Dr. Don W. King returns for the second time this month, this time to talk about the poetry of C.S. Lewis’ wife, Joy Davidman.
S5E61: Poetry Month: “The Naked Tree”, After Hours with Dr. Don W. King (Download)
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Show Notes
Introduction
Quote-of-the-week
“Life is too intense to be endured with logic alone”
Joy Davidman, The Longest Way Round
Biographical Information
Dr. King has taught at Montreat College for forty-eight years, teaching courses in British literature and is a recipient of the distinguished “Professor of the Decade” award. He was on the show earlier this season to talk about Jack’s brother, Warnie, and then again just two weeks ago when he introduced Lewis’ poetry to us.
Guest Biographical Information
Chit-Chat
- Dr. King is the first person to be on Pints With Jack twice within a month and three times during the same season!
Beverage and Toast
- David was drinking mint tea from his wife’s garden.
- Dr. King was drinking coffee.
Discussion
1. “Joy Davidman 101”
So today we’re talking about Joy Davidman-Gresham-Lewis… We’ve spoken about Joy on our podcast before, but for newcomers who know nothing her, would you mind giving us a quick rundown of things we should know about her?
2. “Poem #1: Yet One More Spring”
“What will come of me
After the fern has feathered from my brain
And the rosetree out of my blood; what will come of me
In the end, under the rainy locustblossom
Shaking its honey out on springtime air
Under the wind, under the stooping sky?
What will come of me and shall I lie
Voiceless forever in earth and unremembered,
And be forever the cold green blood of flowers
And speak forever with the tongue of grass
Unsylabled, and sound no louder
Than the slow falling downward of white water,
And only speak the quickened sandgrain stirring,
Only the whisper of the leaf unfolding,
Only the tongue of leaves forever and ever?Out of my heart the bloodroot,
Out of my tongue the rose,
Out of my bone the jointed corn,
Out of my fiber trees,
Out of my mouth a sunflower,
And from my fingers vines,
And the rank dandelion shall laugh from my loins
Over million seeded earth; but out of my heart,
Core of my heart, blood of my heart, the bloodroot
Coming to lift a petal in peril of snow,
Coming to dribble from a broken stem
Bitterly the bright color of blood forever.But I would be more than a cold voice of flowers
Joy Davidman, Yet One More Spring
And more than water, more than sprouting earth
Under the quiet passion of the spring;
I would leave you the trouble of my heart
To trouble you at evening; I would perplex you
With lightning coming and going about my head,
Outrageous signs, and wonders; I would leave you
The shape of my body filled with images,
The shape of my mind filled with imaginations,
The shape of myself. I would create myself
In a little fume of words and leave my words
After my death to kiss you forever and ever.”
3. “Life and Career”
Please tell us more about Joy’s life and career.
This reviewer has always considered herself fairly articulate, yet, face to face with I wanted Wings, she feels the poverty of her vocabulary. All the words that describe it adequately are unprintable… [The film] makes no bones about its intentions. It is a recruiting poster in style, sentiment, and static quality. If you imagine yourself compelled to stare at such a poster for two solid hours, you will have some idea of the entertainment value of this juicy offering… Using the crudest of appeals, I wanted Wings alternates uplifting pep talks with uplifted blondes. A more flaccid script would be hard to imagine… It is astonishing, indeed, how many women there are in the Air Corps (Hollywood version). They attend court-martials, they stroll across the field cheerfully snapping pictures of bombers, they stow away in airplanes. And they never wear any underwear, or much overwear for that matter… [It] is a limping affair; you find yourself looking closely at the screen to make sure the projector hasn’t stopped. There are, of course, some extremely beautiful and intelligent airplanes, that contrast favorably with the human performers… If Miss Veronica Lake ever puts on a brassiere, her acting ability will disappear.
Joy Davidman, New Masses 39 (April 8th, 1941)
“…he almost never spoke about himself, in my hearing at least: though once, shortly after his marriage, when he brought his wife to lunch with me, he said…looking at her across the grassy quadrangle, ‘I never expected to have, in my sixties, the happiness that passed me by in my twenties.”
Jocelyn Gibb, Light on C. S. Lewis
4. “Published poetry”
How much of Joy’s work was published in her lifetime?
5. “Reception”
How was her poetry received?
6. “Themes”
What are the main themes in her poetry?
7. “Forms”
What poetic forms did Joy typically favour?
