This is a very well-done life of W. H. Auden, a man who may well turn out to be the finest English poet of the twentieth century. It is a fascinating work, which traces Auden's literary and poetical development in tandem with all the events in his real life in this real world. The most important of them (for Auden) was his life-long love of Chester Kallman, which became quite complex over time -- Auden reported feelings of paternal solicitude, jealousy, and erotic rivalry -- all occurring at the same time! Unusually, for a major biography of a major poet, there are scenes from the poet's cottage at Fire Island, which help to situate Auden in a very real New York social world.

But none of this is what set Auden apart -- not his romances nor his politics. Unlike some other poets, Auden worked at his craft unceasingly, probably becoming a leading world expert on poetic meter.

And he worked at his art. Anyone who has ever practiced any sort of craft or art -- ballet, writing, whatever -- knows well just how hard it is to make things seem effortless. And so Auden could produce such "effortless" things as the opening to his "Lullaby" ---

Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

If that looks easy to you, just have a go yourself! :-)

In summary: a very good biography of a major poet. Highest recommendation!

Books of fiction and nonfiction, films, paintings, and museums abound in the ongoing ceaseless inspection of the atrocity and madness wrought by Hitler in Nazi Germany. It is an unfortunate fact that such turmoil gives rise to some of the best art in the years after the strife. Norman Page, in his brilliantly researched and written AUDEN AND ISHERWOOD: THE BERLIN YEARS, has selected two men of great significance in literature and poetry as his points of entry into studying the Berlin that seduced the world before it jolted nearly to an end. These portraits of Auden and Isherwood are really an examination of an historical time that altered the art world as inevitably as it altered our sense of the dangers of dictaorship.

Initally drawn to Berlin from the hallowed halls of English academe because of the rowdy free sex/hedonisitc atmosphere that had become Berlin, "Berlin meant Boys" and both our artists fled the England that sacrificed Oscar Wilde to find the open sexual freedom of the City of Sodom. Author Page gives us such a rich, fascinating ride through the places and faces of pre-war Berlin that we are finally allowed to see why Modernism started, why cinema became important, how artists such as Grosz and Dix and composers such as Weill and Stravinsky, scientists (Hirschfeld) and writers (Brecht) found such acrid colors for their creativity. Page is not confined to his title characters, though we learn more personal characteristics than any writer has dared to date: we are informed about Marlene Dietrich, Stephen Spender, Benjamin Britten, as well as a constellation of other characters encountered by them. This volume reads like a novel (not without some kinship to Isherwood's famed GOODBYE TO BERLIN), but its importance as a publication is its uncommonly thorough view of why Hitler rose, why the Berlin Wall was destined to be (and to fall), and why the center of the artistic universe was for a few short years the glossy, naughty Berlin.

This book is a must for those who want to understand the beginnings of sexual freedom, those fascinated by the inception of WW II, and for those who happen to love the poetry of W.H. Auden and the stories of Christopher Isherwood. Keep this book on your literary Reference Shelf.

While I was growing up in Chicago, one of my greatest pleasures was listening to classical music while reading the latest selection from the Readers' Subscription Club to which I belonged. That was almost 50 years ago (!) and yet how vividly I recall pouring over brief but brilliant essays in the latest edition of The Griffin (the monthly bulletin) to select titles to order and then, several weeks later, reading those selected as soon as they arrived. (By the way, I found Bach's "Goldberg Variations" to be an ideal companion to my reading, regardless of subject matter.) In this volume, with a Foreword by Jacques Barzun, followed by an Introduction by editor Arthur Krystal, we have a rich and varied selection of the uncollected writings of W.H. Auden, Jacques Barzun, and Lionel Trilling who, from 1951 until 1963, served as editors of the Readers' Subscription Club which later became the Mid-Century Book Society. As I began to read this book, I recognized only a few of the 45 essays which Krystal has organized as follows:

Biography and Belles Lettres (e.g. Barzun's "The Artist as Scapegoat")

History and Social Thought (Auden's "Apologies to the Iroquois")

Novels and Novelists (e.g. Trilling's "A Triumph of the Comic View")

Music, Theater, and Fine Arts (e.g. Barzun's "Why Talk About Art?")

