Anthony Hecht (1923–2004)
Author of Collected Earlier Poems
About the Author
Image credit: My Poetic Side
Works by Anthony Hecht
Melodies Unheard: Essays on the Mysteries of Poetry (Johns Hopkins: Poetry and Fiction) (2003) 47 copies
The Dover Bitch [poem] 2 copies
Seance for a Minyan: Ten Poems 2 copies
The Essential George Herbert 1 copy
Seance for a Minyan 1 copy
Associated Works
Literature: An Introduction to Fiction, Poetry, and Drama (1995) — Contributor, some editions — 902 copies
For the Love of Books: 115 Celebrated Writers on the Books They Love Most (1999) — Contributor — 447 copies
Poetry Speaks Expanded: Hear Poets Read Their Own Work from Tennyson to Plath (2007) — Contributor — 147 copies
The Sophisticated Cat: A Gathering of Stories, Poems, and Miscellaneous Writings About Cats (1992) — Contributor — 99 copies
Literary Genius: 25 Classic Writers Who Define English & American Literature (2007) — Contributor — 90 copies
Sunlight on the River: Poems About Paintings, Paintings About Poems (2015) — Contributor — 10 copies
Poem upon the Lisbon disaster = Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne, ou, Examen de cet axiome "tout est bien" (1756) — Translator — 7 copies
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1923-01-16
- Date of death
- 2004-10-20
- Burial location
- Bard College Cemetery, Annandale-on-Hudon, New York, USA
- Gender
- male
- Nationality
- USA
- Birthplace
- New York, New York, USA
- Place of death
- Washington, D.C., USA
- Education
- Bard College
Kenyon College
Columbia University
University of Iowa
Horace Mann School - Relationships
- Kerouac, Jack (classmate)
- Organizations
- American Academy of Arts and Letters (Literature, 1970)
- Awards and honors
- Bollingen Prize (1983)
Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize (1988)
Frost Medal (2000)
National Medal of Arts (2004)
Wallace Stevens Award (1997)
Fellowship of the Academy of American Poets (1969) (show all 9)
Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress (1982-1984)
Fellow of the American Academy in Rome (1969)
Aiken Taylor Award (1989)
Members
Reviews
Jiggery Pokery: A Compendium of Double Dactyls by Anthony Hecht
Collection of examples of an amusing then-new ligh verse for, the double dactyl, which is still occasionally practiced.
I had intended to post on Naguib Mahfouz's Palace of Desire today, but it sometimes seems that we live in a brilliant, unpredictable universe. And one support for that impression is that David and I received in the mail from a friend of ours who is a big proponent doggerel verse, a package containing Anthony Hecht's and John Hollander's Jiggery Pokery: a Compendium of Double Dactyls. Previously familiar with Hecht only as the author of the Matthew Arnold satire "Dover Bitch," I was pleasantly and hilariously surprised to make his acquaintance and that of Hollander in such verses as the following (by Hollander):
Or this one (by Hecht):
Double dactyls have the following rules, as outlined by Hecht and Hollander (a dactyl, for those who don't know, is a three-syllable poetic foot with the first syllable stressed and the second two unstressed):
Hecht and Hollander also argue that any six-syllable word, once used in a double dactyl, can never be used in a different one, although Wikipedia maintains that only hardcore double-dactyl purists still hold to this requirement. This seems like a lot of rules, but once you start reading these little gems your brain begins to incorporate them almost unconsciously; the double-dactyl line is extremely catchy.
And in fact, between the uproarious Introduction, the delightfully tongue-in-cheek footnotes, and the addictive poems themselves, Jiggery Pokery unexpectedly comandeered my entire afternoon. Of course, the side effect of reading sing-song dactylic verse for hours at a time is that the meter gets horribly stuck in one's head, and one starts noticing double dactyls all over the house and in one's normal speech. In the shower I found myself chanting "Birch bark and chammomile, / Deep Cleansing Wash," and both David and I keep bursting out with examples of promising six-syllable words apropos of nothing in particular. ("Sesquicentennial!" "Homogeneity!") Needless to say, the next stage was to begin composing our own examples; also needless to say, mine were all about books.
