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W. H. Auden Against No-Platforming, the Quiet Sorrow of Instagram, and the Market for Hitler’s Art

Also: Where Millennials go for jobs, the many lives of Sammy Davis Jr., and more.
Adolf_Hitler_Der_Alte_Hof

In 1945, the publisher Bennett Cerf cut Ezra Pound’s poems from An Anthology of Famous English and American Poetry, which was being prepared for the Modern Library series. His reasoning? Pound was a fascist and should not be printed: “Every time you parade the work of a man who represents such ideas, especially while he still lives, you are in a sense glorifying him, and giving tacit approval to his point of view.” W. H. Auden disagreed. He wrote Cerf that “the issue is far more serious than it appears at first sight; the relation of an author to his work is only one out of many, and once you accept the idea that one thing to which a man stands related shares in his guilt, you will presently extend it to others; begin by banning his poems not because you object to them but because you object to him, and you will end, as the nazis did, by slaughtering his wife and children.”

Before Solzhenitsyn, Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon led the way in “the intellectual discrediting of communism.” David Pryce-Jones remembers the man and the work: “The English edition of Darkness at Noon is a translation from its original German, and it was published shortly after Dunkirk. As if that wasn’t handicap enough, most of the edition was destroyed in the blitz. After the war, Calmann-Levy, most venerable of firms, brought it out in French as Zéro et l’infini, François Mauriac wrote a review and by the end of 1946 half a million copies had been sold. Cassandra all over again, Koestler was in the position of an insider privy to secrets that the Party imagined would never be exposed but which now gave him authority to go against fellow-travellers and the current Left Bank attitudinising about Stalin and communism.”

The market for Hitler’s art: “Despite the failure of five of the dictator-to-be’s watercolours to sell at auction last month, a market for his works—both real and forged—remains.”

The medieval pattern poems of Rabanus Maurus: “Accusations have long been levelled against pattern poetry as an art form. Ben Johnson dismissed it as ‘a pair of scissor and a comb in verse’, as the crude prioritisation of form over content. One cannot, however, lay this accusation against the pages of De laudibus sanctae crucis, in terms of its beauty, its devotional care, and the many woven layers of its textual and visual interplay.”

Where Millennials really go for jobs: “Contrary to media hype, tech firms and young workers aren’t flocking to ‘superstar’ cities.”

The many lives of Sammy Davis Jr.: “Imagine what it must be like to star in a Broadway musical. Then imagine you have to perform ten songs, four of them solos. How about we give you a meticulously choreographed fight for the finale? Oh, and while you’re doing eight shows a week (including two on Wednesdays and Saturdays), you’re recording albums, doing charity benefits, and, to top it off, smoking three packs of cigarettes a day. But wait, as the saying goes, there’s more: You’re collaborating with a pair of biographers on your memoirs every night into the wee small hours. This was the life of Sammy Davis Jr., beginning in the spring of 1964 when he took on the lead in a musical update of Clifford Odets’s Depression-era drama Golden Boy.

Essay of the Day:

In Spectator, Caroline McCarthy writes about the “quiet sorrow of the Instagram blogger”:

“A quick scroll through Chicago-based Kelly Larkin’s Instagram account or lifestyle blog, Kelly in the City, is enough to put anyone in a good mood. It’s a blend of bright patterns, fresh and clean interior spaces, and high-quality photos of Larkin, her husband, their toddler daughter, and Noodle the dachshund. The Larkins are aspirational yet accessible, and Kelly Larkin herself, a former journalist and public school teacher, is funny and quick-witted about life and parenting.

“So when in 2016 Larkin opened up about how difficult it had been for her to get pregnant, and when in 2018 she wrote in-depth about her repeat struggles with depression, it could easily have seemed jarring to anyone who had been following her Instagram feed of pastel gingham prints and cheery home renovations. And it followed an emotional dilemma for Larkin herself.

“‘I admittedly did feel a little dishonest,’ Larkin said in an interview. ‘Over the years, depression and infertility have played major, often all-consuming roles in my life, and blogging about pretty shoes and other frivolous things during those times made me feel inauthentic and as though I was leading a double life.’ She said, ultimately, what pushed her to write about it was advice from a friend that perhaps if she was open about her personal struggles, she might provide solace and hope to others who were going through the same — even if she had no idea who those people are.

“Larkin had found herself in a strange new place that digital media has brought upon us: the zone of uncertainty where you don’t quite know you you might be talking to online, where the line between truth and deception is frequently obfuscated, and where we’re simultaneously pulled toward unprecedented ‘transparency’ and the desire to carefully craft our personas to the point of dishonesty. We all now inhabit a world where the idea of the ‘truth’ has completely changed, and as a population of internet users, we aren’t yet on a level where we can process it.”

Read the rest.

Photos: Yosemite firefall

Poem: Daniel Brown, “Standing”

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