Poetry (.e.g. Auden's "T.S. Eliot So Far")

A Round-robin (i.e. all three editors collaborated on "The New Auden Shakespeare" and "Jameschoice for January."

Krystal then provides an "Editor's Note," followed by two appendices: Complete List of Essays and Reviews from The Griffin and The Mid-Century, and, Essays from The Griffin and The Mid-Century Published Elsewhere.

After reading all of the selections in this volume, I now realize and appreciate what I did not (and probably could not) so many years ago: the three erudite and eloquent authors of the selections never "wrote down" to their readers while providing an intellectual, aesthetic, and (at times) social context for each of the authors and works discussed.

In the Foreword, Barzun explains that "As critics we had one trait in common: none of us applied a theory or system. Apart from this unifying mode, our tendencies and backgrounds differed widely, surely a desirable diversity for the purposes of the club." He goes on to point out that they were guided by "the principle of what Trilling was the first to call 'cultural criticism,' that is, criticism inspired by whatever is relevant to the work. Its genesis, form, and meaning have roots in the culture where it appears, and it is also unique through its author's own uniqueness. To us, none of this was new. We were cultural critics with no need of a doctrine, for the essence of culture is inclusiveness." In the Introduction, Krystal then provides a brief explanation of how and why the Club was founded, what happened throughout its eleven years and six months of existence, and what he views as its unique contributions. Auden, Barzun, and Trilling "were like those classical musicians who, upon leaving work at the symphony, head downtown to play jazz all night in a smoky club." No small part of the "pleasure they derived from playing together...lay in the knowledge that they were performing for a literate audience who had come expressly to hear them." This simile is apt.

Who will most enjoy reading this book? Certainly those who were once a member of either Club and have so many pleasant memories of their own associated with the monthly interaction with the three editors as well as with the subjects they discussed. But countless others, "non-members" if you will, who will also be intellectually stimulated while thoroughly enjoying the pleasure of the three editors' company. Jacques Barzun was right: "The essence of culture is inclusiveness."

W. H. Auden's co-translation with the scholar Paul B. Taylor of portions of the Icelandic verse saga the "Edda" is dedicated to J. R. R. Tolkien, and with reason. Auden's first encounter with Icelandic was under Tolkien's influence. This is wholly fitting, perhaps; Icelandic and Germanic myth is best known to a general reader through its influence on Tolkien and Wagner. Certainly this book is a convincing argument that the Norse body of myth deserves more attention, as does its verse.

The verse of the Edda is highly alliterative and stanza-based, generally told in the first person or as dialogue. It reads much like "Beowulf" in any good poetic translation, filled with pungent consonants and forthright statements. Auden's rendering anticipates Seamus Heany's acclaimed "Beowulf" in its readability and beauty in English, producing passages like the following:

"Doughty Thor drew boldly The hideous serpent up on board, Struck with his hammer the high hair-mountain Of the writhing Coiler, Kin of the Wolf." (p. 92)

Familiarity with Norse mythic cosmology helps in passages such as that, of course, and the Introduction by Taylor and Peter Salus explains both the meter and the world of the poems. It is somewhat more scholarly in bent than Heany's introduction to "Beowulf", but is nonetheless quite helpful to a non-specialist like myself.

I don't know any Icelandic and thus cannot speak to the truth of the translation in sound or sense. However, its beauty in English is gripping.

Any reader of Tolkien will have a shock of recognition in encountering this book. Several names, including both Thorin and Gandalf, will be instantly familiar, as will a certain ethos of hall, host, mighty deeds, and far-off doom. Anyone wishing to explore Tolkien's literary roots should read the Edda and "Beowulf"; this rendering of the Edda, the work of one of the great poets of the twentieth century (and a Tolkien acolyte to boot) is a superior choice.

