literart criticism #9

8/9/2019 Literart Criticism #9

1/11

Title: This Is What I Wanted: James Wright and the Other WorldAuthor(s): Edward LensePublication Details: Modern Poetry Studies 11.1-2 (1982): p19-32.Source:Poetry Criticism. Ed. Elisabeth Gellert. Vol. 36. Detroit: Gale Group, 2002. From

Literature Resource Center.

Document Type: Critical essayFull Text: COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group, COPYRIGHT 2007 Gale, Cengage Learning

[(essay date 1982)In the following essay, Lense argues that Wright perceives the spirit of "theother world," whether pastoral or painful, embedded in the common elements of this one. ]

James Wright is not generally thought of as a visionary poet. The imagery of his poems hasalways been grounded in matter-of-fact realities, whether the plains and white houses of theMidwest in his earlier books or, more recently, factories and large cities. The poems are almostweighed down by physical details: Wright is careful to tell his readers which hand he uses tostroke a horse, what kind of tree he is standing under while he looks at a field. Nonetheless, in

many of his best poems he is equally preoccupied with the spiritual world behind appearance; hisbest books, The Branch Will Not Break and Shall We Gather at the River, begin in this worldand end in the other world.

These books differ so greatly in imagery and tone that it is necessary to look at them separately,but they have one thing in common in that each embodies a traditional myth of the other world.The Branch Will Not Break contains many images of the Earthly Paradise, while Shall WeGather at the River builds up a counter-myth of the Ohio River as the river of the dead. Thedifferences in tone and imagery flow from the differences between these two myths. In TheBranch Will Not Break every object can be seen as holy if only thepersona of the poems cangain the insight to look at things properly; at any moment he might encounter "delicate creatures

/ From the other world,"

1

or his own body might "break into blossom."

2

But in the later book theother world is localized and cut off from such possibilities. It is on the other side of the OhioRiver, the side that can be reached only by death. Because the spiritual world is no longer withinthe natural world, physical life in Shall We Gather at the River is unrelievedly grim, while thenatural world ofThe Branch Will Not Break is essentially pastoral.

Wright announces this pastoral theme with the epigraph ofThe Branch Will Not Break, linesfrom Heine's "Aus alten Mrchen winkt es" in which the poet longs for the sight of the "land ofdelight" he knows from dreams and from "old fairy-tales."3 This land, the traditional EarthlyParadise, will free him from all pain and constraint, and let him be free and happy. Heine's poemends with a bitter acknowledgement that this is only a dream that "dissolves like empty foam" inthe morning, but Wright's poems work in the opposite direction. He often begins by portrayinghimself in a fit of depression or dread, or with a hangover, and ends by recovering himselfthrough finding wholeness in the life of nature. "The life of nature" is the central quality of theEarthly Paradise, the informing myth of these poems. Although this paradise goes by manydifferent names--Eden, the Fortunate Isles, Beulah, Tr na ng--every version is essentially thesame, an unfallen world in which every object of ordinary experience is made perfect. There isno death, disease, old age or unhappiness in this other world, and to those who live in it orperceive it through visionary insight every natural thing is perfect.


2/11

The Earthly Paradise obviously has nothing to do with city life, so, following tradition, Wrightmakes rural Ohio look something like Vergil's Italy. His titles define this pastoral quality bythemselves: "Depressed by a Book of Bad Poetry, I Walk Toward an Unused Pasture andInvite the Insects to Join Me,""Two Horses Playing in the Orchard,""Arriving in theCountry Again,""Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island,

Minnesota,""A Prayer to Escape from the Market Place." The last of these poems is a goodexample of the tone and imagery of most of the book:

I renounce the blindness of the magazines.I want to lie down under a tree.This is the only duty that is not death.This is the everlasting happinessOf small winds.Suddenly,A pheasant flutters, and I turnOnly to see him vanishing at the damp edge.

Of the road.

