VI: 293, 305 Unpublished Early Poems (Tennyson), IV: 338 Unquiet Grave, The: A Word Cycle by Palinurus (Connolly), Supp. III: 103– 105 Unrelenting Struggle, The (Churchill), VI: 356 “Unremarkable Year, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 78 Unruly Times: Wordsworth and Coleridge in Their Time (Byatt), Supp. IV: 145 “Unseen Centre, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 217 “Unsettled Motorcyclist’s Vision of His Death, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 260 Unsocial Socialist, An (Shaw), VI: 103, 104, 105, 106, 129 “Unstable dream” (Wyatt), I: 103, 109 Unsuitable Attachment, An (Pym), Supp. II: 375–377 Unsuitable Job for a Woman, An (James), Supp. IV: 320, 335, 336 Unsweet Charity (Waterhouse), Supp. XIII: 273 Unsworth, Barry, Supp. VII: 353–367 “Until Eternal Music Ends” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 102 “Until My Blood Is Pure” (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 173 Until the End of the World (Wenders and Carey), Supp. XII: 53 Untilled Field, The (Moore), VI: 88, 93, 98 Untitled Sea Novel (Lowry), Supp. III: 280 Unto This Last (Ruskin), V: xii, xxii, 20, 179–180 Unusual Life of Tristan Smith, The (Carey), Supp. XII: 52, 53, 54, 60, 62 “Unusual Young Man, An” (Brooke), Supp. III: 50–51 Up Against It (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 366, 369–370 “Up and Awake” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 268 “Up and Down” (Smith), Supp. II: 470 “Up at a Villa—Down in the City” (Browning), IV: 360

460

Up the Rhine (Hood), IV: 254, 259, 267 Up to Midnight (Meredith), V: 234 Updike, John, Supp. IV: 27, 136, 480, 483 “Upon a Child That Dyed” (Herrick), II: 115 “Upon a Cloke Lent Him by Mr. J. Ridsley” (Vaughan), II: 184 Upon a Dead Man’s Head (Skelton), I: 84 “Upon Ancient and Modern Learning” (Temple), III: 40 “Upon Appleton House” (Marvell), II: 208, 209–210, 211, 212–213; Retro. Supp. II: 261–262 Upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland (Marvell), II: 199 Upon Her Majesty’s New Buildings (Waller), II: 238 “Upon Heroick Virtue” (Temple), III: 40 “Upon Julia’s Clothes” (Herrick), II: 107 “Upon Julia’s Fall” (Herrick), II: 107 “Upon Julia’s Unlacing Herself” (Herrick), II: 106 “Upon Julia’s Voice” (Herrick), II: 107 “Upon Nothing” (Rochester), II: 259, 270 “Upon Our Late Loss of the Duke of Cambridge” (Waller), II: 233 “Upon Poetry” (Temple), III: 40 “Upon the Death of a Gentleman” (Crashaw), II: 183 “Upon the Death of Mr. R. W . . . .” (Vaughan), II: 184 “Upon the Earl of Roscommon’s Translation of Horace” (Waller), II: 234 “Upon the Gardens of Epicurus” (Temple), III: 40 “Upon the Hurricane” (Finch), Supp. IX: 68–71 Upon the Late Storme, and of the Death of His Highnesse (Waller), II: 238 “Upon the Lonely Moor” (Carroll), V: 265, 267 Upstairs Downstairs (teleplay, Weldon), Supp. IV: 521 Upton, John, I: 121 Upward, Edward, Supp. XIII: 249–263 Urania (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 135, 144 Ure, Peter, VI: 220 Urgent Copy (Burgess), Supp. I: 186, 190, 194, 197 Uriah on the Hill (Powys), VIII: 255, 256 Urn Burial (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117 “Urphänomen” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 17–18 “Us” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 74 Use of Poetry and the Use of Criticism, The (Eliot), VII: 153, 158, 164; Retro. Supp. II: 65–66 Use of Weapons (Banks), Supp. XI: 10, 12 Useful and Instructive Poetry (Carroll), V: 263, 264, 273 Uses of Literacy, The (Hoggart), Supp. IV: 473 “Uses of the Many–Charactered Novel” (Stead), Supp. IV: 466 Using Biography (Empson), Supp. II: l80

USK, −VERY Usk, Thomas, I: 2 “Usk, The” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 257–258 U.S. Martial (Harrison), Supp. V: 163 “Usquebaugh” (Cope), VIII: 74 “Usura Canto,”see “Canto 45“ Utility Player, The (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347 Utopia (More), III: 24; Supp. VII: 233, 235, 236, 238–240, 243, 248 “Utter Rim, The” (Graves), VII: 270 Utz (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 159, 163, 173, 174–175; Supp. IX: 59–60, 61

“V. ” (Harrison), Supp. V: 153, 157– 160 V. (Pynchon), Supp. IV: 116 V. and Other Poems (Harrison), Supp. V: 160 V. C. O’Flaherty (Shaw), VI: 119–120, 129 VafÞrúðnismál, VIII: 230 Vagabundi Libellus (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 251, 252 Vagrant Mood, The (Maugham), VI: 374 Vailima Letters (Stevenson), V: 391, 396 Vain Fortune (Moore), VI: 87, 91 Vainglory (Firbank), Supp. II: 201, 203– 204, 205, 208–209 Val D’Arno (Ruskin), V: 184 Vala; or, The Four Zoas (Blake), see Four Zoas, The Vale (Moore), VI: 99 Vale and Other Poems (Russell), VIII: 290, 291, 292 “Valediction, A: Forbidding Mourning” (Donne), II: 185, 197; Retro. Supp. II: 87–88 “Valediction, A: Of Weeping” (Donne), II: 196 “Valediction of my name, in the window, A” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 92 “Valentine” (Cope), VIII: 76 Valentinian (Fletcher), II: 45, 58–60, 65 Valentinian: A Tragedy . . . (Rochester), II: 270 Valiant Pilgrim (Brittain), Supp. X: 46 Valiant Scot, The (Webster), II: 69, 85 Valla–Ljóts saga, VIII: 241 Valley of Bones, The (Powell), VII: 349 “Valley of Couteretz” (Tennyson), IV: 330 Valley of Fear, The (Doyle), Supp. II: 162, 163, 171, 172, 173, 174 “Valley of Vain Desires, The” (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 252 Valmouth: A Romantic Novel (Firbank), Supp. II: 199, 201, 202, 205, 213– 214 “Value of Money, The” (Berger), Supp. IV: 92 “Values” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 46 Vamp Till Ready (Fuller), Supp. VII: 81 Vampirella (Carter), III: 341 Vampyre, The (Polidori), III: 329, 334; Supp. III: 385 “Van Gogh among the Miners” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 168 Van, The (Doyle), Supp. V: 78, 85–87 Van Vechten, Carl, Supp. II: 200, 203, 218

Vanbrugh, Sir John, II: 289, 323–337, 339, 347, 360; III: 253, 261 Vancenza; or, The Dangers of Credulity (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 205 Vandaleur’s Folly (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 35, 39 “Vanishing Twin” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 23–24 “Vanitie” (Herbert), II: 127 “Vanities” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 72 Vanity Fair, (periodical), Supp. XIII: 191 Vanity Fair (Thackeray), IV: 301; V: xxi, 17, 19, 20, 23, 25–28, 30, 31, 35, 38; Supp. IV: 238 “Vanity of Human Wishes, The” (Johnson), III: 109–110, 121, 280, 281; IV: 188; Supp. IV: 271; Retro. Supp. I: 139, 148 “Vanity of Spirit” (Vaughan), II: 185 “Vaquero” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 415 Vargas Llosa, Mario, Supp. IV: 440 Variation of Public Opinion and Feelings, The (Crabbe), III: 286 “Variations of Ten Summer Minutes” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 193 Variation on a Theme (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 315, 319–320 “Variations and Excerpts” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 43 “Variations on a Theme of Wallace Stevens” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 19–20 Variations on a Time Theme (Muir), Supp. VI: 204 “Variations on a Time Theme” (Muir), Supp. VI: 205 Varieties of Parable (MacNeice), VII: 405 Various Haunts of Men, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116 Varma, D. P., III: 338, 346 Varney the Vampire (Pecket and Rymer), Supp. III: 385 Vasari, Georgio, V: 346 “Vastness” (Tennyson), IV: 329, 330 Vathek (Beckford), III: 327–329, 345; IV: xv, 230 Vaughan, Henry, II: 123, 126, 184–189, 190, 201–203, 221; Retro. Supp. II: 172 Vaughan, Thomas, II: 184, 185 “Vauxhall Gardens by Day” (Dickens), V: 47n “V.E. Day” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 “Velvet Glove, The” (James), VI: 69 Venables, Robert, II: 131, 137 Vendor of Sweets, The (Naipaul), Supp. I: 400 Venerable Bede, The, I: 374–375 Venetia (Disraeli), IV: xix, 298, 299, 307, 308 Veni, Creator Spiritus (Dryden), II: 300 Venice (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175–177 Venus and Adonis (Shakespeare), I: 291, 306, 325; IV: 256 Venus and Tannhäuser (Beardsley), V: 318n Venus and the Rain (McGuckian), Supp. V: 277, 282–284, 287

461

“Venus and the Rain” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 277–278 “Venus and the Sun” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 283 “Venus Fly–trap” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Venus Observed (Fry), Supp. III: 195, 202–203, 207, 208 “Venus Smiles” (Ballard), Supp. V: 26 Venusberg (Powell), VII: 344, 345 Vera; or, The Nihilists (Wilde), V: 401, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 362 Veranilda (Gissing), V: 435, 437 Verbivore (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 100, 111–112 Vercelli Book, Retro. Supp. II: 301–303 “Verdict, The” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 Vergil, II: 292, 300, 304; III: 222, 311, 312; IV: 327; Supp. III: 415–416, 417 Vergil’s Gnat (Spenser), I: 123 Vérité de la réligion Chrétienne (tr. Sidney), I: 161 Verlaine, Paul, V: 404, 405 Vermeer, Jan, Supp. IV: 136 Vernacular Republic, The (Murray), Supp. VII: 270 Verne, Jules, III: 341; VI: 229 Veronese, Paolo, V: 179 “Vers de Société” (Larkin), Supp. I: 282, 285 Vers d’Occasion (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Verse (Murray), Supp. VII: 270 Verse (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 316 “Verse and Mathematics: A Study of the Sources of Poetry” (Caudwell), see “Illusion and Reality: A Study of the Sources of Poetry” “Verse from an Opera—The Village Dragon” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 37 Verses (Rossetti), V: 260 Verses of V. A. D. (Brittain), Supp. X: 35 “Verses for a Christmas Card” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 161, 162 Verses, in the Character of a Corsican (Boswell), III: 248 Verses Lately Written upon Several Occasions (Cowley), II: 202 Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift (Swift), III: 21, 32; Retro. Supp. I: 274 “Verses to a Friend: On His Playing a Particular Melody. Which Excited the Author to Tears” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 120–121 “Verses . . . to Sir Thomas Hanmer” (Collins), III: 160, 175 Versions and Perversions of Heine (Sisson), Supp. XI: 247 Vertical Man: Sequel to A Selected Life (Kinsella), Supp. V: 267 Vertigo (Sebald), VIII: 295, 296, 297, 298–300 “Verulam” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 275 Very Fine Clock, The (Spark), Supp. I: 213 Very Good Hater, A (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 111 Very Private Eye, A: An Autobiography in Diaries and Letters (Pym), Supp. II: 363, 374

