A Committed, Passionate Voice

Abstract

A Committed, Passionate Voice Peter F. Neumeyer (bio) Climb into the Bell Tower: Essays on Poetry, by Myra Cohn Livingston. New York: Harper & Row, 1990. The underlying questions of this volume are inescapable: What is children's poetry? Is it somehow different in kind from adult poetry? Do stanzas by Eleanor Farjeon, A. A. Milne, Aileen Fisher, and Elizabeth Madox Roberts represent a genre of their own and, basically, of a sort that no adult would pick up for solace, insight, or understanding? (Be honest when you answer that.) Or is children's poetry essentially no different from adult poetry? Is it simply that stratum of adult poetry which, at some level, a child can respond to—Dickinson's "I like to see it lap the miles," Tennyson's "Eagle," Langston Hughes's "Dreams"? Do Valerie Worth's or N. M. Bodecker's writings rank as good poetry by any criteria, or do we judge them more leniently because they're either written or marketed for a different audience? Do Ted Hughes's "My Sister Jane" or "My Uncle Dan" really rank with "Pike" or "View of a Pig"—or are they, as it were, written for the left hand? Even as I have taught graduate seminars in children's poetry, I was unsure of my answers to these questions. Sometimes, in my puzzlement, I turned to the writings of Myra Livingston, whose first book about children's poetry I reviewed almost twenty years ago. Reading Livingston on children's poetry, I am still not sure I always find the answers to my major questions, but I do know I am listening to the most knowledgeable, thoughtful, responsible voice—sometimes the most astringent voice—in America today on the subject. The voice is astringent because Livingston is committed and passionate about the seriousness of the subject of children and poetry, because when we give a child a book—she quotes George Steiner— we take in hand "the quick of another human being" (191). Myra Livingston is herself an esteemed poet ("children's poet," if such a thing there be), and by the time of this publication, she may have published her fiftieth book of or about poetry for and connected [End Page 174] with children. She is one of the two or three wisest and most industrious anthologizers of children's poetry (not a hack assembler but a master synthesizer). She is a thoughtful, subtle teacher and lecturer whose message is ever a balance of concern for poetry, poets, and children. And finally, as more than one significant contemporary poet can attest, Myra Livingston has been an invaluable sponsor and mentor of new poets. Livingston's collections of original poems range broadly from eclectic assemblings of "Worlds I Know" to thematic volumes on such subjects as trees and the seasons; frequently her books have been illustrated by our best artists, among them Leonard Everett Fisher, Antonio Frasconi, and Peter Sis. Her anthologies likewise range from the inclusive (Anthology of Children's Literature) to the topical ("poems of the unknowable"). Her The Child as Poet: Myth or Reality is an important book for parents, teachers, and all others who think about poetry and children-an examination of the poetic imagination, a scrupulous study of acclaimed (or, "notorious") "child poets," as well as a plea for common sense and honest appraisal, a valiant barricade against mindless mediocrity, and a tonic for the cheap and condescending sentimentality that is such a danger to those who, with good intentions, attempt to foster "creativity" in children with the poetical equivalent of coloring books. Myra Livingston is a necessary voice from outside the academy and its often institutionalized opinions. At the same time, academics trust her because she is subtle, serious, passionate, and fully professional as a poet-scholar. While some write single-mindedly about the craft of poetry and others write fondly of children, Livingston is knowledgeable about and dedicated to the tradition and art of poetry at the same time that she cherishes no romantic illusions about "genius" children. For these reasons I have kept Livingston's widely scattered essays permanently on reserve for my students. You may imagine, then, what a godsend it...