4

Everything here is entirely conventional, but the poem communicates much more than thesurface message that the country is much nicer than the "market place" of the city. Wright's

persona is not necessarily much happier at the end of the poem than at the beginning--just asthings seem to be getting under way, the poem ends abruptly with the disappearance of thepheasant. The longing for peace implicit in the title may or may not be gratified. The speaker ofthis poem may come to share in the "everlasting happiness / Of small winds," or he may just aswell drive back, disappointed, to St. Paul or Pittsburgh. Likewise, in the other poems I havelisted, the speaker is an observer of nature rather than a participant in the life he sees around him;whether he is lying in a hammock at William Duffy's farm and feeling that he has wasted his life,

or watching a bird through a window in"Two Hangovers,"

he is not a part of what he sees.Nonetheless there is a transforming power within the natural world, and these poems prepare forits appearance in the concluding poems ofThe Branch Will Not Break. These poems represent abreakthrough, a change from mere wistful observation of the countryside to sudden visionaryinsight that reveals the world of the numinous within nature; here Wright puts himself in thetradition of poets like Blake, who affirm that "If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite."5 Wright is neither extravagant nor very specificabout his "other world," but it is certainly present in "Milkweed," perhaps the most famous ofthese poems. Here the speaker, again brooding and depressed at first, achieves an epiphany thatmakes him whole:

While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,I must have looked a long timeDown the corn rows, beyond grass,The small house,White walls, animals lumbering toward the barn.I look down now. It is all changed.Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for


3/11

Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyesLoving me in secret.It is here. At a touch of my hand,The air fills with delicate creaturesFrom the other world.6

The Midwestern setting could hardly be more ordinary, yet this farm and the milkweed growingin the field are charged with an emotional force that would be out of place if the poem were notabout the other world as much as about the farm. As the poem begins, the speaker is cut off fromthe natural world: he is "in the open," but at the same time "lost in himself." He seems to havebeen brooding for some time, but has not resolved his problem, has not found what he has lost.Being lost in himself, he seems almost entirely unaware of anything close to him; for that matter,very few things that interest him are close to him. Wright is careful to stress the way he looksaway from himself, at the rows of corn (not at individual cornstalks), another field with browsinganimals, and a house still farther away. The effect is to make the speaker an insignificantly smallfigure lost in a vast flat field. The farm is not as comfortable as one might expect; it is a little

frightening. But, when he looks down and forgets about his isolation, everything changes. Thelandscape suddenly focusses down to a milkweed pod. When he touches it he is freed from hisfailures of perception and can realize that both the natural and spiritual worlds are not remote,but stand in a close relationship with him.

It is never clear what he has lost, or thinks he has lost, and it doesn't matter. What does matter ishis sense that he is lost in himself in a world that seems to recede almost infinitely from him. Heis not seeing things properly because he imagines himself to be alone in the world that isindifferent to him, while in fact he is surrounded by love.

The emotional force of this experience is more than simple relief at escaping from the city or

from his own undefined problems; it is his emotion that makes the other world visible to him ashe watches the milkweed pod split open and scatter its seeds. It is hard to say just what thatemotion is, but it is very intense, capable of transforming his perception of the world by itssimple presence. The kind of experience Wright is presenting here is the traditional form ofmystical illumination in which the presence of the other world is suddenly apparent through theagency of some trivial thing. The milkweed pod is like the gleam of light that inspired Yeats's"Stream and Sun at Glendalough" or the quiet garden surrounded by angels in Rilke's "DuinoElegies."

The progression from anxiety to relief in "Milkweed" is, in outline, much the same as in "APrayer to Escape from the Market Place," but the image of "small dark eyes / Loving me insecret" sets this poem apart from simple pastorale. Wright uses the phrase "the other world"without defining it at all, but it is clear that he wants to suggest that there is a healing force, a sortof undirected but powerful love, within the natural world, and that it can be perceived inmoments of vision. In such moments Wright'spersona can see heaven in a wild flower, or evenbe transformed himself, as in "A Blessing." In that poem, the speaker again reaches out ofhimself and touches a natural thing, this time a horse's ear; his delight in the horse leads him intoa vision of change and growth:


