Rilke was a sort of personal secretary to sculptor Auguste "The Thinker" Rodin before becoming one of the 20th century's best known poets (Duino Elegies; Sonnets to Orpheus). But his 10 letters to a struggling young poet, written in response to the latter's requests for advice on poetry and life, have always been among my favorite pieces of writing. And I just realized that Letters to a Young Poet is online. Cool.
I think Rilke would like Ashberry's line about the view being distant and severe:
Of course, you must know that every letter of yours will always give me pleasure, and you must be indulgent with the answer, which will perhaps often leave you empty-handed; for ultimately, and precisely in the deepest and most important matters, we are unspeakably alone; and many things must happen, many things must go right, a whole constellation of events must be fulfilled, for one human being to successfully advise or help another.Among other things, perhaps more interesting, I am moved to say that here is a man who can use a semicolon. The knight of faith! Le Roi de Coeur!
[By the way, whoever put "Letters to a Young Poet" online can't be all bad - and they are doing this bicycle ride fund-raiser next May.]
4 comments:
I fell madly in love with Rilke in high school. Of course, I obsessed over the question: if I were at a bar with Rilke on one side, and Nabokov on the other, which one I would go home with? This is the kind of thing that I spent my time mulling over, which probably helps explain my complete lack of popularity in high school.
I rather like letters. Or, I like SOME letters. Not when they ramble, but when they are written the same care and discipline that characterizes the best prose and poetry.
Simone de Beauvoir's Letters to Sartre are more... EARTHY.
And I find it utterly amusing that she signed her letters to her lover, "Your charming beaver."
I will trust you on the earthiness, even though Sartre at least must have been more other-worldy than earthy. I think his hit book was "Being and Nothingness."
Re the bar choice, I hope your imagination chose Nabokov. I don't think you would've gotten too far with Rilke - or certainly Cavafy. Maybe with a butch cut.
Yes. I was 15 at the time of these fantasies. And I was aware that being 15 but looking like I was a 12 year old girl (and also like a feminine, prepubescent boy), I would probably have stood well with both.
But frankly, Nabokov was hotter. At least in the picture of him that I had framed and sitting next to my bed.
Post a Comment