Geoffrey Grigson, review of Montague, ed., Faber Book of Irish Verse (1974), in The Irish Times (1 March 1974), [q.p.]: Sticking my neck out and in, from my outsider position, I consider John Montagues choice of Irish verse a small disaster [...]. John Montague has done such a slushy job and such an irresponsible one vis-à-vis (and I would say as an outsider) life-in-Irishness. Grigson questions the value of translation, and calls Frank OConnors translations from Old Irish chirpy doggerels; he refers also the misidentification of the hermit poet off the Kerry Coat [Skellig Michael] as Colum Cille [sic] in the 6th c., when it is actually 12th c.; speaks of the special debasement via Mr Montagues selection of the achievement of Anglo-Irish verse; calls Mangan that blatant versifier. Further: Montague fails to be ruthless; praises Pearse Hutchinsons Malaga, about the scent of jasmine, The senses, after all. I felt as much in that poem, enveloped by it, as I felt myself enveloped by some of the stricter tropical poems of Leconte de Lisle such as Le Bernica or Le Merichy. (See also Grigsons remarks on Meaning of Landscape in Places of the Mind, Routledge 1944; under Sir Robert Boyle, infra.) [ top ] Maurice Harmon, lNew Voices in the Fifties, in Seán Lucy, Irish Poets in English (Mercier Press 1973), pp.186-87: quotes in full Montagues poem The Siege of Mullingar which relates the events at a Fleadh Cheoil and marks an epoch of Irish society by means of its a variation on W. B. Yeatss refrain in from Sept. 1913 [viz., Romatic Irelands dead and gone ...], rendered here: Puritan Irelands dead and gone / A myth of OConnor and OFaolain (from Patriotic Suite). Harmon later cites Like Dolmens round my childhood, the old people in the same spirit: Ancient Ireland, indeed! [...] I felt their shadow pass // Into that dark permanence of ancient forms. (p.194.) Quotes further poems from The New Siege (1970) [broadsheet].
[ top ] Terence Brown, John Montague, Circling to Return, in Northern Voices, Poets from Ulster (Dublin 1975), pp.149-70; citing various modernist obiter dicta by Montague, incl. remarks to Serge Fauchereau on the universality of reference of his treatment of the Irish rebellion in The Rough Field (Les Lettres Nouvelles, Mars 1973), Brown remarks, [...] the reader of Montagues work must suspect, I feel, a good deal more commitment to the rural past and confused ambiguity of response to the urban present than his self-conscious avant-gardeism and these efforts towards objectivity would suggest [...] the loyal tradition Montague espouses [...] is a Gaelic hidden Ulster. (p.155). Further: But the poem (The Rough Field) does little to clarify how the new order will contain the old civilisation of Garvaghey, to which I feel the poetry gives his primary allegiance in this work [...] the rough field / of the universe / growing, changing [...] an new anarchy / always different / always the same [...] an almost touchingly naive example of historical faith. (p.167) [...] a work which imaginatively possesses a regions past and present, cannot easily serve as a symbol of its future without encouraging an act of romantic faith whic later sections of the poem suggest we make [...] so I would read the poems Epilogue Driving South as an escapist journey, not a voyage into [that] new experience [...]. (p.168). [Cont.]