4/11

Suddenly I realizeThat if I stepped out of my body I would breakInto blossom.7

It is one thing, then, to stand on a country road and appreciate nature, but only through an intense

concentration on some natural thing can the speakers of Wright's poems achieve their visionaryinsight. Further, human preoccupations, such as being depressed or fleeing from the marketplace, must also be put aside before the speakers can see creatures from the other world or "breakinto blossom." In both "Milkweed" and "A Blessing" the undefined "love" that leads intovision is not human love but something residing in the natural world that is not forced orconditioned by human relationships but entirely simple and, apparently, always possible. It is notas complex, ambivalent or demanding as human love. Robert Bly, writing as "Crunk" in TheSixties, suggests that the difference between human and spiritual love is the crux of"Milkweed":

"Milkweed" describes the realization that the longing to be loved, the demanding

of love, the insistence that everyone around us show their love, was all wrong. Allthe time, the walker was being loved by something unknown, "the small dark eyes/ loving me in secret." The poem suggests that when we realize this, the world ofsaints and mystics becomes real and visible to us.8

The same things are true of"A Blessing," and, in addition, Wright suggests that he canparticipate in the natural life represented by the horse.

This, then, is the essential pattern of Wright's poems about the other world in The Branch WillNot Break: a strong emotion, set off by some natural thing, transforms the speaker's perceptionof the world so that he is ready to enter a pure state of joy, the "Land der Wonne" of the

epigraph. Only once, though, does he give any description of this state of joy, in "Today I WasSo Happy, So I Made this Poem":

As the plump squirrel scampersAcross the roof of the corncrib,The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness,And I see that it is impossible to die.Each moment of time is a mountain.An eagle rejoices in the oak trees of heaven,CryingThis is what I Wanted.

9

Again, as in "Milkweed" and "A Blessing," there is no logical relationship between the naturalobjects Wright describes and the emotional weight they carry; the moon has no more to do withimmortality than a milkweed pod does with love. Both, however, are sufficient to lead Wrightinto a sudden perception of the other world. Any natural thing will do as well for this as anyother, since the Earthly Paradise is earthly and dwells in every natural object. The oak trees ofheaven are in the same places as the oak trees of this world. It is only Wright's perception thatchanges during the moment of illumination he records in this poem: by putting himself in the


5/11

eternal present of nature, in which each moment is static and unchanging, he moves out of theusual human preoccupation with time, change and death. Like the squirrel and the eagle, he isfully in harmony with his surroundings.

"Today I Was So Happy ..." is the closest thing in The Branch Will Not Break to a complete

escape from human life; in terms of visionary insight it is, as Richard Howard has called it, "theSummum Bonum of Wright's whole undertaking."10 Nonetheless, its mood of pure joy is veryshort-lived; the imagery of the Earthly Paradise itself, however important to The Branch WillNot Break, disappears almost entirely in Wright's next book, Shall We Gather at the River. Inthis book the other world is no longer Eden or the Elysian Fields, but the other shore of the OhioRiver, which is sometimes Kentucky and sometimes Hell. The dominant emotion is no longerjoy at escape from the oppression of the world, but fear in the presence of death.

In Shall We Gather at the River love is not hidden in the natural world, only waiting to be foundin a moment of vision, but, rather, it seems to have died with a girl who drowned in the OhioRiver. Throughout the book, Wright pictures himself moving through a fallen world. This time

his depression seems to be permanent, since there are no epiphanies to relieve his feeling that theworld is indeed dead and his life meaningless. The book is a loose sequence of poems that startsin Minneapolis and takes Wright steadily closer to Ohio and, at the same time, back into his past,his childhood and family, and toward the other world. Ghosts multiply as he approaches theriver, particularly the ghosts of failures and suicides. In the final poem, "To the Muse," hereaches the suckhole where Jenny died long ago, and from which he tries to call her back to life.When Wright was asked in a recent interview what he meant to do in this sequence, he replied:

I was trying to move from death to resurrection and death again, and challengedeath finally. Well, if I must tell you, I was trying to write about a girl I was inlove with who has been dead for a long time. ... I thought maybe I could come to

terms with that feeling which has hung on in my heart for so long.

