In some essential and large way, novelist Colm Tóibin gets Elizabeth Bishop right.
Whether or not you’re familiar with Elizabeth Bishop or Robert Lowell, their worlds or their poetry, you should hasten to this show.
No new edition of Bishop’s poetry, which she created with such loving-care and sent to publishers with such restraint, not to say stinginess, could advance her current reputation. She is America’s flagship, 20th-century poet, leaving the straight men (Eliot, Frost, Stevens, and Lowell) in her wake. (Expect a Bishop backlash by 2020.) Yet many poetry […]