A. D. Hope 1907-2000
(Full name: Alec Derwent Hope) Australian poet, essayist, critic, and editor.
The following entry presents criticism of Hope's poetry from 1962 through 2000.
Hope is recognized as one of the most influential and celebrated Australian poets of the twentieth century. Critics classify him as a “classic poet,” in that much of his work utilized traditional forms and rejected modernist and postmodernist poetic trends. He also incorporated mythology, legends, and fables in his verse. Despite the anachronistic nature of Hope's poetic oeuvre, commentators praise his biting satire, the clarity of his language, and sophistication of his poetic vision and view him as an important contributor to traditional prosody in contemporary poetry.
Hope was born on July 21, 1907, in Cooma, New South Wales, Australia, and spent most of his childhood in rural areas in New South Wales and Tasmania. He received his B.A. from Sydney University in 1928 and then went on to Oxford University for two years. He returned to Australia, working as a psychologist with the New South Wales Department of Labour and Industry. In 1937 he accepted a position as lecturer at Sydney Teachers' College, and then in 1945 at the University of Melbourne. In 1951 he was appointed the first Professor of English at Canberra University College, and held the position until his retirement in 1968. In his mid-thirties his poetry was starting to appear in periodicals, but it was not until 1955 that he published his first collection of poems, The Wandering Islands. After his retirement from teaching, he was appointed Emeritus Professor at the Australian National University. He was awarded the Robert Frost Award for Poetry in 1976, the Levinson Prize for Poetry in 1968, and the Myer Award for Australian Literature in 1967. He was awarded an Officer of the Order of the British Empire in 1972. He died on July 13, 2000 in Canberra, A.C.T, Australia.
Although Hope's poetry is regarded as stylistically conservative—he utilized the iambic quatrain—the subjects of his verse were varied in scope. He is considered a major writer of erotic verse. Several of his early poems, such as “Phallus,” reject the pleasures of sexual relationships and romantic attachment. Yet in later work, the beauty of the human body and the thrill of passion and erotic adventure become a central theme in many of his poems. In others he reflects on the dual nature of love; in “Imperial Adam,” for example, Adam finishes a pleasurable sexual tryst with Eve only to visualize that their act has unleashed the first murderer, their son Cain, on the world. Hope is also viewed as a satirical poet, as many of his works poke fun at technology, conformity, and the absurdity of modern life. In “Australia” he notes the lack of culture and intellectual challenges to be found in Australian society. “The Return from the Freudian Islands” skewers the trend of psychological theorizing. Other poems explore such topics as creativity, nature, music, and the wonders of science. Hope's incorporation of myth and legend is viewed as a defining characteristic of his poems. “The End of the Journey” is an imaginative and bleak retelling of the Ulysses-Penelope story. “Paradise Saved” and “Imperial Adam” concern the Edenic myth. In other works Hope discusses the role of the artist in contemporary society and asserts his theory of poetic expression. His long poem, “Conversation with Calliope,” investigates the status of epic poetry in our modern world.
Much of the critical reaction to Hope's poetry focuses on his rejection of modernist and postmodernist poetic forms—particularly the free verse poem—and his utilization of traditional structure as well as classical mythology and legend. His poetic theory has led many commentators to view his verse as neoclassical, outdated, and too conservative—more in line with eighteenth-century poetry than twentieth century verse. However, in recent years, critics have reassessed Hope's verse, and have found much value in his formalized style. Critics have noted the lack of any identifiable Australian material in his work and perceive him as an outsider within the tradition of Australian literature. Thematically, commentators have traced his treatment of eroticism and sexuality, and have detected a vein of male chauvinism in many of his poems. His satirical verse has been a recurring topic of critical attention, and his nonconformist and biting viewpoint has attracted mixed reactions. Moreover, he has been derided for the self-pity, strident tone, and condescension in some of his verse. In general, however, commentators commend his poetic achievement and regard him as one of the most important Australian poets of the twentieth century.
The Wandering Islands 1955
Collected Poems, 1930-1965 1966; revised as Collected Poems, 1930-1970 1972
New Poems: 1965-1969 1969
Dunciad Minor: An Heroick Poem 1970
Selected Poems 1973
A Late Picking: Poems, 1965-1974 1975
A Book of Answers 1978
The Drifting Continent and Other Poems 1979
Antechinus: Poems, 1975-1980 1981
The Age of Reason 1985
Selected Poems 1986
Selected Poems 1992
A. D. Hope: Selected Poetry and Prose (poetry and criticism) 2000
Australian Literature, 1950-1962 (criticism) 1963
The Cave and the Spring (essays) 1965; revised 1974
Midsummer Eve's Dream: Variations on a Theme by William Dunbar (essays) 1970
Native Companions: Essays and Comments on Australian Literature, 1936-1966 (essays and criticism) 1974
The Pack of Autolycus (essays) 1978
The New Cratylus: Notes on the Craft of Poetry (essays) 1979
Ladies from the Sea (play) 1987
Chance Encounters (memoir) 1992
SOURCE: Suchting, W. A. “The Poetry of A. D. Hope: A Frame of Reference.” Meanjin Quarterly 89, no. 21 (1962): 154-63.