11

This description makes the book sound much simpler and perhaps more positive than it really is,as if writing it was a sort of therapy to clear up morbid thoughts about the distant past. Wright'scomment has a strongly "confessional" tone, but the book, while vaguely autobiographical, isbuilt not so much around incidents in his life as around images of death and resurrection. Thegeography of his personal life is transformed into a symbolic landscape dominated by the river ofthe dead.

The first poem, "A Christmas Greeting," establishes the tone of the book. The ironic"greeting" is addressed to a suicide who died

... because you could not bear to live,Pitched off the bridge in Brookside, God knows why.Well, don't remind me. I'm afraid to die,It hurts to die, although the lucky do.12

These lines introduce the main theme of death by suicide in the river, and also the secondarytheme of pain and self-pity. The speaker of the poems, whom Wright consistently presents as


6/11

himself, is a connoisseur of pain, attuned equally to suffering and its futility. He misses fewopportunities to remind the reader that bodily pain and deformity are terrible. In "A ChristmasGreeting" he points out that "The kidneys do not pray, the kidneys drip," and in "TheMinneapolis Poem"

The Artificial Limbs Exchange is guttedAnd sown with lime.The whalebone crutches and hand-me-down trussesHuddle together dreaming in desolationOf dry groins.13

Imagery like this is not simply morbid, since dripping kidneys and dry groins are emblems of thepain of living. This pain is both physical and metaphysical: life is terrible, Wright insists,because there can be no escape from suffering, no comforting visions of the other world. Eventhe dead, having been failures in this world, are futile ghosts in the other world. In the firstpoems of the sequence, the speaker identifies himself with the poor and the outcasts who suffer

constantly, who are "Lashed blind by the wind, dreaming / Of suicide in the river."

14

As thesequence continues, he identifies himself more and more with the ghosts of the failed dead. Thisshift in emphasis from the physical to the spiritual world is like that ofThe Branch Will NotBreak, but this time the other world offers no relief.

On this side of the river there is nothing but pain and suffering, then, and no hope. On the otherside is the mysterious world of the dead:

We have no kingsIn this country,They kept saying.

But we have oneWhere the dead riseOn the other shore.And they hear onlyThe cold owls throwingSalt overTheir secret shoulders.15

This is not a very comforting other world. Clearly, the king is death, and the river is the Styx.(Another poem, "Old Age Compensation," reinforces this image of the river as the Styx byintroducing Charon: "All it will take is one old man trawling one oar."16) Just as the myth of theEarthly Paradise carries with it the image of perfect life within nature, so this myth carries adefinite picture of the dead: they are only shades who live without joy or hope of change. Anymessengers who arrive from this other world are not likely to suggest that we are surrounded bylove.

The bleakness of the other world is apparent in several poems; for example, in "Willy Lyons,"Wright pictures his mother mourning Willy, his uncle:


7/11

Willy was buried with nothing except a jacketStitched on his shoulder bones.It is nothing to mourn for.It is the other world.She does not know how the roan horses, there,

Dead for a century,Plod slowly.Maybe they believe Willy's coffin, tangled heavily in moss,Is a horse trough drifted to shoreAlong that river under the willows and grass.17

These horses have nothing to do with the horses of"A Blessing," or the many horses who runthrough the orchards and fields of Wright's early books. Rather they, along with the coffin, themoss, and the slow, choked movement of the river, suggest that death (particularly death in theriver) is a sodden affair with no grace at all.

The sequence moves from death to resurrection, yet there are many suggestions that resurrectionis futile, as in "The Life" :

And if I come back to my only countryWith a white rose on my shoulder,What is that to you?It is the graveIn blossom.18

The Ohio, he says in "Three Sentences for a Dead Swan," is "no tomb to / Rise from the dead /From."19 In any case, this is the wrong myth for any kind of resurrection, since even Orpheus

could not get Eurydice back across the Styx. The two shores are always separate, so the"challenge to death" Wright mentioned in his interview must inevitably fail.