I imagine "discontinuity" has already been used, by someone somewhere in a double dactyl, but I don't specifically remember it from the book. Here's one on my recent reading:
They are very addictive! And also surprisingly difficult. It's hard to find a good use for that single-word line when you have so few syllables to work with. Very fun, though. This last one is just about the dorkiest joke ever; the first time my friend Alan started talking about Austrian educational and agricultural innovator Rudolph Steiner (which Alan went through a phase of doing quite frequently), I mis-heard him with funny results.
HISTORICAL REFLECTIONS
Higgledy-piggledy,
Benjamin Harrison,
Twenty-third President,
Was, and, as such,
Served between Clevelands, and
Save for this trivial
Idiosyncrasy,
Didn't do much.
Or this one (by Hecht):
FIRMNESS
Higgledy-piggledy
Mme. de Maintenon
Shouted, "Up yours!" when ap-
Proached for the rent,
And, in her anger, pro-
Ceeded to demonstrate,
Iconographically,
Just what she meant.
Double dactyls have the following rules, as outlined by Hecht and Hollander (a dactyl, for those who don't know, is a three-syllable poetic foot with the first syllable stressed and the second two unstressed):
- The poem is composed of two stanzas, each with three lines of two dactyls each followed by a fourth line that ends in a dactyl;
- The first line must be a double dactyl of nonsense language;
- The second line must be the name of the subject;
- The final lines of the two stanzas must rhyme;
- Somewhere in the second stanza there must be a line made up entirely of a single, double-dactylic word ("iconographically," for example).
Hecht and Hollander also argue that any six-syllable word, once used in a double dactyl, can never be used in a different one, although Wikipedia maintains that only hardcore double-dactyl purists still hold to this requirement. This seems like a lot of rules, but once you start reading these little gems your brain begins to incorporate them almost unconsciously; the double-dactyl line is extremely catchy.
And in fact, between the uproarious Introduction, the delightfully tongue-in-cheek footnotes, and the addictive poems themselves, Jiggery Pokery unexpectedly comandeered my entire afternoon. Of course, the side effect of reading sing-song dactylic verse for hours at a time is that the meter gets horribly stuck in one's head, and one starts noticing double dactyls all over the house and in one's normal speech. In the shower I found myself chanting "Birch bark and chammomile, / Deep Cleansing Wash," and both David and I keep bursting out with examples of promising six-syllable words apropos of nothing in particular. ("Sesquicentennial!" "Homogeneity!") Needless to say, the next stage was to begin composing our own examples; also needless to say, mine were all about books.
THE MOONSTONE
Fletteridge metteridge
Gabriel Betteridge
tells a romance with the
aid of Defoe;
The diamond's locational
Discontinuity's
somewhat assuaged by his
pipe and Bordeaux.
I imagine "discontinuity" has already been used, by someone somewhere in a double dactyl, but I don't specifically remember it from the book. Here's one on my recent reading:
MONTAIGNE
Hop-a-lide, pop-a-lide,
Mike of the Mountainside
'way from his wife, to his
tower confined,
Erstwhile Bordelais
Parliamentarian
Aired his opinions, and
then changed his mind.
They are very addictive! And also surprisingly difficult. It's hard to find a good use for that single-word line when you have so few syllables to work with. Very fun, though. This last one is just about the dorkiest joke ever; the first time my friend Alan started talking about Austrian educational and agricultural innovator Rudolph Steiner (which Alan went through a phase of doing quite frequently), I mis-heard him with funny results.
… (more)
RUDOLPH'S DINER
Old Donji Kraljevec,
Kingdom of Hungary,
Offers a breakfast that's
truly advanced:
All of the produce grown
Biodynamically;
Waldorf school day care on
hand for the staff.