VERY−VISI Very Private Life, A (Frayn), Supp. VII: 54–56 “Very Simply Topping Up the Brake Fluid” (Armitage), VIII: 4 Very Woman, A (Fletcher and Massinger), II: 66;Supp. XI: 184 “Vespers” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “Vespers” (Milne), Supp. V: 301–302 Vet’s Daughter, The (Comyns), VIII: 53, 60, 61–62 Vexilla Regis (Jones), Supp. VII: 180 Vexilla Regis (Skelton), I: 84 Via Media, The (Newman), Supp. VII: 295, 302 “Via Maestranza” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 “Via Negativa” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 286 “Via Portello” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107 “Vicar, The” (Praed), V: 14 Vicar of Bullhampton, The (Trollope), V: 102 Vicar of Sorrows, The (Wilson), Supp. VI: 308 Vicar of Wakefield, The (Goldsmith), III: 177, 178, 179, 180, 181–184, 185, 188, 191 Viceroy of Ouidah, The (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 158, 165–168, 173; Supp. IX: 55–56 “Victim” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 Victim of Circumstances, A, and Other Stories (Gissing), V: 437 Victim of the Aurora, A (Keneally), Supp. IV: 346, 352–354 Victims (Fallon), Supp. XII: 104 “Victor Hugo” (Swinburne), V: 333 Victoria, queen of England, IV: 303–304, 305; V: xvii, xix, xxv–xxvi, 77, 114, 117 Victoria Station (Pinter), Supp. I: 378 Victorian Age in Literature (Chesterton), VI: 337 Victorian Age of English Literature, The (Oliphant), Supp. X: 222 Victorian and Edwardian London from Old Photographs (Betjeman), VII: 358 “Victorian Guitar” (Cornford), VIII: 114 Victorian Lady Travellers (Middleton), V: 253 Victorian Ode for Jubilee Day, 1897 (Thompson), V: 451 Victorian Romantic, A: D. G. Rossetti (Doughty), V: 246, 297n, 307 Victory (Conrad), VI: 144, 146, 148; Supp. IV: 250; Retro. Supp. II: 82 “Victory, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 256, 264 Vidal, Gore, Supp. IV: 546 “Video, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 13 Vienna (Spender), Supp. II: 486, 487 “Vienna. Zürich. Constance” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 493 “Vienne” (Rhys), Supp. II: 388, 389– 390 Viet Rock (play), Supp. IV: 435 “Vietnam Project, The” (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 76, 78–79, 80

“View of Exmoor, A” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “View of Poetry, A” (Muir), Supp. VI: 202–203 View of the Edinburgh Theatre . . . , A (Boswell), III: 247 View of the English Stage, A (Hazlitt), IV: 129, 139 View of the Present State of Ireland (Spenser), I: 139 Views and Reviews (James), VI: 67 Views in Rome and Its Environs (Lear), V: 76, 87 Views in the Seven Ionian Islands (Lear), V: 87 Víga–Glúms saga, VIII: 241 “Vigil and Ode for St. George’s Day” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 251–252 “Vigil in Lent, A” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 271 “Vigil of Corpus Christi, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 266 Vigny, Alfred de, IV: 176 Vile Bodies (Waugh), VII: 289, 290–291 Villa Rubein (Galsworthy), VI: 277 Village, The (Crabbe), III: 273, 274, 275, 277–278, 283, 286 “Village, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 325 “Village, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 220–221 Village and Other Poems, The (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 220–221 Village Betrothal (Greuze), Supp. IV: 122 Village by the Sea (Desai), Supp. V: 55, 63, 68–69 Village Minstrel, and Other Poems, The (Clare), Supp. XI: 56–57 “Village Priest, The” (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 220 Village Wooing (Shaw), VI: 127, 129 “Villain, The” (Davies), Supp. XI: 98–99 Villainy of Stock–Jobbers Detected, The (Defoe), III: 12 “Villanelle” (Empson), Supp. II: 183 Villette (Brontë), V: xxi, 112, 125–126, 130, 132, 136, 145, 147–150, 152; Retro. Supp. I: 53, 54, 60–61 Villiers, George, see Buckingham, duke of Villon (Bunting), Supp. VII: 3, 6 Villon, François, V: 327, 384 Vinaver, Eugéne, Retro. Supp. II:242, 246 Vindication &c., The (Dryden), II: 305 Vindication of a Natural Diet . . . , A (Shelley), IV: 208 Vindication of . . . Lord Carteret, A (Swift), III: 35–36 Vindication of Natural Society, A (Burke), III: 195, 198, 205 Vindication of . . . Some Gospel–Truths, A (Bunyan), II: 253 Vindication of Some Passages in . . . the Decline and Fall . .. . , A (Gibbon), III: 233 Vindication of the English Constitution (Disraeli), IV: 298, 308 Vindication of the Rights of Men, A (Wollstonecraft), Supp. III: 467–470, 474, 476

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Vindication of the Rights of Women, A (Wollstonecraft), IV: xv, 118; Supp. III: 465, 470–473, 476 Vindicator, Supp. XIII: 117, 127 Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanae: Letters to Charles Butler . . .. (Southey), IV: 71 Vine, Barbara, see Rendell, Ruth Vinegar Tom (Churchill), Supp. IV: 181, 184–186, 198 Vinland (Brown), Supp. VI: 67 Vintage London (Betjeman), VII: 358– 359 “Vintage to the Dungeon, The” (Lovelace), II: 231 Violent Effıgy, The: A Study of Dickens’s Imagination (Carey), V: 73 “Violent Noon, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 20 Viper and Her Brood, The (Middleton), II: 3, 33 Virchow, Rudolf, V: 348 Virgidemiarum (Hall), II: 25 Virgil, see Vergil Virgin and the Gipsy, The (Lawrence), VII: 91, 115 Virgin and the Nightingale, The: Medieval Latin Lyrics (tr. Adcock), Supp. XII: 10 Virgin in the Garden, The (Byatt), Supp. IV: 139, 145–147, 149 Virgin Martyr, The (Massinger and Dekker), Supp. XI: 182, 183, 192– 193 “Virgin Mary to the Child Jesus, The” (Browning), IV: 313 “Virgin Russia” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 19 Virgin Territory (Maitland), Supp. XI: 163, 166–168, 170, 171, 172 “Virgini Senescens” (Sisson), Supp. XI: 255–256 Virginia (O’Brien), Supp. V: 334 Virginia Woolf: A Biography (Bell), VII: 38; Retro. Supp. I: 305 Virginia Woolf Icon (Silver), Retro. Supp. I: 305 Virginians, The (Thackeray), V: 29, 31– 33, 38 Virginibus Puerisque and Other Papers (Stevenson), V: 395; Retro. Supp. I: 262 Virtuous Villager, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 136 Vision, A (Yeats), VI: 209, 213, 214, 222 “Vision, The” (Burns), III: 315 “Vision, The” (Traherne), Supp. XI: 266, 267 “Vision and Prayer” (Thomas), Supp. I: 178 Vision of Bags, A (Swinburne), V: 333 Vision of Battlements, A (Burgess), Supp. I: 185, 187, 195–196 Vision of Cathkin Braes, The (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 160–163 “Vision of Cathkin Braes, The” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 163 “Vision of Connaught in the Thirteenth Century, A” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 127

VISI−WAIT Vision of Delight, The (Jonson), Retro. Supp. I: 165 Vision of Don Roderick, The (Scott), IV: 38 Vision of Gombold Proval, The (Orton), Supp. V: 365–366, 370 Vision of Judgement, A (Southey), IV: 61, 71, 184–187 Vision of Judgment, The (Byron), IV: xviii, 58, 61–62, 132, 172, 178, 184– 187, 193 “Vision of Poets, A” (Browning), IV: 316 “Vision of the Empire, The” (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 282 “Vision of the Last Judgment, A” (Blake), III: 299 “Vision of the Mermaids, A” (Hopkins), V: 361, 381 Vision of the Three T’s, The (Carroll), V: 274 “Vision of that Ancient Man, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 260, 261 Vision of William Concerning Piers the Plowman . . . , The (ed. Skeat), I: 17 Vision Showed ... to a Devout Woman, A (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 153– 154, 159 Visions of the Daughters of Albion (Blake), III: 307; Retro. Supp. I: 39–40 “Visit” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 192 “Visit in Bad Taste, A” (Wilson), Supp. I: 157 “Visit to Grandpa’s, A” (Thomas), Supp. I: 181 “Visit to Morin, A” (Greene), Supp. I: 15, 18 “Visit to the Dead, A” (Cameron), Supp. IX: 27 “Visitation, The” (Jennings), Supp. V: 212 Visitations (MacNeice), VII: 416 “Visiting Hour” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 74 “Visiting Hour” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 273 “Visiting Hour” (Murphy), Supp. V: 326 “Visiting Julia” (Hart), Supp. XI: 123 Visiting Mrs. Nabokov and Other Excursions (Amis), Supp. IV: 42, 43 “Visiting Rainer Maria” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 286 Visiting the Caves (Plomer), Supp. XI: 213, 214 “Visitor” (Richardson), Supp. XIII: 192 “Visitor, The” (Bowen), Supp. II: 81 “Visitor, The” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 36 “Visitor, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 219– 220 Visitor, The (Orton), Supp. V: 363, 367 “Visitors, The” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 77 “Visits, The” (James), VI: 49, 69 “Visits to the Cemetery of the Long Alive” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 Vita Nuova (tr. Rossetti), V: 238 “Vitai Lampada” (Newbolt), VI: 417 Vittoria (Meredith), V: 227–228, 234 Vivian (Edgeworth), Supp. III: 158 Vivian Grey (Disraeli), IV: xvii, 293–294, 297, 299, 308 Vivisector, The (White), Supp. I: 132, 145–146

Vizetelly (publisher), VI: 86 “Vocation” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 221 “Voice, The” (Brooke), Supp. III: 52 “Voice, The” (Hardy), VI: 18 “Voice from the Dead, A” (Connolly), Supp. III: 111 “Voice of Brisbane, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 131 “Voice of Nature, The” (Bridges), VI: 79 Voice of Scotland, Supp. XII: 204 “Voice of the Ancient Bard, The” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 37 “Voice of Things, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 Voice Over (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 194 Voice Through a Cloud, A (Welch), Supp. IX: 262–263; 266–267, 268 Voices in the City (Desai), Supp. V: 54, 59–60, 72 Voices in the Night (Steel), Supp. XII: 273–274 Voices of the Stones (Russell), VIII: 290 “Voices of Time, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 22, 24, 29, 34 Volpone (Jonson), I: 339, 343–344, 348; II: 4, 45, 70, 79; V: 56; Retro. Supp. I: 163, 164 Vo¸lsunga saga, VIII: 231 Voltaire, II: 261, 348; III: 149, 235, 236, 327; IV: xiv, 290, 295, 346; Supp. IV: 136, 221 “Voltaire at Ferney” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 8 Voltaire in Love (Mitford), Supp. X: 163 Vo¸lundarkviða, VIII: 230 “Volunteer, The” (Asquith), VI: 417 Volunteers (Friel), Supp. V: 111, 112, 121–122 Vo¸luspá, VIII: 230, 231, 235, 243 Vonnegut, Kurt, Jr., III: 341; Supp. IV: 116 Vortex, The (Coward), Supp. II: 139, 141–143, 144, 149 Voss (Meale and Malouf), Supp. XII: 218 Voss (White), VII: 31; Supp. I: 130, 131, 138–141, 142 Vote, Vote, Vote for Nigel Barton (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 228, 231–232 Votive Tablets (Blunden), IV: 86; Supp. XI: 36 Vox clamantis (Gower), I: 48, 49–50 “Vox Humana” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 261– 262 Voyage, The (Muir), Supp. VI: 204, 206– 207 Voyage In the Dark (Rhys), Supp. II: 394–396 Voyage of Captain Popanilla, The (Disraeli), IV: 294–295, 308 “Voyage of Mael Duin,”Supp. IV: 415– 416 Voyage of the Dawn Treader, The (Lewis), Supp. III: 248, 260 Voyage of the Destiny, The (Nye), Supp. X: 195–196 “Voyage Out, The” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 6 Voyage Out, The (Woolf), VII: 20, 27, 37; Retro. Supp. I: 307, 315–316

