Abstract

Ninety years on from the Battle of the Somme, the Great War—and the great war poets—remain endlessly fascinating. Isaac Rosenberg has always been ranked among the leading writers, but distinctive characteristics of his work have sometimes led him to be underrated or misunderstood. Rosenberg differs from contemporaries, such as Owen and Sassoon, not only in his Jewish, working-class background but also in his sensibility. The pre-war Roseitberg was part urban poet, part mystic and, in his Jewishness, above all a poet of exile. He suffered no disillusionment for he had few illusions to shed. It is by recognizing his distinctiveness, I want to argue here, that we can best appreciate his remarkable poetry.

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