James Fenton was all the rage in the 1980's. All the rage. War poet, hugely respected. He and Craig Raine, differently big noises. How different it looks now. I don't even know if a new book by Fenton is even eagerly awaited but it would be of interest if it appeared.
But it's always a shame, vis a vis Simon Armitage's story about finding a signed copy of his own book, for 10p in a box outside a second hand bookshop. Fenton made this book out to Jaquie but Jaquie didn't treasure it enough and I got it off e-Bay for very little. The title poem of this volume is a simple but sublime thing. I wouldn't say there should be more of such poems, only that when poems such as this are attempted that they should be as good. There is no need for any more poems at all, only that the ones that there are should be better.
But it's always a shame, vis a vis Simon Armitage's story about finding a signed copy of his own book, for 10p in a box outside a second hand bookshop. Fenton made this book out to Jaquie but Jaquie didn't treasure it enough and I got it off e-Bay for very little. The title poem of this volume is a simple but sublime thing. I wouldn't say there should be more of such poems, only that when poems such as this are attempted that they should be as good. There is no need for any more poems at all, only that the ones that there are should be better.
