Thing Of Darkness Research Articles

Roving Across Fields: A Conversation and Uncollected Poems, 1942–1982 by William Stafford, and: Smoke’s Way: Poems from Limited Editions 1968–1981 by William Stafford

Reviews 319 The nineteen essays by prominent authors, scholars, and critics are divided into six categories: The Old Guard, an assessment of the Dobie/ Webb/Bedichek triumvirate;The Old Order, an investigation of the Southern heritage; The Vanishing Frontier; The Texas-Mexican Perspective; The Texas Mystique; and The Sixties and Beyond. Although Larry McMurtry’s name is a leitmotif throughout the volume, a transcript of the panel in which he participated is not included. The book does not suffer from the omission. A related publication is William II. Goetzmann, Texas Images and Visions (Austin: Archer M. Huntington Art Gallery of the University of Texas, 1983), the catalog of “a notable exhibit of paintings and sketches, by the famous and the obscure, that attempt to portray Texas in the visual arts” (p. 7). This exhibit was on display during the conference. SYLVIA ANN GRIDER Texas A&M University Roving Across Fields: A Conversation and Uncollected Poems, 1942-1982. By William Stafford. (Daleville, Indiana: The Barnwood Press, 1983. 51 pages, $6.95 paperback.) Smoke’s Way: Poems from Limited Editions 1968-1981. By William Stafford. (Port Townsend, Washington: Graywolf, 1983. 112 pages, $6.00 paperback.) Anyone who has a shelf of little magazines could probably find enough uncollected poems by William Stafford to fill a chapbook. The books from Harper & Row, his major publisher, represent him without really collecting him : there are poems in the magazines and in pamphlets and chapbooks that we wouldn’t want to do without. Keats suggested that poetry should come as easily as leaves to a tree, and this is the case with Stafford. Two recent books have gathered some of the leaves. Roving Across Fields is a beautifully produced book. Thom Tammaro has assembled nineteen fugitive poems from the last forty years and prefaced them with an interview with Stafford that he recorded in 1976. The interview is not one of Stafford’s best, though it has some good observations. The poems are not among the best either, but as Tammaro points out, it is interesting to see that Stafford’s vision and tone have remained consistent over forty years. The first poem, dated 1942, is a fable about “The Country of Thin Moun­ tains.” The people in that country have only false mountains painted on cardboard, and they don’t care, being caught up in profit and self-importance. But one of their mountains is real, a joke on them that the poet shares with us. This little story could come right out of Someday, Maybe. It makes its point in a way typical of Stafford’s voice: not insistent, but persistent. A more substantial collection is gathered in another beautiful book, Smoke’s Way. There are more poems, and some preliminary sorting has been 320 Western American Literature done by the poet, since the contents first appeared in fourteen limited editions — and not everything in those has been reprinted. Stafford has provided helpful section titles and the poems are in chronological order. Hence this is a book rather than a miscellany. I am glad to have so many elusive booklets brought together. I remember copying out In the Clock of Reason for myself in a Rare Book Room, and ordering a copy of Braided Apart (an interesting book in collaboration with his son, Kim) from a small press distributor in New Mexico. There are no surprises in the collection — we are in Stafford’s familiar world of rain, wind, cold and sunlight — but there are plenty of happy dis­ coveries. It is a world the poet is definitely not alienated from; it sustains him, breath by breath. The chief sacrament in Stafford’s religion is the simple act of breathing: count the poems in which that act is crucial. Dark things happen, but they can be accepted with a certain grace. Stafford learns patience not from Bruce’s spider but from something equally common. Here is the conclusion of “Smoke” : I saw Smoke, slow traveler, reluctant but sure. Hesitant sometimes, yes, because that’s the way things are. Smoke never doubts, though: some move will appear. Wherever you are, there is another door. Smoke may join wind, rain and light as one of Stafford’s key symbols...

Seeing perfectly dark things and the causal conditions of seeing

Seeing perfectly dark things and the causal conditions of seeing

On The Role of Notation in Mathematics

When Ahmes the Egyptian, author of the oldest mathematical treatise now extant—written nearly two thousand years before Christ, i. e., about the time of Joseph—was presented to Pharaoh, his king, as a learned mathematician, Pharaoh remarked: “Professor, I assure you that I entertain a profound respect for one skilled in the higher mathematics for of all the subjects with which my tutor sought vainly to acquaint me, this was the one to which I could discover neither head, tail nor middle.” This little piece of unwritten history I am able to announce to you for the first time, having inferred it by a process of generalization. For this is the substance of the first remark ventured by Augustus Mutt when introduced to Mathematicus ever since. That Ahmes, too, was a genuine mathematician is attested by his behavior—likewise here reported for the first time—for he assumed a look of superior wisdom and reserve, mingled wits satisfaction, but deprecated the royal humility and presented Pharaoh with a copy of payrus, which bore the modest title: “Directions for obtaining the knowledge of all dark things.”