pickBook #16 of 2024: “The Celtic Twilight” by WB Yeats
This had a few poems but was mostly stories about the Sidhe collected from Irish people across the country. I‘ll come back to it again later when I have time to do some more research into the people, places, and legends referenced. And, maybe, take a trip to all the places Yeats identifies as doors to the dim world.
pickI enjoyed reading the accounts that Yeats has collected from his fellow irishmen. I have always been fascinated by the far and reading these accounts was enlightening.
Planning to start this today:) it‘s a lovely cold and wet day, just perfect for reading and drinking hot tea and coffee.
My sister reminded us (7 siblings) of this poem written in response to WWI by William Butler Yeats, which we all were required to memorize in 8th grade. She can still recite it; I cannot.
My dad recited poetry to us, this was one among hundreds of his recitations. #WBY #Yeats #thesecondcoming #slouchingtowardsbethlehem Joan Didion used this line as a title to a book of her essays.
Yeats universal poem is relevant in today‘s world.
pickOne more section (18: Politics and Polemics) and I‘ve finished this behemoth of Irish poetry!
Highly recommend for people interested in Irish emancipation and mythology, classical mythology, and European modernism. The scholarship in the notes is unbelievably detailed.
While some of Yeats‘ cult and mysticism practices are undeniably questionable, it‘s been rewarding to read his work so deeply.
…Empty eye-balls knew
That knowledge increases unreality, that
Mirror on mirror mirrored is all the show.
from ‘The Statues‘ (p259)
(struck me as a reflection on how desensitising watching media on something like a screen can be; particularly as Yeats mentions Hamlet and is most likely referring to the skull we associate with that play)
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment and a day.
Love‘s pleasure drives his love away.
p 251, second song from his play ‘The Resurrection‘.
The rhetorician would deceive his neighbours;
The sentimentalist himself; while art
Is but a vision of reality.
What portion of the world can the artist have
Who has awakened from the common dream
But dissipation and despair?
And yet
No one denies to Keats love of the world;
Remember his deliberate happiness.
p238, from ‘Ego Dominus Tuus‘
re. ‘The Wild Old Wicked Man‘ - warts, Yeats said in a letter, were considered by the Irish peasantry to be a sign of sexual power.
Interesting…