[In the following essay, Suchting delineates the “frame of reference” in Hope's verse.]
Every significant artist has a fundamental axis about which his work revolves, a basic perspective from which, in which, he sees the world and himself. (This is true even—perhaps especially—when the central attitude is composed of different, and maybe opposing elements.)
The aim of the following essay is to attempt to demarcate this ‘frame of reference’ in the poetry of A. D. Hope, as far as it has been published in The Wandering Islands (1955) and Poems (1960), and to discuss some of the implications of such a position.
The poem which gives its title to Hope's first collection expresses this basic perspective with simple directness: human isolation. ‘Wandering islands’ are by no means without points of possible, and sometimes even actual contact, but the meetings are in principle external, temporary only: for the ship-wrecked sailor there is no hope of rescue. (Compare here the island image in ‘Ascent into Hell’, and also the penultimate stanza of ‘X-ray Photograph’.)
Because of its awkwardly yoked images, roughnesses of rhythm, because of its mode of statement which is at once too abstract and too explicit, this poem expresses only imperfectly the central attitude of isolation. The latter emerges in a clearer and poetically much more satisfying manner in what is doubtless one of Hope's finest poems, ‘The Death of the Bird’. The bird is a natural creature, a motif in its own right, and its destiny—its lostness and final death—natural to it. At the same time it may be seen as a concrete image of Hope's view of the ‘human condition’:
A vanishing speck in those inane dominions, Single and frail, uncertain of her place, Alone in the bright host of her companions, Lost in the blue unfriendliness of space. …
Try as she will, the trackless world delivers No way, the wilderness of light no sign, The immense and complex map of hills and rivers Mocks her small wisdom with its vast design.
And darkness rises from the eastern valleys, And the winds buffet her with their hungry breath, And the great earth, with neither grief nor malice, Receives the tiny burden of her death.
The theme of isolation which appears in the above poem in a general form (though expressed in specific, concrete images) is particularized in numerous others.
It is seen in an estrangement from his own country, his image of which (in ‘Australia’) is not the traditional one of a young land of promise, but an immensely aged land, lacking any real future, its cities and people depleted and unoriginal, clinging to an alien soil.
He is estranged also from much of contemporary life, to various aspects of which he has devoted a number of satirical pieces: the husband-hunting female, and especially the mild and virtuous variety (‘The Brides’, ‘The Explorers’), ‘successful’ men and ‘Technocratic man’ (‘Toast for a Golden Age’, ‘The Kings’), vicarious emotions (‘Sportsfield’), TV and advertising (‘A Commination’), religion (‘Easter Hymn’, ‘The House of God’, ‘Lambkin: A Fable’), levelling (‘The Age of Innocence’), and even contemporary complaints about contemporary life (‘Standardization’). There is no heroism in the poems included in The Wandering Islands under the rubric ‘Sagas of the Heroes’. The ‘Hero of our Time’ (in ‘Conquistador’) who may
With any luck, one day, be you or me
is an insignificant suburbanite who attains immortality by being made into a mat
Tanned on both sides and neatly edged with fur
after an accident with a ‘white girl of uncommon size’ with whom he went to bed in a sudden break with his ordinary life.
The personal connection presented most frequently and in most detail by Hope is that centring in the relationship of woman to man. But it is precisely here, in this most intimate of interpersonal relationships, that the central isolation is present and is felt most intensely. In ‘The Dream’, for example, the relation between the man and the woman is depicted as a refuge from a harsh alien world:
Unable to speak, he touched her with his hand, Fingering the witnesses of cheek and breast. The bloody anguish breeding in the bone Told its long exile, told of all the lands Where the unresting heart, seeking its rest, Finds always that its language is unknown.
But by the end of the poem even this proves to be no refuge from human exile:
Unable to speak, he rose and left her there; Unable to meet her eyes that gazed with such Anguish and horror, went out into the night, Burning, burning, burning in her despair And kindling hurt and ruin at his touch.