The challenge comes in the last poem, "To the Muse." This poem is the culmination of thesequence; the speaker has worked his way back to the Ohio, and is now trying to resurrect Jenny,the girl whose rebirth can, he seems to feel, bring love back into the world. He images that herbody is still in the river after many years; this idea, combined with the image of the human bodyand its suffering that has been with him throughout the book, results in the fantasy that a terribleoperation, performed by "Three lady doctors in Wheeling," might bring her back to life. Becausethis poem combines the grotesque images of pain that characterize the book with Wright's mostprolonged treatment of the river, it must be quoted in full:

It is all right. All they doIs go in by dividingOne rib from another. I wouldn'tLie to you. It hurtsLike nothing I know. All they doIs burn their way in with a wire.It forks in and out a little like the tongue


8/11

Of that frightened garter snake we caughtAt Cloverfield, you and me, JennySo long ago.I would lie to youIf I could.

But the only way I can get you to come upOut of the suckhole, the south faceOf the Powhatan pit, is to tell youWhat you know:You come up after dark, you poise aloneWith me on the shore.I lead you back to this world.Three lady doctors in Wheeling openTheir offices at night.I don't have to call them, they are always there.But they only have to put the knife once

Under your breast.Then they hang their contraption.And you bear it.It's awkward a while. Still, it lets youWalk about on tiptoe if you don'tJiggle the needle.It might stab your heart, you see.The blade hangs in your lung and the tubeKeeps it draining.That way they only have to stab youOnce. Oh Jenny,I wish to God I had made this world, this scurvyAnd disastrous place. IDidn't, I can't bear itEither, I don't blame you, sleeping down thereFace down in the unbelievable silk of spring,Muse of black sand,Alone.I don't blame you, I knowThe place where you lie.I admit everything. But look at me.How can I live without you?Come up to me, love,Out of the river, or I willCome down to you.20

This is Wright's longest and most grisly treatment of physical suffering, and also the naturalextension of his images of disease and decay. It is the last and most important of many deaths bywater, which include the suicide of "Charlie" in "A Christmas Greeting," the nameless old menin "The Minneapolis Poem," the prostitutes in "In Response to a Rumor that the Oldest


9/11

Whorehouse in Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned," Hobie Johnson in "TheRiver Down Home." Death in the river is a constant in the sequence, but resurrection is not. Thepoems do move from death to resurrection, but the rebirth of"In Response to a Rumor" isironic, the vision of the Earthly Paradise in "Poems to a Brown Cricket" is a dream, and therebirth of Jenny in "To the Muse" is a nightmare. Jenny is, in effect, being invited to move from

one world of death to another, since the living people in the book are all spiritually dead, like thecrowds on London Bridge in "The Waste Land."

Jenny's rebirth, then, is only an extension of the suffering that the living go through; Wrightsuggests strongly and repeatedly in this book that life is essentially a matter of walking aroundbeing drained by the world while waiting for it to "stab your heart." Jenny's corpse, returned toan artificial life by the three lady doctors, would be as alive as anyone else in these poems. Herresurrection is meaningless: it is the grave in blossom again. She is in the same situation as theprostitutes of"In Response to a Rumor," who rise from the dead only to find themselves inBridgeport, Ohio.21

In The Branch Will Not Break, rebirth and vision are possible because the other world, whilenot often tangible, seems to be available when it is needed to counter despair. In Shall WeGather at the River, the other world is beyond reach. The best Wright's speaker can do isfantasize about leading Jenny "back to this world." But his demands are impossible: surroundedby what he sees as an empty world, he demands that love should come out of the other world inthe form of a dead woman. But such an idea, as Bly suggested about the speaker's despair in"Milkweed," is all wrong. It is hardly surprising that the poem should end with a suicide threat,since the speaker of"To the Muse" can find no help either in this world or the other world. Thepoem is not really about resurrection, but rather about the futility of hope in resurrection, and thepermanence of death. When Wright described the sequence as ending in a "challenge to death,"he was correct, but might have added that it is no more effective than any other such challenge.

