The Problem of Ezra Pound (and Other Poets): An Ever-Evolving Essay

By Meg Hartmann. First published April 16, 2024

I am working on my second blog post for this site, and already I find myself mentioning Ezra Pound repeatedly. Talking about him seems unavoidable, and I don’t want to continuously derail my posts by adding what I see as necessary context. So I’m creating a disclaimer now to which I can continually link, to make my opinion on Pound clear (or at least clearer…maybe…). I’m going to put up something quickly at first, largely using material I’ve already written, and likely expand this post as time goes on. Furthermore, I’m still working out my thoughts about Pound, and how to learn from all he left us (as will be obvious). Finally, some of these thoughts, written in August 2023, now seem to have new dimensions that perhaps need to be addressed after all the discussion that’s happened and is still happening in the wake of October 7, 2023. So this statement is simply a snapshot of where I am now. It’s a work in progress, one that probably wouldn’t even feel complete if I devoted my life to becoming a Pound scholar (which I don’t want to do). I welcome discussion from those who have read the paragraphs below carefully.

Pound is a complicated, difficult, and fraught figure. He’s known for being the driving force behind the Imagist revolution in American poetry in 1912 and 1913 (though he was not its first practitioner and before too long became critical of it), and later for his crucial role in shaping Modernism in literature. Pound is also known for lifelong antisemitism (documented as early as 1910 when he was 25) and pro-fascist politics, which resulted in his delivery of a series of radio broadcasts to assist with Italy’s propaganda efforts during World War II. At the war’s conclusion he was arrested by the Italian resistance and transferred to US forces. He was eventually brought back to the US and charged with treason, but judged mentally unfit to stand trial (thus avoiding execution). He was held in St. Elizabeth’s psychiatric hospital until 1958, when, thanks to the lobbying of many prominent writers (none of whom appear to have supported his views but who were more likely motivated for a range of other reasons including friendship and a desire for mercy) he was released and he returned to Italy. He never recovered from the experience, and several poets who visited him late in life noted his depression and reported a dismissive attitude towards the value of his poetic output. For several reasons it’s unclear how much to trust assessments of his mental illness during his time in custody, but late in life, after his release, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. (That doesn’t explain or excuse the politics.)

When discussing American poetry, Pound is impossible to avoid without leaving a huge hole in history. The influence of his own poetry is outweighed by that of his editorial, critical, and, crucially, promotional work. His hand can be seen in the development of William Butler Yeats’ later poems and T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland (which itself was seismic in impact). He launched careers, helped make connections between poets and editors, supported several important literary magazines, and even inspired the founding of the now-prominent publishing house New Directions. He corresponded generously with younger poets and had a steady stream of literary visitors up until the end of his life (especially while incarcerated in St. Elizabeth’s). His influence is perhaps best summed up by the scholar Hugh Kenner, who upon meeting Pound in the late 1940s said, “I suddenly knew I was in the presence of the center of modernism.” And yet…we’re talking about a man who called Hitler a saint, and who even after his incarceration kept expressing the same views. Allen Ginsberg claims Pound expressed to him regret for his “stupid suburban prejudice,” and though I find the idea of Pound repenting attractive, Ginsberg was likely high during their meetings so it’s unclear whether he’s a reliable source (and also if, late in life, Pound still had the fire in him to be rude to such an awe-struck guest). Pound’s legacy is the paradox that poetry has perhaps never had a more vigorous advocate, and no poet stirs up more anger when he’s mentioned.

How to deal with Pound? Especially when discussing his moving and more accessible early poems (many are happy to do away with The Cantos and their difficulty), the temptation is to separate the poet from the poetry and simply admire the work in a vacuum. And yes, if one is going to tie poems like “In a Station of the Metro” or “A Girl” to fascism, one needs to work at it. Yet, I am glad to see that often when Pound’s work is publicly discussed, someone will bring up his abysmal politics and not let everyone else sit peacefully in admiration. In my experience, such reminders often bring the conversation to a higher level. Had a grad school friend not pointedly asked a professor to account for why she had put The Pisan Cantos on the syllabus for a seminar on the long poem, we never would have gotten to hear her mature reasoning, which did not condone Pound’s politics. I now wish that in other classes I’ve taken where we read Pound, someone had spoken up then, too.

I believe in not hiding uncomfortable truths under the rug, and that the only true way out of difficult dilemmas is through. Pound’s views (or at least such strong and clear expression of them) were out-of-step with the educated literati of the time and certainly didn’t represent all Americans, but looking at the history of fascist politics and antisemitism in the US, I think we can say that Pound’s ugliness is our ugliness. And what does it say about our poetry that such ugliness was mixed up in it? When reading the Imagist manifesto or ABC of Reading, how does knowing the author came to enthusiastically support Mussolini change our understanding? What to make of Pound’s adaptations of foreign texts in light of how our cultural attention to our colonial past has grown between the early 20th century and today? Rather than separate the poet from the poem, I think we need to read with awareness. Maybe we don’t need to recite Pound’s sins not every time we read something privately. But the waters get deep quickly, and if we don’t want to drown, it’s helpful to hang on to some context.

Finally, I want to acknowledge that Pound is not the only highly influential poet with problematic views. While he never escapes denunciation, Gertrude Stein’s own fascist sympathies have largely evaded attention (and no, they go more deeply than simple self-preservation as an American Jewish lesbian living in Vichy France, though since she died in 1946 we can maybe say she didn’t have enough time to come to terms with the harm those she admired caused). (And though I find it hard enough to grapple with Pound, Stein is even more deeply tied up in my education. During my senior year in college, my undergraduate university’s English department moved into a pair of brand-new buildings, one of which has a quote from Stein on a stone panel on the side. My parents took a goofy photo of me standing underneath it in my cap and gown.) Walt Whitman made some classically racist statements that are hard to reconcile with the Whitman of the 1855 version of “Song of Myself” (if you need evidence, follow the link at the word “baboons” in this article). Allen Ginsberg supported the North American Man/Boy Love Association (NAMBLA), though the circumstances are worth a close look (I have not yet looked close enough myself to form an opinion).

Poets are people, and people are flawed, sometimes in ways that result in the grievous harm and death of others. We all have a lot of work to do, even if our own flaws are not as deep or consequential. The mountain of it, the fact that it is endless, does not excuse us from doing it, even if our progress must be slow.

Again, I welcome discussion from those who have read carefully. Most comments are held for moderation, as the struggle against spam is also endless, so please be patient as yours will likely not appear right away.