This isolation of man and woman is expressed, from a slightly different point of view, in the absence of presentations of fully-rounded love-relationships. Hope is rather a poet of eroticism. Indeed even eroticism tends to be reduced to its sexual aspect, the latter being abstracted from specifically human relations, personal feelings and attitudes, and considered in its physical directness, the other participant in the sexual act appearing rather as a source of sensations only, than as a genuine partner. From this point of view sex becomes
A refuge only for the ship-wrecked sailor; He sits on the shore and sullenly masturbates,
‘The Wandering Islands’
In ‘The Damnation of Byron’ the dead poet is depicted in the afterworld, surrounded by desirous women and enjoying them vigorously.
And yet he is alone. At first he feels nothing above the tumult of his blood, while through his veins like the slow pox there steals the deep significance of his solitude.
The Hell to which he is condemned, in which he suffers, is just the contradiction between his obsessive eroticism, his inescapable desire for contact in the form of sexual relations, and his utter inability to make such contact in a way that penetrates to his inwardness. The result is an isolation and sense of nothingness that is constantly reproduced and intensified by his efforts to escape it, efforts that are condemned to futility.
Yet always to this nausea he returns from his own mind—the emptiness within. …
But merely to establish, descriptively, the centrality of the idea and experience of isolation in Hope's poetry does not take us very far. If such a characterization is to be of any real significance in the criticism of his work, it must decisively assist us in the comprehension and evaluation of it in detail. Furthermore, the bare generalization in itself does not suffice to distinguish the poetry of Hope from the literary production of a practically indefinitely large number of writers over roughly the last hundred years, since isolation has been the central experience underlying the bulk of the serious literature of that period. However, a brief discussion of the general problematic of isolation will put us in a better position to apply the idea specifically to the poetry of Hope.
The loss of self-identification of men with a social whole—a loss that may be experienced with feelings ranging from indifference to active opposition—and the accompanying sense that life offers no objective guides for thought, feeling and action, which is at once a cause and an effect of isolation, has a dual—and contradictory—set of consequences. On the one hand, the individual experiences this state in ‘dread’, ‘anguish’, ‘anxiety’, inconsolable ‘abandonment’. On the other hand, he feels an intoxicating sense of absolute freedom, of being thrown back entirely on himself for the norms of his being and action. Such a choice he must make, for he is ‘condemned’ to do so through the very fact of being a human being with the inalienable freedom that this implies. To choose to have no norms—to be a ‘nihilist’, or to commit suicide—is still to choose.
The attempt by the isolated subjectivity to find a firm principle in the sensible side of his nature alone is a vain one. The cycle of frantic search after sensation for its own sake, satiety, boredom, is an indefinitely repeated one, and offers no solid ground. The concentration on sensation and feeling, which is at once the most intense expression of isolation and one of the ostensibly fixed points of reference in a world with no objective axiological structure, leads to a dissolution of the contours of the personality, to inner chaos.
Alternatively, then, an attempt is made to find the Archimedean point in some purely rational factors, some set of abstract, formal norms to which the self may submit unconditionally and, as a result, gain an at least prima facie order, security, orientation. The norms may be derived quite literally from without, for example, from a Leader, an institution (Church, Party, etc.). Or the mind may be, in the absence of genuine extra-personal organizing forms, itself called upon to supply a principle of order. It thus differentiates itself, as it were, into two parts, the one clearly and explicitly subjective, the other prescribing norms for the first. What is gained thereby is, however, only a pseudo-objective principle of order, because it is objective only in the sense of being other than that aspect of the subjectivity which is clearly recognized as such; the relation of externality, which is one aspect of the idea of objectivity, is here located within the subject. An example of such a norm is the ideal of practising or enjoying art for its own sake...
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SOURCE: Wright, Judith. “A. D. Hope.” In Preoccupations in Australian Poetry, pp. 181-92. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1965.
[In the following essay, Wright offers a thematic and stylistic analysis of Hope's poetry.]
As a poet, McAuley, in spite of his austerity, has sometimes seemed too gracefully nostalgic to present a firm front against the disregard and mere incomprehension that this commercial age and country accords to poetry. Its much more violent adversary has always been A. D. Hope. The two have at least this in common, that both insist on the imposition of order and metrical discipline on a poetic experience that seems to each to be chaotic. But...
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SOURCE: Zwicky, Fay. “The Prophetic Voice.” In The Lyre in the Pawnshop: Essays on Literature and Survival, 1974-1984, pp. 246-52. Nedlands: University of Western Australia Press, 1986.
[In the following review of A Late Picking, Zwicky discusses Hope's reputation as a poet in Australia and elucidates the central themes in his verse.]
The man alone digging his bones a hole; The pyramid in the waste—whose images?