It is this insistence on death, and the pain of life that drives Charlie, Jenny, and the rest to theirdeaths, that gives Shall We Gather at the River its air of morbidity. In, for example, "To theMuse," he gives detail after detail of the operation in a completely unnecessary attempt tointensify the horror of his fantasy. Here, as in the picture of Willy Lyons floating down the riverbeing nuzzled by ghostly horses, or the grotesque imagery of the Artificial Limbs Exchange,Wright nearly overwhelms his poems with bathos. His poems are most moving when they are notso insistent on their horrors. "To the Muse," like other poems in the sequence, derives its realpower not from the bizarre fantasy of three lady doctors but from the simple language of lineslike "You come up after dark, you poise alone / With me on the shore." Here, as in such poemsas "Today I Was So Happy ... ," the physical and spiritual world are balanced and united withinthe terms of the poem--and, just as importantly, Wright is able to say so in direct language.

There is the same balance and simplicity in "Poems to a Brown Cricket," the next-to-last poemin Shall We Gather at the River. Here the other world is just a dream that will, as Heine said,dissolve like mist in the morning. Still, while it lasts, the dream restores the pastoral world ofThe Branch Will Not Break:

We shall waken again


10/11

When the courteous face of the old horse DavidAppears at our window,To snuffle and cough gently.He, too, believes we may long forOne more dream of slow canters across the prairie

Before we come home to our strange bodiesAnd rise from the dead.22

The irony of "rising from the dead" into "strange bodies" marks this off from poems like"Milkweed," as does the fact that the other world is a dream and "resurrection" is waking up.Nonetheless, while Wright is waking up on this particular morning he balances once morebetween the world of observation and the world of vision. It is from this point of balance that hisbest poetry comes.

In both of these books, and to a lesser extent in his earlier and more recent work, it is thepresence of the other world, half-seen and undefined as it is, that gives force to his otherwise

conventional poetry. The poems offThe Branch Will Not Break achieve their effect throughreticence: they affirm that the other world is real and accessible, but refuse to say much about it.The reader must understand the "Land der Wonne" for himself. Shall We Gather at the Riverdevelops its opposing myth more fully, through classical references and a complex set of relatedimages, and thereby depends even more on the other world. In neither case can the reader ignorethis elusive presence: whether the other world is dwelling within the objects of this world, or cutoff by the river of the dead from a world that is itself half-dead, it gives Wright's commonplaceimages their power. Further, its presence places Wright in the tradition of Blake, Yeats, Rilkeand other visionary poets for whom, as Yeats said, "The rivers of Eden are in the midst of ourrivers."23

Notes1James Wright, Collected Poems (Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1971), p. 136("Milkweed").

2Collected Poems, p. 135 ("A Blessing").

3FromLyrisches Intermezzo, 43. For a complete text, see Heinrich Heine,Historische-kritischeGesamtausgabe de Werke, I, i,Buch der Lieder, ed. Pierre Grappin (Hamburg: Hoffman undCampe, 1975), pp. 175-76.

4

Collected Poems, pp. 132-33.5David V. Erdman, ed., The Poetry and Prose of William Blake (Garden City, New York:Doubleday, 1965), p. 39.

6Collected Poems, pp. 135-36.

7Collected Poems, p. 135.


11/11

8Crunk, "The Work of James Wright," The Sixties, 8 (Spring, 1966), 52-78.


10Richard Howard,Alone With America (New York: Atheneum, 1968), p. 584.

11Peter Stitt, "The Art of Poetry XIX: James Wright," The Paris Review, 16, No. 62 (Summer1975), 34-61.



14Collected Poems, p. 140 ("The Minneapolis Poem").

15Collected Poems, p. 146 ("An Elegy for the Poet Morgan Blum").






21

Collected Poems, pp. 165-66.22

Collected Poems, pp. 166-67.

23W. B. Yeats,Memoirs, Ed. Denis Donoghue (New York: Macmillan, 1973), p. 127.

Source Citation

Lense, Edward. "This Is What I Wanted: James Wright and the Other World." Modern PoetryStudies 11.1-2 (1982): 19-32. Rpt. in Poetry Criticism. Ed. Elisabeth Gellert. Vol. 36. Detroit:Gale Group, 2002.Literature Resource Center. Web. 9 Apr. 2010.Document URL

http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w

Gale Document Number: GALE|H1420039560
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=whttp://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=whttp://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=whttp://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=whttp://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?&id=GALE%7CH1420039560&v=2.1&u=phoe84216&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w

literart criticism #9

Documents