REVOLUTION AND THE INDIJ7IDUAL WRITER
·55
and the engaging personality behind it, its alertness are of value to every–
one who reads it. The expriencc in the po·em is common to everyone
who has overheard an argument over esthetic problems, and what it has
to
say should be remembered by all of us.
In speaking of my "objectivity" Miss Le Sueur feels, I think:, that
I am too insistent upon keeping a clear head, that I am too intelligent,
too aware of the many forces at wo.rk around me, that I can't be trusted
because I don't jump into a hog wallow of "faith" and then go through
some mysterious process of rebirth. I don't happen to see my writing,
nor my entire set of beliefs in terms of sexual symbolism, nor am I
attracted by the prospect of going blind merely because I see the hope of
a new social order. What is more, I don't think of Communism as a
mere hope, but as a well organized society, a reaffirmation in Marxian terms
of what was once called "the brotherhood of man." I believe that there
is a human moral force behind the entire movement, and the act of closing
my eyes would make me something less than human.
As
I read part of this discussion aloud at The John Reed Club,
someone from the audience wanted to know why I spoke of my own poetry
and my belief "so coldly"; wasn't my poetry my mistress?
If
one loved
one's mistress, one was blind
. .
~
The argument was much like Miss
LeSueur's.
For my part, I have a healthy prejudice against a conception of
writing (or any kind of action) that may be described in such rerms.
When I write I hope I am not going to a prostitute, nor do I conceive
of myself as a camp follower and a prostitute if I happen to receive pay
for wLtt I write. Nor do I believe that each step in the evolution of a
writer is a process of being rebo.rn, or that every time a book is written
the author makes some mysterious contact with a "great mother." As a
matter of fact, if I went through a process of rebirth every time I arrived
at a conclusion, I'd begin to doubt the validity of all past experience which
brought me to the conclusion I just made. That doubt would certainly
modify my faith in the conclusion itself. With the precedent of being
r~born
established, I could jump_into "Marxism" as I might jump into
a tub of warm water in the hopes of being rejuvenated. Then when the
water had cooled a bit, I could jump into another tub, perhaps Huey
Long's Share The Wealth Plan. Being blind and guid-ed by faith, it
wouldn't matter which tub I'd jump into next. As long as I kept on
jumping and going through the delightful process of being reborn, I could
land with Major Douglas in a good hot tub of Social Credit and be another
Horace Gregory. The process is both too agonizing and too easy.
I think that in all forms of activity (writing included) certain res–
ponsibilities are incurred, and even at the cost of seeming inconsistant,