[ top ] Frank L. Kersnowski, John Montague [Irish Writers Series] (NY: Bucknell UP 1975) [...] One of the most basic difficulties for the Northern poet is that for him and for almost everyone else until recently, Irish poetry has meant that written in Southern Ireland. A young man, such as John Montague, would be sent to U.C.D. if he showed interest or ability in the arts. There he would, in his writing, replace referrents of the self he had always had with ones of Georgian Dublin, the values of which had been pretty well set by the time he came along. [17]. Some writers from the North remained within the bounds of decorum, neglecting the wildness of the later Years, and wrote in words appropriate to the Shelbourne lounge, which with its hotel has been the center of the Anglo-Irish society for more than a century. But even in the early writing of Montague, the colloquial is heard The very early A Footnote on Monasticism: Dingle Peninsula begins, In certain places, still surprisingly, you come / Upon them, resting like old straw hats set down / Besides the sea. .... Quite likely, his interest in a conversational diction was increased by his visit to the United States. / Whether or not Montague matured into his own style during the three years he was in the United States or whether he expanded his understanding of poetry by meeting poets from another tradition seems inconsequential. He did, howvever, meet Robert Bly and W D. Snodgrass at Iowa and Allen Ginsberg and [Gary] Snyder at Berkeley. Though few, the poems he wrote about this period indicate a new understanding of poetry. Even "Soliloquy on a Southern Strand" has a glitter to it not to be found in the earlier poems. The glitter in the poems specifically about the United States, however, is that of a sloganed world, as in Downtown, America:
Intending to condemning the brashness of the culture, Montague in his quotations has considerably expanded the technique of his poetry by including the brash, colloquial writing of the journalit. In later poems, such as The Bread God, the technique will return to add complexity to the more mature poems. (pp.17-19.) Further [Kersnowski]: At the back of his mind are centuries of conditioned moral responses and a weight of cultural/literary tradition that must regard what he sees in the United States as worth only censure. In Europe, the centuries have established a hierarchy of art and life, neither of which has often enough had much relevance for the majority of the population." (pp.19-20.) [Kersnowski here discusses Montagues moment of disloyalty to his European structure faced with the frenzy of life represented by the mixture of Roman sculpture, Catalan crucifixes, Japanese and Mexican artefacts on display there.] [ top ] Michael Allen, Provincialism and Recent Irish Poetry: The Importance of Patrick Kavanagh, in Two Decades of Irish Writing: A Critical Survey, ed. Douglas Dunn (Cheadle Hulme: Carcanet Press 1975), pp.23-36: [...] After [A Chosen Light], the cosmopolitan point-of-vantage as such disappears from [34] Montagues poetry. And his next book, The Rough Field (1972) returns to rural Tyrone for its subject matter, reprinting several earlier poems in the search for some kind of new locally-rooted perspective. / How are we to explain this reversal? Kavanaghs Come Dance with Kitty Stobling was published in 1960, his Collected Poems in 1964. And in 1966 Heaney was widely praised for his first book, Death of a Naturalist about which he said: I have no need to write a poem to Patrick Kavanagh; I wrote Death of a Naturalist. But the possibility of being a parochial poet in Kavanaghs sense was clearly there in Montagues early poetry too. A selection of his poems appeared in an anthology Six Irish Poets in 1962; and the editor, Robin Skelton, praised in his introduction, the way Irish poetry could still base itself firmly on natural resources ... the sense of belonging and thereby gain a real vitality. It was about this time, Montague says, that he began to plan The Rough Field. [Cont.]
Seamus Heaney, The Sense of Place [1977], in Preoccupations (London: Faber 1980), pp.131-49, compares Patrick Kavanagh and Montague]: Kavanaghs eye has been used to bending over the ground before it ever bent over a book but we feel with Montague that the case is vice versa .... Kavanaghs place-names are used here as posts to fence out a personal language. But Montagues are rather sounding lines, rods to plumb the depths of a shared and diminished culture. They are redolent not only of his personal life but of the history of his people, disinherited and dispossessed. What are most resonant and cherished in the names of Montagues places are their tribal and etymological implications. / Both Kavanagh and Montague explore a hidden Ulster, to alter Daniel Corkerys suggestive phrase, and Montagues exploration follows Corkerys tracks in a way that Kavanaghs does not. There is an element of cultural and political resistance and retrieval in Montagues work that is absent from Kavanaghs. What is hidden at the bottom of Montagues region is first of all a pagan civilisation centred on the ONeill inauguration stone at Tullyhogue. The ancient feminine religion of Northern Europe through which he looks and the landscape becomes a memory, a piety, a loved mother. The present is suffused with the past ... [141] At the bottom of Kavanaghs imagination there is no pagan queen, no mystique of the national, the mythic or the tribal; instead there is the childish piety of the Morning Offering prayer ... I believe the spirit of this prayer, the childs open-eyed attention to the small and the familiar, is fundamental to Kavanaghs vision, as is the childs religious belief that if each action, however small, is offered up for love, then in the eyes of God it is as momentous in its negligible, casual silence as the great, noisy cataclysmic and famous acts that make up history. [... &c.] (pp.141-42.) Further: When Montague asks who he is, he is forced to seek a connection with a history and a heritage; before he affirms a [142] personal identity, he points to a national identity, and his region and his community provide a lifeline to it. Whereas Kavanagh flees the abstractions of nationalism, political or cultural. To find himself, de detaches himself rather than attaches himself to the communal. (pp.142-43; for longer quotations, see under Heaney, supra).
