In speaking of voice, Sullivan says, “Wilbur expresses his reflections in complex yet always lucid diction.” He adds that “Wilbur’s voice is often conversational, yet he is not colloquial.” And just before he begins a short defense of western civilization, Sullivan notes Wilbur's “own voice is also distinctive, though perhaps more variable, more elusive.”
I, of course, find it so elusive that I haven’t found it yet. That could very well be my own intellectual shortcomings and lack of detective skills. But I did enjoy reading “A Black Birch in Winter,” which was written more in Frost’s voice (“You might not know this old tree by its bark,” it begins), albeit Wilbur’s classical (an allusion to Ara Coeli) optimism (thus it ends):
Old trees are doomed to annual rebirth,But I will keep on looking even if I'm torn asunder doing so.
New wood, new life, new compass, greater girth,
And this is all their wisdom and their art,
To grow, stretch, crack, and not yet come apart.
1 comment:
Alan, I would have been overjoyed to read your comments on Wilbur. I enjoy your writings when they are anything but political. As for who's the curmudgeon, only time will tell. I do disagree with your take on things, especially since, as Yogi would say, it ain't over 'til it's over. And 120000 troops would attest to that appraisal of time. Truth is an elusive thing, although your man W seems to think he has a lock on it. Taking action is not necessarily the sign of a leader. The deliberations before that action is. Kennedy before the Cuban blockade is one end of the spectrum. W before Iraq, the other. And that's enough off-topic today for me.
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