Tadeusz Różewicz is a poet of dark refusals, hard negations. He is a naked or impure poet (“I crystallize impure poetry,” he writes), an anti-poet relentlessly, even ruthlessly determined to tell the truth, however painful it may be. He...
The year of 1932 is ended, with its winter premieres and ventures in production, its spring showings, its continuations of what had proved itself a success or fairly successful, its summer of revivals and fresh experiments in groups, little...
For modern blasphemy is merely a department of bad form: and just as, in countries which still possess a Crown, people are usually (and quite rightly) shocked by any public impertinence concerning any member of their Royal Family, they are...
It may well be, as Mr. Commager says, that the American political experience of three and a half centuries has afforded “the most elaborate political laboratory in all history and one whose findings have been pretty well recorded.” For...