[ top ] Seamus Heaney, Northern Star [Montague at 70], in Magill (Feb. 1998), Review, p.44. Heaney writes, In the course of a lifetime, John Montagues fidelity to his vocation and his fulfilment of its publica demands have been ready, steady and characteristically vigorous. There has been a sustaine creative issuing in an oeuvre of epic sweep and lyric intensity. We here are honouring much else: his acuity as a critic and commentator upon poetry; his long and passionate involvement with the land of Ireland, north and south, with the significance of its landmarks and the meaning of its names, from the Glen of the Hazels in Tyrone to Mount Eagle in Kerry; his experience as a teacher in universities in France, Ireland and the United States; his international standing in the world of letters; his record as an active witness and committed participant at those moments of historical crisis which we each and every one of us lived through - all this makes John Montague the ideal holder of this uniquely important office. / I began to read Johns poetry in what was for me the annus mirabilis of 1962-63, the year when I came alive to the excitements of reading contemporary Irish and British poetry and was overcome by the strong desire to write poems of my own, a desire that both ravishes and frustrates you at one and the same time. I felt an almost literal quickening in my bones in those days as I read for the first time poems that brought me to my senses and to a renewed sense of myself in marvellously invigorating ways. / These were poems that would stay with me for a lifetime, such as Patrick Kavanaghs The Great Hunger, Ted Hughes The Thought Fox and View Of A Pig, R. S. Thomass Evans and Iago Prytherch and John Montagues The Water Carrier and Like Dolmens Round My Childhood The Old People. These were also the years when John Montagues essays and reviews were appearing and establishing a home-based critical idiom that was bracing and clarifying, as in his important early review essay (in Poetry Ireland) on the poetry of John Hewitt and his reappropriation of Goldsmiths Deserted Village as an Irish poem in the famous Dolmen Miscellany of Irish Writing. / Here was somebody sketching out a way of bringing it all back home, prefiguring the Hibernocentric re-reading of Anglo-Irish literature which the academic critics would be engaged upon in the decades to come. [Cont.]
Gerald Dawe, Invocation of Powers John Montague, in Neil Corcoran, ed., The Chosen Ground: Essays on the Contemporary Poetry of Northern Ireland (Brigend, Mid Glamorgan: Seren Books; Dufour 1992): These two persistent directions of Montagues writing - one autobiographical, the other explicitly cultural - can find themselves insufficiently sustained by a distinct imaginative raison detre. This lack means that some of Montagues poetry has a conventional air of being written to a prefabricated formula, with certain stock images and characters guaranteeing the Irish authenticity of his work. This may be linked to an awareness of what Stephen Spender outlined in the introduction to his study of Anglo-American sensibilities, Love-Hate Relations. (p.25.)
[ top ] Patrick Crotty, Cunning Ampersands, review of Collected Poems, in Irish Review (Winter / Spring 1997), pp.136-43. The appearance of this hefty collected - if not quite complete - edition of John Montagues poems makes it possible to assess on the basis of a single volume the full scope of one of the most deliberately constructed poetic careers of the post-war period. [136] ... The taut alertness of style [of] Montagues first full collection suggests a young poets wariness of putting a foot wrong in his painstaking, meticulous search for an individual idiom ... The product of a schooled intelligence, in the academic as well as the broader senses of that word, the signature of the early work is recognisably American ... Montagues localism is more emphatic - because more particularised - than Kavanaghs. His concern for the slumped life of middle Ireland is continuous with the work of the older poet, but rendered in the light of cosmopolitan experience. The self-aware treatment of the rural scene anticipates early Heaney ... / Unlike Kavanagh and the young Heaney, the poet of Poisoned Lands measures present conditions against past ideal ... And yet the sense that the present is the product of the past, so bleakly articulated in The Rough Field and The Dead Kingdom, and which can at times betray Montague into reading history as myth, is already at work in poems like The Sean Bhean Bhocht, Wild Sports of the West, and The Mummer Speaks [...; 137] It is Montagues tragedy, where the fortunes of his reputation are concerned, that the nationalist and erotic themes round which his ambitions for major poetry began to crystallise became, within a decade or so of his adopting them, the most fiercely contested sites in Irish literary criticism. [138] Occasionally a more Romantic poet break cover as Montague seeks to offset his Joycean meanness with a Yeatsian resonance. These more sonorous moments can be problematic [Crotty goes on to criticise the use of imaginary in the second line of All legendary objects [sic for obstacles] which he sees as an inaccurate substitution for imagined for effect rather than sense] After the 1960s, as his poetic reach widens, his verse grows abstract, with clichéd or otherwise flaccid phrases liking passages of concretely achieve detail. [139] The Rough Field is the most frankly ambitious item in the Montague canon [...] in length and conscious modernity [... ...] The idiom of The Great Cloak approaches the platitudinous [140] The Dead Kingdom pictures the poet and his wife on the same edge of Ireland, Roches Point in Cork Harbour. The fact that the book recounts a journey from there to the heart of familial and political darkness in Tyrone might suggest [...] a sequel to The Rough Field. Yet [it] is substantially different from the earlier work, less grand in aspiration, more intimately autobiographical in tenor and more unified in procedure. [...]. The dropping of [thirteen] very minor pieces [...] strengthens rather than weakens the claim of A Slow Dance to be considered the richest and most diverse volume in the Montague canon. [1141] Mount Eagle appears an interim gathering of miscellaneous pieces and Time in Armagh a sort of marking time for the more interesting Border Sick Call, a 12pp. poem at the end of the book ... announced as long ago as 1974 on the back of the pamphlet version of The Cave of Night, revisits the territory of Like Dolmens Round My Childhood ... and other very early lyrics by recounting of the poets experience in accompanying his doctor brother on his rounds along a border that straddles not only the North and the Republic, but ancient and modern Ireland, indeed life and death. / One of the more notable features of Montagues work in the last decade and a half has been his development in a handful of poems of a low-key but capacious lyric style which risks prose in its attempt to communicate a wise passivity just short of resignation ... exercises in a hard-won, middle-aged version of negative capability all the more remarkable in a poet whose work has typically erred on the side of assertiveness. [142] Collected Poems bears witness to the grace of phrasing and insistent sense of the actual, which mark John Montagues poetry at its best, and give it its place among the significant achievements of contemporary Irish writing. [End.]
