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Rating: Summary: Mediocre Review: Brenda Maddox missed her calling in life: she should have been a writer for one of the tabloid newspapers in the grocery-store checkout lines. With an eye for whatever is unflattering or sensational she has combed the archives and written an account of the later decades of Yeats's life that lacks intelligence, dignity and any real expertise about Yeats's work. Little of what she relates will be new to scholars in the field, but then they aren't the real audience for the book, which obviously is intended to rack up sales. That the author relates Yeats's faults is acceptable; but that she exaggerates them, and fails to put them into a proper context, is not. For example, the fact that Yeats as an old man suffered from various physical infirmities is for Maddox a subject almost for derision, whereas the normal attitude would be to admire all the more the courage of his refusal to capitulate to "devouring Time" and the greatness of his accomplishments as an artist whose work improved throughout his life and who preserved his passion for perfection in the writing even of his very last poem. Little is actually said about the poetry and plays in this book and that little is almost all derivative or naive. There are also numerous errors of fact and the book has been sloppily proofread. The potential reader will be well advised to save his or her money for the responsible studies of Yeats's and his wife's lives currently being prepared by Roy Foster and Ann Saddlemyer. (Foster's splendid biography of the early years was published in 1997.)
Rating: Summary: Spooked by the Imaginary? Review: Imagine a poet who is so absorbed in his interior life and imagination that his wife resorts to speaking with the dead and the spirit world--simply to keep the man interested. That's what Barbara Maddox insists in her wonderfully inclusive biography, "Yeats's Ghosts."By nearly every assessment, W. B. Yeats stands as the greatest poet of the 20th Century. The ultimate symbolist, Yeats, however, remains an exceptionally difficult poet to fully appreciate--mainly because of the arcane and personal perspectives and references that litter nearly every one of his poems. Many readers, in fact, find it necessary to purchase a concordance of his work, and one publisher even offers a guide to the works of a poet who himself chose to speckle his books with countless footnotes and clarifications. Which, only naturally, are together a godsend. "Yeats's Ghosts," a controversial biography by the award-winning Barbara Maddox, may help readers to understand the milleux in which Yeats wrote--the current events that engendered work after work, the personal friends to and about whom many were originally composed, and the continual wash of Celtic mythology--but what's especially entertaining about the book is its unique take on one of the most contentious issues regarding Yeats. Yeats, after all, was a mystic--a mystic in the old Celtic Tradition--caught between scientific rationalism on the one hand and orthodox Christianity on the other. Like many Irishmen living on the cusp of the modern age, Yeats actively hoped for a renaissance of ancient Irish virtues--something along the lines of prewar Germany's obsession with getting rid of influences that had garbled and partially eradicated national and racial identities. A member of the famous Order of the Golden Dawn (along with the maleviolent Aleister Crowley), Yeats, according to some, indulged in the occult; others find that probability suspect, citing that it is hard to believe that a poet of such gifts would be such a pushover for what most people consider "spurious information." Whatever the case, as Maddox quickly reveals, Yeats as a personality was definitely not of this age, an age that has yet to make a compromise with the imagination as a cultural and artistic force. In fact, without an understanding of the occult nuances hidden within his poems, most readers will find themselves frustrated with another collision with the inpenetrable words of a brilliant man and seminally Irish poet. The book begins with Yeats's marriage on-the-rebound--at fifty-- to Georgie Hyde-Lee, an attractive bohemian he'd met through the Golden Dawn. But he's still obsessed with his almost mythical femme fatale, Irish revolutionary Maud Gonne--and infatuated with her daughter Iseult. Yeats was probably not as conducive to marriage as he wanted to be, and, according to Maddox, his new wife quickly sensed it. When she began a regimen of automatic writing to contact the spirit world, however, Yeats's interest rapidly rose, and over the course of their marriage, it may have been Georgie's flirtations with the occult that held the marriage together. There are, of course, other "ghosts" in Maddox's life of Yeats, his relationship to an emotionally unavailable mother amongst them, but many of Maddox's assertions are too much of a flirtation with another relatively spurious paradigm, Freudianism. Some of her readings in the yellow light of psychoanalysis are really a reach--she's really digging, really really digging--and it's necessary to remember that Yeats's poetry is not defiant of definition but out of its realm completely. Not surprisingly, Maddox's drive to find a reasonable explanation for an inner life completely enthralled with the imaginary tends to limit what she is seeking to convey--a fully understandable vision of a poet who, for all practical purposes, spurned the idea of personality, at least in its more traditional manifestations. Consequently, Maddox's pictures seem more like snapshots that tend to trivialize a man who, more than likely, will never be fully understood. Often the object of Maddox's well-written tale comes off as a deluded old fool--although anyone who has read and wondered over the majesty of his poetic works can't help but wonder if there really wasn't something to the imaginary world in which he thrilled.
