I had never seen Virginia Wolf's cane before. Her suicide note suggests that she was quite ill, but I am surprised that she went to the river with a cane. It is too tragic.
When she died in March 1941, in the middle of the air raids on London, many people were running for their lives, and I am not sure that those around her had the luxury of understanding her deep anguish.
Patti was one of the most literate and poetically grounded musicians I know. Bob's attendance by proxy at the Nobel Prize is also well deserved.
One of my young friends, Ashley, just left us by “death on a day she chose.” This beautiful post about one of my heroes, Virginia Woolf, helps me grieve. Thank you, Patti.
Hi Patti, having been on a free ride on your journey with Substack, I gave myself an early birthday present, I will be 73 on the 4th of April and what better present than a subscription. I look forward to the coming year..Thank you for this opportunity.
Thank you, Patti, for this touching remembrance . . . the reading, the photo of the "simple yet sturdy" cane which served her, alongside your hauntingly beautiful Elegy.
I have almost completed the journal dedicated to Patti Smith, sadly, coz I want it to keep going. It began 21st July last year, and contains everything you have inspired me to write thus far. Yesterday after reading from Just Kids I wrote: 'Patti picks up Rimbaud and Jim Morrison on a ghost trail pilmagrage to Paris to celebrate poetry and is well rewarded by the stone, megre as it was, Jim Morrison'. P232
I wish i could listen to you for all of my life. It's the better way to enter the day with your voice reading Virginia's words. You're both two incredible human being.
Woolf was one of my first true loves. It is interesting to miss someone who died before I was born, but sometimes I do miss her. Thanks for the little memorial.
Thank you, Patti, for this wonderful reading. It came as such a welcome surprise. “The Waves” is among my favorite things and though I frequently go to the bookcase for a sip of the divine specific, every year on this date I reread the entire Waves, as a way to honor Woolf, feeling sorrow for her suffering but also respecting the choice she made.
I start reading it the night before, read until I fall asleep, and resume upon awakening (book in hand, glasses on). I read it aloud because I love the sounds. It is so much a poem, I think it should always be read aloud.
I’ve often thought it would be great to have public readings of “The Waves” on Woolf’s passing day (the way Joyce’s “Ulysses” is read on June 16, known as Bloomsday).
So it was especially moving, after reading it myself much of the day, to hear that last passage in your voice. It is the closest I’ve gotten to reading it with someone else on this day.
In gratitude, and for anyone who might be interested, I will share a passage from “The Waves” that I think holds a key to reading “The Waves.” I strongly recommend reading this aloud. As with poetry, making the sounds with one’s mouth -- and hearing them -- is as crucial as anything one can say the words mean. I can’t emphasize this enough. If one encounters writing that feels hard -- this is especially so with poetry -- the best thing to do is just keep reading it aloud. Also, write the lines out. Don’t worry about thinking a thing. The “meaning” will come through in the act of repeated devoted transcription and reading. So it is with “The Waves.” If you haven’t yet read it, don’t be afraid! Read it aloud and listen to all voices as they speak through your mouth.
Here’s Neville, from “The Waves,” on reading a text that could easily be “The Waves”:
“Certainly one cannot read this poem without effort. The page is often corrupt and mud-stained, and torn and stuck together with faded leaves, with scraps of verbena or geranium…One must put aside antipathies and jealousies and not interrupt. One must have patience and infinite care and let the light sound, whether of spiders’ delicate feet on a leaf or the chuckle of water in some irrelevant drainpipe, unfold too. Nothing is to be rejected in fear or horror. The poet who has written this page . . . has withdrawn. There are no commas or semicolons. The mines do not run in convenient lengths. Much is sheer nonsense. One must be skeptical, but throw caution to the winds and when the door opens accept absolutely. Also sometimes weep; also cut away ruthlessly with a slice of the black soot, bark, hard accretions of all sorts. And so (while they talk) let down one’s net deeper and deeper and gently draw in and bring to the surface what he said and she said and make poetry.”
Thank you, Patti, for the reading and the song. Years ago I saw an installation you made for an exhibition of your work the Wadsworth Atheneum, with a black stone from the River Ouse. It put me right there in some inexplicable way, the power of Art to transmute, transform and transport us. I felt chilled to the bone by the river’s dark waters. I’ve always wanted to thank you for giving me this remarkable and unforgettable experience.
The Waves is one of my favorite books by Virginia Woolf - I dip into it from time to time, random pages - I'm about ready to read it all the way through again.
I had never seen Virginia Wolf's cane before. Her suicide note suggests that she was quite ill, but I am surprised that she went to the river with a cane. It is too tragic.
When she died in March 1941, in the middle of the air raids on London, many people were running for their lives, and I am not sure that those around her had the luxury of understanding her deep anguish.
