 |
 |
INTERVIEWER
Were you ever part of a group of poets? Did you visit Robert Bly’s farm in the early sixties in Madison, Minnesota?
HALL
There wasn’t anything I would call a group. I did get out to the Blys’ a couple of times. . . . Robert and I—he was Bob then, and I feel stiff saying Robert—met at Harvard in February of 1948, when I tried out for the Advocate. He had joined the previous fall, when he first got to Harvard, but I waited until my second term. After school was out that summer, he came down to Connecticut and stayed at my house for a day or two. I was nervous having my poet friend there, afraid of confrontation between Robert and my father. At lunch Robert said, “Well, Mr. Hall, what do you think of having a poet for a son?” As I feared, my father didn’t know what to say; poetry was embarrassing, somehow. So I said, “Too bad your father doesn’t have the same problem,” and my father laughed and laughed, off the hook.
|
 Download a PDF of the full interview |
|
|
|
|
| Related Links |
- Death as a Career Move, Issue No. 167
- The Third Inning, Issue No. 120
- The Museum of Clear Ideas or Say: Horsecollar's Odes, Issue No. 123
- The Man in the Back Row Has a Question I: On Humor, Issue No. 136
- Sleeping, Issue No. 31
- Rocks and Whirlpools: Archibald MacLeish and Yvor Winters, Issue No. 121
- Prophecy, Issue No. 103
- Paris Review Poets from the Fifties, Issue No. 150
- My Friend Felix, Issue No. 99
- Method in Poetic Composition, Issue No. 3
- Illustration, Issue No. 79
- Exile, Issue No. 1
- To the Loud Wind, Issue No. 5
|
|
|
|