Theo Dorgan, But in What Country Have We Been?, review of Collected Poems, in Sunday Independent (31 Dec. 1995), Living, p.8L; sees reading of Montague as Catholic Nationalist as misguided, finding him instead a poet of world class (as American poet Carolyn Kizer says); begins with love, love of sex, and the quivering drama of sexual relationships, love also of the uncelebrated home place, with its freight of history, its flints and shards of a beaten-down civilisation; In Forms of Exile and A Chosen Light he straddles the worlds of Carleton and T. K. Whitaker; suited and polo-necked visionary of the Irish Sixties; eye and ear still for the Formorian fierceness of Tyrone; quotes, For there is no sea / it is all a dream there is no sea / except in the tangle / of our minds: / the wine dark / sea of history on which we all turn / turn and thresh / and disappear. (Wine Dark Sea); The Rough Field telescopes the Plantation of Ulster into the dawn of the dance-hall era; in The Great Cloak and The Dead Kingdom he sounds the lost cry / of the yellow bittern, finds with all his circling there is failure to return; finds the last section ranking with the best of what has been written in Ireland this century and transfigures everything Montague has so far written; refers to triumphant close call of Border Sick Call.
Steven Mathews, On Family Ground, review of Collected Poems, in Times Literary Suppliment (2 Aug. 1996), p.25.; quotes from Montagues prefaces [as above], and remarks on his deep eclecticism, and also a steely modernity matched in Ireland only by that of Thomas Kinsella from the South; characterises Montague, in contradistinction to the beautiful pieties of a Heaney or a Longley, as a modern poetics of failure, of failure to return to those roots and origin which inspire the romanticism of some of the younger poets; cites lines on a dancehall, this stone idol / can house more hopes than any / verse of mine; remarks that sexual experience continues to evoke for Montague both the historical hurts of Ireland (her piled strands / of auburn Irish hair ... / A kings treasure / of roseate flesh, from Deer Park) and the possibilities of fruitful union which might stand as a model for a broader reconciliation (There is in such exchanges a harvest, / A source of wellspring or sweetness, from Matins both in Mount Eagle); yet it is a union ... which must continue to be under threat (viz., Discords); reviewer notes a weariness in the most recent sequences, Time in Armagh and Border Sick Call; regrets disappearance of the Derricke woodcuts. (TLS, 2 Aug. 1996, p.25.)
