Larkin was writing in 1969, in the days when music fans were expected to wait patiently for any audio scraps to fall off the table. But he also seems to speak of an era when nostalgia was rooted in accurate memories, with no potential for revisionism. For example, I certainly didn’t watch this
when it was first on TV in 1980. But in true postmodern style, I’m quite capable of retrospectively absorbing it into my childhood. If, as Roland Barthes suggested, the Author is Dead, did he take the Past down with him?
3 comments:
Larkin is the Eric Morecambe of poetry.
Apart from 'Aubude' of course, which I like to read to young children at bus stops when I'm wearing my mac.
Sorry, what's the theory again?
Does that make Kingsley Amis Little Ern, Garfer?
Disappeared up its own footnotes, Dick.
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