8. “A Naked Tree/Poem #2: Sonnet XXIX”
You edited A Naked Tree which is a collection of Joy’s poetry. First of all, why is it called A Naked Tree?
There was a man who found a naked tree
Sleeping in winter woods, and brought her home,
And tended her a month in charity
Until she woke, and filled his quiet roomwith petals like a storm of silver light,
Bursting, blazing, blended all of pearl
And moonshine; he, in wonder and delight,
Patted her magic boughs and said: Good girl.Thereafter, still obedient to the summer,
Joy Davidman, Sonnet XXIX
The tree worked at her trade, until behold
A summer miracle of red and gold,
Apples of the Hesperides upon her,
Sweeter than Eden and its vanished bowers…
He said: No, no, I only wanted flowers.
9. “Assembling the collection”
What was involved in putting together this critical edition?
10. “The Dedication”
You dedicated your book to “David, Jerry, and Warren”. Who are these men?
11. “Sections”
You divide the book into a number of sections, what made you choose these sections?
12. “Poetic evolution”
How did she evolve as a poet?
13. “Poem #3: Quisling at Midnight”
Houses are quiet at evening The sad colors
are sliding down the cypresses. Quiet, quiet.
Eyes look out of the sky, and the roof hides you
but the house is quiet.
So many empty chairs,
so many handsome rooms and no one in them
but the company of lights.
Turn on all the lights. Sit in the armchair,
not the one facing the mirror but the one
next to the friendly fire but no not there
where the fire makes pictures out of memory; there
next to the window but no not that the glimmering pane
shows you your eyes; here here by the desk
but you see your face in the polish of the desk.So much fine furniture but it costs too much
at evening with the sad colors and the voices
you know it costs too much.The beetle ticks in the walls.
The woman beaten till the child in her womb
leaped once and was dead, is sobbing in the garden
under the parrot perches.The broken fingers
Joy Davidman, Quisling at Midnight
of the twelve-year-old boy scuttles across the floor
or was it rats again.
So many rats
and someone here to feed them.
14. “Poem #4: Postscript: But All I Want”
…but all I want is the sense of your mouth
but all I want is the look of your mouth and eyes
but all I want is the hair on the back of your head
to run my finger over;your body the great and bare and splendid creation
come down upon me like the weight of god
descended upon me like the thunderbolt
eating me whollybut all I want is your presence your possession
the shaft of fire the great agony the great beauty
the lifting up and using of my body
to give you pleasure;I would embrace you with my hands and fingers
clasped across the strong bones of your spine
and feel the joints of your body with my fingers
and I wouldand I would love you beloved who leave me here breathless
Joy Davidman, Postcript: But All I Want
lying without knowledge of the muscles of your body
but all I want is the sun, but I want earthquake,
but all I want
all I want…
15. “Poem #5: Againrising”
The stroke of six
my soul betrayed;
as the clock ticks
I am unmade;the clock struck nine;
my life ran down
on gears of time
with a sickened sound.The nooday struck
a note of pride;
spread on the clock
I was crucified.The clock struck one,
whose spear, whose dart
transfixed my bone and narrow heart.The sound of seven
filled me with bells;
I left great heaven
for little hells;the midnight let
my blood run out
fierce and red
from my opened mouthGreat chaos came
to murder me
when the clock named
the hour of three.The dawn grew wide;
Joy Davidman, Rising
the clock struck five,
and all inside
I was alive.
16. “Poem #6: Sonnet 38”
Yes, I know: the angles disapprove
The way I look at you. Creation weeps,
Observing how my naughty finger creeps
Along your sleeve. On this unlucky loveOf mine, even merry Satan will not smile,
Nor waste a gilded flame on such a thing
As you have left blackened and shriveling;
The husk of me is hardly worth his while.But one day, riding on the upper deck
Joy Davidman, Sonnet XXXVIII
Of a large, red, respectable Oxford bus
You in the seat in front, and I behind
Coveting the back of you neck
Where your hair curls – why, I might lean and kiss;
Somehow I do not think that God would mind.
17. “Why read Joy’s poetry?”
Final pitch… Why should people read Joy’s poetry?
Softly, so casual,
Joy Davidman, Snow in Madrid
Lovely, so light, so light,
The cruel sky lets fall
Something one does not fight.
How tenderly to crown
The brutal year
The clouds send something down
That one need not fear.
Men before perishing
See with unwounded eye
For once a gentle thing
Fall from the sky.
More Information
- Dr. Don W. King (Website)
- The Naked Tree (Kent University Press | Amazon)