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Voyage That Never Ends, The (Lowry), Supp. III: 276, 280 Voyage to Abyssinia, A (tr. Johnson), III: 107, 112, 121; Retro. Supp. I: 139 Voyage to New Holland, A (Dampier), III: 24 Voyage to the Island of Love, A (Behn), Supp. III: 37 Voyage to Venus (Lewis), Supp. III: 249 “Voyagers Regret, The” (Jewsbury), Supp. XIV: 162 Voyages (Hakluyt), I: 150, 267; III: 7 “Voyages of Alfred Wallis, The” (Graham), Supp. VII: 110 Vulgar Errors (Browne), see Pseudodoxia Epidemica Vulgar Streak, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 77 “Vulgarity in Literature” (Huxley), V: 53; VII: 198 “Vulture, The” (Beckett), Supp. I: 44

W. B. Yeats, Man and Poet (Jeffares), VI: 223 W. B. Yeats: The Critical Heritage (Jeffares), VI: 224 “W. Kitchener” (Hood), IV: 267 W. Somerset Maugham and the Quest for Freedom (Calder), VI: 376n Waagen, Gustav Friedrich, III: 328 Wager, William, I: 213 Waggoner, The (Blunden), Supp. XI: 36, 42 Waggoner, The (Wordsworth), IV: 24, 73 “Wagner” (Brooke), Supp. III: 53 Wagner the Werewolf (Reynolds), III: 335 Wagstaff, Simon, pseud. of Jonathan Swift Waif Woman, The (Stevenson), V: 396 “Wail and Warning of the Three Khalendars, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 125–126 Wain, John, VI: 209 Wainewright, Thomas, V: 405 Waingrow, W., III: 249 Waith, Eugene, II: 51, 64 “Waiting” (Self), Supp. V: 402 “Waiting at the Station” (Thackeray), V: 25 “Waiting for Breakfast” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 “Waiting for Columbus” (Reid), Supp. VII: 334 Waiting for Godot (Beckett), I: 16–17; Supp. I: 51, 55–56, 57, 59; Supp. IV: 281, 429; Retro. Supp. I: 17–18, 20– 21, 23–24; Retro. Supp. II: 344 “Waiting for J.” (Ishiguro), Supp. IV: 303 Waiting for the Barbarians (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 75–76, 81–82 Waiting for the Telegram (Bennett), VIII: 28 “Waiting Grounds, The” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21, 22 “Waiting in Hospital” (Cornford), VIII: 113 Waiting in the Wings (Coward), Supp. II: 155

WAIT−WATE Waiting Room, The (Harris), Supp. V: 136, 137–138, 140 “Waiting Supper, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Waking Father, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 416–417 “Waking in a Newly Built House” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 263 Waking of Angantýr, The, VIII: 232 Waldegrave, Frances, V: 77, 80, 81 Waldere, Retro. Supp. II: 306–307 Wales: Epic Views of a Small Country (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 185 Wales, the First Place (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 177, 185 Walk in Chamounix, A, and Other Poems (Ruskin), V: 184 Walk on the Water, A (Stoppard), Supp. I: 437, 439 Walker, Ernest, IV: 304 Walker, London (Barrie), Supp. III: 4 Walker, R. S., III: 249 Walker, Shirley, Supp. IV: 347 Walker and Other Stories, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 251 “Walking Home” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 67 Walking on Glass (Banks), Supp. XI: 7–8 “Walking to the Cattle Place” (Murray), Supp. VII: 274–275, 280, 281 “Walking with God” (Cowper), III: 212 “Walking Wounded” (Scannell), VII: 423 “Wall, The” (Jones), Supp. VII: 175 “Wall I Built, The” (Healy), Supp. IX: 107 Wall of the Plague, The (Brink), Supp. VI: 52–53 Wallace–Crabbe, Christopher, VIII: 311– 325 Waller, Edmund, II: 138, 222, 232–236, 256, 271 Walpole, Horace, III: 324, 325–327, 336, 345; Supp. III: 383–384 Walpole, Hugh, VI: 55, 247, 377; VII: 211 Walpole, Robert, Retro. Supp. I: 235– 236 “Walrus and the Carpenter, The” (Carroll), V: 268 Walsh, William, II: 325, 337, 339, 347; Retro. Supp. I: 232 Walsingham; or, The Pupil of Nature (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 210–211 Walt Whitman: A Study (Symonds), Supp. XIV: 261 Walter Pater: A Critical Study (Thomas), V: 355, 358; VI: 424 Walter Pater: The Idea in Nature (Ward), V: 347, 359 Walter Savage Landor: A Biography (Forster), IV: 87, 100 Walton, Izaak, I: 178; II: 118, 119, 130, 131–144; Retro. Supp. II: 171–172 Walton, William, VII: xv Walts, Janet, Supp. IV: 399 Waltz: An Apostrophic Hymn by Horace Hornem, Esq. (Byron), IV: 192 Wanderer, The, Retro. Supp. II: 304 Wanderer, The (Auden), VII: 380 “Wanderer, The” (tr. Morgan), Supp. IX: 160–161

“Wanderer, The” (Smith), Supp. II: 465 Wanderer, The; or, Female Diffıculties (Burney), Supp. III: 64, 67, 74, 75, 76–77 “Wandering Angus, The” (Yeats), Supp. IV: 424 Wandering Islands, The (Hope), Supp. VII: 153–156, 157, 159 Wandering Jew, The (Shelley), IV: 209 “Wanderings of Brendan,”Supp. IV: 415 Wanderings of Oisin, The (Yeats), IV: 216; VI: 220, 221; Supp. V: 36; Retro. Supp. I: 325 Want of Wyse Men, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 146–147 Wanting Seed, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 186, 190, 192–193 War (Doyle), Supp. V: 77, 87, 88–89 War and Common Sense (Wells), VI: 244 “War Cemetery” (Blunden), Supp. XI: 35 War Crimes (Carey), Supp. XII: 52, 54 “War Crimes” (Carey), Supp. XII: 54–55 “War Death in a Low Key” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 44 War Fever (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 “War Fever” (Ballard), Supp. V: 33 “War Games” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 225 War in Heaven (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 279, 280–281 War in Samoa (Stevenson), V: 396 War in South Africa, The: Its Cause and Conduct (Doyle), Supp. II: 161 War in the Air . . . , The (Wells), VI: 234, 244 War Issues for Irishmen (Shaw), VI: 119 War of Don Emmanuel’s Nether Parts, The (De Bernières), Supp. XII: 65, 68, 69, 70–72 War of the Worlds, The (Wells), VI: 226, 233–234 War Plays, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434 “War Poets, The” (Longley), VIII: 173 War Speeches (Churchill), VI: 361 “War That Will End War, The” (Wells), VI: 227, 244 “War–time” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38 “War Widow” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 131, 133–134 Ward, A. C., V: xiii, xxviii, 85, 86, 347, 348, 349 Ward, Edward, III: 41 Ward, Mrs. Humphry, VI: 387 Ward, R. P., IV: 293 “Ward 1G” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 80 “Ward 9” (Self), Supp. V: 401 Warden, The (Trollope), V: xxii, 92, 93, 101 “Warden’s Daughter, The” (Gissing), V: 437 Ware the Hawk (Skelton), I: 88 “Waring” (Browning), IV: 356 Warner, Alan, Supp. XI: 281–296 Warner, Sylvia Townsend, Supp. VII: 369–383 “Warning to Children” (Graves), VII: 265 Warren, Austin, II: 155, 332n

464

“Warriors of the North, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 342, 350 “Warriors Soul, The” (Conrad), VI: 148 War’s Embers (Gurney), VI: 425 “Wartime Childhood, A” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 218 Warton, Joseph, III: 162, 170n “Was He Married?” (Smith), Supp. II: 468 “Was, Is, Will Be” (Reid), Supp. VII: 327 Washington Square (James), VI: 32–33 Wasp Factory, The (Banks), Supp. XI: 1–3, 6 Wasp in a Wig, The (Carroll), V: 274 “Waste Land, The” (Eliot), VI: 137, 158; VII: xv, 143, 147–150; Supp. III: 122; Supp. IV: 58, 249, 377; Retro. Supp. I: 3; Retro. Supp. II: 120, 121, 124–129 “Waste Land, The” (Paton), Supp. II: 345 “Wasted Day, A” (Cornford), VIII: 103 Wasted Years, The (Phillips), Supp. V: 380 “Wat o’ the Cleugh” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 Wat Tyler (Southey), IV: 59, 62, 66, 71, 185 “Watch, The” (Cornford), VIII: 102–103, 107 “Watch, The” (Swift), Supp. V: 433–434 Watch and Ward (James), VI: 24, 26, 67 Watch in the Night, A (Wilson), Supp. VI: 307 Watched Pot, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 250 “Watching People Sing” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 107–108 “Watching Post” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 128 Watching the Perseids (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226–227, 229 “Watching the Perseids: Remembering the Dead” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 227 Watchman, The (periodical), IV: 43, 55, 56 Watchman, The (Rankin), Supp. X: 244 Water and Waste (Reading), VIII: 261, 262 Water Beetle, The (Mitford), Supp. X: 151, 167 “Water Cinema” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 “Water Diviner, The” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 4 “Water Lady, The” (Hood), IV: 255 “Water Lilies” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 143 “Water Music” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 212 Water of Life, The (Bunyan), II: 253 Water of the Wondrous Isles, The (Morris), V: 306 “Watercress Girl, The” (Coppard), VIII: 90, 95 “Waterfall” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 103 Waterfall, The (Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 239–241 “Waterfall, The” (Longley), VIII: 177– 178

WATE−WELD “Waterfall of Winter” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 “Watergaw, The” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 204–205 “Waterglass, The” (Reid), Supp. VII: 326 Waterhouse, Keith, Supp. XIII: 265–279 “Waterkeeper’s Bothy” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 “Water–Lady” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230 Waterland (Swift), Supp. V: 427, 434– 437 Waterlight: Selected Poems (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 143 “Watermark” (Gunesekera), Supp. X: 87 Waters of Babylon, The (Arden), Supp. II: 21, 22, 23–24, 25, 29 “Watershed, The” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 3 “Water–Witch, Wood–Witch, Wine– Witch” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234 Watson, George L., VI: 152 Watson, John B., Supp. II: 451 Watson, John Richard, IV: ix, xxv, 26, 375 Watson, Peter, Supp. III: 102–103, 105, 109 Watson, Richard, III: 301 Watson, Sir William, VI: 415 Watson, Thomas, I: 193, 276 Watsons, The (Austen), IV: 108, 122 Watson’s Apology (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 23 Watt, Ian, VI: 144; Retro. Supp. I: 70 Watt (Beckett), Supp. I: 46, 47–49, 50, 51; Retro. Supp. I: 17, 20 Watteau (Brookner), Supp. IV: 122 Watteau, Jean–Antoine, Supp. IV: 122 Watter’s Mou’, The (Stoker), Supp. III: 381 “Wattle Tent” (Murphy), Supp. V: 329 Watts, Isaac, III: 118, 211, 288, 294, 299, 300 Watts–Dunton, Theodore, V: 314, 334 Waugh, Alec, Supp. VI: 267–277 Waugh, Evelyn, V: 33; VII: xviii, xx– xxi, 289–308; Supp. II: 4, 74, 199, 213, 218; Supp. III: 105; Supp. IV: 27, 281, 287, 365, 505 “Wave, The” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 75 Waverly novels (Scott), IV: 28, 30–34, 38 Waverly; or, ’Tis Sixty Years Since (Scott), III: 335; IV: xvii, 28, 30–31, 37, 38; Supp. III: 151, 154 Waves, The (Woolf), VI: 262; VII: xv, 18, 22, 27, 38; Supp. III: 45; Supp. IV: 461, 557; Retro. Supp. I: 308, 314, 319–320 “Waves Have Gone Back, The” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 93 “Waxwing Winter” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 289 Waxwings (Raban), Supp. XI: 227, 228, 238–241 “Way It Was, The (Raine), Supp. XIII: 174 “Way It Came, The” (James), VI: 69 Way of All Flesh, The (Butler), VI: ix; Supp. II: 97, 98, 99, 104, 111–114, 117, 119