Patti was one of the most literate and poetically grounded musicians I know. Bob's attendance by proxy at the Nobel Prize is also well deserved.
Against war.
May Virginia rest in peace
I need this song today
Thank you
One of my young friends, Ashley, just left us by “death on a day she chose.” This beautiful post about one of my heroes, Virginia Woolf, helps me grieve. Thank you, Patti.
Love Woolf and love your reading
Hi Patti, having been on a free ride on your journey with Substack, I gave myself an early birthday present, I will be 73 on the 4th of April and what better present than a subscription. I look forward to the coming year..Thank you for this opportunity.
Bruising and exquisite.
There’s a light force within the darkness. Sonic.
Thank you Patti for this powerful reading. It touched me deeply.
Thank you, Patti, for this touching remembrance . . . the reading, the photo of the "simple yet sturdy" cane which served her, alongside your hauntingly beautiful Elegy.
Elegie 🎶 is so beautiful 😍
I have almost completed the journal dedicated to Patti Smith, sadly, coz I want it to keep going. It began 21st July last year, and contains everything you have inspired me to write thus far. Yesterday after reading from Just Kids I wrote: 'Patti picks up Rimbaud and Jim Morrison on a ghost trail pilmagrage to Paris to celebrate poetry and is well rewarded by the stone, megre as it was, Jim Morrison'. P232
I wish i could listen to you for all of my life. It's the better way to enter the day with your voice reading Virginia's words. You're both two incredible human being.
(I'm sorry for my bad English Patti)
Woolf was one of my first true loves. It is interesting to miss someone who died before I was born, but sometimes I do miss her. Thanks for the little memorial.
Patti, thank you for including “Elegie.” I love its brevity, how it builds toward a statement of such understated truth and simplicity.
Thank you, Patti, for this wonderful reading. It came as such a welcome surprise. “The Waves” is among my favorite things and though I frequently go to the bookcase for a sip of the divine specific, every year on this date I reread the entire Waves, as a way to honor Woolf, feeling sorrow for her suffering but also respecting the choice she made.
I start reading it the night before, read until I fall asleep, and resume upon awakening (book in hand, glasses on). I read it aloud because I love the sounds. It is so much a poem, I think it should always be read aloud.
I’ve often thought it would be great to have public readings of “The Waves” on Woolf’s passing day (the way Joyce’s “Ulysses” is read on June 16, known as Bloomsday).
So it was especially moving, after reading it myself much of the day, to hear that last passage in your voice. It is the closest I’ve gotten to reading it with someone else on this day.
In gratitude, and for anyone who might be interested, I will share a passage from “The Waves” that I think holds a key to reading “The Waves.” I strongly recommend reading this aloud. As with poetry, making the sounds with one’s mouth -- and hearing them -- is as crucial as anything one can say the words mean. I can’t emphasize this enough. If one encounters writing that feels hard -- this is especially so with poetry -- the best thing to do is just keep reading it aloud. Also, write the lines out. Don’t worry about thinking a thing. The “meaning” will come through in the act of repeated devoted transcription and reading. So it is with “The Waves.” If you haven’t yet read it, don’t be afraid! Read it aloud and listen to all voices as they speak through your mouth.
Here’s Neville, from “The Waves,” on reading a text that could easily be “The Waves”:
“Certainly one cannot read this poem without effort. The page is often corrupt and mud-stained, and torn and stuck together with faded leaves, with scraps of verbena or geranium…One must put aside antipathies and jealousies and not interrupt. One must have patience and infinite care and let the light sound, whether of spiders’ delicate feet on a leaf or the chuckle of water in some irrelevant drainpipe, unfold too. Nothing is to be rejected in fear or horror. The poet who has written this page . . . has withdrawn. There are no commas or semicolons. The mines do not run in convenient lengths. Much is sheer nonsense. One must be skeptical, but throw caution to the winds and when the door opens accept absolutely. Also sometimes weep; also cut away ruthlessly with a slice of the black soot, bark, hard accretions of all sorts. And so (while they talk) let down one’s net deeper and deeper and gently draw in and bring to the surface what he said and she said and make poetry.”
Thank you again, Patti.
With warm wishes to all,
Robin
Thank you, Patti, for the reading and the song. Years ago I saw an installation you made for an exhibition of your work the Wadsworth Atheneum, with a black stone from the River Ouse. It put me right there in some inexplicable way, the power of Art to transmute, transform and transport us. I felt chilled to the bone by the river’s dark waters. I’ve always wanted to thank you for giving me this remarkable and unforgettable experience.
The Waves is one of my favorite books by Virginia Woolf - I dip into it from time to time, random pages - I'm about ready to read it all the way through again.