Ann: brilliant as always, and deeply moving. Another great, intimate portrait of a forgotten woman. (Larkin had a mother? Who knew?) One more layer of meaning to the postmen in “Aubade,” and their role in healing. I learn so much from your posts.
Many thanks, Mary. It's a counterpoint to Larkin's line in This be the Verse - but I think even Larkin might not have been aware of how inspirational she was. Aubade is very bleak, but there is just that tiny sliver of hope which is pragmatic and very moving.
Yes, that poem. It was one of the first of his poems I read, and the only one I’ve memorized. (Pretty easy to do.) I don’t think Larkin was studied much in the U.S. At least not when I was in school. But it did make me wonder about his childhood.
It's such a wonderful poem, Ros. I always thought of the last line as particularly bleak - but now I see the sliver of very tentative hopefulness in his grief.
That insight, regarding the positivity of postmen in this context, is wonderful. It makes the simile ‘like doctors’ more about them as healers than as people who might be attending the dying (all of us, as Aubade drives home!)
Sadly I no longer write letters, except ones of complaint...but my Dad did and I have been reading some my mother saved from when he was in the Royal Signals during WW2 and attached to the Press Corps at the International Military Tribunal - commonly known as the war trials. His letters make anything I ever wrote in a letter seem very mundane. Dad wasn't a journalist - his role was transmitting the lengthy trial reports back to Fleet Street by teleprinter. He had been loaned by the army to the Daily Express. He worked at the Hamburg U-Boat trials and then the Belsen trials in Luneberg. Before landing in Normandy after D-Day he had been a Post Office clerk and he then travelled through France, Belgium and Germany in the HQ communications unit as the Nazi regime collapsed. At the trials, when off-duty, he was allowed in the courtroom as the horrific evidence of the concentration camps unfolded. "I had an excellent view of the "Beast" [Joseph Kramer]
and the "Beastess" [Irma Grese] and all the other thugs," he wrote in one letter home "If I were trying them I should bring convictions on their faces alone! Irma Grese was the least bestial-looking of the bunch, in fact she is quite pretty in a hard, expressionless way". After the trial Grese and 8 others were hanged in the yard of Hamelin gaol in December 1945. Dad was moved on to Nuremburg and the trials of 1946 before returning to his Post Office counter in January 1947. Thanks to some yellowing letters my mother kept, I am able to understand what he never actually discussed in any detail. In the post-letter world, how will be understand our own histories??
That is such a fascinating story Peter, and what an extraordinary role your father played in being an eye-witness and transmitting those trials. I hope you'll write more about it. And I agree that personal letters like that play a huge part in remembering. Your father's story, with its post office connections, would make a very good article for BBC History or History Today.
Many thanks, Matthew. Yes, I guess I do like the minutia of everyday life myself! Eva's astuteness in recommending Hardy's poetry to Larkin appealed to me. What a difference it makes when someone knows which writers will be meaningful to different people.
I've read a lot about Larkin's sometimes strange relationships, but never about his relationship with his mother. Thanks for posting such an absorbing piece.
Thank you Ann for the shout out. It's a great honour for me as I love your Substack! Not only your articles but also the daily snaps you share with us in Notes, of daily life in Cambridge.
This particular post made me think of my own mother, who I now care for. She was a big letter writer and, in fact, that's how she met my dad! They were penpals. When I was old enough in the 80s, she also enrolled me in a penpal club. I've been a letter writer ever since and have even been thinking of incorporating that somehow into my Substack when I have more subscribers (as something I could offer those that sponsour my writing.) In later years, my mom took to emails like a duck to water and wrote to me constantly - I have them all saved but haven't had the time or desire yet to go through them, but one day I will! Like Larkin's mom, she is also going blind and deaf, and already has dementia, so I can imagine how he felt when he visited Eva in her care home.
Very good to have your personal perspective on this, Ollie, and thanks for your kind words about my writing. I love the idea of letters, but don't know if I'd still have the patience to sit down and write, like I used to do. But I do treasure longer emails too, so it is nice you have those from your mum. Very good that you are there for her during her time of need.
Love this post, Ann. And now I have to wonder if what she wrote to Larkin when he was lonely in Belfast (“I cannot help thinking that you would benefit from a course in psychology’ she told him confidently in 1951. ‘When one has reached the very depths of depression, psychology and religion are the last remaining props.’) led him at least indirectly to “Churchgoing,” one of my favorites.