[ top ] David Wheatley, Still in the Swim [interview with Montague in rooms in the TCD Rubrics], in Books Ireland (Feb. 2000), pp.5-6: Wheatley remarks that Montague was free to start all over again after the stock-taking of Collected Poems; Smashing the Piano covers several decades with themes ranging from adolescent sexuality to the raw wound of Omagh; title derived from incident when Montague returned home to find a cousin demolishing the family piano, here called the instruments death-rattle which Wheatley compares to John Cage serenading Stockhausen remarking that Montagues music is never less than sweet in comparison; centrally involved in Claddagh Records; Montague talks enthusiastically about Robert Creeley and how American models helped him rein in his Irish loquacity and hone the short line that has been such a feature of his work also One particularly Irish feature of his work he has never reined in is his fondness for the love poem; discusses with Montague his representations of the feminine; Montague asserts that what he was doing in The Wild Dog Rose was the opposite of the objectification of the feminine as nationalist icons which feminist critics attacked, showing instead the real woman imprisoned behind the objectification; Montague has moved from Gravesian sense of poetry as high romantic calling towards Wallace Stevenss approach to idealisation in The Palm at the End of the Mind; the Northern Irish elegy is something he looks forward to decommissioning; recounts the fracas surrounding Becketts copying out the early poem Da Tagte Es for The Great Book of Ireland and getting the text wrong, causing on critic to accuse the editors of laying fraudulent claim to an original poem; speaks of his attraction to the poet Guillevic, whom Montague has just translated in Carnac; also trans. French poet Francis Ponge, a Communist like Guillevic; Montague calls them mystical materialists; mentions currently writing a memoir; contribution to anthology Watching the River Flow; asked what makes him angry as a writer today, Montague rails gently against the concentration on Northern Irish poetry and wonders why British poerty isnt producing anyone to match Basil Bunting any more.
[ top ] Bernard ODonoghue, review of John Montague, Company: A Chosen Life (London: Duckworth 2001), in The Irish Times, Weekend (23 June 2001): Montague has avoided the traps of memor, gifted as he is with an incomparably lucid prose style and an inclination towards mockery that doesnt spare the writer; centres on Dublin, Paris and America (espec. California) in the 1950s and 1960s (those hopeful days); those mentioned are Eddie Windsor; Ionesco; George Yeats; Behan said by Myles na Gopaleen to be the sole proprietor of the biggest heart that has beaten in Ireland in the last forty years, while Montague writes that his generosity was as outsize as his burly physique; Garech Brown, who co-founded Claddagh with Montague (Claddagh Raga); Denis Murphy; Julia Clifford; ODonoghue notes that almost every quotation from Irish is horribly garbled. Note that an extract from Company, dealing with Brendan Behan and recounting his treatment of a priest who visits the Montagues in company with Tom Parkinson and Donal Barrington is also printed in Writing Now.
Kevin Kiely, review of John Montague, Company: A Chosen Life (London: Duckworth 2001), in Books Ireland (Dec. 2001), p.324: Madeleine de Brauer, inspiration of All legendary obstacles; upper-class Norman French; settled at 6 Herbert St., and latter at Gloucester Diamond; worked with Bórd Failte; Behan trashes Doris Lessing verbally and berates Montague for not keeping company with French ouvriers; praises Flann OBriens laudatory and loving obituary for Behan in Telegraph, and casts doubt on the spirit of Cronins and Higginss memoirs of him (lack both generosity and compassion); Behans severe beatings in Walton Gaol; Liam Miller; Timothy OKeeffe (to whom he recommended Heaney); turned down Stuarts Black List Section H in early version; Garech Browne portrayed; Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker; 11 Rue Daguerre, Paris; friendship with Beckett; Con Leventhal; Rough Field turned down by Gallimard and Edition de minuit (mais, cest de la poèsie! ça [ne] vend pas). Berkeley, California; Kenneth Rexroth, Louis Simposn, Allen Ginsberg, and Kerouac; Marianne Moore; takes Ted Roethke to meet Mrs Yeats.
[Shirley Kelly,] Dont Knock Cork or Else interview with John Montague, in Books Ireland (Oct. 2007), pp.206-07 - quotes extensively, viz., on Berkeley in the mid-sixties: It seemed to me that America, or at least California, was becoming a vast sexual laboratory, where surgeon and patient were equally ignorant, and where matters were not leavened by tenderness. On going to UCD in 1946: I had no notion of becoming a poet, he says, but I knew I could write. My elder brother advised me to go to Dublin because there were more outlets there for people who could write - newspapers, theatres and so on. I thought I would become a journalist and for the first year I continued in the same vein as before, getting a first in every subject. That wasnt down to my own brilliance. It was just that Id had a better education in the North than my contemporaries in the South. / Even the boys from Clongowes and Belvedere werent up to the same standard. So I began to relax and look around me and I noticed there were quite a lot of poets. They seemed to be having a very good time and they also seemed to be very popular with the brighter girls. I began to drift into their company and met people like Pearse Hutchinson, Anthony Cronin and Thomas Kinsella, who was a night student. I hadnt even tried to write poetry at this stage, but I began to think about it. The challenge, as I saw it, was to transform myself from a star student who passed exams to the point where I could actually be a question on the exam! I could see that even a poet of Kavanaghs stature was very poor and that I would need to do something else in order to get by, so after college I worked as a journalist, a film critic and reviewer and then as a teacher, which is how I ended up in Berkeley. [Cont.]
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