When A. D. Hope asked this question in ‘Pyramis or The House of Ascent’ in 1948, he was trying to reconcile the ambiguity of the creative consciousness in the image of the Egyptian Pharaoh: the artist/priest snagged in tension...
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SOURCE: Steele, Peter. “Peregrinations of A. D. Hope.” In The Double Looking Glass: New and Classic Essays on the Poetry of A. D. Hope, edited by David Brooks, pp. 170-80. St. Lucia, Australia: University of Queensland Press, 2000.
[In the following essay, which was originally published in 1988, Steele examines the theme of voyage in Hope's poetry, focusing on “the character of his quest.”]
Bad luck to The Australian Pocket Oxford Dictionary (1st Edition) for leaving “peregrination” out of its record, when it runs to “percoid”—“resembling a perch”—and “perihelion”—“point in planet's orbit nearest the sun”. Perhaps they are mute...
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SOURCE: Martin, Philip. “A. D. Hope, Nonconformist.” Journal of Popular Culture 23, no. 2 (fall 1989): 47-53.
[In the following essay, Martin asserts that although Hope is perceived as a conservative, almost archaic poet, he is in his own way an unorthodox and unique Australian poet.]
Such savage and scarlet as no green hills dare Springs in that waste, some spirit which escapes The learned doubt, the chatter of cultured apes Which is called civilization over there.
A. D. Hope, who will be eighty next July, is the son of a Presbyterian minister and his wife: of Nonconformists in the religious sense of the word. But he himself is a nonconformist in...
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SOURCE: Wallace-Crabbe, Chris. “True Tales and False Alike Work by Suggestion: The Poetry of A. D. Hope.” Australian Literary Studies 14, no. 4 (October 1990): 415-24.
[In the following essay, Wallace-Crabbe argues that Hope's poetry resists easy categorizations and investigates the poet's relationship to symbolism.]
Attempts to characterise A. D. Hope's poetry fail very frequently because of a common tendency to see his oeuvre holistically. Simple caricatures emerge, portraying him in bold strokes as neoclassical, parnassian, art nouveau, anti-modernist, remorselessly iambic or whatever. All such categorisations underplay the extent to which Hope's poetry is...
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SOURCE: Brooks, David. “The Ring of Isopata: Orpheus and The Age of Reason.” In The Double Looking Glass: New and Classic Essays on the Poetry of A. D. Hope, edited by David Brooks, pp. 274-80. St. Lucia, Australia: University of Queensland Press, 2000.
[In the following essay, which was originally published in 1992, Brooks reevaluates Hope's reputation as a poet through an examination of his collections Orpheus and The Age of Reason.]
I have long suspected that A. D. Hope's notorious traditionalism and poetic formalism have been generally misunderstood, and that, truistic as it has come to seem, the critical assumption that he is ultimately...
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SOURCE: Bowers, Neal. “Form as Substance in the Poetry of A. D. Hope.” Shenandoah 44, no. 1 (spring 1994): 68-80.
[In the following essay, Bowers contends that the defining characteristics of Hope's poetry—particularly his reliance on conventional forms and his rejection of modernism—have now come back into vogue in literary circles.]
To identify A. D. Hope as an Australian poet and strict formalist is to employ terms he might well reject, the first on the grounds that true poetry transcends national boundaries, the second because it is redundant. In Hope's world, poetry is its own domain, and any poem lacking meter and rhyme is a mere sham. In an age when...
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SOURCE: Maver, Igor. “The Baudelairean Decadent Strain in A. D. Hope's Verse.” In Readings in Contemporary Australian Poetry, pp. 27-35. Bern, Germany: Peter Lang, 1997.
[In the following essay, Maver considers the links between the poetry of Hope and Charles Baudelaire.]
The Australian poet A. D. Hope never felt the particular need to stress the degree of ‘Australianness’ inherent in his poems; rather, as exemplified by his poem “Australia,” he would refer to “the Arabian desert of the human mind” in Australia. Hope is described by the critics as an academic and largely intellectual poet, because of his usage of traditional...
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SOURCE: Pons, Xavier. “Hope and the Apocalyptic Splendour of the Sexes.” Australian Literary Studies 19, no. 4 (October 2000): 373-86.
[In the following essay, Pons explores the erotic and chauvinistic dimensions of Hope's verse.]
I was then your music and you mine
(‘Vivaldi, Bird and Angel’)
Among Australian poets, few owe a greater part of their inspiration to Eros than A. D. Hope. ‘Love and desire have prompted some of his best poetry’, Candida Baker noted, ‘and some of Australia's most erotic poems’ (Baker 162). This characteristic exposed him to much censure, both from those critics, like Max Harris, who regarded...
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