Way of Being Free, A (Okri), Supp. V: 353, 359, 360 “Way of Imperfection, The” (Thompson), V: 451 “Way of Literature: An Apologia, The” (Brown), Supp. VI: 70 Way of Looking, A (Jennings), Supp. V: , 210, 211, 214 “Way of the Cross, The” (du Maurier), Supp. III: 147 Way of the Spirit (Haggard), Supp. III: 214, 222 Way of the World, The (Congreve), II: 339, 343–346, 347, 350 “Way the Wind Blows, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 36 “Way to Keep Him, The” (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 205 Way to the Stars, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 313, 319 “Way up to Heaven, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 218–219 Way Upstream (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 14 Way We Live, The (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129, 134–136, 143 “Way We Live, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 135 Way We Live Now, The (Trollope), IV: 307; V: xxiv, 98–99, 100, 102 “Wayfaring Tree, The” (tr. Mangan), Supp. XIII: 118 Ways and Means (Coward), Supp. II: 153 Ways of Escape (Greene), Supp. I: 3, 7, 11, 18 Ways of Seeing (Berger), Supp. IV: 79, 82, 88–90 Ways of Telling: The World of John Berger (Dyer), Supp. IV: 81 “Wayside Station, The” (Muir), Supp. VI: 206 “We All Try” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 36, 37 “We Are Seven” (Wordsworth), IV: 8, 10 “We have a pritty witty king” (Rochester), II: 259 “We lying by seasand” (Thomas), Supp. I: 176 “We Must Act Quickly” (Paton), Supp. II: 359 We Were Dancing (Coward), Supp. II: 153 “We Will Not Play the Harp Backward Now, No” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 71 Weak Woman (Davies), Supp. XI: 92 “Wealth, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 66 Wealth of Mr. Waddy, The (Wells), see Kipps Wealth of Nations, The (Smith), see Inquiry into the Nature & Causes of the Wealth of Nations Wearieswa’: A Ballad (Swinburne), V: 333 Weather in Japan, The (Longley), VIII: 166, 177–178 “Weather in Japan, The” (Longley), VIII: 177 Weatherboard Cathedral, The (Murray), Supp. VII: 270, 272–273, 282

465

Weathering (Reid), Supp. VII: 323, 330– 331 “Web, The” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 229 Webb, Beatrice, VI: 227, 241; Supp. IV: 233 Webb, Mary, Supp. IV: 169 Webb, Philip, V: 291, 296 Webb, Sidney, VI: 102; Supp. IV: 233 Webber, Andrew Lloyd, Supp. V: 3 Webster, John, II: 21, 31,, 33, 68–86, 82359, 97, 100; Supp. IV: 234 Webster: “The Dutchess of Malfi“ (Leech), II: 90n Wedd, Nathaniel, VI: 398, 399 “Wedding, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 224 “Wedding Ceilidh, The” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 29 “Wedding Gown, The” (Moore), VI: 93 “Wedding Guest, A” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 222 Wedding of Cousins, A (Tennant), Supp. IX: 239 “Wedding Morning” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 261 “Wedding Wind” (Larkin), Supp. I: 277, 285 Wedding–Day, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Weddings” (Thomas), Supp. IV: 491 Weddings at Nether Powers, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Wedgwood, Tom, IV: 127–128 Wednesday Early Closing (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 212, 214 “Wednesday; or, The Dumps” (Gay), III: 56 “Wee Wifey” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 138 Wee Willie Winkie (Kipling), VI: 204 “Weed, The” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 “Weed Species” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 94–95 “Weeds” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 219 “Week with Uncle Felix, A” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 122–123 Weekend with Claude, A (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 17–19, 24 Weekly Journal (newspaper), III: 7 Weep Not, Child (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 212, 213, 214, 218–219 “Weep Not My Wanton” (Coppard), VIII: 88, 93 “Weeper, The” (Crashaw), II: 180, 181, 183 “Weighing” (Heaney), Retro. Supp. I: 133 “Weights” (Murray), Supp. VII: 278 “Weignachtsabend” (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 270 Weil, Simone, Supp. I: 217 Weinraub, Judith, Supp. IV: 345 Weir of Hermiston, The (Stevenson), V: 383, 384, 387, 390, 392, 396; Retro. Supp. I: 270 Weis, C. McC., III: 249 Weismann, August, Supp. II: 108 Welch, Denton, Supp. III: 107, Supp. IX: 261–270 “Welcome, The” (Cowley), II: 196 “Welcome to Sack, The” (Herrick), II: lll Weldon, Fay, Supp. IV: 521–539

WELL−WHEN “Well at the Broch of Gurness, The” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 141 Well at the World’s End, The (Morris), V: 306 Well of Loneliness, The (Hall), VI: 411; Supp. VI: 119–120, 122, 125–128, 129, 131 Well of Lycopolis, The (Bunting), Supp. VII: 4 “Well of Pen–Morta, The” (Gaskell), V: 15 Well of the Saints, The (Synge), VI: 308, 311, 312–313; Retro. Supp. I: 297– 298 “Well–Spring, The” (Nye), Supp. X: 195, 205 Well–Beloved, The: A Sketch of a Temperament (Hardy), VI: 14, 20; Retro. Supp. I: 114–115 “Wellington College” (Murphy), Supp. V: 328 Wells, H. G., III: 341; V: xxiii, xxvi, 388, 426–427, 429, 438; VI: x–xiii, 102, 225–246, 287; VII: xiv, 197; list of works and letters, VI: 243–246; Supp. II: 295; Supp. III: 434; Supp. IV: 256 “Wells, Hitler, and the World State” (Orwell), VII: 274 “Wells, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 234, 237 Well–Wrought Urn, The (Brooks), IV: 323n, 339 Welsh Ambassador, The, II: 100 “Welsh Hill Country, The” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 “Welsh History” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 Welsh, Irvine, Supp. IV: 26 Welsh Girl, The (Davies), Supp. XIV: 35, 36, 46–47 “Welsh Landscape” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 Welsh Opera, The (Fielding), III: 105 “Welshman to Any Tourist, A” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 283 “Welshness in Wales” (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 184–185 We’re Not Going to Do Anything (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118 “Werewolf, The” (Carter), Supp. III: 88 Werner, J., III: 249 Werner: A Tragedy (Byron), IV: 193 Werther (Goethe), see Sorrows of Young Werther, The Wesker, Arnold, VI: 101 Wesley, Charles, III: 211 Wesley, John, II: 273 Wessex: A National Trust Book (Beer), Supp. XIV: 12 “Wessex Calendar” (Beer), Supp. XIV: 5 Wessex Poems (Hardy), VI: 14; Retro. Supp. I: 110 Wessex Tales: Strange, Lively and Commonplace (Hardy), VI: 20 West, Anthony, VI: 241, 242 West, Arthur Graeme, VI: 423 “West End, The” (Healy), Supp. IX: 107 West, Moris, Supp. IV: 343

West, Rebecca, VI: 226, 227, 252, 371; Supp. II: 146–147; Supp. III: 431– 445 “West Country” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 219 “West Indies, The” (Macaulay), IV: 278 West Indies and the Spanish Main, The (Trollope), V: 101 West of Suez (Osborne), Supp. I: 339 West Window, The (Hartley), see Shrimp and the Anemone, The “Westland Row” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 263 “Westland Well” (Swinburne), V: 333 Westmacott, Mary (pseud., Christie), Supp. II: 123, 133 “Westminster Abbey” (Arnold), V: 208– 209 Westminster Alice, The (Saki), Supp. VI: 239 Westminster Review, The (periodical), V: xviii, 189 Westward Ho! (Dekker and Webster), II: 68, 85 Westwind (Rankin), Supp. X: 244 Wet Fish (Arden), Supp. II: 28 “Wet Night, A” (Beckett), Supp. I: 45; Retro. Supp. I: 19 “Wet Snow” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Wetherby (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 289– 290 “What a Misfortune” (Beckett), Supp. I: 45 What Am I Doing Here (Chatwin), Supp. IV: 157, 163, 173; Supp. IX: 52, 53, 60–61 What Became of Jane Austen? (Amis), Supp. II: 1, 2, 11 What D’Ye Call It, The (Gay), III: 58, 60, 67 “What Do Hippos Eat?” (Wilson), Supp. I: 156–157 “What Does It Matter?” (Forster), VI: 411 “What Ever” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 107 What Every Woman Knows (Barrie), Supp. III: 6, 9, 10–11 “What Gets Lost Lo Que Se Pierde” (Reid), Supp. VII: 331 “What Happened to Blake?” (Hare), Supp. IV: 281, 283 What Happened to Burger’s Daughter: or How South African Censorship Works (Gordimer), Supp. II: 237 “What I Believe” (Spender), Supp. II: 494 “What I Have Been Doing Lately” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 221 “What I Know About Myself” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 29 What I Really Wrote About the War (Shaw), VI: 129 What Is He? (Disraeli), IV: 308 “What Is the Language Using Us For?” (Graham), Supp. VII: 115 “What Is There to Discuss?” (Ramsey), VII: 240 What Lack I Yet? (Powys), VIII: 255 What Maisie Knew (James), VI: 50–52, 67 “What meaneth this?” (Wyatt), I: 104

466

What Mrs. McGillicuddy Saw (Christie), see 4.50 from Paddington “What rage is this” (Wyatt), I: 104 What the Black Mirror Saw (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 236 What the Butler Saw (Orton), Supp. V: 367, 371, 377–378 What the Hammer (Healy), Supp. IX: 96, 106–107 What the Public Wants (Bennett), VI: 263–264 “What the Shepherd Saw” (Hardy), VI: 22 “What the Thrush Said” (Keats), IV: 225 “What the Thunder Said” (Eliot), Retro. Supp. II: 128–129 “What Then?” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 “What Then?” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 337 What Where (Beckett), Supp. IV: 284 “What will they do?” (Thomas), Supp. III: 400, 401 What You Will (Marston), II: 29–30, 40 Whately, Richard, IV: 102, 122 “Whatever Sea” (Dutton), Supp. XII: 92–93 What’s Become of Waring? (Powell), VII: 346, 353 “What’s Your Success?” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 214 Wheatcroft, Geoffrey, Supp. IV: 173 “Wheel of Time, The” (James), VI: 69 Wheels of Chance, The: A Holiday Adventure (Wells), VI: 231–232, 244 “Wheest, Wheest” (MacDiarmid), Supp. XII: 206 “When a Beau Goes In” (Ewart), VII: 423; Supp. VII: 37 “When all my five and country senses see” (Thomas), Supp. I: 176 “When Earth’s Last Picture Is Painted” (Kipling), VI: 169 “When I Am Dead, My Dearest” (Rossetti), V: 249 “When I Have Fears” (Keats), IV: 221 “When I Was Thirteen” (Welch), Supp. IX: 268–269 When Is a Door Not a Door? (Arden), Supp. II: 29 “When Israel came out of Egypt” (Clough), V: 160 “When My Girl Comes Home” (Pritchett), Supp. III: 312, 321–324 When My Girl Comes Home (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313, 321 “When the Camel Is Dust it Goes Through the Needle’s Eye” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 264 “When the Kye Comes Hame” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 When the Moon Has Set (Synge), VI: 310n; Retro. Supp. I: 294 “When the Sardines Came” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 215 When the Sleeper Wakes (Wells), VI: 234 When the Wicked Man (Ford), VI: 319, 332 “When They Want to Know What We Were Like” (Healy), Supp. IX: 107

