Introduction

What is The New Yorker? I know it’s a great magazine and that it’s a tremendous source of pleasure in my life. But what exactly is it? This blog’s premise is that The New Yorker is a work of art, as worthy of comment and analysis as, say, Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” Each week I review one or more aspects of the magazine’s latest issue. I suppose it’s possible to describe and analyze an entire issue, but I prefer to keep my reviews brief, and so I usually focus on just one or two pieces, to explore in each the signature style of its author. A piece by Nick Paumgarten is not like a piece by Jill Lepore, and neither is like a piece by Ian Frazier. One could not mistake Collins for Seabrook, or Bilger for Goldfield, or Mogelson for Kolbert. Each has found a style, and it is that style that I respond to as I read, and want to understand and describe.

Friday, October 16, 2020

Paul Muldoon's Delightful "Bramleys, Not Grenadiers"

John Russell, Peonies and Head of a Woman (c.1887)










Paul Muldoon’s poem “Bramleys, Not Grenadiers,” in the September 24, 2020, New York Review of Books, is delightful. I particularly like the lines about the use of pantyhose to tie the trees’ branches to the stake:

At the heart of the espalier is the stake
to which the branches are bound with pantyhose
to allow for a little give and take.

Lorna and I use old pantyhose to wrap her mother’s peony bushes tight so we can fit the wire cages over them. When the cages are in place, we undo the pantyhose and remove it. It’s an old trick we learned from her mother. I’ve often thought that “Peonies & Pantyhose” would make a great title for a poem or short story.

Muldoon’s use of pantyhose in his poem is inspired!

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