Yeats on Joyce
Johnny Marr
marrja at gmail.com
Sun Jul 5 11:36:56 CDT 2009
He was a member of the Irish Senate and an on-off sympathiser with the
aristocracy, of course he was patrician.
On Sun, Jul 5, 2009 at 4:53 PM, Ian Livingston <igrlivingston at gmail.com>wrote:
> Um. It was my impression that Yeats, born in Dublin, was a campaigner
> for Irish culture who strongly supported the use of Gaelic in Ireland.
> Joyce poked freely at him for his boyish rejection of Anglican
> culture. Hard to think of him as "patrician," in spite of his later
> posture of sagacity. Joyce, on the other hand, moved away quickly to
> Paris, from which vantage he picked at Ireland and the Irish with his
> acerbic portrayals of the low-brow Dubliners. I, of course, have no
> great love for either Joyce or Yeats. Maybe because I was raised
> Anglican, maybe because I see them both as peevish, rather excitable
> fellows. Typical Irishmen, just a few pints short of loopy. Not that
> we Americans all that sober-minded.
>
> On Sun, Jul 5, 2009 at 3:07 AM, Johnny Marr<marrja at gmail.com> wrote:
> > I bet Joyce would have liked it even more: a patrician Anglican writer
> > complaining about "the vulgarity of a single Dublin day", and who fails
> to
> > have picked up on Joyce's less spiritualist but equally firm melding of
> myth
> > and fact (and I type this as an acolyte of both WBY and JAAJ).
> >
> > On Sun, Jul 5, 2009 at 4:36 AM, Richard Fiero <rfiero at gmail.com> wrote:
> >>
> >> I rather like the following criticism which is attributed by Richard
> >> Ellman to Yeats writing in the 1926 A Vision about James Joyce in
> >> particular.‘There is hatred of the abstract . . . The intellect turns
> upon
> >> itself. . . . they either eliminate from metaphor the poet’s phantasy
> and
> >> substitute a strangeness discovered by historical or contemporary
> research
> >> or . . . break up the logical processes of thought by flooding them with
> >> associated ideas or words that seem to drift into the mind by chance; or
> . .
> >> . a lunatic among his keepers, a man fishing behind the gas works, the
> >> vulgarity of a single Dublin day prolonged through 700 pages – and
> delirium
> >> . . . It is as though myth and fact, united until the exhaustion of the
> >> Renaissance, have now fallen so far apart that man understands for the
> first
> >> time the rigidity of fact, and calls up, by that very recognition,
> myth.’
> >>
> >>
> >
> >
>
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