So interesting, Ann! I was particularly struck by the quote from Eva about psychology and religion being the last bastions for one who has descended into depression. So true! And she could have added literature.
Thank you, Jeffrey. That's a very poignant poem and captures well what I imagine his sense of guilt about not living with his mother. The pull of 'going home', to where she was, then wanting to leave again quickly.
A delight to discover the voluminous correspondence between Larkin and his mother. Your thoughts about his ritual of writing weekly to her are compelling. Always fascinating!
That's very kind, Jill! It's interesting how important the regular routine was to them both - even if Larkin didn't really understand why he needed to write to her. Voluminous indeed! I appreciate Philip Pullen's dogged research.
I love Larkin's and especially loved the volume " Letters Home" ,with his "dear Mop" letters, and the wonderful moomin - like drawings. But I longed to know more of her and felt that here was a life that never had the chance to flourish.
Yes, Deborah, I agree - hers must have been a very hemmed-in life and doubtless she did live through her son, encouraging him to write his poetry. Her interest in literature and learning seems to have been intense, but not permitted to flourish as you say.
Thank you, Ann, for this wonderful post about an important relationship in the life of a poet who has been terribly important to me. I especially appreciated the context behind Aubade, the most moving and brilliant of his poems, which I wrote about in my newsletter in Feb.
Ann: brilliant as always, and deeply moving. Another great, intimate portrait of a forgotten woman. (Larkin had a mother? Who knew?) One more layer of meaning to the postmen in “Aubade,” and their role in healing. I learn so much from your posts.
Many thanks, Mary. It's a counterpoint to Larkin's line in This be the Verse - but I think even Larkin might not have been aware of how inspirational she was. Aubade is very bleak, but there is just that tiny sliver of hope which is pragmatic and very moving.
(https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse)
Yes, that poem. It was one of the first of his poems I read, and the only one I’ve memorized. (Pretty easy to do.) I don’t think Larkin was studied much in the U.S. At least not when I was in school. But it did make me wonder about his childhood.
I too know Aubade by heart. It has been powerfully with me for 20 years.
It's such a wonderful poem, Ros. I always thought of the last line as particularly bleak - but now I see the sliver of very tentative hopefulness in his grief.
That insight, regarding the positivity of postmen in this context, is wonderful. It makes the simile ‘like doctors’ more about them as healers than as people who might be attending the dying (all of us, as Aubade drives home!)
I guess the ambivalence is just about there - the postmen, like doctors, help to keep us going for slightly longer...
Sadly I no longer write letters, except ones of complaint...but my Dad did and I have been reading some my mother saved from when he was in the Royal Signals during WW2 and attached to the Press Corps at the International Military Tribunal - commonly known as the war trials. His letters make anything I ever wrote in a letter seem very mundane. Dad wasn't a journalist - his role was transmitting the lengthy trial reports back to Fleet Street by teleprinter. He had been loaned by the army to the Daily Express. He worked at the Hamburg U-Boat trials and then the Belsen trials in Luneberg. Before landing in Normandy after D-Day he had been a Post Office clerk and he then travelled through France, Belgium and Germany in the HQ communications unit as the Nazi regime collapsed. At the trials, when off-duty, he was allowed in the courtroom as the horrific evidence of the concentration camps unfolded. "I had an excellent view of the "Beast" [Joseph Kramer]
and the "Beastess" [Irma Grese] and all the other thugs," he wrote in one letter home "If I were trying them I should bring convictions on their faces alone! Irma Grese was the least bestial-looking of the bunch, in fact she is quite pretty in a hard, expressionless way". After the trial Grese and 8 others were hanged in the yard of Hamelin gaol in December 1945. Dad was moved on to Nuremburg and the trials of 1946 before returning to his Post Office counter in January 1947. Thanks to some yellowing letters my mother kept, I am able to understand what he never actually discussed in any detail. In the post-letter world, how will be understand our own histories??
That is such a fascinating story Peter, and what an extraordinary role your father played in being an eye-witness and transmitting those trials. I hope you'll write more about it. And I agree that personal letters like that play a huge part in remembering. Your father's story, with its post office connections, would make a very good article for BBC History or History Today.
Thanks - that's encouraging! I had never thought of writing for a personal history magazine. Food for thought. Peter
I love this mother-writer series! You're always so generous to both parties, without favoring the famous one. Who's next? I am looking forward!