WHEN−WHY F When We Dead Awaken (Ibsen), VI: 269; Retro. Supp. I: 170, 175 “When we that were dear . . . A (Henley), V: 392 When We Were Very Young (Milne), Supp. V: 295, 301–302 When William Came (Saki), Supp. VI: 248–250 “When Windsor walles sustained my wearied arm” (Surrey), I: 113 “When You Are Old” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 329 “When You Go” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 168 “When you see millions of the mouthless dead” (Sorley), VI: 422 Where Adam Stood (Potter, D.), Supp. X: 232–234 Where Angels Fear to Tread (Forster), VI: 400–401; Retro. Supp. II: 136– 139 “Where I’m Coming From” (Ali), Supp. XIII: 1 “Where once the waters of your face” (Thomas), Supp. I: 173–174 Where Shall We Go This Summer (Desai), Supp. V: 53, 55, 63–64, 66, 73 “Where Tawe Flows” (Thomas), Supp. I: 180 Where the Wind Came (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 315–317, 318 Where There Is Darkness (Phillips), Supp. V: 380 “Where They Are Wrong” (Paton), Supp. II: 360 Where You Find It (Galloway), Supp. XII: 117, 126–127 “Where You Find It” (Galloway), Supp. XII: 126 “Whereabouts” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Whereabouts: Notes on Being a Foreigner (Reid), Supp. VII: 323, 335–336 “Wherefore Lament” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 143 “Whereto Art Thou Come” (Thompson), V: 444 Whether a Dove or Seagull (Warner), Supp. VII: 370, 371, 372–373, 376 Whetstone, George, I: 282, 313 Whibley, Charles, II: 259 “Which New Era Would Be?” (Gordimer), Supp. II: 242 Whig Examiner (periodical), III: 51, 53 Whig Interpretations of History, The (Butterfield), IV: 291 While the Sun Shines (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 313 Whims and Oddities (Hood), IV: 253, 255, 257, 267 Whimsicalities (Hood), IV: 254, 267 Whirling (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323– 324, 325 Whirlpool, The (Gissing), V: 437 “Whisht” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 75 “Whisperer, The” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 Whispering Roots, The (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 116, 118, 129–130 “Whispers” (Tennyson), IV: 332

“Whispers of Immortality” (Eliot), VII: 145 Whistle Down the Wind (Waterhouse and Hall), Supp. XIII: 274, 275 Whistlecraft (Frere), IV: 182–183 Whistler, James McNeill, V: 238, 245, 320, 407 Whit; or, Isis Amongst the Unsaved (Banks), Supp. XI: 14 White, Gilbert, Supp. VI: 279–295 White, James, IV: 79 White, Norman, V: 379n White, Patrick, Supp. I: 129–152; Supp. IV: 343 White, Tony, Supp. IV: 256, 272, 273– 274 “White Air of March, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216–217 White Bird, The (Berger), Supp. IV: 89 White Bird, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 White Chappell, Scarlet Tracings (Sinclair), Supp. XIV: 233, 241–242 White Cockade, The (Gregory), VI: 315 White Company, The (Doyle), Supp. II: 159, 163 White Devil, The (Webster), I: 246; II: 68, 70, 72, 73–75, 76, 79, 80–85, 97; Supp. IV: 234–235 White Doe of Rylstone, The (Wordsworth), IV: xvii, 24 White Goddess, The (Graves), VII: xviii, 257, 259, 261–262 “White Heliotrope” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 275–276 White Horseman, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 184 White Hotel, The (Thomas), Supp. IV: 479, 481–483, 486, 490, 493 “White Island, The; or, Place of the Blest” (Herrick), II: 113 White Liars (Shaffer), Supp. I: 322–323 White Lies (Shaffer), Supp. I: 322 White Mercedes, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 150, 153 White Monkey, The (Galsworthy), VI: 274 “White Negro, The” (Mailer), Supp. IV: 17–18 “White Noon, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 White Paternoster and Other Stories, The (Powys), VIII: 248, 256 White Peacock, The (Lawrence), VII: 88, 89, 91–93; Retro. Supp. II: 222–223, 226 “White–Pinafored Black Cat, The” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 260 “White Poet, The” (Dunn), Supp. X: 71 “White Queen, The” (Harrison), Supp. V: 151 “White Ship, The” (Rossetti), V: 238, 244 “White Spirits” (Delanty), Supp. XIV: 70 “White Stocking, The” (Lawrence), VII: 114 White Threshold, The (Graham), Supp. VII: 110–111 “White Windsor Soap” (McGuckian), Supp. V: 288

467

White Writing: On the Culture of Letters in South Africa (Coetzee), Supp. VI: 84–85 White–Eagles over Serbia (Durrell), Supp. I: 100 Whitehall, Harold, V: 365, 382 Whitelock, Derek, Supp. IV: 348 “Whitewashed Wall, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 120 Whitman, Walt, IV: 332; V: 418; VI: 55, 63; Supp. IV: 163, 487 Whitsun Weddings, The (Larkin), Supp. I: 276, 279–281, 285 “Whitsun Weddings, The” (Larkin), Supp. I: 285 “Whitsunday” (Herbert), II: 125 “Whitsunday in Kirchstetten” (Auden), VII: 396, 397 “Who Are These Coming to the Sacrifice?” (Hill), Supp. V: 191 Who Are You? (Kavan), Supp. VII: 214 “Who Goes Home?” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 130 Who Guards a Prince? (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 117 Who Is Sylvia? (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 317 “Who Knows?” (Pitter), Supp. XIII: 145 “Who Needs It?” (Blackwood), Supp. IX: 9 Who was Changed and Who was Dead (Comyns), VIII: 53, 60–61 Who Was Oswald Fish? (Wilson), Supp. VI: 300–301 Whole Armour, The (Harris), Supp. V: 132, 134, 135 Whole Duty of Man, The (Allestree), III: 82 “Whole of the Sky, The” (Armitage), VIII: 11 “Whole Truth, The” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 Whole Works of Homer, The (Chapman), I: 235 Whoroscope (Beckett), Supp. I: 43; Retro. Supp. I: 19 “Who’s Who” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 2 Whose Body? (Sayers), Supp. III: 334, 336–338, 340, 350 “Whose Endless Jar” (Richards), Supp. II: 426, 429 Whose Is the Kingdom? (Arden and D’Arcy), Supp. II: 39, 40–41 “Whoso list to hunt” (Wyatt), I: 101, 109 Why Are We So Blest? (Armah), Supp. X: 1–2, 5–9, 13–14 “Why Brownlee Left” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 409, 410, 415, 418, 426 Why Come Ye Not to Court? (Skelton), I: 92–93 Why Do I Write? (Bowen), Supp. II: 80, 81, 91 Why Don’t You Stop Talking (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 109–110 “Why Don’t You Stop Talking” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 109–110 Why Frau Frohmann Raised Her Prices and Other stories (Trollope), V: 102

WHY H−WILL “Why Has Narrative Poetry Failed” (Murphy), Supp. V: 320–321 “Why I Became a Plumber” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 “Why I Have Embraced Islam” (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 437 “Why I Ought Not to Have Become a Dramatic Critic” (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 54 “Why Not Take Pater Seriously?” (Fletcher), V: 359 Why Scots Should Rule Scotland (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 80, 85 “Why She Would Not” (Shaw), VI: 130 “Why Should Not Old Men Be Mad?” (Yeats), Retro. Supp. I: 337 Why So, Socrates? (Richards), Supp. II: 425 “Why the Novel Matters” (Lawrence), VII: 122 “Why We Are in Favour of This War” (Hulme), Supp. VI: 140 “Why Write of the Sun” (Armitage), VIII: 3 Wi the Haill Voice (tr. Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 168 Wicked Heat (Hart), Supp. XI: 121, 130– 133 “Wicked Stepmother’s Lament, The” (Maitland), Supp. XI: 175 “Wicked Tunge Wille Sey Amys, A” (Lydgate), I: 57 Wide Sargasso Sea (Rhys), Supp. II: 387, 389, 398–401, 441; Retro. Supp. I: 60 Wide–Awake Stories: A Collection of Tales Told by Little Children between Sunset and Sunrise, in the Punjab and Kashmi (Steel), Supp. XII: 266 Widow, The (Middleton), II: 3, 21 “Widow, The” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 211 Widow; Or, A Picture of Modern Times, The (Robinson), Supp. XIII: 207 Widow Ranter, The (Behn), Supp. III: 34 Widow Ranter, The (Belin), II: 305 “Widower in the Country, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 271 Widower’s Son, The (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 414, 415, 425 Widowers’ Houses (Shaw), VI: 104, 107, 108, 129; Retro. Supp. II: 310–312 “Widowhood System, The” (Friel), Supp. V: 113 Widowing of Mrs. Holroyd, The (Lawrence), VII: 120, 121 Widow’s Tears, The (Chapman), I: 243– 244, 245–246 Widsith, Retro. Supp. II: 304 Wiene, Robert, III: 342 Wife for a Month (Fletcher), II: 65 Wife of Bath, The (Gay), III: 60, 67 Wife of Bath’s Prologue, The (Chaucer), I: 24, 34, 39, 40 Wife of Bath’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 27, 35–36 “Wife of Ted Wickham, The” (Coppard), VIII: 95 “Wife Speaks, The” (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 125

Wife’s Lament, The, Retro. Supp. II: 305 Wigs on the Green (Mitford), Supp. X: 155–156 Wilberforce, William, IV: 133, 268; V: 277 Wild Ass’s Skin, The (Balzac), III: 339, 345 “Wild Boar and the Ram, The” (Gay), III: 59 Wild Body, The (Lewis), VII: 72, 77, 78, 79 “Wild Colonial Puzzler, The” (Wallace– Crabbe), VIII: 318 Wild Bird’s Nest, The (tr. O’Connor), Supp. XIV: 220, 221, 222 Wild Blood (Thompson), Supp. XIV: 286, 288–289, 294 Wild Duck, The (Ibsen), VI: ix “Wild Flowers” (Howard), V: 48 Wild Gallant, The (Dryden), II: 305 Wild Garden, The; or, Speaking of Writing (Wilson), Supp. I: 153, 154–155, 156, 158, 160 Wild Goose Chase, The (Fletcher), II: 45, 61–62, 65, 352, 357 Wild Honey (Frayn), Supp. VII: 61 Wild Irish Boy, The (Maturin), VIII: 207, 209 Wild Knight, The (Chesterton), VI: 336 “Wild Lemons” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 220 Wild Nights (Tennant), Supp. IX: 230, 233–234 Wild Reckoning: An Anthology Provoked By Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring” (ed. Burnside and Riordan), Supp. XIII: 31 Wild Swans at Coole, The (Yeats), VI: 207, 213, 214, 217; Retro. Supp. I: 331 Wild Wales: Its People, Language, and Scenery (Borrow), Supp. XII: 17, 28–31 “Wild with All Regrets” (Owen), VI: 446, 452, 453 Wild Wreath (tr. Robinson), Supp. XIII: 213 Wilde, Oscar, III: 334, 345; V: xiii, xxi, xxv, xxvi, 53, 339, 399–422; VI: ix, 365; VII: 83; Supp. II: 43, 45–46, 48, 50, 51, 53, 54, 141, 143, 148, 155; Supp. IV: 288; Retro. Supp. II: 314– 315, 359–374 Wilder Hope, The: Essays on Future Punishment . . . (De Quincey), IV: 155 “Wilderness, The” (Keyes), VII: 439 Wilderness of Zin (Woolley and Lawrence), Supp. II: 284 Wildest Dreams (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 10, 12, 14 “Wildgoose Chase, A” (Coppard), VIII: 95 “Wildlife” (Adcock), Supp. XII: 12 “Wilfred Owen and the Georgians” (Hibberd), VI: 460 Wilfred Owen: Complete Poems and Fragments (Stallworthy), see Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen, The

