Bishop offers few remarks, so each one, along with each slight alteration of text, is precious. For example, she brings "Large Bad Picture" to a sudden, marvelous halt with "And I must change that--he never was a schoolteacher. I think I liked the rhyme." She is in finest form at the Coolidge Auditorium in May 1969, and particularly loose with the magical "Invitation to Miss Marianne Moore." Perhaps this has something to do with its vocative mode and its irresistible repetition of "please come flying": "We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping, / or play at a game of constantly being wrong / with a priceless set of vocabularies, / or we can bravely deplore, but please / please come flying."
Despite Bishop's attempts at invisibility, her art again and again makes itself felt. One is grateful that she was caught narrating such masterworks as "At the Fishhouses" and "The Moose" as well as the lovely "Poem" about a miniature painting, with its "tiny cows, / two brushstrokes each, but confidently cows" and celebrated riddle: "A specklike bird is flying to the left. / Or is it a flyspeck looking like a bird?" The tape also includes such lesser-known pieces as "Cirque d'Hiver." Only Bishop could instill a wind-up horse and rider with such desperate beauty, wit, and desire for connection:
His mane and tail are straight from ChiricoBishop never once refers to her performances in her letters, and though she was to grow more comfortable with the requirements of her role, as late as 1976 an article on her was titled "Reading Scares Poet Bishop." She may not have been keen on the sound of her own voice, but those lucky enough to catch it now will savor each revelation of her formal, melancholy soul. --Kerry Fried
He has a formal, melancholy soul.
He feels her pink toes dangle toward his back
along the little pole
that pierces both her body and her souland goes through his, and reappears below,
under his belly, as a big tin key.
I still remember the shock of hearing Bishop's voice for the first time. Bishop's voice is so -- I don't know any other word for it -- so ordinary. This is as true on her early recordings (from the late 1940s) as on her mature readings (mid 1970s). At times, the listener is tempted to think she does not understand the meaning of what she is saying: she is so shy about drawing attention to her poetic craft, and so embarrassed about revealing any hidden emotional content, that she almost seems to be reading the work of another person. "Don't you realize," I want to shout, "that you are speaking some of the greatest lines in American poetry?" But we must remember that Bishop's self-effacements, however ineffective in a public reading, are part of the reason why her poems are so emotionally satisfying. Meaning and memory resonate in the most lightly observed surface details.
I would highly recommend this recording to anyone who already knows Elizabeth Bishop's work and biography -- it is an excellent reference, even if it is not the most entertaining recording. However, I would caution a newcomer to Bishop NOT to start here. It is far better to read the poems and the letters first so that you have a sense of the many masks this poet wears. Another good place to start is the hour-long documentary on Elizabeth Bishop in the "Voices and Visions" series, which appeared years ago on public television (available in many libraries). James Merrill and Mary McCarthy are interviewed about their friendship with Elizabeth Bishop and make many illuminating comments. Blythe Danner -- Gwyneth Paltrow's mom! -- reads the poems of Bishop, and frankly does a better job of it than Bishop does.