A Painting, a Poem, and the Stack of the Week

Featuring Pier Hardin’s art, Mary Tabor’s prose . . . and Taylor Swift

“Night Life,” by Pier Hardin, oil on canvas

I love all of Pier’s work, but this is one of my favorites. The layered effects that she can create with oil on canvas are stunning. (Seeing it on your screen doesn’t do it justice, by the way, but you get the idea.) Visit her website to see more of her work.

---

A Poem

A few years ago, I translated a few of William Dunbar’s poems from Middle Scots for kicks and giggles. (Some people play video games for fun; I translate Middle Scots poetry.) I featured one of them in this recent post that also included some original poetry and more of Pier’s art. I don’t think that this poem requires much of an introduction. Enjoy.

*

“Sir Jhon Sinclair begowthe to dance”

Sir John Sinclair began to dance,

For he was newly come from France.

But for every step that he might prance,

The one foot always went wrong,

And with the other would not agree.

Said one: “Take up the Queen’s knight!”

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

Then came in Master Robert Shaw:

He looked as if he could teach them all,

But always his one foot would totter.

He staggered like a drunken mare

That was hobbled above the knee.

To seek from Sterling to Stranawere,

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

Then came in the master almoner,

An higgledy-piggledy stumbler.

Like a young bull staggering in the rye,

His hips gave many a hideous cry.

John Bute the fool said:  “Woe is me,

He is beshitten, fie, fie!”

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

Then came in Dunbar the Maker:

Of all on the floor there was no one nimbler,

And there he danced the dirrye dantoun. 

He hopped about like a wanton penis,

For love of Musgrave, so men tell me.

He danced so well that he lost his shoe.

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

Then came in Mistress Musgrave:

She could have taught all the rest.

When I saw her so gracefully dance,

Her fine bearing and countenance,

Then for her sake I wished to be

The greatest earl or duke in France.

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

Then came in Dame Dountebower: 

God knows that she looked sour.

She made such gyrations with her hips,

That for laughter none could hold their lips.

While she was dancing vigorously

A blast of wind soon from her slipped.

A merrier dance might no man see.

*

When five or six had come in,

The Queen’s Dog began to stretch

And from his tether he darted forth

And made straight for the dancing.

How mastiff-like he gamboled about!

He stank like a cur, some said.

A merrier dance might no man see.

Actual footage of the party that Dunbar is describing in the poem. It’s remarkable how much Dame Dountebower resembles Sarah Snook.

---

The Stack of the Week

This week’s stack is

Mary Tabor "Only connect ..."

by

<Mary L. Tabor>

. I used a word in a comment that I left on one of Mary’s posts that you see too often on blurbs for new books: mesmerizing. But today, I really felt mesmerized. I had been following Mary’s serialized memoir, (Re)Making Love, which chronicles her experiences after her divorce with tremendous honesty and insight, but I started in the middle, just after I first discovered Only connect . . . about a month ago. However, today I read chapter 17, which mesmerized me, and then, as if under a spell, I went back to chapter one and read straight through until I reached the current chapter. Then I went online and ordered the paperback, because I don’t want to wait for the serialized chapters to appear. It’s that good.

I’m terrified of the memoir form. I lack the ability to put myself out there, and I’m in awe of people who can do it well. I’ve always invoked Oscar Wilde’s pithy, ironic claim that “criticism is the only civilized form of autobiography” as a kind of defense mechanism. Criticism is, after all, my chosen form. But reading Mary makes me wish that I had the courage to write like she does.

But the memoir isn’t all you get on Mary’s stack. She is also a superb essayist, and she is a professor of creative writing. Paid subscribers have access to her sequence creative writing lessons—so there are riches to be explored. And, by the way, in case you didn’t know, the name of her stack comes from one of my favorite novels, Forster’s Howard’s End. Mary writes: “Best advice I ever got? ‘Only connect …’ E.M. Forster and I want to connect with you!”

Finally, two notes:

1. This week, my favorite music writer,

   Ted Gioia
   , wrote an open letter to Taylor Swift on his stack, The Honest Broker. It’s about how Taylor might save music. It’s brilliant, and you should read it. Here it is: An Open Letter to Taylor Swift

2. This weekend, I am quietly launching my second Substack, Books in Progress. The tone will be very different from PCF, since it will simply be drafts in progress of my current book project—in all their inglorious roughness. It will be much more academic in its approach than PCF, and probably many of you will not be interested, which is totally fine. I won’t be actively promoting it. I am starting it entirely for myself—to motivate myself to redraft my manuscript and to make progress towards publication with some public accountability. If you are interested, of course, it will be entirely free to read, and I welcome your feedback: you can find it here.

Thanks for reading, from my fancy internet typewriter to yours.