Just bought a copy of On Form today. It's by Angela Leighton and I am wholly absorbed by it.
How I wish I'd had this book when I was studying the 20th C Texts and Debates course! It really brings together the development of thought about how form is one of those words/concepts/vitally important things that has continued to develop and morph from Kant's time, through Pater and the 'art for art's sake' debates, through aestheticism, utilitarianism through the bankruptcy of aesthetics into the thirties, equally through modernism, postmodernism... ack - I sound like I'm ranting now and that's only Chapter One! So lucid and easy to read... why had I not this book last year when I turned to form, seriously?
More later, when I've read and digested the book and written all the poems which are crowding around me like little vampirelets begging for life force.
Ah, my muse is back! Thank the muse.
6 comments:
Thanks for the interesting and informative thoughts. My muse flits about at the moment - alighting for a moment and then taking off again .. Come back Muse!!! ('I will when you're ready to listen,' I can hear the reply!)
Hee hee - 'when you're ready to listen' - yep, that's it. Fickle things them muses...
Glad to hear you eel like writing, I hope some crackers bubble to the surface.
I'm with Kay, mine is pretty elusive at the mo - too many real life things crowding it out.
My muse is also back from her summer holiday - there are so not enough hours in the day!
Lucky you guys with any muses of any shape of form. Steven King reckons the muse is a fat guy with a cigar in a basement flat. I prefer that image to the stardusty, crepe de chine dress variety. Whichever - mine 's AWOL at the moment.
Oh mine doesn't wear crepe de chine. Mine's male, unshaven, unkempt, but smells nice and doesn't leave a mess after him: unlike reality... um, that was the muse we were talking about, weren't it...um.
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