It's a real shame that this book is out of print. Given the bestseller status of the Heany "Beowulf", another first-quality rendering of alliterative Northern verse could well have a successful life in today's market. As things stand the book is worth searching for. I recommend it as highly as I may.

It's a quick read, but a rich one: expect to pick it up again every few years if your soul's not dead. The century's finest poet (and one of its most interesting critics) traces the symbols of Sea and Desert through in the poems and novels of the Romantic reaction (especially Moby Dick) with an eye to understanding these works and their unique understanding of the relation of mind to heart in the modern age. Fascinating not only for what it tells us about the Romantics and about Auden's own work (readers of "the Sea and the Mirror" simply must read this) but for the example it gives of an intellect attempting to discuss the trials of modernity without affecting its fatalism and disjointedness. A fine introduction to the Romantics, to Auden, and to the life of the mind. (also a dead-on key to the lyrics of They Might Be Giants, but I digress.)

If you're a student of early music, there are various books you shouldn't be without. I'd say this is one of them; if it isn't, it comes close, and how can you beat the price? What you have here is an inexpensive score for one of the great liturgical dramas of the Middle Ages, with lyrics done in very legible calligraphy, with commentary on the play and its historical background by Noah Greenberg himself. If I were to suggest improvements, they'd be two in number: first, a binding that would lie flat, and second, PLEASE update the address to which one should write for permission to perform the play. (At the very least, it should use the ZIP code that was adopted a few years after 1958 when the book was first published.)

If for no other reason, buy this book for W. H. Auden's remarkably learned 40 page introduction--a survey of the great Greek gift passed down to us. The Portable Greek Reader is a manual on how to think and more importantly, why to think.

Andrew D Martin, Docent, The Parthenon, Nashville, Tn

W. H. Auden's work is in a way a challenge to the reader. Many times (Specially in the so called english Auden) it happens that you don't really know what the poem is about or why you like it. As Mr. Fuller says sometimes "Auden's merit lies in his vagueness". The Oxford professor Mr. John Fuller has written a highly accurate work in which he comments every single work published and unpublished by Auden. He states in his prologue that this is not a book for reading "in the normal way", meaning that "W. H. Auden: A Commentary" is a book just as a dictionnary is: A book in which you look for some information but you don't read from the first page until the last as you do it with a novel for instance. I actually don't think Mr. Fuller's opinion to be in this case too fair. In spite of the evident, permanent and necessary reference to Auden's work I beleive the tone and mood of his own comments make this book readable not only as an information book but also as a work in itself. The very word "Commentary" moves to think in a work written in order to illuminate another text. But Mr. Fuller builds his commentary from a wide range of "starting points". Sometimes is Auden's meter, sometimes the structural likness with other poetic form (As the "Sagas" - a nordic poetic form completely unknown to me) or just a philosophical or psychological concept used by Auden in a quite hidden way or lastly Mr. Fuller's own perplexity like in his comment to the poem "The Wanderer". Mr. Fuller's comments never exceed a couple of pages, but there he develops his own way of reading the poem and give us the chance to see this simple fact in action: How does a man read. In addition to this the book provides the whole technical and theoretical background required to enjoy the poem even more than after our vague intuitons. If you look for general observations about Auden's life or work this is not the book for you. But if you are looking for a way to refine your own readings by learning a lot of information hidden in Auden's poems and at the same time contemplate how works the interpretive mind of a great poet when he reads a 20th century classic, this is a perfect chance.

An ideological exploration of the themes in Auden's later poetry. Best ever. Can you really beat Dr. J?

I really wanted to love this book. I enjoyed reading Goethe's Italian Journey and I've read so many flattering things about Young Werther that I've looked forward for some time to the experience of finally reading it. Unfortunately, it just didn't grab me.

The positives include Goethe's poetic descriptions of nature and the powerful imagery they evoke and the frequently beautiful language with which Werther depicted his obsession with Lotte.

