134
PARTISAN REVIEW
tiques-a
series of impressionistic studies of his painter-friends like Bra–
que, Picasso, Juan Gris and Marie Laurencin-paved the way for all
the later defenders of modem art. Apollinaire's writing was also largely
responsible for the reputation of the Douanier Rousseau ; and M. Adema
reprints a delightful poem by Apollinaire, improvised for the occasion
of a banquet to Rousseau, that displays all the warm spontaneity and
grace of his temperament.
Marcel Adema follows Apollinaire's life carefully and scrupulously
to his death in 1919 as the indirect result of a war wound.
1
His book is
unpretentious and rather simple-minded, written by a h ero-worshipper
who wishes to convince us that Apollinaire's reputation as a faintly
sinister character is wholly undeserved. Apollinaire was hardly a model
citizen in the bourgeois sense; but compared with any number of modern
French poets-Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Verlaine, Corbiere among others–
his few escapades are harmless enough. Compared with the later antics
of the Dadaists and Surrealists, the good-natured a nd epicurean Apol–
linaire seems a tower of robust vitality and emotional balance.
M. Adema has some perfunctory appreciations of ApoIIinaire's po–
etry, of which he happily quotes a good deal in the course of the book.
But he says nothing about the shift in perspective about Apollinaire as
a poet that has occurred in French criticism. At the time of his death,
the more sensational side of Apollinaire was taken up by the literary
avant-garde-the
Apollinaire of the
calligrammes
(poems printed in the
form of pictures) and of the "poem-conversations" (poems composed by
having different people each make up a few lines). All this seemed ter–
ribly exciting at the time, but like many other such earth-shaking inno–
vations its staleness has now become terribly oppressive.
Apollinaire's flirtation with Italian Futurism, dating from 1913,
led to the composition of a few good poems like "Zone" and "Vende–
miare." Here, Apollinaire's characteristically plaintive melody gives way
to a Whitmanesque catalogue of the jazzy surface details of modern life.
lOne gets tired of complaining of tramlations, since American publishers
pay so little attention to their quality. But there is no reason why a book
~hould
be translated into English by £omeone whose command of the language is shaky.
This is clearly the case with the translator of M. Adema's book, who worked
conscientiously but who has no ear whatever for an English phrase. The transla–
tion, as a result, is stiff, awkward, and sometimes unintelligible.
The publishers also promise, on the dust jacket, a bibliography of critical
writings
about
Apollinaire. This may have been contained in the original but is
not in the translation.
