Sunday papers

Could Larkin the beloved poet have existed without Larkin the racist cad of a man?
by Adam Kirsch

It's the Woody Allen question, and I always come out on the side of Annie Hall, Sleeper, and Manhattan. Ditto Larkin and his work. And really, ditto us all. So on this first Sunday of spring, let's say a prayer for the whole damned bunch of us.

This be the Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

-Philip Larkin