Monday, January 30, 2006
With Yet-Still-Strangely-Not-Very Descriptive Title
Geoffrey Hill's Without Title makes it eight books in ten years. Along with a eulogy to Jimi Hendrix the book also contains a poem called 'If a woman smells of sperm and it is not mine, I don't like it'. All right, that one's a translation from Cesare Pavese, but still. Do you think the speaker means his woman, or any woman? Is it more a basic hygiene thing than anything to do with jealousy? I mean, if the woman (or man) beside me in the bus smells of underarm, feet, or even, why not, sperm, I don't like it much either. But then again why would he want any old woman he met to smell of his bugs? You don't meet someone in the pub and think, You've made an effort with the Chanel no. 5 and all, but think how much better you'd smell if I just smeared some... there you go. Or do you?
Still, were Geoff but a woman I could say: I'll have what she's having.