468

Wilfred Owen: War Poems and Others (Hibberd), VI: 446, 459 “Wilfred Owen’s Letters” (Hibberd), VI: 460 Wilhelm Meister (Goethe), IV: 241; V: 214 Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship (tr. Carlyle), IV: 241, 250 Wilkes, John, IV: 61, 185 Wilkes, Thomas, II: 351, 363 Wilkie, David, IV: 37 Wilkins, George, I: 321 Wilkinson, Martin, Supp. IV: 168 “Will, The” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 91 Will Drew and Phil Crewe and Frank Fane . . . (Swinburne), V: 333 “Will o’ the Mill” (Stevenson), V: 395 “Will of the Dying Ass, The” (tr. Symonds), Supp. XIV: 253 Will Warburton (Gissing), V: 435, 437 “Will Ye No’ Come Back Again?” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 Willey, Basil, II: 145, 157; Supp. II: 103, 107, 108 “William and Mary” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 218, 219 William B. Yeats: The Poet in Contemporary Ireland (Hone), VI: 223 William Blake (Chesterton), VI: 344 William Blake (Swinburne), V: 313, 314, 317, 329–330, 332 William Cobbett (Chesterton), VI: 341, 345 “William Cobbett: In Absentia” (Hill), Supp. V: 183 “William Congreve” (Swinburne), V: 332 William Dunbar, Selected Poems (Dunbar), VIII: 119 William Morris (Bloomfield), V: 306 William Morris, Artist, Writer, Socialist (Morris), V: 301, 305 “William Morris as I Knew Him” (Shaw), VI: 129 William Pitt . . . an Excellent New Ballad . . . (Boswell), III: 248 William Posters trilogy (Sillitoe), Supp. V: 410, 413, 421–424 “William Tennissippi” (Morgan, E.), Supp. IX: 161 William Wetmore Story and His Friends (James), VI: 67 “William Wordsworth” (De Quincey), IV: 146 William Wordsworth: A Biography (Moorman), IV: 4, 25 Williams, Basil, VI: 234 Williams, Charles Walter Stansby, Supp. IX: 271–286 Williams, H., III: 15n, 35 Williams, Hugo, Supp. IV: 168 Williams, Iolo, VII: 37 Williams, Raymond, Supp. IV: 95, 380 Williams, William Carlos, Supp. IV: 257, 263 Williams Manuscript and the Temple, The (Charles), Retro. Supp. II: 174 Willis, W., III: 199n “Willowwood”sonnets (Rossetti), V: 243, 259

WILL−WITH Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (film), Supp. IV: 203 Wilmot, John, see Rochester, earl of Wilson, A. N., see Wilson, Angus Wilson, Angus, V: 43, 72; VI: 165; Supp. I: 153–168; Supp. II: 92; Supp. IV: 229, 231, 234, 346; Supp. VI: 297– 310 Wilson, Colin, III: 341 Wilson, Dover, see Wilson, J. Dover Wilson, Edmund, IV: 27; V: 66, 69, 72; VI: 56, 62, 363; VII: 53; Supp. II: 57, 118, 124, 200, 204, 223; Supp. III: 95, 101, 105 Wilson, F. A. C., VI: 208, 220 Wilson, F. P., I: 286 Wilson, J. Dover, I: 326; III: 116n; V: 287, 290 Wilson, J. H., II: 257, 271 Wilson, John, IV: 11 Wilson, Rae, IV: 262 Wimsatt, M. K., Jr., III: 249 Winckelman, Johann, V: 341, 343, 344 “Winckelmann” (Pater), V: 341, 343, 344 Wind, Edgar, I: 237; V: 317n “Wind” (Hughes), Supp. I: 343–344 Wind Among the Reeds, The (Yeats), VI: 211, 222 Wind from Nowhere, The (Ballard), Supp. V: 22 “Windfalls” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 110– 111 “Windfarming” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 “Windhover, The” (Hopkins), V: 366, 367; Retro. Supp. II: 190, 191, 195– 196 Winding Paths: Photographs by Bruce Chatwin (Chatwin, B.), Supp. IX: 62 Winding Stair, The (Yeats), Supp. II: 84– 85; Retro. Supp. I: 336–337 Winding Stair, The: Francis Bacon, His Rise and Fall (du Maurier), Supp. III: 139 Windom’s Way (Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Window, (periodical), Supp. XIII: 191 “Window, The” (Moore), VI: 93 Window in Thrums, A (Barrie), V: 392; Supp. III: 3 Windows (Galsworthy), VI: 269 “Windows, The” (Herbert), Retro. Supp. II: 176 Windows of Night (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 274 “Wind’s on the World, The” (Morris), V: 305 “Windscale” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 218 Windsor Forest (Pope), III: 70, 77; Retro. Supp. I: 231 Wine, A Poem (Gay), III: 67 “Wine and Venus” (tr. Symonds), Supp. XIV: 253 Wine–Dark Sea, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 258–259 “Wine Fed Tree, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 Wine, Water and Song (Chesterton), VI: 340 Wine, Women, and Song: Mediaeval Latin Students’ Songs (tr. Symonds), Supp. XIV: 253

“Wingless” (Kincaid), Supp. VII: 220, 221, 226 “Wings of a Dove” (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 44 Wings of the Dove, The (James), VI: 32, 55, 59–60, 320; Supp. IV: 243 “Winkie” (Dunn), Supp. X: 77 Winkworth, Catherine, V: 149 Winnie–the–Pooh (Milne), Supp. V: 295, 303–307 “Winning of Etain, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 “Winnowers, The” (Bridges), VI: 78 Winslow Boy, The (Rattigan), Supp. VII: 307, 313–315 “Winter” (Blake), Retro. Supp. I: 34 “Winter” (Brontë), V: 107 “Winter” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “Winter” (Thomas), Supp. XII: 290 Winter (Thomson), Supp. III: 411, 412– 413, 417, 418 Winter Apology (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 22–23 “Winter Field” (Coppard), VIII: 98 Winter Fuel (Millais), V: 379 Winter Garden (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 22–23, 24 Winter House and Other Poems, The (Cameron), Supp. IX: 17, 22–25 “Winter in Camp” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70 “Winter in England” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70 “Winter in July” (Lessing), Supp. I: 240 Winter in the Air (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Winter Landscape near Ely, A” (Davie), Supp. VI: 110 “Winter, My Secret” (Rossetti), V: 256 “Winter Night” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 72 Winter Pilgrimage, A (Haggard), Supp. III: 214 Winter Pollen: Occasional Prose (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 202 Winter Quarters (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 221–222, 223 Winter Tales (Brown), Supp. VI: 68–70 “Winter with the Gulf Stream” (Hopkins), V: 361, 381 Winter Words, in Various Moods and Metres (Hardy), VI: 20 Winter Work (Fallon), Supp. XII: 106– 108, 109, 114 “Winter Work” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 106 Wintering Out (Heaney), Supp. II: 268, 272–273; Retro. Supp. I: 125, 128 Winters, Yvor, VI: 219; Supp. IV: 256– 257, 261; Retro. Supp. I: 335 “Winters and the Palmleys, The” (Hardy), VI: 22 “Winter’s Tale, A” (Thomas), Supp. I: 177, 178 Winter’s Tale, The (Chaucer), I: 25 Winter’s Tale, The (Shakespeare), I: 166n, 302, 322–323, 327 “Winter’s Talents” (Davie), Supp. VI: 112 “Winter–Saturday” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 70–71

469

Winterslow: Essays and Characters Written There (Hazlitt), IV: 140 Winterson, Jeanette, Supp. IV: 541–559 Winterwood and Other Hauntings (Roberts, K.), Supp. X: 273 “Wintry Manifesto, A” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 313 “Wires” (Larkin), Supp. I: 278, 285 “Wisdom Literature“, Retro. Supp. II: 304 Wisdom of Father Brown, The (Chesterton), VI: 338 “Wisdom of Gautama, The” (Caudwell), Supp. IX: 33 Wisdom of Solomon Paraphrased, The (Middleton), II: 2 Wisdom of the Ancients (Bacon), see De sapientia veterum Wise, T. J., V: 150, 151 Wise Children (Carter), Supp. III: 90–91 Wise Virgins (Wilson), Supp. VI: 297, 301, 303 Wise Wound, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 230, 233 “Wish, The” (Cowley), II: 195, 198 “Wish, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 206, 221 “Wish House, The” (Kipling), VI: 169, 193, 196, 197–199 Wish I Was Here (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 107, 109, 110 “Wish in Spring” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 “Wishes to His (Supposed), Mistresse” (Crashaw), II: 180 Wit at Several Weapons, II: 21, 66 Wit Without Money (Fletcher), II: 66 Witch, The (Middleton), II: 3, 21; IV: 79 Witch, The (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 276–277 Witch Hunt (Rankin), Supp. X: 245, 252 “Witch of Atlas, The” (Shelley), IV: 196, 204 Witch of Edmonton, The (Dekker, Ford, Rowley), II: 89, 100 “Witch of Fife, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 106–108 Witchcraft (Williams, C. W. S.), Supp. IX: 284 Witches, The (Dahl), Supp. IV: 204, 213, 215, 225–226 Witches, The (film), Supp. IV: 203 “Witches’ Corner, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 108–109 “Witches of Traquair, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 110 Witch’s Head, The (Haggard), Supp. III: 213 “With Alan to the Fair” (Upward), Supp. XIII: 261 With My Little Eye (Fuller), Supp. VII: 70–71 “With my Sons at Boarhills” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 260 “With Your Tongue Down My Throat” (Kureishi), Supp. XI: 158 Wither, George, IV: 81 “Withered Arm, The” (Hardy), VI: 22; Retro. Supp. I: 116 Within the Gates (O’Casey), VII: 7 Within the Tides: Tales (Conrad), VI: 148

WITH−WORD “Without Benefit of Clergy” (Kipling), VI: 180–183 “Without Eyes” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 “Without the Option” (Wodehouse), Supp. III: 456 Witlings, The (Burney), Supp. III: 64, 71, 72, 75 “Witness, The” (Lessing), Supp. I: 244 Witness for the Prosecution (Christie), Supp. II: 125, 134 Wit’s Treasury (Meres), I: 296 Wittig, Monique, Supp. IV: 558 Wives and Daughters (Gaskell), V: xxiii, 1–4, 8, 11–13, 14, 15 Wizard of Oz, The (Baum), Supp. IV: 450 Wizard of Oz, The (film), Supp. IV: 434, 443, 448, 450, 455 Wizard of Oz, The (Rushdie), Supp. IV: 434 Wodehouse, P. G., Supp. III: 447–464 Wodwo (Hughes), Supp. I: 343, 346, 348–350, 363; Retro. Supp. II: 205– 206 Woefully Arrayed (Skelton), I: 84 Wog (Carey), Supp. XII: 52 Wolf and the Lamb, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 141 Wolf and the Wether, The (Henryson), Supp. VII: 136, 140–141 Wolf, Friedrich, IV: 316–317 Wolf, Lucien, IV: 293 Wolf Leader, The (Dumas pére), III: 339 Wolf that gat the Nekhering throw the wrinkis of the Foxe that begylit the Cadgear, The (Henryson), see Fox, the Wolf, and the Cadger, The Wolfe, Tom, Supp. IV: 454 Wolff, S. L., I: 164 “Wolfhound, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 323 Wolfman (Rankin), Supp. X: 244, 246, 248, 250 Wolfwatching (Hughes), Retro. Supp. II: 214 Wollstonecraft, Mary, Supp. III: 465– 482; Retro. Supp. I: 39 Wolves and the Lamb, The (Thackeray), V: 35 Woman (periodical), VI: 249; Supp. XIII: 135 Woman, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434, 435 “Woman: And Her Place in a Free Society” (Carpenter), Supp. XIII: 41 “Woman, The Place, The Poet, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 35 Woman and Labour (Schreiner), Supp. II: 444, 454–456 “Woman at the Shore, The” (Mansfield), VII: 173 Woman Beware Woman 231, 233–234, 235–236 Woman–Captain, The (Shadwell), II: 359 Woman Hater, The (Beaumont and Fletcher), II: 46, 65 Woman–Hater, The (Burney), Supp. III: 64 Woman in Black, The (Hill), Supp. XIV: 116, 118, 124–125, 126

