The drink gone dead
Thankfully, something less trying follows. On BBC2, there's a TV drama based on the life of Philip Larkin, entitled Love Again after his ravaging poem of the same name.
The Radio Times has comments from four poets about him. Only Benjamin Zephaniah criticises. Larkin was a bigot and a misogynist, he says, and that's bad. One wonders whether Zephaniah's disdain would be the same if he had only the poems on which to base his opinion?
What I love about Larkin is the sense of a profound defeat emerging from the poetry. The writing is a merciful surplus of strength at a moment when suffering had raked him to the bottom of his being. See also Aubade. His private letters might display an unforgivable rage against the defeat, but why is anybody reading them if not to ignore the poetry?