3 
emily_morine | 3 other reviews | Jan 26, 2011 |
emily_morine | 3 other reviews | Jan 26, 2011 | 
There can be no doubt: Anthony Hecht writes gorgeous lines, metrically perfect and full of satisfying assonances. He’s erudite and witty and his poems positively brim over with wonderful vignettes: speculation about the true fish-founder of America (a cod or herring, no doubt); elegant musings upon Venetian dogshit; funny, meticulous renderings of off-season grand hotels and their fading habitués. The poetry rolls out like a brocade, with nary a pulled thread to slow the reader. The effect of the book is somewhat geological: the slow and steady impact of accumulated detail. Hecht’s sentences are nearly endless, his vocabulary lapidary, his images patiently unfurled, his gaze sly and mirthful.
Still, this book failed to ignite anything in me beyond admiration. The poems impress but do not move or surprise. It’s a strange thing – I chalk it up to a complete lack of palate cleansing in a book that has the intensity of a rich dessert. There’s no room, amidst the dense ornament of the poems, to consider the flavour of the imagery. In fact, there is so much of everything that almost nothing can make an impact or truly resonate. These poems are the opposite of spare or aphoristic. Deploying a syntax weighty with adjectives and layered with extra (though sometimes lovely) clauses, Hecht continually flirts with grandiloquence. Added to that, he occasionally (and annoyingly) comes off as smugly superior. His “Application for a Grant” sneers at bartenders, politicians and athletes (“their brains squeezed out through their pores”) before ending on a falsely modest note about the poet’s humble ambitions.
The Venetian Vespers is certainly an accomplished book, with wit, insight and flawlessly modulated cadence, and it is worth a read. For talent, Hecht deserves a higher rating, but for overall effect, I think three stars is fair. For readers who enjoy closely observed long poems, however, this book may rate higher.… (more)
Still, this book failed to ignite anything in me beyond admiration. The poems impress but do not move or surprise. It’s a strange thing – I chalk it up to a complete lack of palate cleansing in a book that has the intensity of a rich dessert. There’s no room, amidst the dense ornament of the poems, to consider the flavour of the imagery. In fact, there is so much of everything that almost nothing can make an impact or truly resonate. These poems are the opposite of spare or aphoristic. Deploying a syntax weighty with adjectives and layered with extra (though sometimes lovely) clauses, Hecht continually flirts with grandiloquence. Added to that, he occasionally (and annoyingly) comes off as smugly superior. His “Application for a Grant” sneers at bartenders, politicians and athletes (“their brains squeezed out through their pores”) before ending on a falsely modest note about the poet’s humble ambitions.
The Venetian Vespers is certainly an accomplished book, with wit, insight and flawlessly modulated cadence, and it is worth a read. For talent, Hecht deserves a higher rating, but for overall effect, I think three stars is fair. For readers who enjoy closely observed long poems, however, this book may rate higher.… (more)
1 cocoafiend | Sep 15, 2010 |
cocoafiend | Sep 15, 2010 | 
Anthony Hecht is a very fine craftsman. Formally, his poems are inventive and carefully polished. Especially impressive is his accomplishment with somewhat complicated rhyme schemes, which frequently leads to sonic effects that are truly magical. This was his third collection in as many decades, and this demonstrates, if nothing else, a deep commitment to "getting it right". And yet, while I cannot help but admire his professional aesthetic, his wide scope of allusion, the comprehensive learning he demonstrates again and again, and his tonal range, I must say that relatively few of these poems stimulate what Vladimir Nabokov described as the "indescribable tingle of the spine" that signals the highest pleasure that literature has to offer. That said, Hecht does accomplish this on occasion, at least for me, in such poems as "Peripeteia", "The Lull", "A Birthday Poem", and, particularly, "Coming Home (from the journals of John Clare)". This is very far from a small achievement.… (more)
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