Now the boring business of scanning begins. But only this morning. Lunch and the rest of the weekend are given, it seems, to celebrating my birthday.
Planning to return to La Valdieu on Weds for the night in an attempt to pick up the thinking before this Strangers project moved in on me. Such a strong pull; I blame Abbe Boudet.
In the meantime; nice bit here from a review of a book on Seamus Heaney, about where ideas come from:
The idea that poems are less things you make and more things that occur to you is a venerable one, a version of 'inspiration' [-] 'That old-fashioned notion of poetry as a visitation has been a determining one for me', [Heaney] once said. Of course, like Eliot, he had to recognise that the conscious part of the mind did play some role in the making of a finished work, and so his essays repeatedly invoke a dualism between what's given and what's made, setting dark intuitive powers against the worked-out deliberations of craft.'
Wish I'd read this before I did the Saints book - so concise. (written by Seamus Perry in LRB 6th May)
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