![]() Taylor writes, and then, with a “Goodbye, chaps,” flung herself out of a fourth story window of the West End apartment the four shared. For whatever reason, it is tradition that I pass on that he’s an Irishman and that attended, I can say that he soured on Riding and left, causing her to either drink Lysol, as one account says, drink a cleaning solution, as I read elsewhere, or that “she pretended to have taken poison,” as D.J. He married an Irishwoman, though he left her for Riding. I should note that I’ve read several accounts of the following incident and each one makes sure to categorize Phibbs as an Irishman even though Wikipedia says he was born and educated in England. In 1929 Riding was part of a love quadrangle consisting of her, Graves, Graves’ wife Nancy Nicholson, and the poet Geoffrey Phibbs. Taylor from the November, 2018, issue of The New Criterion. He held her beyond what anyone could have been.Ī more prosaic view of her can be found in the article “ The conscious genius” by D.J. Woman with her forests, moons, flowers, waters,īoth poems were published twenty-five years after their split, but Graves awe of Woman is a constant throughout his literary career. I spread my cards face-upwards on the table, At this point in my life, I’m far too urbane and erudite to have something so bourgeois as a “favorite poem,” but if I were to indulge the urge, it would be: His archetypes of Man and Woman are best explained, conveyed really, in the following poem written in 1964, so unlikely to be about, but possibly informed, by Riding. Graves requires his own glossary he imbues words with meanings that, once explained, are tossed freely about with an expectation that everyone got the earlier memo. “Laura Riding was remarkable as being in the period but not of the period, and the only woman who spoke with authority in the name of Woman (as so many men in the name of Man) without either deference to the male tradition or feminist equalitarianism: a perfect original.” The regard Graves held her in is apparent in this from The Long Week-End: A Social History of Great Britain 1918-1939, written by Graves with the historian, Alan Hodge, and published in 1940, a year after his break up with Riding: Whether it was her publication in The Fugitive magazine, the group awarding her with The Nashville Prize, or by other means, she attracted the attention of Robert Graves with whom she would spend more than a decade living and working mainly in Majorca, but variously in Europe and later Pennsylvania. Laura Riding’s poetry caught the attention of The Fugitives, a Vanderbilt literary group that counted Robert Penn Warren, Alan Tate, and Jahn Crowe Ransom as leading members. ![]() ![]() You might as well show up at her house with a neck tattoo that says, “I have crabs.” So don’t go to a bar. If your mom knew you were going to a bar instead, that you Eddie Haskelled your way toward Gomorrah, she’d actually for-real cry. If it’s a slow Friday afternoon and you ask your boss to leave a few hours early for such a noble activity in front of enough people, I can’t see a refusal. Your mother would be so proud of her selfless little angel, thinking of others like that. This week’s plan to get an early go at the weekend should involve a claim to do something that would make your mother proud and then by saying you’re going to do it and not, make your mother cry. ![]() The birds are usually mathematically eliminated from the post season by the end of April. ![]() We don’t get to say “Orioles” and “playoffs” together very often. Put it in your back pocket and save it for the playoffs, especially if you’re a Baltimore fan. It’s tempting to try and grab a game on one of these last few Fridays left in the baseball season, but my advice is to hold on to that escape excuse. ![]()
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