The primary problems I had with the work were the repetitiveness of Werther's self-pitying missives and a certain incredulity I could not shake relative to the foundations of his compulsion. In the final analysis, a persistent feeling that Werther was silly and unjustified in his fixation and self-indulgent in wallowing in his misery dulled the impact of his fate on my senses substantially.

I am hoping for better things from Faust...

What is it about this particular novella which inspired a series of youthful suicides throughout Europe soon after its publication? Why did Napoleon insist on keeping the French translation with him during his campaign in Egypt? How did Goethe succeed in capturing the poignancy of the human heart, while fascinating a jaded but "enlightened" 18th century public? The young German author touched a universal chord with this slender volume, in which he offers tender insight on such diverse Romantic subjects as Love, Religion, Nature and Man's relationships with God and his fellow men. Why do critics consider it a classic of both German and World Literature?

Presented in a quaint literary style, this story consists of confidential diary entries and letters to a trusted friend, Wilhelm, by a senstitive protagonist, with the addition of editorial notes. (The latter results from the inveitable drawbacks of first-person narratives.) The plot unfolds as Werther, a young nobleman who interests himself in the daily activities of the peasantry, is enjoying an extended holiday in a scenic area of Germany. Free to savor the magnificent natural beauty around him, Werther is soon dazzled by the numerous charms of the delightful Charlotte--daughter of a local town dignitary. This paragon of feminie virtue and attraction appears more sensual and maternal than truly sexual.

Alas, the incomparable Lotte is already engaged to absent Albert, due home soon. Is she too naive to understand that in Werther she has acquired an ardent admirer? Is she aware of his easily-inflamed fascination, or the violent depths of his stifled emotions? Is she oblivious or heartless to his passionate despair once her fiance has returned? Just how long can she juggle two lovers, or even control her own dainty heart--which Goethe chastely and tantalizingly hides from us?

Readers will be be swept away on the floodtide of Gothe's untamed emotions, as poor Werther faces the inevitable. Ah, but which act requires or proves the greater bravery: to terminate the heart's torment by the simple act of Suicide, or to accept Life's harshness by continuing a lonely, meaningless existence? Which Hell is it better or nobler to endure: that of rejecting God's gift or that of eternal separation from the Beloved? The strain of a prolonged "menage a trois" can not be permitted to endure--neither from a literary or a moral point of view.

The last entries painfully point the way as Werther's despair cascades into definitive--albeit negative--action. Weep, hope forlornly with this ardent young man, even rage at his fate; then be swept away into the maelstrom of thwarted dreams. Analyze and pity Germany's most famous pre-Romantic hero, as he struggles though this psychological novel, for Goethe plays upon the reader's memory's heartstrings with the skill of Ossian's agonized harper.

There is no doubt about the literary poignancy of this book, or for that matter the masterful mind of its author. But it must be said that the undeniably strong sorrows of young Werther came from an all-consuming love of himself-not from love of another. Or rather he seemed in love with the idea of having someone to consume his idle days and, what he imagined, his large and thoughtful mind. His precipice, from which he condescended to view his every move, thought and encounter, was lofty indeed.

The pastoral atmosphere of the book is what captivated this reader. It's a pity Werther couldn't heed Albert and Lotte's sound advice about retuning his strong emotions...or at least spend more time under Linden trees with his Homer (this would have been my suggestion to him). Perhaps it was the poetry of the equally love-torn Ossian, which came to replace his classic text, that helped spur on his emotional demise. Whatever the case, it was painful to read of his self-indulgent romance with his ideas of love and devotion. He was kidding himself in the grandest and noblest fashion imaginable.

Please don't think me a heartless soul, or someone who couldn't possible understand such an intense love; I just didn't see it that way. However much frustration I felt at Werther's extreme pathos, I remained in awe of the beauty of Goethe's emotive and descriptive writing. Am I contradicting myself here...with talk of emotion? You be the judge.