Rating: Summary: Spooked by the Imaginary? Review: Imagine a poet who is so absorbed in his interior life and imagination that his wife resorts to speaking with the dead and the spirit world--simply to keep the man interested. That's what Barbara Maddox insists in her wonderfully inclusive biography, "Yeats's Ghosts." By nearly every assessment, W. B. Yeats stands as the greatest poet of the 20th Century. The ultimate symbolist, Yeats, however, remains an exceptionally difficult poet to fully appreciate--mainly because of the arcane and personal perspectives and references that litter nearly every one of his poems. Many readers, in fact, find it necessary to purchase a concordance of his work, and one publisher even offers a guide to the works of a poet who himself chose to speckle his books with countless footnotes and clarifications. Which, only naturally, are together a godsend. "Yeats's Ghosts," a controversial biography by the award-winning Barbara Maddox, may help readers to understand the milleux in which Yeats wrote--the current events that engendered work after work, the personal friends to and about whom many were originally composed, and the continual wash of Celtic mythology--but what's especially entertaining about the book is its unique take on one of the most contentious issues regarding Yeats. Yeats, after all, was a mystic--a mystic in the old Celtic Tradition--caught between scientific rationalism on the one hand and orthodox Christianity on the other. Like many Irishmen living on the cusp of the modern age, Yeats actively hoped for a renaissance of ancient Irish virtues--something along the lines of prewar Germany's obsession with getting rid of influences that had garbled and partially eradicated national and racial identities. A member of the famous Order of the Golden Dawn (along with the maleviolent Aleister Crowley), Yeats, according to some, indulged in the occult; others find that probability suspect, citing that it is hard to believe that a poet of such gifts would be such a pushover for what most people consider "spurious information." Whatever the case, as Maddox quickly reveals, Yeats as a personality was definitely not of this age, an age that has yet to make a compromise with the imagination as a cultural and artistic force. In fact, without an understanding of the occult nuances hidden within his poems, most readers will find themselves frustrated with another collision with the inpenetrable words of a brilliant man and seminally Irish poet. The book begins with Yeats's marriage on-the-rebound--at fifty-- to Georgie Hyde-Lee, an attractive bohemian he'd met through the Golden Dawn. But he's still obsessed with his almost mythical femme fatale, Irish revolutionary Maud Gonne--and infatuated with her daughter Iseult. Yeats was probably not as conducive to marriage as he wanted to be, and, according to Maddox, his new wife quickly sensed it. When she began a regimen of automatic writing to contact the spirit world, however, Yeats's interest rapidly rose, and over the course of their marriage, it may have been Georgie's flirtations with the occult that held the marriage together. There are, of course, other "ghosts" in Maddox's life of Yeats, his relationship to an emotionally unavailable mother amongst them, but many of Maddox's assertions are too much of a flirtation with another relatively spurious paradigm, Freudianism. Some of her readings in the yellow light of psychoanalysis are really a reach--she's really digging, really really digging--and it's necessary to remember that Yeats's poetry is not defiant of definition but out of its realm completely. Not surprisingly, Maddox's drive to find a reasonable explanation for an inner life completely enthralled with the imaginary tends to limit what she is seeking to convey--a fully understandable vision of a poet who, for all practical purposes, spurned the idea of personality, at least in its more traditional manifestations. Consequently, Maddox's pictures seem more like snapshots that tend to trivialize a man who, more than likely, will never be fully understood. Often the object of Maddox's well-written tale comes off as a deluded old fool--although anyone who has read and wondered over the majesty of his poetic works can't help but wonder if there really wasn't something to the imaginary world in which he thrilled.
Rating: Summary: Cast a Cold Eye Review: Look, Brenda Maddox is a journalist not a scholar. She has little to say about the poems and her sources are nothing new. But she writes a lively prose with a deft eye for the human angle in describing the parade of remarkable women who passed through Yeats's later life. I don't think she's out to replace the more detailed biographies other reviewers mention so much as add color and detail to the standard portrait of the 'smiling public man.' The book's centerpiece is the early years of Yeats's marriage to his wife George, a cultivated woman twenty-seven years his junior who turned what looked to be a marriage of convenience into a source of great poetic inspiration. George began channeling spirits on their honeymoon which, over the next two years, revealed to Yeats an entire philosophy of history and the soul's fate after death while also dictating how an older, indifferent lover ought to treat a young new wife. Maddox leaves the question of the Script's authenticity open, pointing out on the one hand how well it suited George's purposes and on the other how sincerely she shared Yeats's occult beliefs. Halfway through the book though, after a short, out of place chapter on Yeats's mother, she leaves George behind to concentrate on the eccentricities of Yeats's later years. Yeats had a capacity for staying 'forever young' that led to some odd connections; he involved himself, especially after the Steinach operation, with a cast of dubious individuals who took him away from the unwanted responsibilities of home and family. I don't think Maddox is trying to pull Yeats off a pedestal--she clearly believes the poems he wrote in these years are great. She's also fair-minded in dealing with Yeats's Fascist sympathies, his late passion for eugenics and the bad rap he's gotten from feminists. But showing how much care and indulgence his work required from others, especially the women he chose to attend to his needs, reminds you that greatness is often a collaborative effort. Giving credit where credit is due for Yeats's late achievement, especially in the case of his long-suffering wife George, takes nothing away from his achievement. Just the opposite; I admired the poetry all the more knowing the personal hopes and (sometimes) blindnesses it grew out of. A fun, instructive read.
