Benjamin Gadberry: Williams Response

Spring and All continues to be a piece that impresses me not so much on a level of artistry but instead on its grand measure of cleverness. Spring is more commentary than poem, and resonates more, I would assume, with writers than the general public. This is the sort of piece that had me, at every turn of the page shouting “Yes!” or “Brilliant!” as I found something more to agree with.
The central theme of Spring hasn’t changed. Williams attacks a powerful establishment of what writing should be, weak tenets held up by literary critics and writers without imagination who believe that a work set strongly in reality is therefore superior to anything the imagination might create if given the chance. Williams fights this with flourishes such as “In the condition of imagination suspense only will the writing have reality” or “imagination is an actual force comparable to electricity or steam, it is not a plaything but a power” (206-207).
These passages I found more profound and more relatable than Williams’ poetic departures, which are as a poet perhaps his speciality but doesn’t (at least in my mind) carry as strongly as his commentary.
Another point which caught my attention was: “Writing is not about in the daily experience for apt smilies and pretty thoughts and images. I have experienced this to my sorrow.”
Now, Williams’ exact purpose behind this statement eludes me, however, based on my interpretation, it is a further attack against the idea of writing in reality, of not being able to expand beyond reality. Williams adamantly opposes the idea that writing is a mirror of nature or the natural world.


Indeed, the best aspects of Spring come from the first few pages, including a passage in which Williams mocks his critics by pretending to act like them, stating:

“You seem neither to have suffered nor, in fact, to have felt anything very deeply...you moderns! It is the death of poetry that you are accomplishing.” (177)

The above (heavily abridged) statement is the basis of Williams’ argument. As a writer, it carries a lot of weight, but as I read I could not help but question whether readers would embrace or understand it. Spring is intensely personal in that it is a writer who finds himself defending his art--a place any relatively sane person would not want to back an artist into, as it is the place where any artist will strike back most savagely.

One last section that intrigued me was Williams’ contention that certain art purists felt that art “must be real, not “realism” but reality itself––” (204). Previously WIlliams expressed that he wanted to create “new forms, new names for experience” (203-204). This conjured in my mind thoughts of impressionists, cubist painters, and so on. Williams wanted to try capturing the world in new ways, or transcend it altogether and write about something else. Spring and All can be torn down to the point where the themes of the piece lie in tatters, or the imagery of spring is exhausted to ridiculousness, but what caught me most about this piece will remain Williams’ accurate and amusing attack against literary conventions.



-Benjamin Gadberry