“Woman in His Life, The” (Kipling), VI: 193 “Women in Jerusalem” (Jamie), Supp. XIV: 129 Woman in Mind (Ayckbourn), Supp. V: 3, 6–7, 10, 11, 13, 15 Woman in the Moon, The (Lyly), I: 204– 205 Woman in White, The (Collins), III: 340, 345; Supp. VI: 91–94, 95–97, 100, 102–103 Woman Killed With Kindness, A (Heywood), II: 19 Woman of No Importance, A (Bennett), VIII: 27 Woman of No Importance, A (Wilde), V: xxvi, 414, 419; Retro. Supp. II: 369 “Woman of No Standing, A” (Behan), Supp. II: 66 “Woman of the House, The” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 318–319 Woman of the Inner Sea (Keneally), Supp. IV: 347, 348, 358–360 “Woman of Three Cows, The” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 126–127 “Woman out of a Dream, A” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 Woman Pleased (Fletcher), II: 45, 65 “Woman! When I behold thee flippant, vain” (Keats), Retro. Supp. I: 188– 189 “Woman Who Rode Away, The” (Lawrence), VII: 87–88, 91, 115 Woman Who Walked into Doors, The (Doyle), Supp. V: 78, 88, 91–92 “Woman with a Knife and Fork Disorder, The” (Kay), Supp. XIII: 102, 110 Womanhood, Wanton, Ye Want (Skelton), I: 83 “Womans constancy” (Donne), Retro. Supp. II: 89 “Woman’s History, A” (Davies), Supp. XI: 99 “Woman’s Last Word, A” (Browning), IV: 367; Retro. Supp. II: 24 Woman’s Prize, The; or, The Tamer Tamed (Fletcher), II: 43, 45, 65 “Woman’s Song” (Warner), Supp. VII: 373 Woman’s World (periodical), V: 404 Womb of Space: The Cross–Cultural Imagination (Harris), Supp. V: 140, 146 “Women, The” (Boland), Supp. V: 50–51 “Women” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 218 “Women, The” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 254 Women at Oxford: A Fragment of History, The (Brittain), Supp. X: 47 “Women at Geneva” (Brittain), Supp. X: 37 Women: Or, Pour et Contre (Maturin), VIII: 207 Women Beware Women (Middleton), II: 1, 3, 8, 10–14, 19 Women Fly When Men Aren’t Watching (Maitland), Supp. XI: 170, 174, 175, 176 Women in Love (Lawrence), IV: 119; VI: 276; VII: 87–88, 89, 91, 98, 101–104;

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Retro. Supp. II: 228–229 Women’s Work in Modern England (Brittain), Supp. X: 39 “Wonder” (Traherne), II: 191; Supp. XI: 266 Wonder of Women, The; or, The Tragedie of Sophonisba (Marston), II: 25, 30– 31, 40, 305 Wonder Stories (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 281 “Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, The” (Dahl), Supp. IV: 223 Wonderful Tennessee (Friel), Supp. V: 126–127 Wonderful Visit, The (Wells), VI: 226, 228, 230, 243 Wonderful Story of Aladdin and the Enchanted Lamp, The (Pullman), Supp. XIII: 152 Wondrous Tale of Alroy, The (Disraeli), see Alroy Wood, Anthony à, II: 185 Wood Beyond, The (Hill, R.), Supp. IX: 121 Wood Beyond the World, The (Morris), V: 306 “Wood Fire, The” (Hardy), Retro. Supp. I: 121 “Wooden Chair with Arms” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 Woodhouse, Richard, IV: 230, 232, 233 Woodlanders, The (Hardy), VI: 1, 5, 7, 8, 9; Retro. Supp. I: 115 “Woodlands, 7 Kilnwell Road, Market Rasen” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 224 Woodman, Thomas, Supp. IV: 364 Woods, Helen Emily, see Kavan, Anna “Woods of Westermain, The” (Meredith), V: 221 “Woodsman” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 “Woodspurge, The” (Rossetti), V: 241, 242, 314–315 Woodstock (Scott), IV: xviii, 27, 39 Woodward, Benjamin, V: 178 Woolf, Leonard, VI: 415; VII: 17 Woolf, Virginia, I: 169; IV: 107, 320, 322; V: xxv, 226, 256, 260, 281, 290; VI: 243, 252, 275, 411; VII: xii, xiv– xv, 17–39; Supp. II: 341–342, 487, 501–502; Supp. III: 19, 41–42, 45, 49, 60, 103, 107, 108; Supp. IV: 231, 233, 246, 399, 407, 461, 542, 558; Supp. V: 36, 63; Retro. Supp. I: 59, 305–323 “Wool–Gatherer, The” (Hogg), Supp. X: 111 Woolley, Hannah, Supp. III: 21 Woolley, Leonard, Supp. II: 284 “Word, The” (Hart), Supp. XI: 132 “Word, The” (E. Thomas), Supp. III: 406 “Word, The” (R.S. Thomas), Supp. XII: 290, 291 Word Child, A (Murdoch), Supp. I: 228 Word for the Navy, A (Swinburne), V: 332 Word over All (Day Lewis), Supp. III: 118, 128 Word–Links (Carroll), V: 274 “Words” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 267 Words and Music (Beckett), Supp. I: 53, 60

WORD−WRIT Words and Music (Coward), Supp. II: 152 “Words for Jazz Perhaps” (Longley), VIII: 167 Words of Advice (Weldon), Supp. IV: 536–537 Words upon the Window Pane, The (Yeats), VI: 219, 222 Wordsworth, Dorothy, II: 273; IV: 1–4, 10, 19, 49, 128, 143, 146 Wordsworth, William, II: 188–189; III: 174; IV: viii–xi, 1–26, 33, 70, 73, 95– 96, 111, 137, 178, 214, 215, 281, 311, 351, 352; V: 287, 311, 331, 351–352; VI: 1; and Coleridge, IV: 43–45, 50, 51, 54; Retro. Supp. II: 62, 63–64; and DeQuincey, IV: 141–143, 146, 154; and Hazlitt, IV: 126–130, 133– 134, 137, 138; and Keats, IV: 214, 215, 225, 233; and Shelley, IV: 198, 203, 207; and Tennyson, IV: 326, 329, 336; literary style, III: 304, 338; IV: 95–96, 154, 336; verse forms, II: 200; V: 224; Supp. II: 269; Supp. IV: 230, 252, 558 “Wordsworth” (Pater), V: 351–352 “Wordsworth and Byron” (Swinburne), V: 332 “Wordsworth’s Ethics” (Stephen), V: 287 “Work” (Lamb), IV: 83 Work in Hand (Cameron), Supp. IX: 26–27 Work in Progress (Cameron), Supp. IX: 17 Work in Progress (Lowry), Supp. III: 280 Work in Progress (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 231 Work in Regress (Reading), VIII: 273 “Work of Art, A” (Warner), Supp. VII: 380 “Work of Art In the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, The” (Symons), Supp. XIV: 278–279 “Work of My Own, A” (Winterson), Supp. IV: 558 “Work of Water, The” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235 Work Suspended (Waugh), VII: 298–299 Work, Wealth and Happiness of Mankind, The (Wells), VI: 225 “Work without Hope” (Coleridge), Retro. Supp. II: 65 Workers in the Dawn (Gissing), V: 424, 435, 437 Workes of Edmund Waller in This Parliament, The (Waller), II: 238 “Workhouse Clock, The,” (Hood), IV: 261, 264 Workhouse Donkey, The (Arden), Supp. II: 28, 30 Workhouse Ward, The (Gregory), VI: 315, 316 Working Legs: A Two–Act Play for Disabled Performers (Gray, A.), Supp. IX: 89–90 Working Novelist, The (Pritchett), VI: 290 Working of Water, The (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 235–236

Working with Structuralism: Essays and Reviews on Nineteenth– and Twentieth–Century Literature (Lodge), Supp. IV: 365, 377 “Workmen” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 81 Works (Congreve), II: 348 Works (Cowley), II: 195 Works (Swift), III: 24 Works of Art and Artists in England (Waagen), III: 328 Works of Charles Lamb, The, IV: 73, 81, 85 Works of Henry Fielding, The (ed. Stephen), V: 290 Works of Henry Vaughan, The (Martin), II: 184 Works of Max Beerbohm, The (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 45, 46, 47 Works of Morris and Yeats in Relation to Early Saga Literature, The (Hoare), V: 299, 306 Works of Ossian (Macpherson), VIII: 189, 192 Works of Samuel Johnson, The, III: 108n, 121 Works of Sir John Vanbrugh, The (ed. Dobrée and Webb), II: 323n Works of Sir Thomas Malory, The (ed. Vinavier), I: 70, 80 Works of the English Poets (Johnson), Retro. Supp. I: 143 Works of Thomas Lodge, The (Tyler), VI: 102 Works of Virgil, The (tr. Dryden), II: 304 Works of William Blake, The (ed. Yeats), VI: 222 World (periodical), VI: 103, 104 “World, The” (Vaughan), II: 185, 186, 188 World Authors: 1970–1975 (ed. Wakeman), Supp. XI: 246, 248, 249, 253 World Bank: A Prospect, The (Morris, J.), Supp. X: 175 World Crisis, The (Churchill), VI: 353– 354 World I Breathe, The (Thomas), Supp. I: 176, 180–181 World in the Evening, The (Isherwood), VII: 309, 314–315 World Is Not Enough, The (Fleming), Supp. XIV: 95 World of Charles Dickens, The (Wilson), Supp. I: 166 World of Difference, A (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 193–194 “World of Light, A” (Jennings), Supp. V: 210 World of Light, A (Sarton), Supp. II: 82 World of Light, The (Huxley), VII: 201 World of Love, A (Bowen), Supp. II: 77, 79, 81, 84, 94 World of Paul Slickey, The (Osborne), Supp. I: 333–334 World of Strangers, A (Gordimer), Supp. II: 227, 231, 232, 236, 243 “World of Women, The” (Fallon), Supp. XII: 111 World Set Free, The: A Story of Mankind (Wells), VI: 227, 244

471

“World with One Eye Shut, The” (Crace), Supp. XIV: 21 World Within World (Spender), Supp. II: 482, 483, 484, 485, 486, 487, 488, 490 Worldliness (Moore), VI: 95, 98 Worlds, The (Bond), Supp. I: 423, 434 World’s Desire, The (Haggard and Lang), Supp. III: 213, 222 “World’s End, The” (Empson), Supp. II: 182 World’s Room, The (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 192 “Worlds That Flourish” (Okri), Supp. V: 356 “Worlds to Barter” (Wyndham), Supp. XIII: 281–282 Worm and the Ring, The (Burgess), Supp. I: 186, 187, 188, 189 Worm of Spindlestonheugh, The (Swinburne), V: 333 Wormwood (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262–263 “Wormwood” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 262 Worst Fears (Weldon), Supp. IV: 538 “Worst of It, The” (Browning), IV: 369 “Worstward Ho” (Beckett), Supp. I: 62; Retro. Supp. I: 29–30 Worthies of England (Fuller), II: 45 Worthies of Westminster (Fuller), Retro. Supp. I: 152 Wotton, Sir Henry, II: 132, 133, 134, 138, 140, 141, 142, 166 Wotton, William, III: 23 Wotton Reinfred (Carlyle), IV: 250 Woty, W., III: 170n “Wound, The” (Gunn), Supp. IV: 259 “Wound, The” (Hughes), Supp. I: 348 Wound in My Heart, The (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 222 “Wounds” (Longley), VIII: 171 “Wowing of the King quhen he wes in Dumfermeling, The” (Dunbar), VIII: 118 “Wreath for Tom Moore’s Statue” (Kavanagh), Supp. VII: 193 “Wreaths” (Hill), Supp. V: 186 “Wreaths” (Longley), VIII: 173 “Wreck” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 186 Wreck of the Archangel, The (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 “Wreck of the Deutschland, The” (Hopkins), V: 361, 362, 363–366, 367, 369, 370, 375, 379, 380, 381; Retro. Supp. II: 189, 191–194 “Wreck of the Deutschland, The“: A New Reading (Schneider), V: 366, 382 Wreck of the Mary Deare, The (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Wrecked Eggs (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 293 Wrecker, The (Stevenson), V: 383, 387, 396 Wrens, The (Gregory), VI: 315–316 “Wrestling” (Rossetti), V: 260 Wretched of the Earth, The (Fanon), see Les Damnés de la terre Wright, William Aldis, IV: 343, 353 Write On: Occasional Essays, ’65–’85 (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366 Writer and the Absolute, The (Lewis), VII: xv, 71, 72, 73–74, 76