Rating: Summary: Cast a Cold Eye Review: Look, Brenda Maddox is a journalist not a scholar. She has little to say about the poems and her sources are nothing new. But she writes a lively prose with a deft eye for the human angle in describing the parade of remarkable women who passed through Yeats's later life. I don't think she's out to replace the more detailed biographies other reviewers mention so much as add color and detail to the standard portrait of the 'smiling public man.' The book's centerpiece is the early years of Yeats's marriage to his wife George, a cultivated woman twenty-seven years his junior who turned what looked to be a marriage of convenience into a source of great poetic inspiration. George began channeling spirits on their honeymoon which, over the next two years, revealed to Yeats an entire philosophy of history and the soul's fate after death while also dictating how an older, indifferent lover ought to treat a young new wife. Maddox leaves the question of the Script's authenticity open, pointing out on the one hand how well it suited George's purposes and on the other how sincerely she shared Yeats's occult beliefs. Halfway through the book though, after a short, out of place chapter on Yeats's mother, she leaves George behind to concentrate on the eccentricities of Yeats's later years. Yeats had a capacity for staying 'forever young' that led to some odd connections; he involved himself, especially after the Steinach operation, with a cast of dubious individuals who took him away from the unwanted responsibilities of home and family. I don't think Maddox is trying to pull Yeats off a pedestal--she clearly believes the poems he wrote in these years are great. She's also fair-minded in dealing with Yeats's Fascist sympathies, his late passion for eugenics and the bad rap he's gotten from feminists. But showing how much care and indulgence his work required from others, especially the women he chose to attend to his needs, reminds you that greatness is often a collaborative effort. Giving credit where credit is due for Yeats's late achievement, especially in the case of his long-suffering wife George, takes nothing away from his achievement. Just the opposite; I admired the poetry all the more knowing the personal hopes and (sometimes) blindnesses it grew out of. A fun, instructive read.
Rating: Summary: revealing, but unsatisfying Review: Maddox's focus is on the people that revolved around Yeats--his wife, lovers, relatives, and peers. She relays several intimate anecdotes concerning Yeats's troubled relationships with his parents, his obsessions with women like Maude Gonne and her daughter, Iseult, and his interaction with a long line of "mother figures" (most notably, Lady Gregory). Reading this book gave me the impression that Yeats wrote not just because he was inspired by Ireland and metaphysical themes; but as a need to escape his stifling environment. While providing many interesting details about Mrs. Yeats's "abilities" with automatic writing, Maddox goes far in portraying Georgie as more of a controlling wife than a powerful medium. This, along with Yeats's own "psychic experiences" may lead a skeptic to wonder just how sane the poet actually was. The section dealing with his term as a Free State Senator was good, in terms of illustrating Yeats' ongoing battle against censorship and civic divorce (in contrast with his reported stances on fascism and eugenics). Readers can revel in how Yeats, while conservative in such things as parenting, thoroghly enjoyed playing the "dirty old man" in various media--print, theater, and radio. As far as a deeper insight into Yeats as mystical poet, though, the book's treatment of the man is sketchy at best.
Rating: Summary: revealing, but unsatisfying Review: Maddox's focus is on the people that revolved around Yeats--his wife, lovers, relatives, and peers. She relays several intimate anecdotes concerning Yeats's troubled relationships with his parents, his obsessions with women like Maude Gonne and her daughter, Iseult, and his interaction with a long line of "mother figures" (most notably, Lady Gregory). Reading this book gave me the impression that Yeats wrote not just because he was inspired by Ireland and metaphysical themes; but as a need to escape his stifling environment. While providing many interesting details about Mrs. Yeats's "abilities" with automatic writing, Maddox goes far in portraying Georgie as more of a controlling wife than a powerful medium. This, along with Yeats's own "psychic experiences" may lead a skeptic to wonder just how sane the poet actually was. The section dealing with his term as a Free State Senator was good, in terms of illustrating Yeats' ongoing battle against censorship and civic divorce (in contrast with his reported stances on fascism and eugenics). Readers can revel in how Yeats, while conservative in such things as parenting, thoroghly enjoyed playing the "dirty old man" in various media--print, theater, and radio. As far as a deeper insight into Yeats as mystical poet, though, the book's treatment of the man is sketchy at best.
Rating: Summary: A Thoroughly Enjoyable Read Review: While Ms. Maddox's book is not scholarly, nor is it sensational; she walks a very careful line between the reverential respect for the Great Nobel Laureate, and an irreverent and open look at his private life, whether in the company of ghosts, or lovely young women... One imagines the author winking to her readers now and again, but the portrait she presents is very human, and quite simply fascinating. I couldn't put it down. And it was a marvelous way to reread the poetry, in context, as it were.
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