We are diamonds and life does the polishing. - Brancusi
I still don’t like poetry.
Now however, I am appreciating the journals, letters, and biographies of poets, particularly after reading a number of May Sarton’s books and those about her. Her writing reveals the poet’s underlying insecurity, arrogance, flexible social stance, and the need to speak out loud her beautiful thoughts and dark moods. Not all poems are written to impress or sell copies.
May Sarton was a staunch humanist, feminist, and out lesbian, revealing much in her journals, asides, and letters. She admitted to editing all of her work to please others which often lead to days of anger, humiliation, and tears when reviews are bad. Depending upon her moods, Sarton could quickly dash off a poem and journal entry or spend months laboring over a single line of verse.
“Isn’t it funny that people always apologize for the truth - and never for a lie?” - May Sarton
Sarton confessed that she was thoroughly self-absorbed and though jealous of her writerly solitude ultimately found depression in her self-imposed isolation. She could be rejuvenated with a beautiful sunrise, the flowers in her garden, the personalities of her cats, or a productive day of work. In her response letters to fans, she managed to accomplish even more beauty though resents that letter writing diminishes her precious creative time.
Sarton’s beginnings in Europe and reluctant embrace of America, lead to social connections and deep friendships that sustained her and also caused debilitating competitive anxiety. She lunched, lived, and visited with these friends; all champions of art. Virginia Woolf, Juliette and Julian Huxley, Eugenie Dubois, Katherine Mansfield, Eva Le Gallienne, Brancusi, Elizabeth Bowen, and Robert Frost are just a few of those giants. She longed desperately for public acclaim and yet is surprised when a silent auditorium, where one of her readings takes place, suddenly erupts into a standing ovation. Afterwards she was hugged and kissed by tearful people who have read every line she has published. These moments provided, unfortunately, only a fleeting solace. She knew she was good but she hungered for regular applause on her own damn schedule!
“I find it odd that I must put a human form into every landscape to see its grandeur - a small vulnerable creature which gives proportion to a mountain.” - May Sarton
Conflict in thought, word, and perspective haunted Sarton. Admitting to seeing the beauty of a tiny flower bud against a huge field of snow or a mighty tree, she bent her thoughts and writing to the underdog, the vulnerable, and the joy of solitude especially when these were far from her current feelings. She could be arrogantly class conscious yet still fight vociferously for better treatment of people of color as she volunteered her time in shelters and help centers in Boston during and after WWII.
“I am astounded that you believe that JUSTICE has a race (white)!” - May Sarton
When two innocents get together, the bodies lie strewn. - Elizabeth Bowen in The Death of the Heart
May Sarton despised and even raged about and directly to stupid people, who in her opinion, wasted her time, their own time, and talents. As a Belgian-born émigré, Sarton was amazed at lack of early American support for Europe against Germany and Hitler, and the short sightedness of immigrant Americans who had been overrun as her family had in WWI. Her writings reflected her mood of the day, and so her written opinions could change, as in:
"But then only the people who are interesting in this sad world are the people who kept their innocence - so much deeper than wisdom." May Sarton
Was she being tart, sarcastic, or in a different frame of mind that day? She loved the farmers, housekeepers, and tradespeople in the small towns of Nelson, New Hampshire and York, Maine where she lived. She didn’t refrain from imagining how her largesse and own needs improved their lives financially.
“Poetry is a seizure and not done on will.” - May Sarton
“There should be some fierce teaching and some awe of learning. Everything is made so easy and is so second-rate. They (students) are so easily satisfied with themselves.” - May Sarton
May Sarton often turned to teaching to supplement her income as even well-reviewed poetry did not create fortunes. She confessed she had little love or respect for her students. In classes, the questions of royalties, agents, and connections frustrated Sarton who thought they were “putting the cart before a stupid no-talent horse.” She left teaching as soon as she could though continued to write very supportive response letters to readers who were struggling with their own writing.
“I wonder if we in our time have not made a fatal mistake in believing that happiness was the most important end in individual life.” May Sarton
As her friends, lovers, and mentors began to die, a few tragically, Sarton noted: we often don’t realize our time with a beloved person or in a wonderful place is actually our last. Only in retrospect do we understand it was a departure and return is impossible.
May Sarton: Among the Usual Days, A Portrait
Unpublished poems, letters, journals, and photographs.
Ed and Selected by Susan Sherman - 1993 Norton
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