The secret subject of my book is elegy, as I discover today. I found myself citing Frank O'Hara's elegies for James Dean, Valente's elegy for his son, Lorca's "Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejías," Motherwell's "Elegy for the Spanish Republic, etc..., in two successive chapters.
So elegy is about poetic legacy and influence. Why? The death of the author. The author as biographical subject is dead, as far as literary theory goes, but lives on as a necessary construction in any version of the artistic legacy. Elegy expresses the wide range of emotions, from nostalgia and anger to the desire for transcendence, to acceptance and even the possibility of forgetfulness.
My high school friend, after her father died, sent me this Christmas a rare book, a translation of Lorca's Llanto done in the 1950s by a Canadian artist as a school project. A beautiful piece of work. It's all starting to make sense.
This blog is part of the "80 hours" I work. It's a spill over or laboratory for the book I'm writing. I'm happy to learn I am also presumably working while asleep, since when I wake up I have all these fresh ideas.