Ah, thanks Victoria, I have at least one more up my sleeve... I think it's nice to look at it from the mother's perspective occasionally!
So interesting, as always Ann. I am learning so much from you !
That is really kind Maureen, I'm kind of learning this stuff myself too - just so lovely to share it. It's a great community here.
Another beautiful essay Ann. I appreciate the intimate looks into these relationships. Thank you.
Many thanks, Matthew. Yes, I guess I do like the minutia of everyday life myself! Eva's astuteness in recommending Hardy's poetry to Larkin appealed to me. What a difference it makes when someone knows which writers will be meaningful to different people.
What an interesting post and begs a closer look at the relationship drawn in the letters. An approach ripe for a book?
Thank you June, and I think a biography of Eva Larkin would be great. I admit I'd be a little daunted by the amount of correspondence!
I really enjoyed this, thank you. I loved his line about writing in the sunlight to her.
Thanks Toni! Yes, it's a lovely image - he conjures up a mood and a place so simply and touchingly.
I've read a lot about Larkin's sometimes strange relationships, but never about his relationship with his mother. Thanks for posting such an absorbing piece.
That's very kind of you Robin, glad you enjoyed it - very encouraging to have your feedback.
Thank you Ann for the shout out. It's a great honour for me as I love your Substack! Not only your articles but also the daily snaps you share with us in Notes, of daily life in Cambridge.
This particular post made me think of my own mother, who I now care for. She was a big letter writer and, in fact, that's how she met my dad! They were penpals. When I was old enough in the 80s, she also enrolled me in a penpal club. I've been a letter writer ever since and have even been thinking of incorporating that somehow into my Substack when I have more subscribers (as something I could offer those that sponsour my writing.) In later years, my mom took to emails like a duck to water and wrote to me constantly - I have them all saved but haven't had the time or desire yet to go through them, but one day I will! Like Larkin's mom, she is also going blind and deaf, and already has dementia, so I can imagine how he felt when he visited Eva in her care home.
Very good to have your personal perspective on this, Ollie, and thanks for your kind words about my writing. I love the idea of letters, but don't know if I'd still have the patience to sit down and write, like I used to do. But I do treasure longer emails too, so it is nice you have those from your mum. Very good that you are there for her during her time of need.
Love this post, Ann. And now I have to wonder if what she wrote to Larkin when he was lonely in Belfast (“I cannot help thinking that you would benefit from a course in psychology’ she told him confidently in 1951. ‘When one has reached the very depths of depression, psychology and religion are the last remaining props.’) led him at least indirectly to “Churchgoing,” one of my favorites.
So interesting, Ann! I was particularly struck by the quote from Eva about psychology and religion being the last bastions for one who has descended into depression. So true! And she could have added literature.
And thank you for sharing my latest thread! And for joining the discussion there. Now I have to read the Larkin article!
I mean poem! I’m not familiar with Larkin’s poetry so that was a surprise!
Such a wonderful post, Ann. I learnt so much. Larkin's effort to keep Eva at bay put me in mind of his poem "Home is so sad":
"Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back."
That could almost be Philip's perception of Eva?
Thank you, Jeffrey. That's a very poignant poem and captures well what I imagine his sense of guilt about not living with his mother. The pull of 'going home', to where she was, then wanting to leave again quickly.
A delight to discover the voluminous correspondence between Larkin and his mother. Your thoughts about his ritual of writing weekly to her are compelling. Always fascinating!
That's very kind, Jill! It's interesting how important the regular routine was to them both - even if Larkin didn't really understand why he needed to write to her. Voluminous indeed! I appreciate Philip Pullen's dogged research.
I love Larkin's and especially loved the volume " Letters Home" ,with his "dear Mop" letters, and the wonderful moomin - like drawings. But I longed to know more of her and felt that here was a life that never had the chance to flourish.
Yes, Deborah, I agree - hers must have been a very hemmed-in life and doubtless she did live through her son, encouraging him to write his poetry. Her interest in literature and learning seems to have been intense, but not permitted to flourish as you say.
Thank you, Ann, for this wonderful post about an important relationship in the life of a poet who has been terribly important to me. I especially appreciated the context behind Aubade, the most moving and brilliant of his poems, which I wrote about in my newsletter in Feb.
Oh that's very kind of you Ros, I look forward to reading your Feb newsletter. Aubade is indeed such a brilliant poem, bleak and unforgettable.