WRIT−YOUN Writer in Disguise, The (Bennett), VIII: 27 Writers and Their Work series, VII: xi, xxii Writer’s Britain: Landscape in Literature, A (ed. Drabble), Supp. IV: 230, 252 Writer’s Diary, A (Woolf), V: 226 “Writer’s Friends, A” (Stead), Supp. IV: 461, 466 Writers in Politics (Ngu˜gı˜), VIII: 224 Writer’s Ireland: Landscape in Literature, A (Trevor), Supp. IV: 514 Writer’s Notebook, A (Maugham), VI: 365, 366 “Writers Take Sides, The” (Stead), Supp. IV: 463, 466 “Writing” (Auden), Retro. Supp. I: 13 “Writing” (Motion), Supp. VII: 256 “Writing as a Woman” (Stevenson), Supp. VI: 257 Writing Game: A Comedy, The (Lodge), Supp. IV: 366, 381 Writing in a State of Seige (Brink), Supp. VI: 47, 49 Writing Left–Handed (Hare), Supp. IV: 282, 283 “Writing the Poem” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 220, 223, 225 “Written After the Death of Charles Lamb” (Wordsworth), IV: 73 “Written in My Lady Speke’s Singing Book” (Waller), II: 234 Written on the Body (Winterson), Supp. IV: 542, 547, 549–551, 552, 553, 555, 557 “Wrong” (Burnside), Supp. XIII: 21–22 Wrong About Japan: A Father’s Journey with His Son (Carey), Supp. XII: 54 Wrong Box, The (Stevenson and Osbourne), V: 387, 396 “Wrong Name, The” (Powys), VIII: 251 Wulf and Eadwacer, Retro. Supp. II: 305 Wulfstan, Archbishop, Retro. Supp. II: 298 Wurzel–Flummery (Milne), Supp. V: 298–299 Wuthering Heights (Brontë), III: 333, 338, 344, 345; V: xx, 113, 114, 127, 128, 131, 133–135, 140, 141–145, 254; Supp. III: 144, 145; Supp. IV: 231, 452, 462, 513; Retro. Supp. I: 50, 52, 53, 54, 57–58 Wyatt, Sir Thomas, I: 97–112, 113, 115 “Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest” (Surrey), I: 115 Wycherley, William, II: 307–322, 343, 352, 360 Wycliffe, John, I: 375 Wyllard’s Weird (Braddon), VIII: 49 Wymer, T. L., V: 324, 335 “Wyncote, Pennsylvania: A Gloss” (Kinsella), Supp. V: 274 Wyndham, Francis, Supp. IV: 159, 161, 304 Wyndham, John, Supp. V: 22; Supp. XIII: 281–294 Wyndham Lewis: A Memoir (Eliot), VII: 77 Wyndham Lewis: His Theory of Art and Communication (McLuhan), VII: 71n

Xanadu (Armitage), VIII: 1 “Xerox” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 “XL. A Lake” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29 Xorandor (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 100, 111 X/Self (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 33, 41– 42, 46 XVI Revelations of Divine Love, Shewed to a Devout Servant of Our Lord, Called Mother Juliana, an Anchorete of Norwich: Who Lived in the Dayes of King Edward the Third (Julian of Norwich), Supp. XII: 155 XX Poems (Larkin), Supp. I: 277 “XXII. Life a Glass Window” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29 “XXXVIII. Rain” (Beddoes), Supp. XI: 29

“Yaddo Letter, The” (Mahon), Supp. VI: 176 Yan Tan Tethera (Harrison), Supp. V: 150, 164 Yangtse Incident (film, Ambler), Supp. IV: 3 Yangtze Valley and Beyond, The (Bird), Supp. X: 31 Yard of Sun, A (Fry), Supp. III: 191, 194, 195, 204–205 “Yardley Oak” (Cowper), III: 218 “Yarrow” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 429–432 Yarrow Revisited, and Other Poems (Wordsworth), IV: 25 Yates, Edmund, V: 20 Yates, Frances M., I: 237 “Ye happy youths, whose hearts are free” (Etherege), II: 267 Yealland, Lewis, Supp. IV: 58–59 Year of the Whale, The (Brown), Supp. VI: 71 Year In, Year Out (Milne), Supp. V: 309, 310–311 “Year of the Foxes, The” (Malouf), Supp. XII: 219 “Year of the Sloes, For Ishi, The” (Muldoon), Supp. IV: 414 Year to Remember: A Reminiscence of 1931, A (Waugh), Supp. VI: 273 Years, The (Woolf), VII: 18, 22, 24, 27, 28, 36, 38; Retro. Supp. I: 308 Year’s Afternoon, The (Dunn), Supp. X: 81–83 Years Between, The (Kipling), VI: 204 “Years Later” (Murphy), Supp. V: 313, 320 Years of the Young Rebels, The (Spender), Supp. II: 493 “Years On” (Wallace–Crabbe), VIII: 323 Yeast (Kingsley), V: 4 “Yeats, Berkeley, and Romanticism” (Davie), Supp. VI: 107 Yeats, William Butler, II: 78; III: 21, 36, 184; IV: 196, 216, 323, 329; V: xxiii, xxv, xxvi, 301, 304, 306, 311, 318, 329–330, 355, 356, 404; VI: ix, xiii– xiv, 55–56, 86, 88, 207–224, 307, 308, 309, 314; VII: 1, 3, 42, 404; Supp. II: 84–85, 275, 332, 487; Supp. III: 102, 121, 124; Supp. IV: 257, 409,

472

412, 413, 414, 419, 423–424, 480; Supp. V: 36, 39; Retro. Supp. I: 170– 171, 290, 325–339 “Yeats in Civil War” (Boland), Supp. V: 36 Yellow Admiral, The (O’Brian), Supp. XII: 259 Yellow Book (periodical), VI: 248, 365 Yellow Book, The (Mahon), Supp. VI: 176, 177 “Yellow Girl, The” (Sitwell), VII: 138 “Yellow Pages” (Raine), Supp. XIII: 164 “Yellow Streak, The” (Maugham), VI: 371 Yellow Wallpaper, The (du Maurier), Supp. III: 147 Yellowplush Correspondence, The (Thackeray), V: 21, 22, 37 “Yellowskin” (Powys), VIII: 251 Yes and No (Greene), Supp. I: 2 “Yesterday Afternoon, O’erpowered” (Mangan), Supp. XIII: 120 Yglesias, Jose, Supp. IV: 460 Yogi and the Commissar, The (Koestler), Supp. I: 26–27, 35 “Yoka Nikki: An Eight–Day Diary” (Plomer), Supp. XI: 216 Yokohama Garland (Coppard), VIII: 98 “Yongy–Bonghy–Bo” (Lear), V: 84–86 Yorkshire Tragedy, The, II: 3, 21 “You” (Armitage), VIII: 8 “You and Me and the Continuum” (Ballard), Supp. V: 21 “You Lived in Glasgow” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 You Make Your Own Life (Pritchett), Supp. III: 313, 316, 317 You Never Can Tell (Coward), Supp. II: 141 You Never Can Tell (Shaw), VI: 109, 111–112; Retro. Supp. II: 314–315 You Never Know, Do You? (Coppard), VIII: 89 You Only Live Twice (Fleming), Supp. IV: 212–213; Supp. XIV: 96 You Only Live Twice (screenplay, Dahl), Supp. IV: 212–213 “You praise the firm restraint with which they write” (Campbell), IV: 320 “You that in love find luck and abundance” (Wyatt), I: 104 “You Told Me Once” (Smith, I. C.), Supp. IX: 216 “You Went Away” (MacCaig), Supp. VI: 185 Young Adolph (Bainbridge), Supp. VI: 18, 21–22, 24 “Young Blades” (Ewart), Supp. VII: 38 “Young Dragon, The” (Southey), IV: 67 Young Duke, The (Disraeli), IV: 293, 295–296, 308 Young, Edward, III: 302, 307, 336; Retro. Supp. I: 43 Young George du Maurier, The: A Selection of His Letters, 1860–1867 (du Maurier), Supp. III: 135–136 Young, G. M., IV: 277, 290, 291, 295; V: 228, 262 Young Emma (Davies), Supp. XI: 89, 91–92

YOUN−ZWEI “Young Him” (Nicholson), Supp. VI: 216 “Young Ghost” (Scupham), Supp. XIII: 226, 227 “Young Huntsman with Falcon” (Conn), Supp. XIII: 80 Young Idea, The (Coward), Supp. II: 141 Young, Kenneth, IV: xii, xxv; VI: xi–xii, xiii, xxxiv; VII: xviii, xxxix “Young King, The” (Wilde), V: 406 Young Lady, The (Haywood), Supp. XII: 136, 142 “Young Love Lies Sleeping” (Rossetti), V: 249 “Young Parson Richards” (Shelley), IV: 209 Young Pobble’s Guide to His Toes, The (Ewart), Supp. VII: 45 Young, Richard B., I: 170 Young Samuel Johnson (Cifford), III: 244n “Young Soldier with Bloody Spurs, The” (Lawrence), VII: 118 Young Visitors, The (Ashford), V: 111, 262 “Young Woman Visitor, The” (Murray), Supp. VII: 280

“Young Women in Rollers” (Dunn), Supp. X: 69 “Young Women with the Hair of Witches” (Redgrove), Supp. VI: 232–233, 236 Younger Edda, See Snorra Edda Your Five Gallants (Middleton), II: 3, 21 “Your Philosophies Trouble Me” (Paton), Supp. II: 360 Your Shadow (Hart), Supp. XI: 122, 125– 128 “Your Shadow’s Songs” (Hart), Supp. XI: 126 Youth (Conrad), VI: 135, 137; Retro. Supp. II: 73 Youth (Rosenberg), VI: 432 “Youth” (Tennyson), IV: 329 “Youth and Art” (Browning), IV: 369 Youth and the Peregrines (Fry), Supp. III: 193, 194 “Youth in Memory” (Meredith), V: 222, 234 “Youth of Man, The” (Arnold), V: 210 “Youth of Nature, The” (Arnold), V: 210 “Youth Revisited” (Fuller), Supp. VII: 73

473

Zaillian, Steven, Supp. IV: 346 Zapolya (Coleridge), IV: 56 Zastrozzi: A Romance (Shelley), III: 338; IV: 208 ZBC of Ezra Pound, A (Brooke–Rose), Supp. IV: 99, 114–115 Zea Mexican Diary, 7 Sept. 1926–7 Sept. 1986, The (Brathwaite), Supp. XII: 36 Zeal of Thy House, The (Sayers), Supp. III: 335–336, 348–349 Zee & Company (O’Brien), Supp. V: 334 “Zero” (Crawford), Supp. XI: 77 Zhdanov, Andrei, Supp. IV: 82 “Zoetrope” (Carson), Supp. XIII: 63 Zola, Émile, V: xxiv–xxvi, 286; VI: viii; Supp. IV: 136, 249 Zoo (MacNeice), VII: 403 Zoo Story, The (Albee), Supp. IV: 435 Zoom! (Armitage), VIII: 1, 2–4 Zuleika Dobson; or, An Oxford Love Story (Beerbohm), Supp. II: 43, 56–59 Zweig, Paul, Supp. IV: 356

BRITISH WRITERS, Supplement XIV

British Writers Supplement II

British Writers: Supplement 12

British Writers: Supplement XVI

British Writers: Supplement V

British Writers: Supplement 10

BRITISH WRITERS, Supplement XV

British Writers: Supplement VIII

British Writers: Supplement VI

British Writers: Supplement 9

British Writers: Supplement 11